“How dare you keep me from my daughter?” he raged.
Tarkyn sent a look of appeal to the other two woodfolk but Waterstone threw off all attempts to contain him.
“Waterstone. Waterstone,” said Tarkyn urgently, “She’s all right. She’s not dead. She’s sleeping,” but the woodman was ranting so much, he didn’t even register that the prince was speaking.
With a mute apology, the sorcerer, in quick progression, dropped the shield then incanted, “Shturrum.” The three woodfolk froze.
“I’m sorry, Waterstone, and you others. I don’t want to use strong-arm tactics but Waterstone, you must listen; Sparrow is all right. She’s sleeping – Do you understand? It’s taken a long time to get her to sleep and I was hoping not to disturb her. It is your choice, of course. But if you’re going to beat me up, do it somewhere away from Sparrow.” The prince smiled wryly at the other two. “And don’t worry about your forests. As long as he doesn’t actually kill me, he has my permission to do to me what he needs to.”
As soon as he said this, the wind outside dropped and an uneasy silence settled on the forest. The sorcerer waved his hand again, removing the paralysis spell but not re-instating the shield. He braced himself for Waterstone’s next move but the woodman now had himself in check.
“Give me my daughter,” he demanded flatly.
“Here.” Tarkyn gently shrugged his shoulder to push Sparrow forward towards her father but the movement woke her.
The little girl opened her eyes sleepily and smiled at her father, “Hello dad. Tarkyn’s been minding me.” She started to nod off but murmured, just before she went back to sleep, “Actually, we’ve been minding each other.”
Tarkyn and Waterstone were left staring at each other across the sleeping form of the woodman’s daughter.
“I’ll speak to you later,” said Waterstone shortly and walked out bearing Sparrow.
The prince looked at the other two woodfolk.
“Have the huntsmen gone?” he asked urbanely to cover the awkward moment.
“They’ve been gone for an hour or more,” rumbled one of them.
“Just as well, with Waterstone shouting like that.” The prince frowned. “I thought woodfolk weren’t supposed to shout.”
The woodmen exchanged glances. “We don’t, in the normal course of events.”
The prince smiled disarmingly at them. “Would you mind telling me your names again? I have become confused.” He hazarded a guess. “Are you Thunder Storm?” He received a nod. “And you?”
“Autumn Leaves.”
“I thought you were, but I wasn’t sure.”
Tarkyn flexed his shoulder and asked, “Could you two help me back into bed? I’ve been sitting in the same position for a couple of hours. It is not that I minded holding Sparrow, but my arm and shoulder were screaming by the end of it.”
Once he was settled back in bed, Tarkyn asked, “What happened to Waterstone’s face?”
The two woodfolk looked at each other again, then Autumn Leaves shrugged, “We’re not sure. Just as the king and his brother were riding underneath, Waterstone’s eyes went wide and he lost his balance and nearly fell out of the tree. Luckily Thunder Storm was near enough to grab him but he swung in against the trunk of the tree and gashed his cheek. After that, all he wanted to do was get back here but we couldn’t move until the hunting party had left the area.”
The prince ran his hand through his hair. “Poor Waterstone. No wonder he’d worked himself up into such a frenzy.”
“My lord,” rumbled Thunder Storm, “It is important that Waterstone is made to realise that he must control himself. He endangered the forest with his behaviour towards you.”
The prince raised his eyes brows superciliously. “He has indeed, but that will be the last time you pass judgement on my actions. Perhaps you have forgotten that I, too, have sworn to protect the forests. I will deal with Waterstone as I see fit. The mindblast that hit Waterstone was a fraction of what hit his daughter, and I was its source. He was frightened for his daughter. He had every right to be angry with me, even though he must have known it was unintentional.”
“But my lord…,”
“But what?” asked the prince icily. “Do you expect a man to stand by and accept his daughter being hurt?”
“Perhaps not.” rumbled Thunder Storm stiffly.
“Do you have a daughter, Thunder Storm?”
“I have two sons, my lord, five and seven years old.”
“And how would you feel if I or someone else injured one of your sons?”
“I would be upset, of course, but I would like to think that I would maintain a sense of proportion and put the welfare of all woodfolk before my own concerns.”
“It has obviously not happened to you yet,” observed the prince tartly. “We would all like to think that we could act rationally in times of stress, Thunder Storm, but we often don’t.”
“But, my lord,” insisted Thunder Storm, “how could you give him permission to assault you?”
The prince looked at him steadily for a few moments, deciding whether to answer. Finally, he said, “Once Waterstone knew his daughter was safe, he was never going to attack me. I gave him permission, both to appease the sorcery of the oath and to give Waterstone an even playing field.” The prince shrugged and smiled wryly. “If he does come back seeking vengeance, I will just have to accept it.”
“I think that’s very generous of you, Your Highness. I would almost say courageous, given you have your arm in a sling. But I gather, since you won that Harvester tournament, that you must be a skilled fighter.”
Tarkyn narrowed his eyes, finding Thunder Storm’s remarks sycophantic. “Thank you. And now I think I need to rest.” Mostly from you, Tarkyn added to himself.
It was several hours before Waterstone reappeared. He eyed the prince and sat down next to him. His face was pale and there were signs of strain around his eyes.
“How is Sparrow?” asked Tarkyn with some restraint.
“She is well,” replied Waterstone shortly.
Silence ensued. Waterstone cleared his throat a couple of times but said nothing. Then they spoke simultaneously.
“Waterstone…”
“Your Highness…”
Tarkyn nodded to the woodman. “You first.”
Waterstone cleared his throat again. “Autumn Leaves told me that you defended me against Thunder Storm.”
“Thunder Storm is a sanctimonious, old bore. He questioned my judgement and I was not pleased.”
Waterstone glanced at the prince, taking in this disdainful side of him. After a moment, he asked, “How would you react if I questioned your judgement?”
The prince raised his eyebrows. “You are not a prosy old bore. So I would listen.” He shrugged, coming down off his high horse. “I mightn’t agree with you, but I would listen. And in fairness, I did listen to Thunder Storm. I just didn’t like the way he spoke. He did have a point though. You did endanger the forests and your people.”
Suddenly, Waterstone’s eyes glistened with tears. “I know I did. You should see the damage out there. At least one grand old oak tree has fallen and many trees have been damaged. Birds’ nests on the ground….” Waterstone cleared his throat again. “And although you stood up for me, I actually think my behaviour was reprehensible, regardless of the oath.”
“Do you?” The prince’s amber eyes considered him, giving him time to squirm. “I suppose it depends on how you look at it. From the point of view of court etiquette, it was almost a hanging offence. In fact, in my brother’s court, I doubt that I could have saved you.” He paused to let this sink in. “From the point of view of a father protecting his daughter, it was perhaps a little aggressive but understandable – and at least you haven’t hit me yet.” Suddenly, Tarkyn twinkled at the woodman. “But the offer still stands.” Before the woodman could respond, he became serious again, “To be honest, I feel I almost deserve it. I’m afraid my reaction to seeing my brothers s
ent a huge jolt of emotion through the mind link and Sparrow caught the worst of it.” The prince ran his hand through his long black hair. “Waterstone, you have no idea! I was so frightened that I might have killed her. She just collapsed. Then when she opened her eyes and looked up at me, she started crying. I held her and did the best I could, one-handed, but it was ages before she went to sleep. I am so sorry, Waterstone. I would never do anything to hurt her intentionally.”
The woodman waved his hand dismissively. “I know. Of course you wouldn’t. I knew at the time.”
“But you were crazy with fear for Sparrow.”
Waterstone nodded shortly.
The sorcerer gave the woodman a little smile. “I’m sorry about the spells. I do not generally resort to magic to impose my will, but I couldn’t make you listen and the forest was suffering.”
Waterstone glanced at him then looked away. “Hmph. I didn’t leave you much choice. Anyway, it’s a great leveller to be reminded from time to time how powerful you are.”
The sorcerer grimaced. “Actually, I think we both need to know more about each other’s magic. For a start, had you people understood my magic better, I wouldn’t be carrying so many injuries and had I had time to learn about your mind linking properly, I may not have endangered Sparrow as I did.”
Tarkyn saw Waterstone hesitate and added quickly, “Not today but soon. Tonight you need to go home to Sparrow.”
13
The next morning, Sparrow and Waterstone came in together with the prince’s breakfast.
“Good morning, you two. Are you better now, Sparrow?”
“Morning, Tarkyn. Yes, I’m better. Are you?”
Before he could answer, Waterstone’s voice cut in sharply. “I beg your pardon, young lady. What did you just say?”
Sparrow thought back and repeated faithfully, “Morning Tarkyn. Yes, I’m better. Are you?”
“Sparrow, you do not call a prince just by his first name,” scolded her father.
“But I did yesterday and you didn’t say anything.”
“Hmph. I may not have noticed at the time, but I’m noticing now.”
The prince in question coughed apologetically, “My fault, I’m afraid. I introduced myself to Sparrow as Tarkyn”
“I see,” said Waterstone, although he was clearly at a loss about what to do next.
The prince smiled, seeing his dilemma. “You may also call me Tarkyn, if you would like to. Maybe not on formal occasions, but the rest of the time. It seems a bit pointless to keep using titles so far from court.”
Waterstone frowned. “I’ll think about it. I might forget who you are, if I stop using your title.”
“I doubt it, especially after yesterday. Besides, I stand out like a sore thumb amongst you woodfolk. I can’t see you ever forgetting who I am.”
Sparrow, who was waiting impatiently for this conversation to end, asked her question again. “So, are you better?”
“Sorry, young one. I guess I’m getting better but I still have my arm strapped up…”
Sparrow waved a dismissive hand. “Not that better. You know - feel better.”
Tarkyn flicked a discomforted glance at Waterstone then looked back at Sparrow in some confusion. Sparrow frowned at him reprovingly. “You should feel better. I cried all your tears for you.”
Light dawned. “Oh no, Sparrow. Oh, stars above! You should never have had to deal with that.” Tarkyn shot an apprehensive look at Waterstone to find the woodman watching silently, his mouth set in a grim line.
Sparrow shrugged and smiled, “Maybe it was easier for me. I’m still young.”
Tarkyn thought about the enormity of his reaction to seeing his brothers. “No, Sparrow. It is not the job of a child to bear an adult’s burden for them.” Despite that, he realised that the big knot in his stomach had nearly disappeared. “But you know, I think you’re right. I do feel better, as in feel better.”
“And I feel better because when I was crying for you, I started crying for me.”
“You did? Why?”
“Because I lost my mum.”
Tarkyn glanced up over Sparrow’s head and briefly met Waterstone’s eyes before returning his attention to Sparrow. “That is sad. I bet you miss her.” When Sparrow nodded, the prince added, “I lost my dad too, you know, when I was your age.”
“And now you’ve lost your brothers and your mum and everyone else and that’s why you were sad.”
“Hmm. Yes.” Tarkyn sent a wry grimace in the woodman’s direction. “Neatly put, Sparrow.”
The little girl hopped up and sat on the bed with her feet dangling over the edge. Once she was settled, Tarkyn put his arm around her. Sparrow smiled sunnily, “See Dad. Tarkyn and I are friends.”
Waterstone ruffled her hair. “You don’t know what an achievement that is, young Sparrow.”
After a while, it became apparent that Tarkyn had no hands left with which to eat his breakfast. So Sparrow was shooed off to play and Waterstone waited with him until he had finished.
There was an air of constraint around the woodman and his previous confident style in his dealings with the prince was conspicuously absent. He did not use the prince’s title but neither did he call him by name. “I think your strapping is coming off today,” he said neutrally. “Once you have both arms free, we can get you into a new set of clothes. Your own clothes were badly torn by your fall through the oak tree.”
Even as he finished speaking, an older woodwoman entered the shelter. She nodded her head and said in a soft shushing voice, “Good morning, Your Highness. It is pleasing to see that you are looking better. It was uncertain for a while whether you would recover at all and whether you would have your wits, if you did. I don’t know if you remember me, I am Summer Rain.”
Tarkyn smiled and inclined his head, “I believe you gave me a tonic on the first night. Am I right in assuming that you are the healer?”
“I do have some knowledge in that area,” came the cool response.
“I thank you for your care. I believe I do have my wits, at least as much as I ever did, although Waterstone may be a better person to attest to that.” When Waterstone merely smiled perfunctorily, Tarkyn gave a mental shrug.
“How are your ribs, my lord?”
“Very sore, especially if I laugh.”
The healer delicately raised her eyebrows. “I would not advise laughing for the time being, if you wish to avoid pain.”
Tarkyn glanced at Waterstone who did not show any reaction. Tarkyn felt his good humour evaporating. The healer seemed to have no sense of humour and Waterstone had become distant. For some reason, the woodfolk seemed to be closing ranks against him. Inevitably, Tarkyn became more aloof in response. He did not reply but waited for the next question.
“And how does your shoulder feel?” asked the soft emotionless voice.
“It is painful if jolted but quite comfortable if it is still,” he replied briefly.
“Your shoulder has had over two weeks tightly strapped in place. I believe it will be safe to take the strapping off now.” The woodwoman, with Waterstone’s assistance, removed the prince’s shirt and then the strapping. The woodman’s eyes widened when he saw the extent of the bruising that was revealed. Even after two weeks of healing, Tarkyn’s back and shoulders were almost totally covered with dark blue almost black bruising, with a greenish tinge around the edges where the bruise was beginning to fade.
“Wolves’ teeth!” exclaimed Waterstone, his voice, for the first time betraying some feeling. “You’re a mess. That walk to the river must have been agonising.”
“Agonising might be too strong a word, but it was difficult,” replied Tarkyn coolly.
“However,” interrupted the healer, “a little exercise will be helpful in reducing stiffness.” She lifted his arm and moved it gently through its range of movement. “How is that?”
Tarkyn flexed it carefully and grimaced, but said, “It is a great relief to be able to move it.”
&n
bsp; “As long as you are careful, it should be all right now.” Summer Rain picked up the bandaging and prepared to leave.
“Thank you for all you have done to help me,” said Tarkyn with a smile.
In return, he received a curt nod and no eye contact. His smile faded and his face became stony. Tarkyn struggled to contain a wave of anger that washed through him at her discourtesy. “Summer Rain, although I will make some allowances for your natural resentment of me, I will not brook deliberate rudeness. Do I make myself clear?”
The healer nodded and looked up reluctantly at him, her face set. “Yes, my lord. Your pardon, my lord.”
He took a steadying breath and asked, “Is something amiss, that you did not reply?”
“Yes, my lord. There has been something amiss for more than a decade.”
“Has this oath affected you so badly?” asked Tarkyn.
“No, my lord. Not until your recent arrival. But because the king found us and forced us to foreswear our independence, my brother was exiled.”
“And your brother is…?”
“Falling Rain.”
“Oh, I see,” said Tarkyn slowly as he thought back over Tree Wind’s memories. “But surely his self-betrayal was inadvertent? Didn’t he become so ill that he was found after falling from a tree?”
“That is so, but he should have refused to answer questions. Instead he chose to betray our existence to the king and then show him how to find us.”
“And the most fundamental tenet of woodfolk is that we remain hidden from the outside world,” put in Waterstone. “Our way of life and our safety depends on it.”
Tarkyn began to feel he was fighting a rear guard action for this woodman he had never met. “But as I understand it, had he not brought help, many woodfolk would have died.” He looked at Summer Rain. “You’re a healer. In your opinion, how many would have died if help had not arrived?”
“My lord, the sickness was virulent. More than half of the woodfolk were ill by the time the king and the wizard arrived. As it was, many people died. Without aid, our numbers would have been decimated. We may even have been wiped out completely.”
Bronze Magic Page 14