he had had to endure them. Rushwind had been living with them for hours. Tarkyn overrode his present disenchantment with the woodfolk to ensure that several were standing nearby in case he needed their input. He left it to Stormaway to choose who should accompany him but in the end, much to Tarkyn’s irritation they all came, either to watch or to help. He did not think it did much for his cause to have them watching him summon the type of rage and hauteur required to assail the parasites.
Against all expectation, the purging of Rushwind went without a hitch. Without needing recourse to the woodfolk, Tarkyn used the same technique as he had for the trees. He summoned his rage at the parasites and struck out aggressively from the split second his power entered her bloodstream. He burned out the parasites almost instantaneously but stayed in Rushwind much longer, checking everywhere for lurking parasites and soothing and repairing the burning until she was free of pain and back to her normal temperature. When he left her, she was still unconscious but seemed to be healed. Only time would tell whether she had sustained any lasting damage. Tarkyn had not noticed anything obviously amiss but on the other hand, he knew next to nothing about anatomy.
When he had finished, Tarkyn opened his eyes, and took his hand from her shoulder. As he rose to his feet, he looked around the assembled woodfolk and said tiredly, “I think she is all right. And I hope now, we have seen the last of that infection.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m going to bed. I’ve had enough for one night.”
“My lord,” said Running Feet, “the lookouts have reported that, as the men on horseback passed below them on their way back to the encampment, they heard them discussing your magic. We fear that the people at the encampment now know you are here.”
Tarkyn waved a tired hand. “And yet I am still going to bed. I will leave it to you to ensure my safety. As I understand it, you have centuries of evading detection behind you. So you won’t need me to help you.”
Golden Toad gave a slight smile but the rest of the woodfolk looked stunned that Tarkyn was taking no interest in dealing with the new threat. Without another word, the exhausted sorcerer threaded his way through them and headed off to his shelter.
Part 2: Danton's Trial
Chapter 7
Tarkyn slept for more than twenty-four hours. Drumming rain on the roof of his shelter finally woke him. He lay in the semi-darkness remembering where he was and what had happened. He wondered how Rushwind was, but not enough to venture into the rain to find out. Tarkyn thought about Autumn Leaves telling him he was unnerving, Rainstorm calling him ruthless and all the woodfolk backing away from him. Most unkind of all was Waterstone’s remark about the wolf’s spirit being broken. Tarkyn hadn’t broken his spirit. He may have mastered the wolf but that same wolf was still lord of the wolf pack. Even at the end, the wolf had met his eyes for some time before acknowledging Tarkyn as his packleader. On balance, Tarkyn decided to roll over and go back to sleep.
When he next awoke, the rain had stopped and he could see tiny pinpricks of sunlight through the entwined branches of his ceiling. He thought about going outside. How would the woodfolk treat him? Would they all pretend everything was all right? Would someone come up and apologise? Would they avoid him? Tarkyn shook his head. He couldn’t think of any scenario he could look forward to with any pleasure. On balance, he decided to roll over and go back to sleep.
By mid-afternoon, going back to sleep was no longer an option. Physical needs were demanding attention. He pulled on his boots, reached for his cloak and made his way quietly outside. There was no one was around. After he had relieved himself, he wandered around the area looking at the devastation wrought by the infestation and the oath. The acrid smell of old smoke and wet charred
Against all expectation, the purging of Rushwind went without a hitch. Without needing recourse to the woodfolk, Tarkyn used the same technique as he had for the trees. He summoned his rage at the parasites and struck out aggressively from the split second his power entered her bloodstream. He burned out the parasites almost instantaneously but stayed in Rushwind much longer, checking everywhere for lurking parasites and soothing and repairing the burning until she was free of pain and back to her normal temperature. When he left her, she was still unconscious but seemed to be healed. Only time would tell whether she had sustained any lasting damage. Tarkyn had not noticed anything obviously amiss but on the other hand, he knew next to nothing about anatomy.
When he had finished, Tarkyn opened his eyes, and took his hand from her shoulder. As he rose to his feet, he looked around the assembled woodfolk and said tiredly, “I think she is all right. And I hope now, we have seen the last of that infection.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m going to bed. I’ve had enough for one night.”
“My lord,” said Running Feet, “the lookouts have reported that, as the men on horseback passed below them on their way back to the encampment, they heard them discussing your magic. We fear that the people at the encampment now know you are here.”
Tarkyn waved a tired hand. “And yet I am still going to bed. I will leave it to you to ensure my safety. As I understand it, you have centuries of evading detection behind you. So you won’t need me to help you.”
Golden Toad gave a slight smile but the rest of the woodfolk looked stunned that Tarkyn was taking no interest in dealing with the new threat. Without another word, the exhausted sorcerer threaded his way through them and headed off to his shelter.
Part 2: Danton's Trial
Chapter 7
Tarkyn slept for more than twenty-four hours. Drumming rain on the roof of his shelter finally woke him. He lay in the semi-darkness remembering where he was and what had happened. He wondered how Rushwind was, but not enough to venture into the rain to find out. Tarkyn thought about Autumn Leaves telling him he was unnerving, Rainstorm calling him ruthless and all the woodfolk backing away from him. Most unkind of all was Waterstone’s remark about the wolf’s spirit being broken. Tarkyn hadn’t broken his spirit. He may have mastered the wolf but that same wolf was still lord of the wolf pack. Even at the end, the wolf had met his eyes for some time before acknowledging Tarkyn as his packleader. On balance, Tarkyn decided to roll over and go back to sleep.
When he next awoke, the rain had stopped and he could see tiny pinpricks of sunlight through the entwined branches of his ceiling. He thought about going outside. How would the woodfolk treat him? Would they all pretend everything was all right? Would someone come up and apologise? Would they avoid him? Tarkyn shook his head. He couldn’t think of any scenario he could look forward to with any pleasure. On balance, he decided to roll over and go back to sleep.
By mid-afternoon, going back to sleep was no longer an option. Physical needs were demanding attention. He pulled on his boots, reached for his cloak and made his way quietly outside. There was no one was around. After he had relieved himself, he wandered around the area looking at the devastation wrought by the infestation and the oath. The acrid smell of old smoke and wet charred
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