The Wizard's Curse (Book 2) (41 page)

Waterstone stood looking at him for a minute or two, considering what to do. Finally, he asked, “Would it help if we tied you to the trunk?”

Tarkyn’s face brightened. “Yes. Good idea. I think it would. I could focus on the rope holding me in place then.”

Between them, they secured Tarkyn to the trunk using a slipknot that he could yank on to pull himself quickly free if the need arose. Once he was comfortable again, he asked after Danton.

“Danton is sleeping like a baby,” responded Waterstone dryly, with a clear inference that being a sorcerer was not an excuse.

“Be kind, Waterstone,” came Lapping Water’s voice softly from the side. “Danton didn’t fall down twenty feet, out of a tree, with his hands tied behind his back.”

“Oh blast it, Tarkyn! I should have thought of that.” Waterstone was so chagrined by his lack of thought that he was flustered. “You should have said something. I forgot all about that. No wonder you’re having trouble sleeping.”

Tarkyn gave a quiet laugh, “To be truthful, I didn’t think of it either.”

“Didn’t you? But I bet the memory comes up as soon as you start drifting off.”

Tarkyn shrugged, “Maybe.” He thought for a moment, “Yes, maybe it does.” He smiled, “But now I should feel safe enough with the rope around me and that will hopefully forestall the memories as I go to sleep. Go on. Go and get yourself some sleep before morning...and thanks.” When Waterstone had disappeared up into the boughs above, he added quietly, “And thanks to you too, Lapping Water. I should be able to separate past from present now.” Before he settled to sleep again, he glanced across at the spot where Midnight lay curled up in the fork of three branches nearby. Bright green eyes glowed back at him through the gloom. Tarkyn started a little at their intensity but sent a little wave of friendship before closing his eyes.

Next time he opened them, the morning light was well established and there were sounds of activity all around him. Tarkyn sat up and rubbed his eyes to chase away the last of his sleep. He waggled his feet, which were feeling rather leaden after dangling down all night, and then lifted his legs so that he was sitting cross-legged against the trunk of the huge pine. With the rope still fastened stalwartly around his waist, he took great pleasure in being able to sit unconcernedly so high up.

Lapping Water brought him a bowl full of nuts and dried fruits and sat down near him to eat hers. Seeing Tarkyn awake at last, Midnight clambered over to them and plonked himself down in the nest of Tarkyn’s crossed legs.

“Where’s your breakfast, young one?” asked Tarkyn, matching images to words.

“He ate his, ages ago,” said Lapping Water, “You know kids. Always up at the crack of dawn.”

Tarkyn’s eyes twinkled, “You know princes. Always keeping everyone waiting.”

Lapping Water choked with laughter on a mouthful of fruit. “I didn’t say that,” she protested.

Tarkyn grinned, “You didn’t have to. It’s blindingly obvious that everyone else has been awake for hours.”

As they talked, Tarkyn did his best to keep Midnight in the conversation. So at this point, the little boy sent him a picture of Lapping Water keeping everyone quiet and out of the way so that Waterstone and Tarkyn could sleep on.

“Thanks, Lapping Water,” said Tarkyn, pointing at Midnight when she frowned a query. “Why didn’t I keep disturbing you earlier in the night as I did Waterstone? You could have used more sleep too.”

Lapping Water smiled, “No, I’m fine. I was in the next tree along so I didn’t feel the tremors when you kept waking. Besides, Waterstone is constantly on guard for your welfare, far more than anyone else. Sometimes he, too, needs a break.”

Tarkyn glanced at her, “Do I place too many demands on him, do you think?”

“No, it’s not you. It’s his own choice. You couldn’t shift him from it, even if you wanted to.”

Tarkyn smiled, “He’s so wonderfully stubborn, isn’t he?”

Lapping Water snorted in a truly unlady-like fashion, “Loyal and dedicated might be a kinder way of putting it,” she grinned, “but stubborn is also quite accurate. Here, let me take your bowl if you’ve finished.”

As she reached across to take Tarkyn’s bowl, her arm crossed Midnight’s line of vision and her leather, plaited wristband dangled before his eyes. Even as Lapping Water registered his eye on her wristband, a wave of consternation from the little boy engulfed Tarkyn. But before he had time to react, Midnight was gone.

“Oh no!” exclaimed Lapping Water, “Quick! Someone stop him!” She went out of focus to send out a silent rallying cry.

“Lapping Water! What’s going on? Where has he gone?” asked Tarkyn urgently.

The woodwoman looked distressed. “He made you a leather wristband last night and finished it just before you walked over with Blizzard. None of us thought any more about it. I bet he’s left it hanging from the tree in the clearing and has gone back to fetch it.”

In the blink of an eye, Waterstone, Rainstorm and Ancient Oak were gathered around them. Tarkyn looked around them, “Have they found him?”

Waterstone shook his head, “No one will be able to catch him if he doesn’t want them to. He’s fast and he’s used to evading people. Try calling him, Tarkyn. You’re the only person he can or will listen to.”

Tarkyn sent out an urgent demand for Midnight to return but the little boy’s mind was closed off. “I can’t reach him. His mind seems to shut down when he’s upset about something.”

“That’s kids for you,” rumbled Thunder Storm, appearing to one side, “They get an idea in their heads and can’t think of anything else. He will have forgotten all about the bloodhounds and sorcerers. We taught our kids years ago to keep part of their mind open enough to notice when we were trying to contact them but Midnight hasn’t had that training.”

“I’ll have to go after him,” stated Tarkyn, unequivocally. He stared around at the circle of mutinous faces and said, “Please. I can’t leave that little boy out there on his own, with a pack of sorcerers and bloodhounds bearing down on him. I must go. I promise you I will keep my shield up. Danton can come with me to protect my back. You can’t go. You can’t risk being seen. Anyway, Midnight will probably only come to me.”

Rainstorm, who was quicker than the others to recognize the inevitable, asked, “So, does anyone have an object from near the clearing that Tarkyn can use to translocate?” Faced with hostile stares, he merely shrugged and added, “If he is going, the sooner he gets there the better. He has to find Midnight and be out of there before the bloodhounds arrive.”

Reluctant nods preceded a mental conference.

“You had better check how far away the sorcerers are,” said Waterstone. “You don’t want to translocate into the middle of them.”

“No, I certainly don’t. Just give me a minute,” Tarkyn closed his eyes but opened them again almost straight away. “Hang on. Which way are they coming from?”

Five arms pointed simultaneously in a north-easterly direction, behind and to the left of Tarkyn.

Tarkyn grinned, “Fine. Thanks,” He closed his eyes again. Almost immediately he tuned into a nearby golden eagle. So quick was the connection that he suspected the raptors were still keeping watch over him. He transmitted his request and found himself soaring above the forest scanning the ground below. To his shock, he spotted the horses and bloodhounds converging on the clearing less than seven miles away. They were moving steadily and Tarkyn estimated they had less than forty minutes before their arrival. He transmitted the image to the others before opening his eyes and said urgently, “We have no time to lose. They must have ridden through part of the night.”

Just then, Dry Berry appeared bearing a sprig of rosemary that she thrust abruptly towards Tarkyn. “Here. This is from a rosemary bush we planted downstream from the clearing.” She produced two small pinecones from her other hand, “These are for your return. Don’t worry. They are from a branch close to the ground. You look after yourself.”

“I will, Dry Berry. Thanks.” Tarkyn looked around, “Where’s Danton?”

“Here I am,” replied his liegeman as he clambered gingerly over from a neighbouring tree. “Some of us are not as nimble as others, up at this height.”

Tarkyn looked around at the woodfolk, “I think you will need to stand by, ready to catch Danton in case he doesn’t succeed.” He turned to the blond sorcerer. “So Danton, here is your chance to try translocation. Are you willing?”

“Of course. You cannot go alone.”

Tarkyn forbore to respond to that remark and handed his liegeman half of the rosemary sprig. “Here. Now focus closely on the rosemary and use the same incantation as I do. Clear?”

When Danton nodded, Tarkyn stared at the leaves in his hand, incanted,
“
Maya Mureva Araya
,
” and faded from sight.

Danton took a deep breath, focused on his sprig of rosemary and repeated the incantation. For a moment, he became translucent but then he reverted to shocking solidity and vomited down between the branches onto the forest floor far below. Woodfolk hands held him and kept him from falling as he recovered.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gasped, “Oh dear. I’m still here. And I feel dreadful.”

“However,” said Ancient Oak dryly, “Tarkyn is not. So you’d better sort yourself and try again.”

“Give him a minute, Ancient Oak. He’s obviously not well,” said Lapping Water softly. “Do you know what went wrong? Can you do anything about it?”

Danton nodded and glanced sideways at her, “I know what went wrong. I was overwhelmed by fear and pulled out.”

Rainstorm chortled, “What? You? An elite guard? You don’t get frightened.”

Danton looked daggers at him, “I don’t know whether to belt you for not taking me seriously or to accept what you’ve said as a compliment. The fact remains that fear overcame me. I am not afraid of fighting or of people but faced with losing myself... It scared the life out of me.”

“Is that what it takes?” asked Waterstone.

“It seems to.” Danton shook his head as though to clear it of a bad memory. “It feels as though you have to dissolve completely to find yourself in another place.”

“No wonder Tarkyn has no trouble with it,” cackled Dry Berry. “I have never met anyone with a stronger sense of their own worth and identity than Tarkyn.”

“True,” said Waterstone. “Although he does become confused, sometimes,”

“Of course he does. We all do. But he must have such a strong sense of himself to be able to hold out against all of us without being remote.” Dry Berry turned her attention to Danton, “Now young man, you too are strong. You held out against public opinion to stand by Tarkyn. Just focus on yourself; who you are, your heritage and why you are doing this translocation before you begin.”

Danton took a deep breath, “Thanks Dry Berry.” He glanced around at everyone, “Wish me luck.” Amidst murmurs of support, Danton closed his eyes and drew another deep breath. Then he opened his eyes, gazed intently at the sprig of rosemary and incanted,
“
Maya Mureva Aray
a
.”

This time he faded from sight and stayed away. The woodfolk immediately sprang into action; some to head back to the clearing and others to prepare for the journey ahead.

Chapter
35

Tarkyn found himself lying nauseated beside the tumbling stream not far from where he had talked with Waterstone. He rolled over and retched but managed to keep his breakfast down. True to his word, as soon as he could focus, he raised his shield. He heard the sound of rushing air but when he turned, no one was there.

“Looks like I may be doing this without Danton,” he murmured to himself, not particularly perturbed.

After a few moments, he sat up and walked over to the stream to splash his face. He scooped up a handful of icy cold water and slurped it down with less than his usual finesse, happily aware that, for once, no one was watching him. After slurping down another handful, he sat down against a rock preparing to reconnect with the eagle to find Midnight.

Another rush of air this time deposited Danton in an unhappy heap next to the rosemary bush. The blond sorcerer lay curled up for a few moments before heaving and retching. Tarkyn went to him and patted him gently on the back until he began to recover.

“On my oath, Tarkyn. This is a hideous process,” groaned Danton. He looked down at himself, “At least I’m still me. So that’s something, I suppose.”

Tarkyn looked at him quizzically, “Of course you are. It does make you feel pretty terrible though, doesn’t it?” He placed his hand under Danton’s arm, “Come on. Drag yourself to the stream and splash some cold water on your face. That’s it. Now have a drink and you’ll soon be feeling better.”

A few minutes later, Danton heaved a sigh and pulled himself together, “Well, that was interesting, I suppose. Okay. So what do you want me to do?”

Tarkyn smiled at his loyal liegeman, “Thanks, Danton, for going through that. Now, will you guard my back while I find out where Midnight is, please?”

Danton nodded and kept watch as Tarkyn sat back against a tree and closed his eyes. He quickly reconnected with the same golden eagle and asked it to check on the progress of the bloodhounds and then to search for Midnight between the place Tarkyn was now and where he had just come from. The eagle rose above the height of the trees and showed Tarkyn the horses and bloodhounds, already noticeably closer, before wheeling southward to scan the trees for Midnight. Just as the imminence of the bloodhounds’ arrival was prompting Tarkyn to pull out, the eagle spotted a little figure dashing down a narrow pathway through the trees. Although it had taken the woodfolk hours to reach the hideaway in the trees where they had spent the night, they had travelled above ground, a slow effortful process. Midnight’s tumultuous flight was taking him back to the clearing much more quickly than Tarkyn had anticipated. The little boy was further away from the clearing and in another direction from the bloodhounds but he was travelling faster and looked as if he would arrive at the clearing at more or less the same time as the sorcerers. With brief thanks, Tarkyn pulled out.