27
Tarkyn awoke the next morning, lying on a soft grassy verge, his head throbbing with the aftermath of the wine. The other sorcerers had taken turns in guarding him throughout the night but now only Harkell and Midnight were awake. The night before had released a lot of the tension but he still hadn’t forgiven the woodfolk for their cavalier treatment of him. After a bit of vengeful thinking, he sent a message through to the Lost woodfolk that the sorcerers should meet him in the circular clearing in two hours’ time.
“Good morning, Sire,” said Harkell with a smile. “I’ve seen you looking better. Would you like a cup of tea?”
Tarkyn scratched his fingers through his hair. “Yes thanks. A leisurely breakfast, I think. Then a dip in the stream to brighten me up before we return to the cle
