The Sorcerer's Oath - Books 3-4

Chapter 6-1

As Tarkyn stepped back into the trees, he said to Waterstone who appeared at his side, “I don’t think we need to rush off. Jarand will keep his word.”

The woodman shook his head, “I don’t see how you can trust him to keep his word when he is totally unscrupulous in other respects.”

“Didn’t like him much, did you?”

“He was deliberately belittling and offensive.”

Tarkyn smiled, “Well, if he goes away thinking that you lot are harmless, we will have done a good day’s work.”

“Hmph. Just as well you hauled me in. I was ready to tell him how deadly we really are.”

Tarkyn gave a short laugh, “I know. Your temper was getting the better of your judgement.”

“You did us proud,” said Ancient Oak, joining them. “You stood up and told him you were one of us and then acknowledged us as your family.”

“Of course I did.”

Autumn Leaves, “Now Tarkyn, that’s not like you. There was no ‘of course’ about it. I saw you steeling yourself to say ‘We are woodfolk’.”

W“Just because I had to steel myself to deal with Jarand’s reaction, doesn’t mean there was any doubt that I would say it.”

Autumn Leaves smiled, “I see. Fair enough.”

“I’m not sure how wise it was to hit Jarand with the double whammy that not only do we exist but he now has an extended family. Just meeting us might have been enough for the first time,” mused Waterstone.

Tarkyn shrugged, “Well, I didn’t know what you were expecting and I thought you might have been offended if I left out the little detail that you were my brother.”

“I can’t say I’m proud to have him as a member of the family,” said Waterstone, shaking his head.

Tarkyn grinned, “No. Even though most people in Eskuzor would be overcome with the honour of being able to claim relationship to the heir to the throne, I can see your point.”

Ancient Oak waved his hand around airily, “Why would we be honoured by him? After all, we have the King in our family too, and the sovereign lord of the woodlands. And if they are not enough, we also have Waterstone and Sparrow.”

“Not to mention Ancient Oak,” added Tarkyn with a slight smile.

Just as he finished speaking, Tarkyn turned pale and sat down suddenly. He ran a shaking hand across his forehead.

Autumn Leaves leaned over him, “What’s wrong?”

“Aagh. Such anguish. Such pain,” breathed Tarkyn, closing his eyes. “I don’t know this person’s mind like I did yours, Autumn Leaves, but someone is in terrible trouble. Ooh, he’s enduring, he’s enduring. No! He’s gone. He’s either dead or passed out.” Tarkyn ran his hand over his face and took a shaky breath.

“But where is he? How can we help him if we don’t know where he is?” demanded Autumn Leaves.

Tarkyn shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”

“Were there any images?” asked Waterstone.

Tarkyn took a deep breath as he thought about it, “Yes… Yes. There was the bark of a tree close up. That was nearly all I could see. Hmm, a flash of deep brown to one side. Wait on. Let me focus on that… Yes. It’s a ploughed field. I can’t see it properly.” He groaned, “Mostly I can feel the pain. My wrists are hurting but my back feels like as if it’s on fire. Worse than that. It’s absolute agony.”

Summer Rain appeared beside him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, “Tarkyn, come out of it. You’re taking on the hurt.”

The youngest prince shook his head to clear it, “Sorry. It is the intensity of the experience that has connected me to this person, whoever it is.”

“So it must be in farmland somewhere,” said Danton prosaically, handing Tarkyn a cup of cold water. He glanced at Tarkyn, knowing he was about to upset him further. “Hmm. I would say that someone has just paid for our success. What you’re describing is how it feels to be flogged.”

Danton carefully didn’t meet anyone’s eyes and an awkward silence ensued until it was broken by Rainstorm striding over and giving Danton a few hearty slaps on the shoulder, “Well, you’d know, you poor bastard. So we’ll have to take your word for it.”

A ripple of relief and appreciation for Rainstorm’s forthrightness drifted through the group.

Danton gave a gentle smile, “Thanks Rainstorm.”

Tarkyn sat in the middle of it, feeling sick with someone else’s pain and inundated with a deeper horror of what his friend had been forced to endure as a child on his behalf.

“Excuse me,” he muttered and blundered off into the undergrowth to vomit. He stood leaning over with a hand against a tree, breathing deeply and trying to pull himself together enough to help the person who had been flogged.

A few moments later, Falling Rain appeared next to him, “I bet you’re feeling dreadful about Danton.”

Tarkyn nodded mutely. He ran his hand through his hair, “And for this poor unknown. All because of me. If I hadn’t captured Jarand, he wouldn’t have wreaked his revenge on this hapless individual.”

“On the other hand,” responded Falling Rain, “If you hadn’t captured Jarand, he may have captured you or one of us.” The woodman put his hand on the prince’s shoulder, “And if you don’t mind, you should give credit where credit is due. We were all party to the plan to capture Jarand. If we hadn’t knocked out the vanguard and been waiting in the bushes to pick off the soldiers, it might not have worked, especially with your non-talent for bluffing. We all took part and are equally responsible. And this man’s fate was decided by no one but Jarand.” He shrugged, “And perhaps by the man himself. After all, the risks associated with serving the royal family are blindingly obvious.”

With an effort, Tarkyn straightened up, “Ugh. I feel awful. But I’d better go and see if I can find this man.”

Falling Rain put a restraining hand on his arm, “No need. The others have already gone.”

Tarkyn managed a crooked grin, “There I go again. Trying to take over when there is no need.”

Having worked out the probable cause of Tarkyn’s image, it was not difficult to determine where to find its source. Danton and a group of woodfolk stood within the trees at the edge of the forest looking out into the open fields along the side of the road back to Montraya. In the distance they could see the cloud of dust that was the only sign of Jarand’s troops.

“He’ll be somewhere along that road, I expect,” said Danton.

Waterstone’s eyes swept anxiously across the flat open landscape. “There is no cover anywhere. It may be a trap.” After a moment, he shook his head slightly. “No. Can’t be. No one would know that Tarkyn would pick up that man’s distress. There might still be some soldiers lurking though. What do you think, Danton?”

Danton considered. “Unlikely. Either they have cut down the man down and taken him with them to throw him in the dungeons at the other end or they will have left him to his fate. Jarand won’t waste precious manpower on standing guard over him.”

Autumn Leaves shook his head, “He could be anywhere along that road.”

“No, he couldn’t,” said Rainstorm decisively. “They hadn’t been gone for long when Tarkyn went all shaky.”

“True.” Danton shaded his eyes against the setting sun as he peered out along the road. “Tarkyn saw rough bark close up, didn’t he? So this man is probably tied to a tree somewhere. There are a couple of trees dotted along the roadside. I guess we can start by checking them.” There was a strained silence. He looked around and found himself surrounded by anxious faces. “You don’t want to go out of the forest, do you?”

They all shook their heads. “The only place we ever break cover is to cross the grasslands and only then, at night.”

Danton put his hands on his hips. “Well, I guess that leaves us with these choices; I go alone, some of you break with tradition and come with me now, or we wait until dark. What do you want to do?”

There was an intense silence as they conferred with each other.

Eventually Waterstone cleared his throat and asked, “Do you think you could carry him on your own?”

Danton shrugged, feeling a little disappointed. “If it’s not too far. I can use magic to transport him back. It would probably hurt him less if I did that, anyway.” He waited but no one said anything else. “So, is that your decision?”

They nodded, looking a little shame-faced.

“We will wait here and if you really need us, we will come,” said Waterstone. “I’m sorry, Danton. I can see you feel let down but I, we, have never been outside the forest in broad daylight. Even at night, we feel exposed and unsafe, just going through the grasslands that are deep within the forest’s boundaries, let alone here.”

Danton sighed, “I understand. More or less.” He took a deep breath. “So be it. Wish me luck.” With that he gave Waterstone a pat on the back and headed out of the trees.

He walked unhurriedly over the fields to the road and sauntered along in the late afternoon sunshine, having decided that a slow pace would attract less attention if anyone happened to be watching. He breathed in the air and savoured the tang of newly turned soil on the wind. He gazed around at the open space, realising what a relief it was to be out of the constant confines of the trees. But his enjoyment was short lived. Before long, he was close enough to see the inert body of a man hanging by his tied hands from a large horse chestnut tree further down the road. Despite his intentions to the contrary, Danton broke into a run.

When he reached the tree, his eyes widened as he saw the damage that had been inflicted on the man’s back. The man’s head was lolling to one side and Danton’s first move was to check for a pulse. After several attempts, he eventually found a blood vessel in the man’s neck that betrayed a fast shallow beat. Danton put his arm around the man’s lower body to take his weight while he reached up with his other hand to cut the ropes. With some frustration he realised he couldn’t reach. Inwardly cursing woodfolk as timorous cowards, he lowered the man and thought about what to try next.

“You could use your magic to hold him up while I cut the ropes,” came a voice behind him.

Danton whirled around to find Rainstorm standing there, grinning. The sorcerer’s movement brought the man’s back into Rainstorm’s view and the young woodman blanched. “Oh my stars! Oh, that’s horrible. Is that what happened to you?”

Danton shook his head. “No. Nothing nearly as bad as this.” He gave a derisive smile, “No. This would have ruined their carpets in the palace. They usually stopped when my back began to weep.”