Bronze Magic

by Jennifer Ealey

  Stormaway looked profoundly shocked, but the woodman laughed. “I didn’t quite say that, but you are certainly inexperienced in the ways of the woodlands.” Waterstone gave another chortle as he echoed the prince’s own words, “You may not be the best at everything and you may not shine in all situations…. and you are certainly not old and grey,” suddenly he became serious, “but against all the odds, you are wise.”

  The wizard and the sorcerer both stared at the woodman. Tarkyn’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. Despite all the flattery he had received over the years, he did not know how to respond to such a profound compliment.

  “And,” continued Waterstone quietly, sliding in under his guard, “amazingly, you are a guardian of the forest.”

  After a few moments, Tarkyn picked up his staff and watched as small green shoots pushed their way out of the wood. As an experiment, he focused his will on the staff and found that he could accelerate the speed of growth. He gave a small, private smile and looked up to find the other two watching him. He shrugged self-consciously, “Just seeing what I can do.”

  Wizard and woodman were staring at him appraisingly. Neither spoke. Lacking a response from them, Tarkyn ignored them and, hunting around for a sharp dry stick, used it to dig a narrow hole in the ground. When he was satisfied, he jabbed one end of his staff down into it and pushed the soil back into place around it. He grasped the rod with both hands, closed his eyes and focused his being into it. The tiny green shoots expanded and grew into the beginnings of small branches, even as they watched. Within minutes, a healthy young sapling was growing in the ground. Tarkyn opened his eyes and stood back to admire his handiwork.

  After a moment, he smiled apologetically at Waterstone, “I still need a staff. Do you think you could make me one from a dead branch this time? Then I won’t have the embarrassment of green shoots bursting forth all the time.”

  Waterstone, who was staring in bemusement at the new sapling, nodded distractedly.

  Tarkyn tried again. “Waterstone?” His voice became sharper, “Waterstone!” Once the woodman had dragged his eyes away from the resurrected sapling to look at him, Tarkyn said, “Hello? It’s still me. You’re the ones who told me I could do it. So don’t act so surprised when I do what you’re expecting me to do.”

  Waterstone gave his head a shake and blinked, “Sorry Tarkyn. It’s going to take a bit of getting used to – living with a legend.”

  The sorcerer rolled his eyes. “Oh for heavens’ sake, Waterstone! Pull yourself together. I’m still the same person I was an hour ago.”

  Waterstone smiled ruefully. “You haven’t grown up listening to the legends as I have. It’s truly amazing.”

  Tarkyn looked to the wizard for support but found him, too, gazing at the resurrected sapling. “Not you too,” said Tarkyn in disgust.

  Stormaway shook his head in wonder, “Marvellous. Just marvellous.”

  “Well, that settles it,” exploded the prince, “I’ll be experimenting in private next time. If you two, who know me, behave like besotted fools, what will everyone else do?”

  Consternation showed in the woodman’s face. “The others. We must tell the others. There must be danger coming.”

  “No,” said the prince flatly. “I forbid it.”

  “But Your Highness…” began the wizard.

  Tarkyn put up a hand. “No. Not yet. The woodfolk and I must work out our terms of engagement as we are. That’s hard enough to sort out as it is. I have to consolidate where I am before everything starts to shift again.”

  Stormaway came in firmly. “You can’t have long. The threat to the woodfolk, whatever it is, must be discovered and prepared for.”

  “I have sworn to protect the woodfolk and I will not forget.” Tarkyn frowned at him. “You seem remarkably concerned for the woodfolk all of a sudden. And yet you were party to creating the oath.”

  Stormaway considered carefully before answering, aware of the prince’s reservations. “Yes and no. Yes, I constructed and delivered it but I did so under orders from the king.”

  “I thought you were his advisor. Could you not have dissuaded him from it?”

  The wizard shrugged. “You saw in Tree Wind’s memory what type of man he was. Sometimes I had very little influence. Other times, I had more. Sometimes I had to be, hmm, what shall we say?… creative… to protect people’s interests.”

  Tarkyn glanced at Waterstone but the woodman was watching quietly, keeping well out of the conversation. The prince turned back to the wizard. “So, if you created it, can you also destroy the sorcery in the oath?”

  Stormaway looked squarely at him. “I could but I would not. I know how to destroy it but I promised your father that I would not.” Seeing Tarkyn about to protest, he too glanced at Waterstone. “I would suggest that we continue this discussion at another time.”

  Waterstone stood up. “I can leave if you would like.”

  “Yes. That would be helpful, I think,” said the wizard at the same time as the prince said, “No, stay. This concerns you and the woodfolk every bit as much as it concerns me.”

  The woodman waited irresolute while the balance of power wavered. After a fraught moment, Tarkyn said quietly to the wizard, “Despite your misgivings and for reasons I am not prepared to go into, I have complete faith in Waterstone. I would appreciate it if you felt able to continue the discussion now. However, if it involves something about you personally that you don’t want to reveal, then of course we will wait for another time.”

  A slight smile of satisfaction appeared on the wizard’s face. “My boy,” he said, “Your father would have been proud of you. I am even prouder of you because I understand, better than he would have done, the subtlety of your style.” Stormaway addressed the woodman. “Waterstone, I hope Tarkyn’s faith in you is justified. I suspect it will be because I am beginning to develop a healthy respect for his judgement.” The wizard shrugged, “So be it. Shall we take up the discussion where we left off?”

  Tarkyn looked down at the badger and kept stroking it gently. “What would happen, Stormaway, if I ordered you to remove the sorcery in the oath? After all, you too have sworn the oath.”

  Stormaway breathed a sigh of relief. “I am so glad you phrased it like that. What would happen is that I would refuse.”

  “Hm, I see. No surprises there. And is this because your loyalty to my father is greater than your loyalty to me?”

  “No, Your Highness, it’s not. It’s because the oath was designed to keep you safe and without it, you might find it difficult to leave the forest alive, should you ever choose to.” The wizard glanced at the woodman as he said this but Waterstone offered no reaction.

  The prince frowned, “And what about the safety of the forest if I insisted on ordering you? Would you see it destroyed?”

  The wizard smiled with a hint of smugness, “My concern for your wellbeing far outweighs any consideration I may have for the forest. Now that you know I would refuse, you could not order it because you have vowed to protect the forest.”

  Tarkyn rocked back to sit upright as he considered this. His hand came away from the badger who, having had her fill of being stroked, took the opportunity to head off into the undergrowth. “I can see why you didn’t want Waterstone to hear this. Not,” he added hastily, looking at the woodman, “that I regret my decision to allow you to stay,” he returned his gaze to the wizard, “but I understand your reservations.”

  He asked Waterstone. “What are the exact words of the oath?”

  The woodman did not make the mistake of parroting the whole thing and merely repeated the relevant section. “To serve, honour and protect.”

  “According to your understanding of honour and service, Your Highness, not Markazon’s. I achieved that much for you.”

  “I suppose I should at least thank you for that, Stormaway” said Tarkyn gruffly. He rolled his eyes at Waterstone. “You really wouldn’t want to live under my father’s regime.”

  Waterston
e stood up and looked up into another repaired tree, his face closed. After a moment’s scrutiny, he lifted himself up into the branches and began to unwrap the injured bough. He looked down at the prince and said tightly. “This is actually a difficult conversation for me to listen to. I feel like my future, my whole life is being bandied around like some sort of commodity.”

  Tarkyn was instantly contrite. “Oh Waterstone, I’m sorry. We are both affected by the terms of this oath, but of course, for you, it is even more critical. I need to know how much leeway I can safely give without destructive forces coming into play. I didn’t even think to ask you if you wanted to stay to hear all this. I just assumed you would. I think your perspective may help us all in coming to terms with managing this oath but I can come and talk to you about it afterwards if you prefer.”

  Wizard and woodman both smiled at this little speech. “Tarkyn,” said Waterstone, “You make it just as impossible for me to leave as you did for Stormaway not to speak in front of me. I don’t think you have any need of an oath to get what you want.”

  Tarkyn, embarrassed by this vote of confidence, bent down to pick up a dry stick which he then began methodically to demolish. “I did mean it, though,” he said, without looking up. “You don’t have to stay if you would rather go.”

  “I know you did. That’s what makes it so convincing.” Waterstone shook his head, smiling, and turned his attention to the wizard. “You need have no fear that your young prince will compromise his authority. He just goes about it differently from his father.”

  Tarkyn looked up at this and his eyes narrowed as he considered the wizard. “Out of those who swore the oath, you alone can oppose my will if you decide it serves my best interests to do so. Is that right?”

  “How do you work that out?” asked Waterstone, as he climbed back down out of the tree.

  Tarkyn smiled ruefully. “Because no one else, not even I, would place my welfare above the welfare of the forest.”

  Waterstone considered him for a long time. “I’m not sure that’s true,” he said slowly, “although it may be true of most people.” He shrugged. “I would hope that you will never put me in the position where I have to oppose you to protect you – but I will remember this if it ever happens.”

  Tarkyn frowned as he tried to work out the complexities of the oath. “It seems to me that anyone who calls my bluff will have the upper hand, whatever the issue. I can’t afford to order someone to do something that they don’t want to do. If they tell me they are going to refuse, I will have no choice but to back down. I’m honour bound to protect the forest so I can’t allow anyone the option of opposing me and invoking the destructive force of the oath.”

  The wizard nodded. “Now you see why I didn’t want any woodfolk here for this conversation.”

  “Waterstone is not just any woodman, even as I am not just any sorcerer.” The prince replied stiffly. “But I do see what you mean,” he conceded. He looked at Waterstone. “So where does this leave us then?”

  Waterstone’s green eyes travelled slowly from the prince to the wizard and back again. His eyes were glittering with anger. “Both of you have forgotten that the woodfolk are also people of honour. We agreed to swear that oath in good faith as a debt of gratitude for the assistance rendered to us by King Markazon and you, his wizard. He did not respect us enough to trust our word. Obviously you do not either.”

  “Oh no, Waterstone, don’t think that.” The prince was mortified. “I do trust you - you the woodfolk, I mean, to keep your word. I had just forgotten that angle on things because I was focusing on the danger to the forest. I have to be sure we know how to manage the destructive magic in the oath.” The prince turned impulsively to the wizard. “Couldn’t you find your way clear to neutralise your spell?”

  “No, Your Highness. Do not demand it of me.” Stormaway shook his head regretfully. “I am sorry if I offend you, Waterstone, but I do not know or trust the woodfolk well enough to risk the prince’s safety. I will not break faith with his father.”

  Waterstone shrugged. “You have certainly offended me but there is not much I can do against blind prejudice.” There was a pause while he visualised Sparrow going to live among a large group of stern, unfriendly wizards and sorcerers. He shared the image with Tarkyn and sighed. “I suppose I can understand how you might feel, at least to some extent.”

  Tarkyn smiled wryly and sent an image back to Waterstone of Sparrow ordering the sorcerers around, with the sorcerers glancing sideways at her with their eyes filled with resentment and malice.

  Waterstone raised his eyebrows in response. “True. To an even greater extent, I understand, but I am still offended.” He shrugged. “However, I suppose I can still work with you, Stormaway. I cannot purport to be honourable and, at the same time, expect you to break your own oath to Markazon.”

  “Good.” said, the wizard, suddenly all business, “because if this young man is truly a guardian of the forest, there are bad times coming and you are going to need all the help you can get.”

  19

  Night had fallen. Everyone was sitting around a new firesite. After some discussion earlier in the day, it had been agreed that mind talking was permissible if it was for private conversations or routine communications. There was some initial constraint, but gradually the atmosphere around the firesite became more congenial than it had been previously. The woodfolk were not as relaxed with the prince in the way that they were with each other but they were making a clear effort to include him and to fill him in on any mind talking that occasionally wandered into the middle of conversations in which he was involved. As for Tarkyn, he was used to being set apart and felt that he had achieved as much familiarity as he could manage.

  “Tarkyn,” said a little voice at his side. The prince looked around to see Sparrow’s upturned face. “Could you hold these for me while I finish making this village?” She held out an assortment of rocks, twigs and leaves. Tarkyn held out his hands and she tipped her treasures into them. “I’ve just collected them all and I don’t want them to get dusty sitting on the ground while I finish this bit off.” She pointed at several little assemblies from bark and small branches that Tarkyn rightly surmised to be houses.

  “They’re not woodfolk houses,” he pointed out. “Have you ever been to a village like that?”

  Sparrow shook her head. “No, but I’ve seen one from the forest edge.” She gave an anxious frown. “Have you been to one? Do you think I’ve got it right?”

  Tarkyn smiled. “Near enough. There’s usually one bigger house called an inn which is where everyone goes for a chat and a drink in the evenings.”

  Sparrow scowled at her creation. “I don’t think I have time tonight to build a bigger one as well. This will have to be a village without an inn.” She set to, smoothing out the dirt between the houses to make roads and straightening up her houses. Then she began to place her collected items around the village as decoration. By the time she reached into Tarkyn’s hand for the last stick, tiny green shoots were clearly developing on it. Sparrow shot a sharp glance up into Tarkyn’s face. An image of him asking her to be quiet accompanied by a feeling of complicity appeared in her mind. She barely missed a beat. “This will look good as a tree in the front of this little house,” she said placidly as she dug the sprouting twig into a small hole.

  Unfortunately, woodfolk are very attuned to anything related to plants and the forest. Added to that, the novelty of the prince’s presence meant that at any one time, several people were likely to be idly watching him while they chatted among themselves. Sparrow and Tarkyn gradually became aware that everyone had fallen silent. Many eyes were out of focus as the embargo on mind talking was forgotten.

  Nearby, Waterstone was staying determinedly in focus, clearly resisting a battering of silent questions. On the pretext of bringing Tarkyn another drink, he leaned over and whispered in the prince’s ear, “The game is up, my friend. How do you want to play it?”

  Tarkyn’s mouth
quirked. “Since it is now inevitable, I think I’ll just go for the grandiose,” he whispered back. “Anything else will seem apologetic.” He sent Sparrow a request for a bigger, green stick. In less than a minute, she returned with a stick about the length of his arm. Tarkyn thanked her and held it upright between his hands.

  He drew a deep breath and focused his will briefly on the stick before addressing the woodfolk. He allowed his voice a degree of severity. “It does not seem that agreements made with you endure for long. Already you are excluding me from your present conversation which, unless I am much mistaken, closely concerns me.”

  Around the firesite, woodfolk eyes snapped back into focus and they looked uneasily at each other, aware that they had transgressed. Then, as one, their green eyes became fixed on the new shoots that were curling forth out of the stick that Tarkyn held. The silence lengthened.

  “I didn’t say you had to stop talking all together,” observed the prince dryly, firmly suppressing a smile. “Who among you would like to tell me what you were saying? Perhaps you would like to ask me a question?”

  Waterstone’s mouth twitched in appreciation but he held his peace and turned away to help Sparrow pack up ready for bed.

  Finally Thunder Storm’s voice rumbled into life. “My lord, would you mind explaining how you became aware of the impending wolf attack?”

  “Did Autumn Leaves or Waterstone not tell you?”

  Thunder Storm shook his head. “No, my lord. We assumed that you had been levitating yourself for some reason and just happened to see them.” He paused, “But now, that explanation has been called into question.”

  The prince glanced in turn at Autumn Leaves and Waterstone. “I appreciate their discretion. However, it would now be my pleasure share the source of my knowledge with you. If you all make sure you are seated, I will show you.” The sorcerer waited until they were ready, then asked them to close their eyes. Tarkyn centred himself then sent them the image from the eagle’s eyes of the wolves running through the forest as it wheeled below them. He took them right through to where he was looking up from the ground at the eagle flapping slowly away through the trees above his prostrate form.