The Sorcerer's Oath - Books 3-4

Chapter 4-2

Tarkyn shook his head, smiling, “I’m afraid there are some things I don’t feel at liberty to discuss with you. But do you know who Falling Rain is?”

Jarand waved his hand, “Not really. I couldn’t get a word out of him. I didn’t even know that was his name. He’s obviously from some other country. Those soft green eyes and that strange light brown hair. No one around here looks like that. In fact, no sorcerer I know of has green eyes.” He shrugged, “But other than that…”

Tarkyn was a little perplexed by his brother’s answer. It was not at all what he had expected. After a moment he tried another tack, “You realise that I am not a rogue sorcerer?”

Jarand’s eyes narrowed, “I do now. Journeyman said you weren’t but I didn’t believe him. I thought you must have gone berserk with rage after Kosar and I left the Hall. Tell me what happened.”

“Because of the intensity of my feelings, my shield changed its consistency and reflected back all the guards’ power beams. If their rays were lethal, they died at their own hands. Many of the beams ricocheted around the hall and gradually the walls and pillars disintegrated under the assault of the palace guards. I didn’t fire on anyone. I just stood within my shield while the world collapsed around me.”

“How did you get away?”

“Through the mayhem,” replied Tarkyn shortly.

“You realise there is nothing I can do about the charges facing you?”

Tarkyn shrugged. “I would never trust either of you enough to return, anyway. I do not want or need your charity.”

“And why did you not flee the country all together? Surely that would be safer than remaining within the borders of Eskuzor.”

Tarkyn suddenly felt a void opening at his feet. A wave of encouragement from Waterstone steadied him and he realised that safety lay in taking the high moral ground. “I could never leave Eskuzor unless I was sure her people were safe. At the moment, they are not.”

Jarand smiled patronisingly, “I know that lawlessness is rife. That is why I am recruiting people to combat the renegades.”

“Your press gangs are as fearsome as the outlaws. Some of them are brutal and uncompromising, and force unwilling sorcerers to abandon their farms and businesses, to become vigilantes.” When Jarand frowned at him, Tarkyn continued, “And let us be frank. You care much more for undermining Kosar than you do for preserving law and order.”

Jarand made a sudden move towards Tarkyn, “You young upstart! What would you know about the politics of this nation? I am striving to mitigate the deficiencies in Kosar’s rule, supporting him to manage an unruly nation.”

Tarkyn met his eyes and held them. “If that is indeed the case, you will have nothing to fear from me. But I have heard very different stories from many different sources and gullible though I may be, I struggle to believe you.”

“How dare you doubt me? I could have you…”

“What, Jarand?” Tarkyn’s voice cracked like a whip as his carefully controlled anger threatened to overwhelm him. “What could you throw at me that you haven’t already? I have been outlawed and face execution for trumped up charges. You have nothing left to threaten me with. And I warn you, a person with nothing left to lose is a dangerous person to cross.” Deliberately insolent, Tarkyn threw himself down to lounge against the log while Jarand stood above him, fuming.

After a minute, Tarkyn found himself a stick and began to break pieces off it methodically to calm himself down. When he next looked up, Jarand was watching him quizzically, “Do you know, you’ve always done that when you’re upset or thinking? Broken little bits off a stick or a biscuit, or torn little pieces off bread?”

Tarkyn managed a tight smile, “Have I?” Suddenly he began to remember all the times they had played together when they were younger and unbidden, tears sprang to his eyes. “Blast you, Jarand! Why did you throw it all away? Why did you throw me away? I was never going to hurt either of you.” He brushed his hand angrily across his eyes and stood up, “And now… Now, nothing will ever be right again and I am left to be Eskuzor’s constant watchdog to ensure that between you, you don’t destroy her.”

Jarand’s grey eyes narrowed, “I do not know what power you think you possess or what you think you can do to interfere in the affairs of our nation but let me assure that I too have Eskuzor’s best interests at heart. Perhaps when you are a little older and wiser, you will understand how I am striving to secure Eskuzor’s future.” He turned and walked to his horse. As he straightened the stirrup strap, he said casually over his shoulder, “In fact, if you really care for Eskuzor, you could consider joining forces with me to help me to bring law and order to our suffering nation.”

Tarkyn gave a short bitter laugh. “I can’t see how you could justify me riding by your side in a vendetta against lawlessness, if I myself am a wanted felon.”

Jarand waved his hand impatiently, “Not openly, of course. At least, not at the moment. No, you and your associates could work in subterfuge to bring those renegades into line.” He raised his eyebrows, “In fact, I did hear that you were instrumental in bringing a band of outlaws to justice on the Great West Road. I didn’t credit it at the time, but perhaps I do now.”

“What associates?” asked Tarkyn tightly.

A knowing smile played around Jarand’s lips. “Interesting clothes you’re wearing. I understand from my new little wizard that a few people around here sport that type of clothing. He’s right. It doesn’t look like a uniform but rumours have reached me of some secret army. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Tarkyn’s eyebrows shot together in consternation. He took a deep breath before replying. “I have also heard of some secret army. I think the rumours originate from your encampment up near the Great West Road.” He paused and asked as casually as he could muster, “Where did your wizard see these other people dressed as I am?”

“Gliding through the swamp. On reflection, I think you may have been one of them… the black hair, you know.”

Tarkyn let out a breath and, taking a great leap forward for his woodfolk, did his best to lead Jarand astray, “Yes. That was I and a few other people who have since moved on. This is no uniform that I wear. It is merely that clothes such as these are practical for life in the forest and a lot of displaced people wear them.”

“I see. That explains why that Falling Rain fellow had similar clothes. I was wondering about that.” Jarand frowned, “And what on earth were you doing in that godforsaken swamp?”

Tarkyn shrugged, “We were searching for something precious they had left there.”

“And did you find it?”

“Yes, we did.” Tarkyn grimaced. “You couldn’t land anywhere. Horrible, dank-smelling place. And now it is empty except for the egrets.”

“Hmm. So. Mystery solved and almost the outcome I was hoping for.” Jarrand smiled wryly, “But not quite. I was hoping to meet up with you but with the expectation that I would hold the balance of power.”

“And that you would drag me back to your dungeons?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps come to some arrangement. I meant what I said. I would value your support in protecting this country.” Suddenly Jarand came to a decision. He straightened up and drilled Tarkyn with his hard grey eyes. “So, whether you wear a uniform or not, you do have at your command a sizeable force, if I’m not mistaken. You are clearly not a rogue sorcerer and from all I know of you, you will have had enough integrity to galvanise that oath that Stormaway devised so long ago. Correct?”

Tarkyn, caught out completely by Jarand’s sudden change of tactics, simply nodded. For several long seconds, they stared at each other in silence. Then Tarkyn found his voice and asked, “How many people know about this?”

Jarand’s eyes narrowed as he considered the reason for the question, but eventually he shrugged and answered, “Other than our father and Stormaway, only Journeyman and I knew about your Falling Rain. And only Journeyman and I knew about that strange family that we captured and held at the encampment. A couple of other soldiers knew of them but they have since, unfortunately, perished.” He raised his eyebrows and smiled slightly, “Would I be right in thinking that you have those strange people from the encampment back in your fold?”

Tarkyn nodded.

“Hmm. Interesting. Of course, I think the rumours of your little secret army may have sprung from the hunters who accompanied Journeyman in his efforts with the wolves to track down your unusual friends.” Jarand sipped his tea before asking conversationally, “So, do they have a collective name or are they just sorcerers like the rest of us but living within the woods?”

“They are called woodfolk,” said Tarkyn shortly. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and said resolutely, “We are called woodfolk.”

We“Are you indeed?” said Jarand mildly, as he mulled over the significance of this defiant statement. “So, will you do me the courtesy of introducing me to these people, since presumably I am in their midst?”

“No. Not unless they make that choice themselves.”

“Oh, so you are not in command, as I first thought. What happened to the oath they swore?”

Tarkyn’s mouth quirked, “It’s complicated. And not something that you would easily understand.”

As he stood there, even though he couldn’t understand the words, Tarkyn could feel the debate raging through the minds surrounding him. Suddenly Waterstone appeared by his side. Jarand jumped in fright while the woodman bowed deeply and straightened without a word.

Tarkyn suddenly realised that Waterstone had remembered the sorcerer protocol about not speaking first and was waiting to be introduced.

“Your Royal Highness Prince Jarand, may I present Waterstone, woodman of the forests of Eskuzor and my bloodbrother… and by virtue of my relationship with you, also your bloodbrother.”

For a moment, Jarand just stood there, stunned. Then, with a visible effort, he pulled himself together and, using every ounce of his courtly training, nodded graciously in return. “It is an honour to meet you Waterstone. I am, I admit, a little surprised to discover that I have another brother. I have always found two of them enough to handle.”

“So I gather,” said Waterstone with a courtly smile. “You also have a fourth brother, Ancient Oak, and a niece; my daughter, Sparrow.”

“Have I indeed? Well, this certainly is a day for surprises.” Unconsciously ill at ease, Jarand folded his arms, “And will I have the honour of meeting the rest of my unexpected family?”

There was a protracted silence. Jarand frowned as he noticed the woodman’s eyes go out of focus. He leaned towards Tarkyn and murmured, “What’s wrong with the man? Is he drunk?”