Bronze Magic

by Jennifer Ealey

  A stillness settled on the clearing.

  “Yes?” Tarkyn’s voice seemed unnaturally loud.

  Stormaway flicked a glance at him before seeking the refuge of staring into the flames. “The two bounty hunters who kept out of sight were your friends, Andoran and Sargon.” The wizard cleared his throat. “I noticed you mentioned them a few times. They seem to have been regular companions of yours, from what you were saying.”

  The young prince felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. All his doubts clicked into place as he realised that some part of him must have recognised his unseen captors. There was an awkward silence while Tarkyn mustered his thoughts and resources to say, “They were not among my closest friends but you’re right. I did spend quite a bit of time with them, one way and another. I defeated both of them in the tournament. They always did like any excuse for an adventure. I knew there were times when they were thoughtless pranksters but I never knew they were cruel.” He could not keep the bitterness out of his voice, “No doubt they thought it might be a good bit of sport. At the same time they could gain favour with one or both of my brothers since they have now lost their route of influence through me. In fact they were probably very angry that my exile had ruined the value of their carefully nurtured friendship with me.” Tarkyn turned bleak eyes towards the wizard who was still gazing studiously into the fire. “You see, Stormaway, this is not the first time that apparent friendships have winked out of existence when these so-called friends have realised that they would not get the influence they craved, through me.” Tarkyn managed to raise a half smile as he hauled himself to his feet. “Anyway, the good thing about it is that it keeps me from having too high an opinion of myself. With all that power I wield, it would never do to be blindly arrogant as well, would it?… And now, if you’ll excuse me, I will take a short walk to ease my stiffness before retiring.”

  Tarkyn walked away from the gentle light of the fire into the gloom of the forest, heading down to the river. He did not choose to use his sorcery to give himself light and so had to pause every few yards to allow his eyes to adjust. He heard a spate of talking break out soon after he left. From what he could tell, the woodfolk were reproaching the wizard and Stormaway was having to defend himself. In the darkness, despite himself, Tarkyn smiled.

  When he reached the river, the moon had just cleared the top of the trees and had turned the river into a ribbon of silver. His whole being felt jarred by the betrayal of his erstwhile friends and their brutal treatment of him. More than this, Tarkyn’s faith in his own perceptions had once more been undermined.

  He sat on a rock at the river’s edge and let the peace of the forest wash over him. After a while, he became aware of an otter working its way busily upstream, ducking into side pockets and sliding up and over small rocks. When it noticed Tarkyn, it did a double take then flicked out of sight under the far bank. A few minutes later its head gingerly re-emerged and it watched Tarkyn for several seconds before disappearing again. After several repeats of this performance, it glided slowly across the river and emerged right beside Tarkyn to shake itself off at his feet. Tarkyn smiled but other than that, did not dare move a muscle.

  He remembered the mind linking and worked on sending out waves of friendship. The otter stared up at him and Tarkyn realised he was receiving curiosity, wariness and a dawning hint of trust.

  Am I just reading this from its body language or is this animal actually sending me messages? wondered the prince.

  This uncertainty was rewarded by a clear wave of irritation and a view of the river from where the otter was standing. Tarkyn raised his eyebrows in amusement, and sent ruefulness and an invitation, which the otter accepted by scuttling up the rock to sit next to him. The sorcerer visualised a tentative image of patting, and received consent. So he reached out slowly and started to stroke the otter in slow, gentle movements. The otter was cold and wet under his hand and not particularly enjoyable to stroke but the wonder of being able to pat a wild otter more than made up for it.

  Suddenly the otter flicked back into the water. Almost simultaneously, Tarkyn heard the thrum of a bowstring and saw an arrow streak past his face. Even as he threw up a shield and dived for cover, he heard a dull thwack and a strangled snarl as the arrow found its mark. Gasping in pain from his abused ribs, he emerged to find himself face to face with a huge black wolf, its teeth bared and its dulling, yellow eyes staring into his. Waterstone was calmly removing the arrow that stuck out of its neck.

  Fear made the prince angry. “Why didn’t you warn me?” he demanded.

  Waterstone shrugged. “Didn’t want to warn the wolf.”

  “Couldn’t have that, could we?” returned Tarkyn sarcastically. “And you didn’t feel the need to kill it before it sprang at me?”

  Waterstone grinned, “Not really. Anyway, I’m not even sure it was springing at you. I got a clearer shot at it once it came out from the trees. If I’d told you it was coming, the wolf would have known it was being watched”

  “Hmph.” Tarkyn digested this, not sure how keen he was on being used as bait. He flicked out his shield and ran a hand over his head. “I’m sorry. I’m just a bit shaken. Thank you for saving me.”

  A certain dryness in the look the woodsman sent him reminded the prince that Waterstone had no choice but to protect him. Tarkyn smiled ruefully and said, “Nothing’s easy, is it?”

  “No, it’s not,” replied Waterstone shortly, “And I hope you know that I did not kill that wolf because of the oath.”

  Tarkyn smiled, “Well, obviously not. You were just protecting the otter, weren’t you?”

  Waterstone shook his head and smothered a smile as he walked down the few steps to the river. As the woodman crouched at the water’s edge, rinsing his arrow tip, Tarkyn suddenly became aware of an unnatural stillness around them and received an image from a viewpoint within the overhanging branches. A dark shape, slinking low and dangerous, was closing in on Waterstone from the other side.

  “Stay down,” ordered Tarkyn sharply. As the wolf emerged from the trees, the sorcerer yelled, “Fierspa!” and threw a blast of power at it. The wolf recoiled howling in shock and pain but regrouped and sprang at the crouching woodman, who whirled to face it, knife in hand. Another wild streak of fire slammed it to the ground and this time it didn’t move.

  Waterstone sprang to his feet, knife at the ready and stood staring down at the smoking wolf. “Stars above! That was careless. The lookouts spotted the first wolf coming this way but I assumed it was alone.” He shook his head, “It is unusual to see this type of timber wolf so far east. Usually they are either sole travellers or in packs. Not this time, apparently. The lookouts must have missed this one while they were watching the other.”

  The sorcerer frowned. “I thought I was warned by a lookout. Isn’t there one up in the overhanging trees over there?” he asked, pointing to the patch of forest the wolf had come from. Just then, a large tawny owl took off from the trees in that area and swooped down over him before heading off across the river to hunt. The sorcerer picked up a wave of approval as it flew past.

  Waterstone turned puzzled eyes on the prince. “There are no lookouts this close to us. What warned you?”

  “Maybe the silence. Maybe I caught a flash of its eye.” Tarkyn wondered about the owl but didn’t feel sure enough to mention it. He shrugged. “Maybe I saw a shadow moving. I don’t know.”

  The woodman considered him silently for several moments. “I guess it’s my turn to thank you,” he said quietly. “I might have to revise my opinion of sorcerers. You’re definitely becoming an asset. Thank you.”

  “A pleasure.” Tarkyn smiled as he walked over to join Waterstone in looking down at the singed carcass. “That wolf took a lot of stopping, though. That power blast would have knocked most men or beasts unconscious with a direct hit like that. Are there likely to be any more?”

  “I would hope not, but I think we’ll put on extra lookouts until morning.” Waterstone’
s eyes lost focus as he relayed this message. When the woodman’s eyes cleared, he returned to the river’s edge and crouched down again, arrow in hand.

  “So what brings you down here?” the prince asked. “I thought you were going to bed.”

  Waterstone looked at Tarkyn over his shoulder before calmly returning his attention to cleaning his arrow. “I did go back to be with Sparrow for a while and I decided to stay there. I didn’t want the wizard focusing on me as a potential rival for your attention. He needs a bit of time to piss on his tree.”

  “Me being the tree, I presume?”

  Waterstone smiled, “I’m afraid so” He turned back to the river to give his arrow a final shake to clear it of excess water and walked up to sit near Tarkyn. “Autumn Leaves mind told me about the identity of the bounty hunters. When you left to walk down here, we thought I should come down and see how you were. I hadn’t decided whether or not to intrude on your solitude to talk to you, but events made the decision for me.” Waterstone saw the prince thinking this through and added, “To forestall any suspicions you might have about Autumn Leaves’ motives, I might point out that he has no expectation that I would tell you of his concern.” The woodman grimaced, “In fact, I don’t think he would be very pleased to find out that I had told you.”

  “I had already figured that out, actually.” The prince grinned sheepishly

  The woodman shook his head ruefully. “I knew it. You can’t take anything at face value. You have to analyse everyone’s actions to the last detail.”

  Tarkyn snorted derisively. “Do you blame me? Especially tonight, after what Stormaway told me. Andoran and Sargon have been amongst my circle of friends for years. They may not have been my closest friends and I may not have liked everything they did, but I would never have expected this of them.” He ran his hand through his hair. “And yet no matter how hard I try to second-guess people’s motives and protect myself, look what happens.”

  Waterstone shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t blame you. The longer I know you, the more I understand why you do it.” He shrugged, “I just think it’s a shame that those stinking sorcerers have jaundiced your view of people so much.”

  The princes raised his eyebrows, “And are woodfolk so far above reproach, then?”

  “Of course they’re not, though I think they’re better. All right. I’ll retract that. It’s not sorcerers or woodfolk. It’s the power that corrupts the people around you.”

  “That’s a refreshing point of view, Waterstone,” remarked Tarkyn caustically. “It is generally held to be the power wielder who is corrupted by the power.”

  Waterstone eyed him thoughtfully. “Considering your family, I would have to say there’s a lot of truth in that. However, power does not corrupt everyone within its sphere and therein lies your hope. Except for your deep-seated and let’s face it, justifiable paranoia, I think your integrity remains remarkably unscathed by the power you wield and there will be people around you whose integrity overrides the lure of power.” Waterstone picked up a stone and threw it forcefully into the river. “Your problem is finding out who they are.”

  The prince stared out silently across the river. He was quiet for so long that Waterstone nudged him to see if he had gone to sleep. Tarkyn came out of his reverie with a start. “Ow! Don’t forget the ribs!” He rubbed his side. “I was thinking back over all the times I spent with Andoran and Sargon, trying to find the clues that should have alerted me. People are so good at prevaricating. Either that, or I’m easily fooled.” He swung haunted eyes around to regard the woodman. “I feel as though I’m walking in quicksand. Each step is sucking me in deeper and deeper until finally I’ll have nothing solid left to hang onto.”

  Waterstone knew it would be pointless to reassure Tarkyn of his friendship. He cursed the invidious people who had so often betrayed the young man’s trust. Overwhelmed with frustration, the woodman leapt to his feet and started pacing back and forth. Finally, he stopped and stood staring down at the prince, his hands on his hips. “There must be some way to test people, to decipher their motives.” He paced up and down a few more times, then came back to stand over the prince, completely oblivious to the breach of etiquette he was committing. “What about the mind linking? You’ve never had that at your disposal before. What do you pick up? Images and feelings? Could you use that to check someone’s motives?”

  Tarkyn focused on Waterstone for a minute, then shook his head. “I don’t know. All I can pick up from you is exasperation and frustration. The thinking component is missing. So I can’t know from mind linking whether you’re frustrated out of care for me or because you can’t get me to trust you so that you can use me.” Seeing Waterstone’s quick frown, Tarkyn hastened to add, “I’m not saying that’s what I think. I’m just showing you the limitations.”

  The woodman stared at him for a minute before resuming his pacing. The next time he stopped, he asked, “But it could be useful in some situations, couldn’t it? You might discern nervousness or feelings of guilt, for instance?”

  Tarkyn nodded. “Yes. I can imagine times when it could be quite revealing.”

  “Hmph” Waterstone set off on his pacing again. Then he stopped abruptly, looking out over the river. He stood there for several seconds before turning slowly to face the prince.

  “What if you could search through a person’s memories? Through all their impressions and feelings?”

  “Tree Wind showed me some of her memory,” said Tarkyn slowly. “It certainly revealed her antipathy, although it was only a short segment.” He frowned. “She could equally have shown me a bland, unrevealing memory if she had chosen to be duplicitous. I can see two difficulties with that idea. I don’t have whole lifetime to spend viewing someone else’s lifetime of memories and it is very intrusive. I could not demand it of anyone.”

  The woodman came back and sat down opposite the prince. “Memories don’t use up real time and many similar memories tend to compress into one impression with the changes in attitudes overlaying them. Even so, you’re right. A whole lifetime of memories would take too long.” He paused while he thought it through, “So, what if the person gave his permission freely and you chose which segments to view?”

  Tarkyn did not pretend to misunderstand the woodman. He eyed Waterstone. “I couldn’t ask it of you.”

  “But would it convince you?”

  The young prince studied the woodman for a long time, as he searched for possible loopholes. He turned his head look out across the silvery river. Finally, he returned his gaze to Waterstone. “Yes. It would.”

  Waterstone took a deep breath, let it out, then said formally, “Then I freely give you access to whatever of my memories that you wish to view.”

  “But if I do this, it will be difficult for you, won’t it?”

  “Yes. It will. I am placing great faith in you to allow you to do it. But it will be even more difficult to keep living with your continual mistrust. You have no notion how hard it is not to feel hurt, each time there’s an indication that you don’t trust me.”

  “Oh Waterstone, I am so sorry!” Tarkyn ran his hands through his hair. “And I wish I could say that your offer alone were enough.”

  Waterstone gave a sad smile. “But I know it is not and I knew, when I offered, that it would not be. Sooner or later, the suspicion would cross your mind that I might have banked on you not taking up my offer.”

  Tarkyn grimaced. “Stars above! I am hard work, aren’t I? I don’t think my company is very good for you. You’re starting to learn my warped thinking patterns.” He took a deep breath and looked the woodman. “Very well. I accept your offer. When?”

  Waterstone’s eyes went slightly out of focus for a few seconds as he checked with the lookouts. He re-focused and said, “Now. If I have to wait, I’ll get too nervous.”

  Tarkyn frowned, “Are you sure about this?”

  The woodman nodded shortly. “Come on. Just get on with it. When and what do you want to see first?�
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  The prince didn’t hesitate. “My father’s visit to the forest.”

  “All of it?”

  “From just after the oath is given.”

  “Right. Relax and look into my eyes.”

  The king’s and the little prince’s final words die away. The king stands glowering over us as we kneel before him. My stomach feels tight and sick. We all stare at this tyrant who has come among us. No one can think of anything to say.

  Suddenly, the king’s whole demeanour changes. He smiles benignly around him and rubs his hands together.

  “Good!” he exclaims, “Now that is settled, we had better get started on helping you people to recover.” He stands up from the table. “Stormaway! Get your herbs, medicines, whatever. Quickly, man! We have work to do.”

  The king raises his eyebrows until I realise that he is waiting to be shown where to go. I lead him to the nearest shelter. He has to duck to enter, and then the restricted height forces him to kneel down at the bedside of a sick woodwoman. He looks at me. “Her name?”

  “Cracking Branch, Your Majesty.”

  “Hmph. How long have you been ill, Cracking Branch?”

  “About four days, Your Majesty.”

  “And how are you feeling?”

  “I don’t have any strength left and my head and limbs are all aching.”

  In a surprisingly gentle voice, the king says, “Let me assure you that help is on its way.” He looks over his shoulder towards the entrance and frowns ferociously. “Where is that dratted wizard? Ah, Stormaway. Took your time, man. Now, what are we doing for these folk?”

  Stormaway produces a quantity of various herbs and hands them to me. “Can you boil some water and make a strong tea with these, please? We also need flannels or rags and bowls of cold water to bathe people’s foreheads to reduce the fever.”