Bronze Magic

by Jennifer Ealey

  “Obvious. You simply inform the exile that he may come back.”

  “What? And let him walk back into a disapproving society? That would be no life for him. I have to sort it out with the rest of the woodfolk first.” Tarkyn thought for a few moments. “I’ll start by discussing it with Summer Rain”

  The prince sent out an image of Summer Rain, with a feeling of uncertainty attached, into the trees generally and hoped that someone would pick it up and pass it on. In a surprisingly short amount of time, Summer Rain came running.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, panting as she caught her breath.

  “Oh dear,” said Tarkyn, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you. I’m fine. I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

  The healer scowled at him.

  “Please sit down,” he invited urbanely, “Have you met Stormaway Treemaster? Of course you have. You would have worked together to heal the sick when my father came here, wouldn’t you?” Tarkyn realised he has babbling and promptly stopped himself.

  “You wanted to speak to me about something?”

  “Yes,” replied Tarkyn more slowly. “And if I could just ask you ahead of time not to relay any of this conversation? That might save any unpleasantness later on. I will be able to tell if you do and I really do not like people sharing my conversations without my permission.”

  Summer Rain’s eyes narrowed. “I see. Not that I had planned to do so.”

  “No, perhaps not, but I know it is natural for you to share information while for me, it is not.”

  “I’ll remember that, Your Highness.”

  “Thank you. Now, if you remember, I said I would consider Falling Rain’s plight.” The prince considered her gravely. “I don’t think you set much store by that at the time, but I don’t usually make hollow undertakings.” He glanced sideways at the wizard. “It has now come to my attention that mind power was used on Falling Rain to discover the location of the woodfolk. Were you aware of this?”

  Summer Rain shook her head emphatically. “No… So it was not his choice to betray us. This information changes everything.”

  “I thought it might. Given that I now have new grounds for overturning an old decision, I am quite prepared to do so. Consequently, I need to know how to go about it. I can’t just order Falling Rain back if everyone is still shunning him.”

  “I can send out a message explaining the new information. I think….”

  Tarkyn interrupted gently, “I don’t mean to cast aspersions on you, but would this information be better coming from a more disinterested party - perhaps someone who had been opposed to your brother’s return?”

  The healer’s eyes flashed but she took a moment to think about it before nodding reluctantly. “Why don’t you just send it?”

  The sorcerer shook his head regretfully. “Can’t send words, I’m afraid. I’m happy to have the message sent in my name, but I need an intermediary.”

  “What about Waterstone?”

  Tarkyn boggled. “Waterstone! I thought he would have been on your side. No wonder he left the discussion. We’d have had a war in my shelter.”

  “No, Your Highness,” Summer Rain replied without a vestige of humour, “I would have considered your need for quiet and drawn him outside. He has always believed that betrayal for whatever reason deserved exile, at the very least. He has always been very firm about the old rules.”

  Tarkyn absorbed this new information into his view of the woodman. Then he remembered Waterstone’s present situation and said, “I think you’ll find Waterstone is unavailable for the time being. Who else can you think of?”

  “Thunder Storm?”

  “Agreed. Could you ask him to come here please?” While they were waiting for Thunder Storm’s arrival, Tarkyn asked, “How will we inform Falling Rain? How far away is he? Could a mind message reach him from here?”

  Summer Rain shook her head, “And even if it could, I’m not sure that he’d agree to come back. He may need some persuasion. No one has seen him for years. The last sighting of him was way down in the south west.”

  “I see. And who would go to tell him?”

  “I don’t know yet. We will work it out amongst ourselves.”

  Restless after his recuperation, Tarkyn came to a sudden decision. “I shall go.”

  Immediately, the wizard cut in. “You cannot go without a retinue. It would be improper.”

  “I came to the forest without a retinue, Stormaway.” The prince reminded him gently.

  Summer Rain joined forces with the wizard. “You can’t go on your own. Without us, the wolf would have killed you yesterday. The bounty hunters would have carried you off.”

  “And I wouldn’t have three broken ribs,” quipped Tarkyn. I don’t learn, do I? he thought, as she stared at him stonily. After a moment, he said more seriously, “I had no intention of going alone. I have very limited experience of woodcraft, hunting, cooking, navigating or possible dangers. Even if I wanted to, I know I couldn’t go alone. But it would give me a chance to see some of the woodlands and to help to redress the wrong done to Falling Rain.” He grimaced. “The biggest problem I can see is that you might find it harder to recruit woodfolk who would be willing to fetch Falling Rain, if they know they will have me with them.”

  Summer Rain looked at him for a long time. “Have we been so hard on you?”

  “Not everyone, and not all the time. But I know most woodfolk resent me,” remembering Waterstone’s memory, he added, “and consider me a liability.”

  For the first time, Summer Rain smiled. “Not completely. I think a travelling party might appreciate the talents of a sorcerer on their side. I don’t know that you’re ready to travel yet, though.”

  “How long?”

  Summer Rain shrugged, “You are pretty tired again today. Aren’t you?”

  “But I just spent four days lifting branches.” He saw her about to protest and cut in, “And in answer to your next question. No, I wasn’t just sitting around and yes, it does tire me even if it’s only magic. You don’t do physical magic, so you don’t understand.”

  “If that’s the case, you shouldn’t have done so much then.”

  Tarkyn smiled. “No pleasing you, is there? No, I probably shouldn’t have. But we only had a short time to repair the trees before they would have been too dried out. So, better to work too hard for four days and recover on the fifth, don’t you think?”

  The healer nodded reluctantly. “I think you will need another few days or you will just hold everyone up. Then you would be a liability. We don’t want you overstraining yourself trying to keep up. But we will need time to assemble supplies and equipment, so you may be well enough by then anyway. If not, we will wait. After twelve years, another week will not matter.” He remembered this was not what she had said to him a few days ago but saw no point in mentioning it. She smiled at him. “And thank you.”

  By the time Thunder Storm arrived, it was almost dinnertime. A huge pot of stew hung over the fire, its tantalisingly smell wafting over the clearing. Thunder Storm filled two bowls and handed one to the Tarkyn as he sat down next to him.

  The prince blew on the hot food and ate a few mouthfuls. “This is good stew, a bit gamey perhaps but plenty of herbs…Hmm, very tasty indeed.”

  “Thank you, Sire,” Thunder Storm took a mouthful himself, “Ah yes. You need the herbs. It takes a fine chef to cook a good wolf stew. Taste’s too strong for roasting.”

  Tarkyn choked. “Did you say wolf? Not the wolves we killed yesterday?”

  “Of course.” Thunder Storm rumbled happily. “You have to cook it quickly so that it doesn’t go off.

  This answer was so eminently sensible that Tarkyn was left with nothing to say. He peered into his bowl, steeled himself and kept eating.

  “Mind you, there’s a lot of meat on two wolves. We should have plenty of stew for the next few days, at least. And not only that,” continued the woodman, blithely unaware of the prince’s heroism,
“I think the pelt of the wolf Waterstone shot down will be large enough to make you a good thick cloak for winter.”

  “Marvellous,” said the prince with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, as he thought of the finely tailored cloaks he had left hanging in his wardrobe at the palace.

  “However,” rumbled Thunder Storm with a disapproving frown, “Your fireworks didn’t do much for the quality of the other pelt. Probably worth bearing in mind next time, Your Highness.” he added kindly, giving the prince’s knee an avuncular pat.

  The prince nearly choked again and cast a weather eye in Stormaway’s direction to see whether he had noticed Thunder Cloud’s over-familiarity. Luckily the wizard was intent on listening in on someone’s conversation; a common activity for him, Tarkyn suspected. “I’ll try to do better next time,” he managed, smothering a laugh.

  Thunder Storm beamed at him and asked why the prince had wanted to see him. When Tarkyn explained, he was relieved to find that once Thunder Storm had expressed his shock and dismay, he was quite happy to send out a message on the prince’s behalf even though he had previously been an advocate for Falling Rain’s continued exile. Almost at once, Tarkyn was rocked backwards by a wave of outrage followed by a deluge of relief and rejoicing.

  The prince grinned. “Did you feel that? I think my first decree, or whatever you call it, has met with approval.”

  Thunder Storm smiled. “No. I didn’t feel anything but my mind is jammed up with excited messages coming from everywhere. People are so pleased to hear that Falling Rain did not willingly betray us after all. Glad for him that he can come home, and glad for all woodfolk that the pact we have amongst ourselves is still intact.”

  16

  Early the next morning, Tarkyn slipped down to the river before anyone, and in particular Stormaway, could accost him. He loved the river’s tranquillity and the way its moods changed at different times of the day and night. But more than this, he wanted to try to develop his mind links with the otter again if it reappeared.

  He sat quietly in the sun for a while and tried to send out waves of invitation into the river. As he gazed down into the water, he suddenly realised he was staring at a huge golden fish that was looking expectantly up at him. This is getting a bit silly, he thought. What do I say to a fish? He produced a picture of the otter and a feeling of uncertainty. He received a frisson of fear followed by an image of the otter far downstream heading the other way. Then he received a view of the river directly below him, with an understanding of all the safe holes, feeding areas and smaller fish accompanied by a sense of pride. Somehow, the prince realised from the vision coupled with the fish’s size that he was communing with the old man of the river, so to speak. In return, the prince sent a picture of himself in the surrounding trees with woodfolk in the background, also with a sense of pride. The huge fish rose slowly to the surface and watched him for a few minutes before turning and swimming slowly down into the shadows. I must say, conversation tends to be laboured without words, no matter who you’re talking to, he thought.

  Tarkyn lay on his back and focused his will on trying to tune in to any feelings or images around him. Slowly he became aware that he was being watched and opened his eyes to find himself being scrutinised by the heron he had seen on his first morning in the forest. The sorcerer radiated calm and sat up slowly while the heron watched patiently. Tarkyn received a clear impression that he was wasting time moving slowly and that the heron was quite disdainful of any danger he might represent. Slightly riled, the sorcerer sent the bird an image of a fireball blasting towards him, but the heron merely tilted his head disbelievingly. Having had his bluff called, Tarkyn shrugged and grinned. The heron looked him sternly in the eyes then flapped his wings slowly and took off. At first Tarkyn was disappointed, but suddenly realised he was seeing trees gliding past and below as the heron gained height. Soon, the sorcerer was viewing the forest from above the treetops as the bird glided in ever-increasing circles higher in the sky. With a sense of wonder, Tarkyn realised that the domain of his forest spread as far as the eye could see in every direction but one, which he presumed was the north eastern approach from which he had entered. In the distance to the southwest, he could see wooded mountains soaring above jagged cliffs that rose from the forests below. He could see the changes in foliage from one area to another and thought he could pick out the route he had been forced to take by the bounty hunters, which had ended in a large stand of pines to the north northwest. Then the river came back into view as a shining, snaking line partly covered by trees. As he watched, the river drew closer and closer until he was streaking headfirst towards it. At the last minute he saw a fish just below the surface before the image was lost in a blur of white water.

  A splash slightly downriver signalled the return of the heron. A minute later, it stalked into view carrying the hapless fish firmly in its beak and settled down on the rock next to the sorcerer to eat it. Just a small fish, not the old man of the river, Tarkyn was relieved to see. Tarkyn sent a message of thanks to the bird, who ruffled his feathers nonchalantly and concentrated on devouring his catch. When the heron had finished his meal, he flapped his wings slowly and rose into the air without any further communication.

  After a while, Tarkyn’s mind turned to Waterstone. He still hadn’t seen him or Autumn Leaves. He didn’t want to intrude on him so he decided to send a message to Autumn Leaves instead. He couldn’t use words but he could use gestures, he realised. Targeting the right person was another issue. He shrugged. I can only try. He thought hard about Autumn Leaves; how he looked and sounded, what he knew of his personality then sent an image of himself signalling for Autumn Leaves to come to him.

  When Autumn Leaves arrived, his face was tight and closed and he spoke formally with no trace of his former familiarity.

  “Yes, Your Royal Highness. I believe you required my presence.”

  “Please sit down. I need to talk to you.” The prince eyed the woodman, who showed no sign of thawing. “Autumn Leaves, unless I am mistaken, you appear to be annoyed with me. I can think of a few reasons why that might be, but to save me guessing, why don’t you just tell me?”

  Autumn Leaves glanced at him coldly then looked away. “I am not used to obeying commands, Your Highness. Hopefully it will become easier over time but at the moment, I resent it.”

  “Autumn Leaves, when you are up in the trees and on lookout duty or whatever, are there not times when one of the other woodfolk instruct you to do something?”

  “Of course, but that is on equal terms. I can just as easily instruct them, if the need arises.”

  “I see. And yet you seemed to be instructing me quite forthrightly the other night,” observed the prince dryly. He thought for a moment. “I think we may be at cross purposes here. I did not really intend to command you to come down here. Admittedly, there might be times when I would, but this wasn’t one of them. I wanted you to come but if it had not suited you, I would have accepted that. Perhaps the problem lies in my mind message. Was it too peremptory? Without the words, you can’t build in phrases like ‘could you’ and ‘please’ that turn a command into a request.”

  Autumn Leaves finally met the prince’s eyes properly for the first time since he’d arrived. “Your gesturing was pretty emphatic,” he said shortly.

  Tarkyn gave a self-conscious smile. “I have only just started using mind messages. Maybe I need to add a feeling of uncertainty to make it a request.”

  “Go on then. Try it and I’ll tell you what I think.” After a moment, the woodman shook his head. “No. That comes across as a question; ‘Are you coming here?’”

  “Maybe just less emphatic gesturing?”

  “All right. Try that.” Autumn Leaves frowned. “That’s better, but I think you’re going to have to talk to people about it so they understand. Especially with the oath, they’re going to assume, as I did, that they have no choice.”

  The prince eyed him speculatively, “I would like my requests to be a
cceded to unless there is a good reason not to be, but I don’t want to create unnecessary antagonism and I don’t want a request to be confused with a command. Will I show you what I’d send if I really were sending out a command? I warn you it would probably only be in a situation where I was angry or in some kind of danger so there would be a strong emotion attached.”

  “Go on then. To make sure we can tell the difference.”

  Tarkyn thought for moment, imagining such a situation. Then he sent Autumn Leaves the gesture to come to him accompanied by an intense wave of anger, hauteur and compulsion.

  Autumn Leaves went white. “Stars above! Well, that certainly clears one thing up. You didn’t send me a command.”

  Tarkyn smiled disarmingly. “No. Something to be used fairly sparingly, I would have thought.”

  The woodman studied the smiling prince for a few moments. “I’m beginning to see why Waterstone likes you so much.”

  The young man coloured slightly, more nonplussed by this one grudging remark than by any of the beautifully phrased compliments he had had thrown at him throughout his life at court. Noting the prince’s discomfort with some amusement, Autumn Leaves kindly moved the conversation on. “So why do you want to see me? About Waterstone, I presume.”

  “Yes. I haven’t heard from any of you and I want to know how he is and what, if anything, I can do to help.”

  “Well, do you know,” said the woodman thoughtfully, “I think he’s all right now. He’s just feeling embarrassed about seeing you for some reason. He won’t tell me why, but no doubt it has to do with whatever private thoughts or feelings he exposed to you, so I’m not going to press him.” He looked at Tarkyn. “Maybe we just need some way to break the ice again before it becomes too thick.”

  They sat and pondered in silence for a few minutes.

  “If I were in any sort of danger, he would come,” said Tarkyn, considering possibilities.

  “True. So would everybody else. But you’re not in danger and hopefully unlikely to be for a while.”