The Sorcerer's Oath Collection

Chapter 25

Night had fallen. Everyone was sitting around a new firesite. After some discussion earlier in the day, it had been agreed that mind talking was permissible if it was for private conversations or routine communications. There was some initial constraint, but gradually the atmosphere around the firesite became more congenial than it had been previously. The woodfolk were not as relaxed with the prince in the way that they were with each other but they were making a clear effort to include him and to fill him in on any mind talking that occasionally wandered into the middle of conversations in which he was involved. As for Tarkyn, he was used to being set apart and felt that he had achieved as much familiarity as he could manage.

“Tarkyn,” said a little voice at his side. The prince looked around to see Sparrow’s upturned face. “Could you hold these for me while I finish making this village?” She held out an assortment of rocks, twigs and leaves. Tarkyn held out his hands and she tipped her treasures into them. “I’ve just collected them all and I don’t want them to get dusty sitting on the ground while I finish this bit off.” She pointed at several little assemblies from bark and small branches that Tarkyn rightly surmised to be houses.

“They’re not woodfolk houses,” he pointed out. “Have you ever been to a village like that?”

Sparrow shook her head. “No, but I’ve seen one from the forest edge.” She gave an anxious frown. “Have you been to one? Do you think I’ve got it right?”

Tarkyn smiled. “Near enough. There’s usually one bigger house called an inn which is where everyone goes for a chat and a drink in the evenings.”

Sparrow scowled at her creation. “I don’t think I have time tonight to build a bigger one as well. This will have to be a village without an inn.” She set to, smoothing out the dirt between the houses to make roads and straightening up her houses. Then she began to place her collected items around the village as decoration. By the time she reached into Tarkyn’s hand for the last stick, tiny green shoots were clearly developing on it. Sparrow shot a sharp glance up into Tarkyn’s face. An image of him asking her to be quiet accompanied by a feeling of complicity appeared in her mind. She barely missed a beat. “This will look good as a tree in the front of this little house,” she said placidly as she dug the sprouting twig into a small hole.

Unfortunately, woodfolk are very attuned to anything related to plants and the forest. Added to that, the novelty of the prince’s presence meant that at any one time, several people were likely to be idly watching him while they chatted among themselves. Sparrow and Tarkyn gradually became aware that everyone had fallen silent. Many eyes were out of focus as the embargo on mind talking was forgotten.

Nearby, Waterstone was staying determinedly in focus, clearly resisting a battering of silent questions. On the pretext of bringing Tarkyn another drink, he leaned over and whispered in the prince’s ear, “The game is up, my friend. How do you want to play it?”

Tarkyn’s mouth quirked. “Since it is now inevitable, I think I’ll just go for the grandiose,” he whispered back. “Anything else will seem apologetic.” He sent Sparrow a request for a bigger, green stick. In less than a minute, she returned with a stick about the length of his arm. Tarkyn thanked her and held it upright between his hands.

He drew a deep breath and focused his will briefly on the stick before addressing the woodfolk. He allowed his voice a degree of severity. “It does not seem that agreements made with you endure for long. Already you are excluding me from your present conversation which, unless I am much mistaken, closely concerns me.”

Around the firesite, woodfolk eyes snapped back into focus and they looked uneasily at each other, aware that they had transgressed. Then, as one, their green eyes became fixed on the new shoots that were curling forth out of the stick that Tarkyn held. The silence lengthened.

“I didn’t say you had to stop talking all together,” observed the prince dryly, firmly suppressing a smile. “Who among you would like to tell me what you were saying? Perhaps you would like to ask me a question?”

Waterstone’s mouth twitched in appreciation but he held his peace and turned away to help Sparrow pack up ready for bed.

Finally Thunder Storm’s voice rumbled into life. “My lord, would you mind explaining how you became aware of the impending wolf attack?”

“Did Autumn Leaves or Waterstone not tell you?”

Thunder Storm shook his head. “No, my lord. We assumed that you had been levitating yourself for some reason and just happened to see them.” He paused, “But now, that explanation has been called into question.”

The prince glanced in turn at Autumn Leaves and Waterstone. “I appreciate their discretion. However, it would now be my pleasure share the source of my knowledge with you. If you all make sure you are seated, I will show you.” The sorcerer waited until they were ready, then asked them to close their eyes. Tarkyn centred himself then sent them the image from the eagle’s eyes of the wolves running through the forest as it wheeled below them. He took them right through to where he was looking up from the ground at the eagle flapping slowly away through the trees above his prostrate form.

There was a mass expulsion of breath. Tarkyn steeled himself. All around him, eyes opened and woodfolk gazed at him in wonder. In his hands, the stick had become a flourishing young sapling.

Ignoring the woodfolk’s reaction, Tarkyn spoke to Thunder Storm, “Where are your children? Are they still up? And Breaking Twigs?”

“Yes my lord. They are all playing over near the trees.”

“Could you send for them please?” He turned to Waterstone, “And Sparrow.”

Once the children were arrayed before him, the sorcerer said, “Before you go to bed, I have a very special job for you. Can you four take this sapling and choose somewhere to plant it to commemorate the coming of a guardian of the forest?” He ignored the mass intake of breath that this elicited and kept his eyes firmly on the children who nodded solemnly. “Each of you has to have an equal share in the task. Is that clear?” He handed the sapling to the quiet Rain on Water and nodded dismissal to them.

Inevitably the moment came when Tarkyn had to raise his eyes to meet the awed gazes of the woodfolk gathered before him. “Could I just ask,” he said diffidently, “that you don’t treat me as more of stranger than you already do?” His voice gained assurance. “You all knew I had strong magical powers before this. Can we just keep it in perspective and think of the mind linking and the tree healing as another couple of powers to add to the rest that you already know about?”

Suddenly everyone was smiling and shaking their heads. They swarmed forward and surrounded Tarkyn, patting him on the back, angling to get close to him and pressing wine and food into his hands. Flowers that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere were festooned over him and he was surrounded by a symphony of excited forest voices. The reticent prince blinked and, after a brief flicker of panic, succumbed to the kindness and enthusiasm of the woodfolk, a surprised smile dawning slowly on his face.

Among the general hubbub, the prince was finally able to make out Autumn Leaves’ voice. “Don’t you realise, Tarkyn? The guardian of the forest is no stranger to us. You have been here a hundred times before. You just don’t remember. But we do.”

Long into the night the festivities raged. Everyone sang, danced and retold all the old tales of the guardian of the forest. The people on lookout were rotated so that everyone could join in. No one remembered to put the children to bed and they gradually fell asleep in little heaps at various points around the fire. Everyone congratulated themselves that they were the ones who had stood by Tarkyn and were now the chosen few to have first met the new guardian of the forest. Stormaway looked on benevolently and drank solidly.

All evening, the prince was plied with wine and carried along on the wave of the woodfolk’s excitement. As the dawn crept slowly across the sky Tarkyn weaved his way ponderously up to his shelter and collapsed inside, watched from afar by Waterstone.