The Sorcerer's Oath - Books 1-2

Chapter 5-1

Over the next few days Tarkyn skirted villages and farmsteads, losing all idea of where he was heading. Twice he waylaid a small child to ask him to buy something for him from the village shop in exchange for a small fee, but these villages were so small that everyone knew everyone’s business, and both times he had had to run for his life as suspicious villagers had come looking for the stranger. By the fourth day, he was living mainly on berries and some apples he had found in an old gnarled tree by the side of the road. His big frame demanded more than this and his stomach growled constantly as he walked along mile after mile of dirt roads.

It was nearing sunset on the fifth day away from Tormadell when he sat down by the side of the road to rest before finding somewhere safe to spend the night. Up ahead of him, Tarkyn could see the beginnings of a forest and he hoped that it might provide him with some respite from the constant tension he had endured since leaving Tormadell.

He was tired and dispirited after days of living on his nerves. He had travelled fast, avoiding villages and farmhouses, shying away from contact with people. He was becoming very weary of detouring around the slightest signs of humanity and starting at every sudden sound. After days of unaccustomed solitude, he was sick to death of his own company and was beginning to think that his unknown future would be slow starvation if he could find nothing better than berries and apples to eat. Heaving a disconsolate sigh, Tarkyn put his hood up and dozed for a while in the shadows of an old oak.

When he awoke, an old man was sitting beside him. Tarkyn retreated further into his hood and glanced around to check whether the old man was alone. He seemed to be.

“Good evening,” said Tarkyn warily.

The scruffy old man seemed to be completely relaxed, “Good evening, young man. I was wondering, if you are going my way, whether you might like some company for a while, going into yonder forest? I have been travelling alone for some time and would appreciate a bit of company. Besides, the forest always feels safer when there is more than one person travelling through it, if you know what I mean.”

Tarkyn studied him for a minute, trying to discern any guile in his voice. Then he realised that the old man could have captured him while he slept, had he known who he was.

“I don’t suppose,” ventured Tarkyn hopefully, “that you’re any good at hunting or trapping, are you?”

The old man snorted, “Of course I am. Lived in these parts for years.” He peered at Tarkyn, “Hmph. Can’t see your face but your voice sounds a bit strained. After a feed, are you? Well, I think I can help with that. Got a good plump rabbit in my bag, all ready for dinner. Glad to share it, in exchange for the protection of your company.”

“Agreed,” Tarkyn stood and held his hand out to help up the old man. Together, they walked along the dusty road towards the forest.

Long before they reached the treeline, the heat from the waning sun made life inside Tarkyn’s hood uncomfortably warm. He was not particularly practised at withstanding discomfort and so, readying himself in case the old man attacked, Tarkyn threw caution to the winds and dropped his hood. At first the old man didn’t even look at him but when he did happen to glance around, he showed no sign of recognition. For several minutes longer Tarkyn stayed on tenterhooks, waiting for a surprise attack from the old man, but gradually, as nothing happened, he relaxed his guard.

Once they were well inside the forest, the old man made a fire for them and set about skinning the rabbit. Tarkyn watched this operation carefully, realising that he might have to learn how to do this himself in the coming days.

“I think I could stalk and kill an animal,” said Tarkyn. “I have hunted before. But I have never prepared an animal for eating.” He grimaced, “I can’t say it appeals to me all that much.”

The old man glanced up at him, his green eyes strangely piercing. “And where have you been, my young buck, that you have hunted, but not had to do the dirty work?”

Tarkyn cursed his unruly mouth. “I come from the city and have only been on organised hunts.”

The old man grunted, and returned his attention to the rabbit. “You may find stalking animals more difficult without beaters to flush them out and gamesmen to track them down in the first place.”

“Yes, I think I may.” The prince was beginning to realise that life was lot harder than he had expected.

As the evening progressed his spirits seemed to sink even further, despite his first good meal for a couple of days. The prince and the old man were seated on the ground, leaning against forest trees, the remains of cooked rabbit lying on a piece of bark near the fire.

After days of solitude, Tarkyn began to talk, “I don’t know where I’m going, you know. I have lost myself, my way of life and everything that has mattered to me until now. All the roads ahead of me lead nowhere.” He smiled with a touch of embarrassment, “I decided that, at each intersection, I would follow the road that felt best, the one with heart.” He shrugged, “But I’m finding that is easier said than done. Sometimes, none of them feels good.”

The man across the fire from him maintained a companionable silence, prodding idly at the coals with a long stick.

Somehow encouraged by this, Tarkyn continued, “It has not been in my nature to be so feckless. In fact, it has come upon me quite suddenly. Last week, my life was laid out ahead of me by the expectations of the c… those around me. But this week…this week, I am cut loose by circumstance and running hard from those very people who held me so closely before.” He gave a mirthless grunt of laughter. “Strange, isn’t it?”

His companion directed one quick, calculating glance at him before letting his gaze drop back to the fire. “Woman trouble?” he asked sympathetically.

Tarkyn gave a slight smile, “No.”

“If it’s not woman trouble and you’re on the run, I’d say you might have a price on your head.” The man’s eyes glinted in the firelight. “Do you?” he asked slowly.

The prince’s eyes narrowed. Incurably honest, he replied, “Yes, I do. I don’t know how much, but I do. Why? Thinking of turning a quick profit?”

The old man looked up at him and shrugged, “To be honest with you, it would depend on what you’d done.”

“And on what grounds would you base your decision? If the crime were sufficiently dire, would you feel honour-bound to bring me in, but for a lesser crime you would show mercy?” His voice hardened, “Or perhaps, it’s the other way around? If I seemed relatively harmless then it would be safe to take me in for a quick profit, but you would not risk it if my crimes suggested that I might be dangerous?”

The older man shifted uncomfortably. “Stars above, young man! No need to get so touchy! I am not planning to turn in someone I am sharing my fire with. I was talking generally, not specifically.”

“I beg your pardon. It did not come across that way,” said Tarkyn stiffly.

“You’re a courtly sort of a character, aren’t you, my young buck?” The old man leaned forward and pushed a stick further into the fire. “So,” he asked casually, “Are you going to trust me with your name?”

There was a long pause. The old man kept his eyes trained on the fire as the minutes ticked by.

“My name is Tarkyn Tamadil, Prince of Eskuzor.”

Without a word, the old man rose to his feet and bowed deeply. “It is an honour, Your Highness.”

Tarkyn looked up at him and inclined his head in acknowledgement, “And may I ask who you are?”

“Certainly, Sire. I am Stormaway Treemaster, Wizard of the Forest.”

The prince raised his eyebrows. “Are you indeed? I have heard of you, Stormaway Treemaster.” His eyebrows came together in a slight frown. “You were at court, were you not, in the service of my father?”

The wizard inclined his head but made no further comment.

“Please be seated.” Tarkyn smiled. “I have always thought Stormaway Treemaster to be such an excellent name. I wish I had one so colourful.”

“Do you?”

Tarkyn drew his cloak around himself against the cooling night air. “Any name but my own would be better right now.”

For the first time, the forest wizard returned his gaze levelly and said with unexpected sympathy, “I imagine it would be.” He leaned forward and poked the fire again, “Even if you weren’t sharing my fire, I wouldn’t attempt to turn you in. You are far too dangerous.”

Tarkyn gave a short mirthless laugh. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

“It certainly does. But I suspect the tales of your misdeeds may have been vastly exaggerated.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know what they are, but I can’t imagine that they are much worse than the reality.”

“But regardless of the rumours,” continued the wizard, “the strength and skill required to win the Harvest Tournament is indisputable.”

A genuine smile lit the prince’s face. “Thank you. I had almost forgotten that achievement in the turmoil that followed.”

Stormaway stirred the fire then asked in a completely different tone of voice, gentle and firm, “Would you like to tell me about it?”

After a minute’s silence he looked up to see Tarkyn staring at him, considering his decision. The wizard, who seemed to have grown in assurance, said, “Take your time deciding. We have all night if we need it.” His eyes fell to the fire once more as he continued, “If you trust me not, so be it. Perhaps the truth is worse than the rumours, but I doubt it. But knowing who you are, the truth places you in as much danger as anything you could say.”

Tarkyn eyes narrowed. “I thought you said you would not betray me?”

The wizard frowned impatiently, “I won’t. I’m saying that I need no further information to betray you, should I choose to do so. Therefore, you can tell me your story without fear of further consequence.”

Tarkyn re-evaluated his impression of the wizard. The man before him, who had seemed shifty and shiftless, now exuded natural authority. “I’ve been watching you, Stormaway. You’re like a chameleon. The person I sat down with is not who I see before me now.”

“We must all wear disguises in the face of potential danger, Sire.”

“And you would consider a lone stranger to be a potential danger?”

The wizard spread his hands disarmingly. “Often, Your Highness. But in your case, absolutely.”

“I hope you realise that I intend you no harm,” said Tarkyn quietly. Suddenly, he hit his hand on his thigh in irritation. “Blast it! I am not used to being treated as such a pariah.”