The Sorcerer's Oath Collection

Chapter 24

It seemed like years since Tarkyn had last been here, but it had only been that morning. The river bank was not a pleasant place at the moment. It was littered with wolf carcasses and blowflies were beginning to gather. However, Tarkyn was not about to make a fool of himself by walking back up the hill to go off in another direction. As the minutes ticked by, the prince’s heart sank. He had thought the woodfolk would find the choice easy. He could not imagine that they would want to be ordered around by him all the time. Tarkyn did not want to be isolated from all of them either, but equally he would not put up with being marginalised. As time passed and he calmed down, the young man wondered if he had just let his feelings force him into a confrontation that could have been avoided, just as his father had done before him. He wandered down to the water’s edge and squatted down, looking into the depths of the river.

“Oh stars above! I’m a b****y i***t. Now what have I done?” Tarkyn said quietly to himself. “All I had to do was point out what was wrong and work it out with them. Now I’ve upset everyone again and they will, quite rightly, feel more resentful of me than ever.” The prince moodily threw pebbles into the water. “Maybe my first instinct was right. Maybe I should just go away from these people and leave them in peace. There is plenty of forest to live in. And maybe I can find a way for the forest to release me, once the hunt has died down, and I can take my chances on the open road again.”

“I don’t think we could let you do that, you know,” came a familiar voice.

Tarkyn spun around to see Waterstone sitting on the stone behind him. Being stiff and not as agile as usual, the spinning sent him off balance and only Waterstone’s outstretched hand saved him from falling backwards into the water. The prince thanked him gruffly and stood up. He walked over to a nearby tree and sat down with his back to it. He sighed, “How long were you listening and what can’t you let me do?”

“Long enough.” replied Waterstone with a slight smile. “Even if you’re a b****y i***t, we can’t let you go off and be miserable on your own. After all, we have vowed to protect you and that’s a bit hard to do if we’re nowhere near you.”

Tarkyn glanced up at him but looked away. “You will have to find a way if that’s what I choose to do.” His ultimatum had still not been answered. “What have you all decided?”

Waterstone gave a short laugh. “There was never any decision to make. Nobody wants you ruling us like some sort of tyrant, least of all you, I suspect.”

The prince nodded reluctantly. “So what took you so long?”

“Trying to figure out how to make sure we keep you in the loop. Someone has to be posted with you all the time to act as mediator. I should have thought of that and had you in the same tree as I was. Then I could have told you what was being said and let everyone know your ideas.”

“I don’t need someone with me all the time,” protested the prince, “only when something important is happening or being discussed. I do need time on my own sometimes, you know.”

Waterstone leaned down and picked up a couple of pebbles and started to toss them. “That’s a problem, you see. How do we judge what is important and what is not?”

Tarkyn brushed his hand over his eyes. “For heaven’s sake, Waterstone. I really do think we might all be better off if I just go away somewhere. You can keep watch from a distance if you’re worried about me being safe. I just don’t know how to do this.”

Waterstone dropped the pebbles and came over to squat in front of Tarkyn with his hand on the prince’s knee. “Tarkyn, don’t give up now. You’re nearly there. Your ultimatum has presented a few problems but we just have to find ways around them.”

The prince brought his eyes up to look into his friend’s face. “Waterstone, despite your best efforts back there, I still behaved just like my father. Threatening when I should have been talking it through.”

The woodman gave the prince’s knee a pat and stood up. “You know, I don’t think it will hurt everyone to think they haven’t any room to move. It will make it easier for them and me to break the habit of mind talking automatically and leaving you out.” Waterstone held out his hand then pulled the prince to his feet. “Anyway, I don’t think you did behave like your father. You are much more controlled than he was. Mostly, you were just clear about the choices.”

As they walked back up the hill, Tarkyn said resignedly, “Still, I presume resentment is running high again?”

Waterstone thought for a moment before answering, mostly to ensure that Tarkyn didn’t think he was producing an empty reassurance. “Actually, I think your ultimatum made most people realise for the first time that you did not intend to exercise absolute control. Since they had not been party to the discussions we have had, they didn’t know that before. Not only that, we all understood why you were angry. It made us realise that you require more than the respect based on protocol or fear. You are demanding the type of respect we give each other.” The woodman shrugged, “To be honest, that is much harder to give.”

Tarkyn stopped walking, a frown gathering on his brow. Before he could say anything, Waterstone pointed to a side path. “Come on. Let’s take a longer way back. We need to sort this out before you face everyone, and I think they need to get on with cleaning those wolf carcasses.” At a nod from the prince, Waterstone went briefly out of focus.

After a moment, Tarkyn followed the woodman’s suggestion and turned down the side path. He was still frowning as he asked, “Are you saying, that after all you and I have been through, you don’t respect me as you do, say, Autumn Leaves?”

Waterstone flicked a glance at the prince, then cleared his throat nervously, as he returned his gaze to the path. “In some ways, yes,” he replied resolutely. He held his breath and waited for the explosion. When it didn’t come, he turned his head to find the prince staring at him incredulously.

“Waterstone, your courage never ceases to amaze me. I wish I had known you for longer.” For one hideous moment, it flashed across the woodman’s mind that the prince was going to kill him, but Tarkyn merely clapped him on the shoulder and continued in amazement, “I don’t think there is another person I have ever met who would dare to say that to me.”

The woodman let out a quiet sigh of relief and shrugged. “Autumn Leaves would. Maybe others. Saying that, I have to admit I thought I was taking a risk.”

“Oh, you were. Believe me, you were.” The prince’s eyes glinted. “The things I accept here that I would never have countenanced at court continue to astonish me.” He studied the woodman unnervingly for several seconds. “So tell me, in what ways do your friends merit more respect than I do?”

Waterstone took a deep breath to steady himself. He knew he was pushing the limits of this strange friendship. “This is very difficult. I risk offending you with everything I can think of to say. But basically it simply comes down to this. They are woodfolk. You are not.” The woodman glanced at the sorcerer for a reaction but as far as he could see, there was none. He continued, “I share a thousand, two thousand years of ancestry with them. I know how they think, how they react in every situation. I know their skills. I know how they behave in danger. I know how we work together. I know them as I know myself.”

“And you do not know me.” It was partly question, partly statement.

Waterstone shook his head. “Not like that, I don’t. How could I? I have known you for three weeks. I have known them all my life.”

“So in the short time you have known me, where have I fallen short?”

The woodman did not like the detached tone he was hearing in the prince’s voice. He could feel Tarkyn withdrawing but he was now committed to this uncomfortable expose.

“Tarkyn, it is like playing with fire, being around you. You are unpredictable. In a dangerous situation, you are an unknown quantity. How could you expect me to respect your judgement in a situation that you have never been in before and that we have been in a hundred times over?” He paused and looked at the prince, who was still gazing expressionlessly straight ahead as they walked. “Tarkyn, imagine if I came to court with you where I know little or nothing of the expectations and dangers….You would probably have to explain and excuse my behaviour and endure my ignorance embarrassing you in front of your peers. Would you have as much respect for me there as for your fellow sorcerers?”

The prince smiled sadly. “Knowing you as I do, if I took you to court, I would respect you far and away more than anyone else there. That doesn’t mean you would be the best at everything or that you would shine in all situations.” He considered carefully, “I must admit that in some circumstances, my greater knowledge could mean that I did not respect your judgement there as I do here. But I would hope that I would give your opinions due consideration because you also would know your limitations.” He shrugged, “I might point out that I did not even attempt to air any of my opinions during the fight with the wolves.”

Waterstone stopped dead. “I have done you a disservice, haven’t I? Both now and after the wolf fight when I didn’t ensure that you were included in the post mortem.” He frowned as he turned to keep walking. “Now it is I who needs time to think all of this through.”

The sound of hurrying footsteps made them turn in their tracks. Up the path behind them came the wizard, green robe flapping around him as he rushed to catch up with them.

“My lord, I don’t know what you said to them but the woodfolk seem to be very pleased about it.”

The prince raised his eyebrows. “Do they?” He frowned as he thought through what he had said, “I was concerned that I had been overly harsh with them.”

“I told you that they were relieved,” said Waterstone.

Stormaway looked suspiciously from one to the other. “What have you made the prince do?” He demanded of the woodman. “I’m not a fool, you know. I know you’ve been working on him, taking advantage of his illness to work your way into his good opinion. Now you’ve used your influence to manipulate him, haven’t you? Even with the oath, one man against a nation is poor odds.”

Thank heavens I trawled Waterstone’s memory. I’m not sure I could withstand this barrage otherwise, thought the prince. As it was, he let loose a warning wave of anger which he allowed Waterstone to feel as well to make sure the woodman realised that he had the prince’s support. Interesting. I wonder if Stormaway can tell that I also let Waterstone know that I’m angry? Probably not. “Stormaway, there is no point in you blustering in here after the fact and throwing your weight around. While I have been trying to work out my role among the woodfolk, you have been conspicuous by your absence.” Tarkyn conveniently forgot that he had been at some pains to avoid Stormaway at various times. “And where were you when the woodfolk were fighting the wolves?”

Stormaway waved a hand vaguely. “Oh, here and there. Nowhere near the river though. I leave that sort of thing to the woodfolk. Not my place to get involved in it.” He regained some of his bluster and put his hands on hips. “So what have you done?”

“Stormaway,” the prince’s voice held a warning tone, “you are not my keeper. You are my advisor. Be calm.” Tarkyn picked small green shoots from his wooden staff while he waited for Stormaway’s stance to become more respectful. When the wizard had dropped his arms and nodded a brief apology, Tarkyn answered, “I told them that they must not mind talk about anything that concerns me without keeping me informed.”

“Very sensible, Sire, but I can’t see them being relieved about that.”

Tarkyn grimaced, knowing that the wizard would not like what he was about to say. “I told them that the alternative was that I would assume control of everything.”

He wasn’t wrong about the reaction. Stormaway almost danced up and down with frustration. “Your Highness! You are their ruler. You are supposed to take control.”

Tarkyn took a deep breath and brought his eyes up to hold the wizard’s gaze. “Stormaway, I am not my father. I may be passionate, but I am not my father. I am not a king and never will be. I may be a prince, but I am far from court and the rules are different here.”

“But my lord, it is up to you to impose the rules.”

“Stormaway, it is up to me. And I choose not to.” The calm authority in his voice forestalled any argument.

Tarkyn looked down at the particular shoot he was trying to remove. When he had managed to twist it off, he looked back up to find the wizard staring at him. The prince met his gaze squarely, waiting for the next sortie. To his surprise, Stormaway turned instead to Waterstone and demanded, “You made this staff for the prince, didn’t you? I would have expected you to do a better job of it. When did you make it?”

It struck Tarkyn that Stormaway never asked questions of Waterstone. He always demanded. Meanwhile the woodman was frowning down at the staff in some perplexity.

“I made it five, no six days ago. How can it still have green shoots on it? I trimmed it right back.”

Even as they watched, a tiny pale green shoot pushed its tip through a small fissure in the side of the staff. Tarkyn raised his eyebrows and looked from one to the other of them, a slight smile dawning on his face.

Suddenly, Stormaway was all business. “Waterstone, take us to the trees you repaired the other day. I want to look at them.”

The woodman glanced askance at him but complied without comment. However, as they moved off, the wizard was taken aback by a firm but gentle wave of disapproval.

A few minutes later they were standing amongst a group of trees that Tarkyn and the woodfolk had worked on three days before. The prince looked up but could not see any sign of the bandaging the woodfolk had done. “What has happened to the bindings you placed around the breaks?” he asked.

Waterstone came to stand beside him and gazed up into the trees. “They’re still there.” He said, pointing at an apparently undamaged branch. He looked at Tarkyn then back up into the trees. “Look. Just there. We cover the joints with sap and bark so that they blend in; otherwise a stranger passing might see our repairs.” As he turned to look at the wizard, his gaze hardened. “So, what did you want to see?”

“If it is at all possible, I would like to see how well one of your mended joints is recovering…If you wouldn’t mind, could you please take the wrappings off one and have a look?”

Waterstone blinked in surprise at the change in Stormaway’s tone. A flicker of surmise crossed his face but he answered with equal courtesy, “I would be pleased to assist you. No doubt you will tell us why, in your own good time.” The woodman climbed nimbly into the nearest tree and began to unwrap the layer of sap and bark. “Tarkyn, can you hold up the branch to support it when I take away the bindings? Otherwise we may damage it beyond repair.”

In answer Tarkyn muttered, “Liefka!” and a beam of bronze light shot up to hold the weight of the bough. If the wizard deplored such familiarity, he refrained from saying so. He was gazing intently at the branch that was being revealed beneath Waterstone’s hands. As the binding was removed, both wizard and woodman stared in wonder at the smooth, unscarred branch that appeared before them. Tarkyn was too busy concentrating to realise what was happening, as Waterstone asked, “Can you reduce your support gradually?”

Tarkyn thought about it and grimaced, “I don’t think so. It’s all or nothing. Perhaps you can hold it for a moment and let go gradually yourself. Then I’ll take the weight again when you’re ready.”

The woodman nodded and placed his arms around the place where the join had been. “Right. Let go.” Waterstone gingerly reduced his support of the bough. Nothing happened. The branch stayed in place and was able to take its own weight. “Can you two come up here?”

“I’m getting too old for this,” grumbled Stormaway. Nevertheless, wizard and sorcerer rose from the ground and hung in midair to inspect the branch.

Tarkyn stared at the unbroken bark of the healed bough. “These trees have healed quickly, haven’t they, Waterstone? I would have thought they would take a lot longer than this to heal.”

The woodman nodded slowly. “They should take much longer than this. Several weeks at least….and even then, they would always bear a scar of some sort.”

“Hmm,” said the wizard thoughtfully, “Interesting. - Waterstone, would you mind if we looked at another mended branch?” he asked politely. The woodman flicked a suspicious glance at Tarkyn who blinked but otherwise remained deadpan.

It was the same with every branch they inspected. Beneath the wrappings, there was no sign of damage at all. When they were all back standing on the ground, Stormaway asked, “Have any other strange things been happening?”

Waterstone scratched his head. “Obviously, the wolves are strange. It is unusual to have even one coming this far to the east of the forest, but first two arrived more or less together then today, two days later, another fourteen attacked us. If it hadn’t been for Tarkyn’s warning….” The woodman looked decidedly embarrassed, the prince was pleased to note.

Stormaway shook his head, clearly perturbed. “I don’t like the sound of all this. Something is wrong.” A thought struck him. “I am shocked that the woodfolk allowed you into a position, Your Highness, where you were the first to see the wolves. They cannot be protecting you properly. It is not funny.” He added in response to a ripple of dry amusement that pushed against him.

Tarkyn smiled at him. “Stormaway, I am pleased you are looking after my interests but I was not in the first line of fire. In fact, I had more than the woodfolk looking after me. In the latest incident, I was assisted by an eagle. The time before, I believe it was an owl,” said Tarkyn casually, grinning hugely by this time at the stunned look of amazement on the wizard’s face. He exchanged grins with Waterstone while the poor wizard struggled to get his head around it all.

“Explain to me,” demanded Stormaway. “What do you mean; you were assisted by an owl?”

As Tarkyn explained, Stormaway’s eyes widened, then a deeply satisfied smile spread across his face. “Marvellous!” he exclaimed. “That I should live to see this in my own lifetime. I saw the portents all those years ago but until now, I didn’t really believe they could be true.”

Tarkyn stared at the wizard as though he had gone mad, but Waterstone reacted quite differently. The woodman became very still and then, as the wizard watched, pieces fell into place and realisation dawned. Waterstone turned to regard Tarkyn with a strange mixture of suspicion and wonder on his face that the prince found very unnerving.

“What? What are you looking at?” demanded Tarkyn.

Ignoring him completely, the wizard kept his eyes on Waterstone. “You know it’s true, don’t you?”

The woodman gave his head a little shake. “But Stormaway, can’t all sorcerers do this type of mind linking?”

“No. None that I am aware of…and I did train many sorcerers, the king among them. That’s why they’re such a pushover for mind control” He raised his eyebrows at the woodman. “You are aware, I presume, that our young sorcerer here was able to withstand Tree Wind’s attempt at mind control?”

“Yes. She wasn’t pleased, was she?” Waterstone smiled reminiscently. “I don’t think any of us was too pleased about it at the time, to be honest,” he added with a wry smile at Tarkyn.

“Oh good. So you’ve remembered I exist then,” responded Tarkyn sarcastically. “You still haven’t answered my question. Why were you looking at me in that strange way? You know something I don’t and I would appreciate being included.”

Waterstone gave him a cheeky grin that went a long way towards making the prince’s blood boil. “At least you know we’re not mind talking. Stormaway’s mind is a closed book.”

As a sharp wave of annoyance hit him, Waterstone added quickly, “Sorry. It’s a bit like that owl you didn’t tell me about. I’m struggling to believe what Stormaway is proposing and I don’t want to say anything until I’m sure.”

The prince’s eyes flashed. “I am quite happy to hear theories. Stormaway, I insist you tell me what this is about.” A jab of anger hit the wizard’s mind.

“For heavens’ sake, Tarkyn,” he said, rubbing his forehead, “I will tell you. Exercise some control.”

“I am.” answered the prince flatly.

“Sire,” The wizard wandered over to a nearby log. “I suggest we sit down. This could take some time.” He waited until Tarkyn was seated before sitting down himself. Then he began. “For you to understand, I will have to tell you one of the old tales of woodfolk lore.” He paused as he gathered his thoughts. “There is a legend that has passed down through generations of woodfolk of a mystical being who appears among the woodfolk in times of great need. This being, sometimes male, sometimes female, possesses powers far beyond those of any woodfolk and is given the name of…”

“Guardian of the forest” said the prince slowly, glancing at the woodman. “You see? I remember some of what you told me.”

“So you know this story?” asked the wizard.

Tarkyn shrugged apologetically, “Actually I only have a vague recollection of it. Waterstone did tell me but I only remember that there was a wondrous being with mystical powers that emerges, what? Every four or five hundred years.?”

“Yes,” replied the wizard, “There is no set time but that seems to be roughly how often one will appear. Not every generation of woodfolk has seen a guardian but the legend is passed down for safekeeping in the lore of the woodfolk so that when he or she appears among them, they will recognise and remember. The appearance of a guardian of the forest is greeted with both fear and rejoicing; fear because his or her coming is a portent of great strife; rejoicing, because the forest guardian has come to stand beside them in their time of need.”

“I do remember most of this.” The prince absent-mindedly picked off another green shoot that had started to grow on his staff. “So are you seeing signs that this marvellous being may be coming among the woodfolk again?” He thought about it for a moment. “The wolves? The trees growing back more quickly….What else?”

“Tarkyn, look at me.” The wizard’s voice grew tense with suppressed excitement. “Among the powers possessed by a guardian of the forest are the ability to commune with the creatures of the woodlands and the ability to heal and foster growth.”

Tarkyn stared at him as the significance of his words hit him, and then turned to stare at Waterstone. “Oh, Stars Above! You two have completely lost the plot,” he said, revolted by the whole concept. “I am not some marvellous, mystical being. I am simply a sorcerer – perhaps more powerful than most, but still just a sorcerer.”

Tarkyn stood up and started pacing up and down in agitation. “And I have not just appeared miraculously among you. I have been forced upon you by the oath. Not only that, I walked for five days to get here from Tormadell then walked into the forest in plain view of everyone, in the company of this devious, delusional hedge-dweller here.” He smiled faintly. “Although I did appear above you when I translocated with the acorn.”

He stopped to look down on them, hands on hips, his eyebrows raised in derision. “And I may have been met with fear, but certainly not with any rejoicing that I’ve noticed.” He scowled at them, “Is that enough for you? Can you stop looking at me as though I’m some kind of freak now?”

The woodman and the wizard exchanged glances and shook their heads. Waterstone smiled fondly up at him. “Tarkyn,” he said quietly. “I think you have to give a legend a bit of poetic licence. Over the years, the logistics of how the guardians appeared would have become irrelevant. The tale has blurred each arrival into one description. And anyway, it doesn’t say ‘miraculously’. It just says ‘appeared.’”

Tarkyn looked askance at him then bent down to pick up his staff. He started to pick a green shoot off it then, realising what he was doing, threw it down in disgust.

“Oh for heaven’s sake. Can’t you see? I’m not mystical,” Tarkyn raised his hands and twinkled his fingers to demonstrate what he was not. “And I don’t have mystical powers. I’ve just been trying to mind talk like the woodfolk and it has gone a bit awry.”

The wizard shook his head. “No, it hasn’t gone awry. You have unearthed unique powers within yourself. No other sorcerer has them. No one else on Eskuzor; wizard, sorcerer or woodfolk, has them.”

A hint of panic flickered at the back of the sorcerer’s eyes. He looked wildly around, like a cornered animal. “I can’t handle all this,” he said imploringly. “I’m only just coming to terms with being exiled, trapped in a forest, hated by an entire nation of people…. actually two nations of people, if you count the sorcerers as well.” He ran his hand through his hair in distress. “Finally, I start to find a basis for living with the woodfolk with some degree of acceptance and now you’re trying to tell me I’m some kind of mystical being from one of their legends.” He sank down onto a log, closed his eyes and hid his face in his hands.

No one spoke. After a while, a feeling of warm reassurance pushed at the edges of Tarkyn’s mind. He felt something nudging against his knee. Being used to having dogs, he put his hand down unthinkingly to pat it. Then, as he remembered where he was, his hand stopped in mid-pat and he looked down to see the broad, striped face of a badger looking calmly up at him. As his eyebrows snapped together, the badger shied away from him. Tarkyn sighed and sent a wave of contrition to the badger who eyed him uncertainly for a moment before returning to within the sorcerer’s reach. He stroked the badger gently for a few minutes, focusing on the feel of her coarse hair under his fingers as he grappled with his confusion.

He had an idea. “Maybe it’s the oath. You woodfolk did swear it on behalf of the woodland creatures, didn’t you? Maybe they’re protecting me because of that.”

Surprisingly, it was the wizard who replied. He shook his head firmly and said, “No, Your Highness. Woodfolk have no authority to speak for the forest creatures. Those words simply meant that by obeying the oath, the woodfolk would be acting to protect the forests and the creatures within them. Besides, it doesn’t explain the regeneration of the trees and the staff.”

The sorcerer ran his hands through his long hair. “This is crazy. Anyway, call me what you will, it won’t change who I am.”

“Now there is a fraught statement, if ever I heard one,” commented Waterstone. “Would you still be the same if you were no longer called Prince of Eskuzor?”

Tarkyn stared at him for several seconds. “To be honest,” he said at last, “I am struggling to imagine what that would be like. I don’t know. It is not just a title. It is a role that comes with huge expectations of me and everyone around me; expectations which, I might add, are shifting like quicksand beneath my feet at the moment.” The prince felt the badger nudge him again. “Sorry,” he said distractedly and began to pat her again.

Waterstone watched him quizzically.

Tarkyn sighed. “Don’t tell me. I can see where this is going already.” He saw them both watching him expectantly and tried a last ditch stand. “I can’t be a guardian of the forest. I am sure a guardian would have to be old and wise with grey hair and long flowing beard. I am just an untried, callow youth. You said so yourself,” he added with a tinge of resentment, glancing at Waterstone.

Stormaway looked profoundly shocked, but the woodman laughed. “I didn’t quite say that, but you are certainly inexperienced in the ways of the woodlands.” Waterstone gave another chortle as he echoed the prince’s own words, “You may not be the best at everything and you may not shine in all situations…. and you are certainly not old and grey,” suddenly he became serious, “but against all the odds, you are wise.”

The wizard and the sorcerer both stared at the woodman. Tarkyn’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. Despite all the flattery he had received over the years, he did not know how to respond to such a profound compliment.

“And,” continued Waterstone quietly, sliding in under his guard, “amazingly, you are a guardian of the forest.”

After a few moments, Tarkyn picked up his staff and watched as small green shoots pushed their way out of the wood. As an experiment, he focused his will on the staff and found that he could accelerate the speed of growth. He gave a small, private smile and looked up to find the other two watching him. He shrugged self-consciously, “Just seeing what I can do.”

Wizard and woodman were staring at him appraisingly. Neither spoke. Lacking a response from them, Tarkyn ignored them and, hunting around for a sharp dry stick, used it to dig a narrow hole in the ground. When he was satisfied, he jabbed one end of his staff down into it and pushed the soil back into place around it. He grasped the rod with both hands, closed his eyes and focused his being into it. The tiny green shoots expanded and grew into the beginnings of small branches, even as they watched. Within minutes, a healthy young sapling was growing in the ground. Tarkyn opened his eyes and stood back to admire his handiwork.

After a moment, he smiled apologetically at Waterstone, “I still need a staff. Do you think you could make me one from a dead branch this time? Then I won’t have the embarrassment of green shoots bursting forth all the time.”

Waterstone, who was staring in bemusement at the new sapling, nodded distractedly.

Tarkyn tried again. “Waterstone?” His voice became sharper, “Waterstone!” Once the woodman had dragged his eyes away from the resurrected sapling to look at him, Tarkyn said, “Hello? It’s still me. You’re the ones who told me I could do it. So don’t act so surprised when I do what you’re expecting me to do.”

Waterstone gave his head a shake and blinked, “Sorry Tarkyn. It’s going to take a bit of getting used to – living with a legend.”

The sorcerer rolled his eyes. “Oh for heavens’ sake, Waterstone! Pull yourself together. I’m still the same person I was an hour ago.”

Waterstone smiled ruefully. “You haven’t grown up listening to the legends as I have. It’s truly amazing.”

Tarkyn looked to the wizard for support but found him, too, gazing at the resurrected sapling. “Not you too,” said Tarkyn in disgust.

Stormaway shook his head in wonder, “Marvellous. Just marvellous.”

“Well, that settles it,” exploded the prince, “I’ll be experimenting in private next time. If you two, who know me, behave like besotted fools, what will everyone else do?”

Consternation showed in the woodman’s face. “The others. We must tell the others. There must be danger coming.”

“No,” said the prince flatly. “I forbid it.”

“But Your Highness…” began the wizard.

Tarkyn put up a hand. “No. Not yet. The woodfolk and I must work out our terms of engagement as we are. That’s hard enough to sort out as it is. I have to consolidate where I am before everything starts to shift again.”

Stormaway came in firmly. “You can’t have long. The threat to the woodfolk, whatever it is, must be discovered and prepared for.”

“I have sworn to protect the woodfolk and I will not forget.” Tarkyn frowned at him. “You seem remarkably concerned for the woodfolk all of a sudden. And yet you were party to creating the oath.”

Stormaway considered carefully before answering, aware of the prince’s reservations. “Yes and no. Yes, I constructed and delivered it but I did so under orders from the king.”

“I thought you were his advisor. Could you not have dissuaded him from it?”

The wizard shrugged. “You saw in Tree Wind’s memory what type of man he was. Sometimes I had very little influence. Other times, I had more. Sometimes I had to be, hmm, what shall we say?… creative… to protect people’s interests.”

Tarkyn glanced at Waterstone but the woodman was watching quietly, keeping well out of the conversation. The prince turned back to the wizard. “So, if you created it, can you also destroy the sorcery in the oath?”

Stormaway looked squarely at him. “I could but I would not. I know how to destroy it but I promised your father that I would not.” Seeing Tarkyn about to protest, he too glanced at Waterstone. “I would suggest that we continue this discussion at another time.”

Waterstone stood up. “I can leave if you would like.”

“Yes. That would be helpful, I think,” said the wizard at the same time as the prince said, “No, stay. This concerns you and the woodfolk every bit as much as it concerns me.”

The woodman waited irresolute while the balance of power wavered. After a fraught moment, Tarkyn said quietly to the wizard, “Despite your misgivings and for reasons I am not prepared to go into, I have complete faith in Waterstone. I would appreciate it if you felt able to continue the discussion now. However, if it involves something about you personally that you don’t want to reveal, then of course we will wait for another time.”

A slight smile of satisfaction appeared on the wizard’s face. “My boy,” he said, “Your father would have been proud of you. I am even prouder of you because I understand, better than he would have done, the subtlety of your style.” Stormaway addressed the woodman. “Waterstone, I hope Tarkyn’s faith in you is justified. I suspect it will be because I am beginning to develop a healthy respect for his judgement.” The wizard shrugged, “So be it. Shall we take up the discussion where we left off?”

Tarkyn looked down at the badger and kept stroking it gently. “What would happen, Stormaway, if I ordered you to remove the sorcery in the oath? After all, you too have sworn the oath.”

Stormaway breathed a sigh of relief. “I am so glad you phrased it like that. What would happen is that I would refuse.”

“Hm, I see. No surprises there. And is this because your loyalty to my father is greater than your loyalty to me?”

“No, Your Highness, it’s not. It’s because the oath was designed to keep you safe and without it, you might find it difficult to leave the forest alive, should you ever choose to.” The wizard glanced at the woodman as he said this but Waterstone offered no reaction.

The prince frowned, “And what about the safety of the forest if I insisted on ordering you? Would you see it destroyed?”

The wizard smiled with a hint of smugness, “My concern for your wellbeing far outweighs any consideration I may have for the forest. Now that you know I would refuse, you could not order it because you have vowed to protect the forest.”

Tarkyn rocked back to sit upright as he considered this. His hand came away from the badger who, having had her fill of being stroked, took the opportunity to head off into the undergrowth. “I can see why you didn’t want Waterstone to hear this. Not,” he added hastily, looking at the woodman, “that I regret my decision to allow you to stay,” he returned his gaze to the wizard, “but I understand your reservations.”

He asked Waterstone. “What are the exact words of the oath?”

The woodman did not make the mistake of parroting the whole thing and merely repeated the relevant section. “To serve, honour and protect.”

“According to your understanding of honour and service, Your Highness, not Markazon’s. I achieved that much for you.”

“I suppose I should at least thank you for that, Stormaway” said Tarkyn gruffly. He rolled his eyes at Waterstone. “You really wouldn’t want to live under my father’s regime.”

Waterstone stood up and looked up into another repaired tree, his face closed. After a moment’s scrutiny, he lifted himself up into the branches and began to unwrap the injured bough. He looked down at the prince and said tightly. “This is actually a difficult conversation for me to listen to. I feel like my future, my whole life is being bandied around like some sort of commodity.”

Tarkyn was instantly contrite. “Oh Waterstone, I’m sorry. We are both affected by the terms of this oath, but of course, for you, it is even more critical. I need to know how much leeway I can safely give without destructive forces coming into play. I didn’t even think to ask you if you wanted to stay to hear all this. I just assumed you would. I think your perspective may help us all in coming to terms with managing this oath but I can come and talk to you about it afterwards if you prefer.”

Wizard and woodman both smiled at this little speech. “Tarkyn,” said Waterstone, “You make it just as impossible for me to leave as you did for Stormaway not to speak in front of me. I don’t think you have any need of an oath to get what you want.”

Tarkyn, embarrassed by this vote of confidence, bent down to pick up a dry stick which he then began methodically to demolish. “I did mean it, though,” he said, without looking up. “You don’t have to stay if you would rather go.”

“I know you did. That’s what makes it so convincing.” Waterstone shook his head, smiling, and turned his attention to the wizard. “You need have no fear that your young prince will compromise his authority. He just goes about it differently from his father.”

Tarkyn looked up at this and his eyes narrowed as he considered the wizard. “Out of those who swore the oath, you alone can oppose my will if you decide it serves my best interests to do so. Is that right?”

“How do you work that out?” asked Waterstone, as he climbed back down out of the tree.

Tarkyn smiled ruefully. “Because no one else, not even I, would place my welfare above the welfare of the forest.”

Waterstone considered him for a long time. “I’m not sure that’s true,” he said slowly, “although it may be true of most people.” He shrugged. “I would hope that you will never put me in the position where I have to oppose you to protect you – but I will remember this if it ever happens.”

Tarkyn frowned as he tried to work out the complexities of the oath. “It seems to me that anyone who calls my bluff will have the upper hand, whatever the issue. I can’t afford to order someone to do something that they don’t want to do. If they tell me they are going to refuse, I will have no choice but to back down. I’m honour bound to protect the forest so I can’t allow anyone the option of opposing me and invoking the destructive force of the oath.”

The wizard nodded. “Now you see why I didn’t want any woodfolk here for this conversation.”

“Waterstone is not just any woodman, even as I am not just any sorcerer.” The prince replied stiffly. “But I do see what you mean,” he conceded. He looked at Waterstone. “So where does this leave us then?”

Waterstone’s green eyes travelled slowly from the prince to the wizard and back again. His eyes were glittering with anger. “Both of you have forgotten that the woodfolk are also people of honour. We agreed to swear that oath in good faith as a debt of gratitude for the assistance rendered to us by King Markazon and you, his wizard. He did not respect us enough to trust our word. Obviously you do not either.”

“Oh no, Waterstone, don’t think that.” The prince was mortified. “I do trust you - you the woodfolk, I mean, to keep your word. I had just forgotten that angle on things because I was focusing on the danger to the forest. I have to be sure we know how to manage the destructive magic in the oath.” The prince turned impulsively to the wizard. “Couldn’t you find your way clear to neutralise your spell?”

“No, Your Highness. Do not demand it of me.” Stormaway shook his head regretfully. “I am sorry if I offend you, Waterstone, but I do not know or trust the woodfolk well enough to risk the prince’s safety. I will not break faith with his father.”

Waterstone shrugged. “You have certainly offended me but there is not much I can do against blind prejudice.” There was a pause while he visualised Sparrow going to live among a large group of stern, unfriendly wizards and sorcerers. He shared the image with Tarkyn and sighed. “I suppose I can understand how you might feel, at least to some extent.”

Tarkyn smiled wryly and sent an image back to Waterstone of Sparrow ordering the sorcerers around, with the sorcerers glancing sideways at her with their eyes filled with resentment and malice.

Waterstone raised his eyebrows in response. “True. To an even greater extent, I understand, but I am still offended.” He shrugged. “However, I suppose I can still work with you, Stormaway. I cannot purport to be honourable and, at the same time, expect you to break your own oath to Markazon.”

“Good.” said, the wizard, suddenly all business, “because if this young man is truly a guardian of the forest, there are bad times coming and you are going to need all the help you can get.”