Waterstone sat down cross-legged next to the prince and placed his hand on Tarkyn’s shoulder. “I will do what I can. Could you ask someone to send Sparrow to me please? She will want to look after Tarkyn as well… and I want her beside me.”
“Of course I will.” Stormaway stood up to leave then turned back, “One more thing. Whatever you do, don’t let him get up when he wakes. That rib could re-puncture his lung.”
22
Stormaway wandered off to track down Summer Rain and the food. The area that the sorcerer and the wizard had loosened had now been emptied of dirt and was already half full of parcels of wolf remains. A cooking fire had been lit off to one side.
Summer Rain saw him coming and had a meat roll and a cup of tea ready for him.
“Hmm, wolf sandwich,” he murmured to himself.
Summer Rain’s eyes brows twitched, “What? Don’t you like it?”
Stormaway smiled. “Actually, I enjoy it tremendously. I’m not so sure how keen our young friend is about it, though. It is a bit of an acquired taste, don’t you think?”
The woodwoman shrugged, “Maybe. I’ve eaten it all my life from time to time. So it’s hard to say.” She nodded at the hole. “The last loads are coming in now. Then we’ll all have lunch before we move on to the next phase.”
“Once we had laid the trail to the road,” said Autumn Leaves who had come over to join them, “our plan was to travel through the trees so that we would leave no scent or tracks.” He glanced over at Waterstone sitting beside the forest guardian’s still body. As they watched, Sparrow arrived and took up position opposite her father, placing her hand on Tarkyn’s other shoulder. Waterstone smiled gently at her and ruffled her hair. “I don’t know what we are going to do about Tarkyn. We can’t leave him lying here. We have to get him up into the trees if wolves are coming.”
Creaking Bough, who had just emptied her load into the hole, brushed her hands off as she suggested, “What about a stretcher arrangement that we could haul up into the trees? Two poles and a large piece of sheeting tied between them.”
“We couldn’t take him very far through the trees like that, but at least it would get him up off the ground.” Autumn Leaves turned to the wizard. “Can you lift things in the same way as Tarkyn?” Seeing the hesitation on Stormaway’s face, he added hastily, “We would be hauling up at the same time. It just might make the lifting smoother.”
The wizard gave a tired smile. “I will do what I can. I am hoping he will recover enough to make that unnecessary. How long would you need to rig up a stretcher?”
Creaking Bough shrugged, “Not long. Half an hour maybe. Another half hour to get him up into the trees. Probably a lot less but we wouldn’t want to cut it too fine.”
Autumn Leaves frowned suddenly and went out of focus. After a few seconds, his eyes cleared but he looked puzzled. “I received some confusing images but basically Waterstone needs us over there.”
Waterstone looked up as they approached. “Tarkyn wants us to position him next to a large tree so that either he is touching it or someone is linking him to it.”
Summer Rain smiled in comprehension, “He is a guardian of the forest. If we can give him life force, so can the trees. And they will, because he is the guardian,”
“Is he awake?” asked Stormaway.
Waterstone frowned uncertainly. “No. Not exactly. I know he has been receiving my images and now he has sent this one to me about the trees but he’s not stirring yet. I don’t think he has enough energy to come back yet.”
Autumn Leaves looked around. “You’re very close to that young elm. There’s a huge old oak over there but that’s twenty yards away.”
Waterstone shook his head. “Tarkyn won’t use a young tree. He doesn’t want to risk draining it too much.”
Autumn Leaves raised his eyebrows. “Is he listening to us, then?”
Waterstone put his head on one side. “I don’t think so. I’m sending him the images of what you’re saying and he’s sending back reactions.” He looked at the wizard, “Can we move him to that oak?”
Stormaway considered. “If you all place your hands under him to support him and keep him straight, I will lift him and transport him over there. Agreed?”
Once the woodfolk had positioned themselves along either side of their guardian, Stormaway said, “On count of three, I will lift. One..two..three.”
Tarkyn rose into the air, hands holding him unbending as he sailed gently towards the great oak.
“Now, I am going to lower him slowly. Is everybody ready?”
The woodfolk maintained their pressure under him until he was lowered onto the ground next to the gnarled trunk of the great oak. During the whole operation, Tarkyn did not so much as flutter an eyelid. Except for his chest rising and falling slowly, he seemed uncannily like a corpse. Several worried glances passed between the woodfolk.
“Are you sure he’s all right?” asked Creaking Bough.
Waterstone grimaced, “I don’t know. I hope so. He is still in mental contact with me.” The woodman took Tarkyn’s limp hand and placed its palm against the trunk of the tree. He looked at Stormaway. “You know about these things. Should we be doing anything else?”
The wizard shook his head. “This is well beyond the range of my experience.” He frowned down at the still figure while he thought for a moment. “Still, I suppose the same rules would still apply. Tarkyn, can you hear me?”
Waterstone nodded.
“Relax your barriers. Open yourself up to allow the flow of energy in from outside. Join your own with that of the oak. Don’t let your own life force become too diffuse. The oak is much larger than you.” He paused. “Are you connected with the oak?”
Waterstone nodded but his communication was almost unnecessary. Beneath the woodfolk’s stunned gaze, their forest guardian was slowly taking on an unmistakable, greenish tinge.
Stormaway frowned but continued as though unperturbed, “Now, do you have enough strength to repair your broken rib?”
Waterstone nodded.
“Good. Then focus in on it and draw the two ends together - now use your tree growing abilities to grow new tissue and weld the bone back together, just as you did for the tear in your lungs.” The wizard waited for some time before asking, “Are you able to do that? Is it working?”
Waterstone’s face lit up. “He’s done it.”
Sighs of relief ran through the surrounding woodfolk.
Stormaway watched the prince for signs of recovering consciousness but none came. He gestured to Waterstone to leave Tarkyn’s side and to join him a short distance away. Sparrow stayed steadfastly beside Tarkyn, keeping her hand firmly on his shoulder and stroking him gently from time to time.
“What is happening now?” the wizard asked in a hushed voice. “Why is he not waking? I am fearful that he may become inextricably entwined with the oak’s life force. Do you get any sense that that may be happening?”
“He is joined with it at the moment, but he is still himself,” answered the woodman slowly.
“Are you concerned or do you feel he is just not yet ready to awaken?”
Waterstone put his hands on his hips as he considered the matter, “I don’t feel at all qualified to answer that, but Tarkyn doesn’t seem to feel intimidated by the oak. I don’t think he is fading into it, at least not at the moment. My best guess is that he still needs the oak’s strength.” He looked anxiously over at the prone figure lying so still under the tree. “I’d better go back so I can keep an eye on him.” The woodman’s eyes suddenly went out of focus. “Whoa. He’s panicking.”
“Dad!” yelled Sparrow in the same moment.
Waterstone ran the few steps back to Tarkyn’s side. He threw himself down and put his hand on Tarkyn’s shoulder. The woodman sent an image of himself and Sparrow seated on either side of him, gesturing for the prince to return. A wave of relief rolled into Waterstone’s mind, followed by a wave of reassurance. Waterstone received a clear image
of Tarkyn with his hand up asking them to be quiet. The woodman relayed all of this to the surrounding woodfolk.
Stormaway stared down at the Tarkyn’s prostrate form. “Tell him we must leave soon. He can have another half an hour, hour at the most. I need time to check if he’s all right before I lay the trail to the road.”
Waterstone frowned. “How do I do an image for time?”
“Sun going down a certain distance over the trees,” suggested Autumn Leaves.
Waterstone pictured the sun going down, as suggested. Much to everyone’s relief, they saw the side of Tarkyn’s mouth twitch in a minute smile. “He would really like everyone to go away and get on with preparations. He needs to concentrate. That includes you, little one.” The woodman smiled, “He wants me to stay but to be quiet!”
Sparrow gave Tarkyn’s shoulder a final pat and headed off with the others to have some lunch. Another twenty minutes passed, during which the woodman sat patiently and resisted the temptation to talk or to reassure Tarkyn. Finally, Waterstone’s anxiety became too much for him and he transmitted a look of enquiry.
An amused smile appeared on Tarkyn’s face, followed by an image again asking Waterstone to be quiet. Then the prince opened his eyes. The amber eyes in a greenish face were quite shocking to behold.
“Shh,” he whispered, “Just give me a minute to pull myself together without having everyone crowding around me,”
Tarkyn let his eyes travel over Waterstone then up into the boughs of the tree. He brought his gaze across and down through the branches then down the trunk until he was looking at his hand with the palm still firmly touching the oak. He took a long, clear breath and took his hand away. In the centre of his palm was a deep green circle.
He smiled, “Interesting. Let me look at the palm of your hand.”
Waterstone put out his hand for inspection and saw that his palm had a dark pink, perfect circle in the middle of it.
“What about my shoulder, I wonder?” mused the sorcerer. He went to pull away his shirt to look at his shoulder and recoiled in disgust. “Oh yuk! My shirt is covered in blood and mess. What are we going to do about that? No one else has a big enough shirt to fit me. We’ll have to wash it.”
Waterstone gave a shout of laughter. “Frankly, your shirt was the least of our worries. We couldn’t have moved you to get you out of it, even if we’d thought of it.”
Tarkyn grinned, “Fair enough. Just commenting, not complaining.” He took another deep pain-free breath and sighed with relief, “Right. Well, your guffawing will have given the game away. So I might as well get up and get on with it. I have to take this shirt off though.”
So saying, the prince jumped nimbly to his feet and strode over to the group gathered around the fire, removing his shirt as he went. He didn’t even notice the biting wind against his bare chest. “So, any food around? I’m starving. And is there any chance of someone washing this shirt? It’s absolutely putrid.” He looked at his shoulder. “Oh my stars! I’m green all over. That is a little unexpected. I hope it’s not a permanent state of affairs.” He looked back at Waterstone. “Hah, you see? There is a round mark here on my shoulder where you put your hand, matching the circle on your palm. I thought there might be.”
The entire group stood transfixed as their pale green guardian of the forest stood amongst them, prattling on as though nothing had been amiss. He looked around at them all and beamed, “How are the plans going? Is the hole filled in and ready for me to do some planting?” He glanced at Autumn Leaves and grinned, “I’d say the sun is in just about the right place in the sky, according to Waterstone’s marvellous image. So I must be about on time.”
Tarkyn put his hands on his hips as the silence stretched out and demanded, “What is the matter with you lot? Have you never seen a green man before?” He then proceeded to chortle at his own joke. Realising he had unnerved them, he took a deep breath and slowed himself down. “Sorry. I’ll try to be sensible. But at the moment, just the fact that I’m still alive is pretty exciting.” He let his gaze travel around them all and carefully slowed down his speech, “And I have every one of you to thank for it. I could not have made it without you. Thank you to you all for sharing your life force with me. It feels as though I have been gone a long time and travelled far and now I am just glad to be back among you again.”
At last the tension broke. The woodfolk and the wizard crowded in around him smiling and asking questions and telling him what was happening all at once. When the hubbub died down, Tarkyn found that his shirt had been whisked away and he had a plateful of food in his hand. “While I’m eating this, could someone get some green sticks or small shrubs organised so that I can get on with disguising this hole as soon as I’ve finished? I believe a stand of poplars once grew here,” he said, unwittingly betraying his unconscious knowledge of the forest. “Are there any around we could get cuttings from?”
Stormaway managed to make himself heard above the general chatter. “Shouldn’t you be resting? You nearly died back there. You can’t recover that quickly.”
Tarkyn raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t quick. I kept you waiting, as I recall.” He looked over at the oak tree. “That fine old oak has completely replenished my strength and has aided me in repairing all my injuries, not just the most recent ones. You can check if you like. No bruising anywhere, I bet….and I can’t see, but how’s the eyebrow where you hit me, Waterstone? I’ll bet it’s completely healed.”
Waterstone and Stormaway both nodded slowly, amazed.
“That’s why I took so long. I realised I could heal myself completely, not just make running repairs.” The prince smiled gently at the wizard. “I’m sorry if I frightened you. I was a long way down – down, is that the right word? – It’s the best I can do to describe it. So, anyway, I was a long way down and I needed to focus hard on each part of my body in turn to inspect it and repair it as needed.”
“Why did you panic when Waterstone was over talking to me?”
Tarkyn shot Waterstone a glance and smiled crookedly. “Because he was my hold on the outside world. I needed him linked to me to stop me from going too far down and getting lost…Like a lifeline, I suppose. Sparrow wasn’t solid enough on her own.” He looked around, “Where is Sparrow?” Then he spotted her a little way off, hanging back from the crowd and looking less sure of herself than usual. He smiled at her and beckoned, “Come here, little one.”
Sparrow walked slowly towards him. When she reached him, he swung her up onto his left hip and gave her a big smile, “Thank you for helping me.”
Sparrow stuck out her bottom lip. “Why didn’t you let me stay?”
“Because, young Sparrow, it was too long for you to sit still and I needed to concentrate.” He ruffled her hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to explain. Even your dad only lasted twenty minutes after you left, you know.”
She smiled reluctantly, “Did he?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“Oh,” Sparrow gave this some careful thought. “So you weren’t cross with me?”
“No, of course I wasn’t. Don’t worry. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He smiled at her. “Still friends?”
Sparrow nodded and smiled, although tears sprang to her eyes. “I was very worried about you, you know. It was very scary.”
“I’m sorry, little one. Look! I have a smudgy round mark on my shoulder where you put your hand. Let me see your hand.”
Sparrow turned her palm up for inspection.
“See?” said Tarkyn. “You’ve got a matching smudgy mark on your palm. He looked at her, “So. What do you think of me being green?”
Sparrow screwed up her face. “Terrible. You look like you’ve gone mouldy.”
The prince grinned. “Well, thanks very much! I knew it was bad, but not that bad.” He swung her back down onto the ground. “We’ll just have to hope it goes away then, won’t we? Go on. Off you go and have some lunch.”
“I’ve had lunch.”
&nb
sp; “Sparrow!” cut in her father. “Go and play! We have to do grown-up things now.”
Sparrow threw a cheeky smile over her shoulder and looked much happier as she skipped off to join the other children.
Tarkyn watched her for a moment then turned back to Waterstone and Stormaway. “Come on then. Let’s get this grove of poplars planted, and then I need to speak to you, Stormaway.”
The woodman and the wizard exchanged glances and followed the boisterous forest guardian to a pile of poplar cuttings that had been prepared.
Tarkyn caught their glance and raised his eyebrows. “Waterstone, be afraid! Be very afraid! Because now I am completely well, and in full possession of my powers.” He grinned rather evilly. “As I recall, you thought my full powers might be enough to frighten you off and in a moment of weakness, I gave you permission to go. Well you’ve had it now, because I retract my permission for you to leave. In fact, I absolutely forbid it. However you may feel, you’re going to have to stay and cope with me.” Tarkyn beamed at the woodman, totally confident that his words would not be taken amiss.
Tarkyn knelt down, pushed the first poplar cutting into the ground and focused his attention on it for a couple of quiet minutes. As soon as green shoots began to sprout from it, he relaxed his focus but still held the cutting until it had become more established. Within an hour, there were twenty young poplars four to six feet in height, sprouting forth green leaves and reaching for the sky.
Waterstone looked Tarkyn up and down. “It’s a bit hard to tell but I think you’re a paler shade of green now.”
The guardian of the forest smiled, still full of energy. “That’s hopeful. Sparrow may be able to stand the sight of me soon.” He turned to the wizard, “And now for you, Stormaway. Thank you, my friend, for your courage and your skill. You orchestrated my whole recovery and now I would like to return some energy to you. You are looking very drained and, after all, if you are to be believed, you are getting too old for all this excitement.”
Bronze Magic Page 29