Bronze Magic

by Jennifer Ealey

  “I cannot make demands on people who are not under oath to me. And I can no longer expect you to keep me fully informed either, since you are restricted by your obligations as woodfolk. I would not use the threat of the forest’s destruction to override your woodfolk oath,” said Tarkyn, tacitly pointing out that he could if he chose to. “I will leave you to your planning. Rainstorm, do you think that if we persevere, we may be able to contribute a trout or two towards dinner?”

  For once, Rainstorm glanced a request for approval at Raging Water before agreeing to accompany Tarkyn. This was not lost on Tarkyn who asked, as soon as they were clear of the others, “What was that all about? I thought you kept you own counsel.”

  Rainstorm gave a wry smile. “It was out of care for you, if you must know. I wanted to make sure they had said all they wanted to say to you, before we left. I know they were trying to make you feel better, even if they weren’t succeeding.”

  Tarkyn stopped and put his hands on his hips as he thought back over the conversation. “Hmm. I made it pretty hard for them, didn’t I?”

  Rainstorm grinned. “Very. But don’t think they’ve given up. They’re just regrouping.”

  The prince gave a short bitter laugh as he dropped his arms and resumed the walk to the stream. “It might be better if they didn’t try. Seeing the kindness that exists within woodfolk just makes the distance between all of you and me more difficult, now that I have lived… or thought I had lived, without that distance.”

  As they reached the stream, Tarkyn knelt down on the bank and rolled up his sleeves. “Never mind,” he said bracingly. “I am back in the role I was bred to. A prince exists above and apart from his people.” He smiled at the young woodman as he dipped his arm into the water, preparing to make a fool of himself again, as he tried once more to tickle trout. “And despite it all, I am still not as aloof as I was when I entered the forests.”

  Having no experience of princes, Rainstorm forbore to mention that he could not imagine anything more aloof than Tarkyn’s behaviour had just been towards Autumn Leaves. Instead, he addressed himself to diverting Tarkyn by tickling trout with him.

  27

  Waterstone and the rest of Tarkyn’s woodfolk arrived, footsore and weary, just as the evening meal was being prepared. Rainstorm warned Tarkyn of their impending arrival several minutes before they came into view.

  Tarkyn walked to edge of the clearing so that he could greet them away from the forestals. He had no real wish to see them but his sense of duty upheld him. As Rainstorm had pointed out, if woodfolk were to be united, he could not avoid them. Using all of his court training, Tarkyn produced a welcoming smile and let his eyes rove so that everyone mistakenly assumed that he was spending more time looking at someone else, when in fact he was avoiding everyone’s gaze. His determination to remain aloof was nearly undermined by Sparrow who ran at him beaming, and forced him into catching her by launching herself up into his arms.

  “Tarkyn. Tarkyn. We were so worried about you. I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  Tarkyn smiled down into her earnest little face. “I’m sorry, Sparrow. I didn’t mean to worry you. I had urgent business with these woodfolk.”

  Sparrow nodded wisely and said with a resigned sigh, “I know. Adult’s business.” Then she gave him a cheeky grin and kissed him on the cheek. “Well, I’m glad we found you.” She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Dad has been so grumpy, you wouldn’t believe it.”

  Tarkyn gave a short laugh. “Has he? Well, let’s hope his mood improves with some food in his stomach.” He dragged his eyes away from Sparrow’s to address his group of woodfolk. “I apologise for alarming you. As you no doubt know from Autumn Leaves, the issues have been explained to me and I am now clearer about the expectations that are placed on you as woodfolk. In future, should I unwittingly trespass on sensitive areas, simply tell me that you are unable to answer. Now that I understand that you cannot be open with me, I revoke my requirement for you to keep me informed in circumstances where it conflicts with your woodfolk covenant. I do not want to make your situation more uncomfortable than it already is.”

  The woodfolk before him glanced uncertainly at one another, wanting to talk to him and reassure him but kept at bay by the formality of his words and demeanour. Waterstone made no attempt to approach him in such a public forum, knowing from Tarkyn’s courteous tone of voice, devoid of any true warmth, that the damage ran deep.

  Tarkyn waved an arm invitingly. “Do come and settle yourselves down. Dinner will be ready shortly and you will be astonished to know that Rainstorm and I have actually contributed three fine trout to the evening’s meal.”

  His attempt at lightness drew smiles from his audience and Lapping Water managed to say teasingly, “But I doubt that you cooked them, Sire.”

  Tarkyn looked at her, felt that he was a hundred miles from her and produced a smile. “No. I would not want to ruin our afternoon’s work.”

  Raging Water stomped over and gruffly reiterated Tarkyn’s invitation, adding suggestions on where to erect additional shelters. He glanced at Tarkyn’s set face and thumped him bracingly on the back. “Come on, young fellow me lad. Come and try some of that fine trout you caught.” As they turned to walk back to the firesite and Sparrow skipped off to play with some forestal children, the gnarly old woodman leaned in and said quietly, “And just remember, they did the best they could with the restrictions they had at the time. Do not condemn them for holding true to their heritage.”

  Tarkyn looked down at the old woodman. “I do not condemn them, Raging Water…and I am trying to be conciliatory. But I no longer know where I stand with them, except that it is not where I thought I stood. And I would rather err on the side of caution than be caught again thinking that there was openness where in fact none exists.”

  Raging Water wagged his finger at him. “Now, don’t overstate the case. As I understand it, they have been open with you except for keeping a few private woodfolk matters to themselves. Now, get down off your high horse and give them some respect for the support they have given you when the rest of us shirked the responsibility.”

  “Yes sir,” said Tarkyn meekly, his eyes shining with laughter.

  Raging Water scowled. “And don’t you laugh at me, young man. I won’t have it. Just you remember that it is by our grace that you are still alive.”

  If Raging Water expected this to wipe the smile off Tarkyn’s face, he was sadly mistaken.

  Tarkyn gave a crack of laughter. “No it’s not. Your sense of honour saved me. Nothing else. You didn’t confer a favour on me. You were forced into a corner by your own principles.”

  “Don’t you dare speak to me like that!” exclaimed Raging Water, incensed.

  There was a fraught silence. Tarkyn became aware that everyone was watching their interchange. Tarkyn took a deep breath to control his immediate outrage and then spoke in a low, calming voice, “I beg your pardon for offending you, Raging Water. However, whether you have sworn the oath or not, I am still a prince of the realm and a forest guardian. And I have the right to speak to whomever I like, however I like!” Seeing Raging Water’s face suffuse with anger, Tarkyn waved a placatory hand, “But I do not choose knowingly to offend or upset you… and so I offer you my apology.”

  Raging Water’s eyes narrowed as he considered the prince’s words. “You’re pretty precious about your status, aren’t you?” Gradually a little smile began to play around his mouth. “I accept your apology, young man. If you think you are that important, I suspect that in your eyes you are making quite a concession.”

  “Cutting, Raging Water, very cutting.” Tarkyn shook his head, a smile on his face. “If I were merely vainglorious, I might take offence at your provocation…But as it is, I will simply assure you that although I am, as you so accurately point out, cognisant of my status, I have no wish to abuse my position.” He gave a shallow, courtly bow. “And let me assure you that I respect your words and have taken them to heart.”r />
  Raging Water waved his hand irritably, “Oh for goodness sakes! Now he’s bowing. Someone take him away and feed him before he drives me to distraction.”

  Rainstorm appeared out of nowhere with a big grin on his face and dragged Tarkyn off to partake of their marvellous trout. When they were settled with a portion of their trout that had been baked slowly in the coals, Tarkyn asked, “And what are you looking so pleased about?”

  Rainstorm chortled, “You winding up Grandpa like that. Even I rarely make him as angry as all that.” He speared a piece of trout and waved it about as he talked. “It’s a very good sign, you know. He only gets mad at people he likes. He mutters behind the backs of people he has no respect for.”

  “He’s kind, isn’t he? Gruff but kind. My father was like that, from what I remember of him.”

  “Who? King Markazon?”

  Tarkyn nodded and said dryly, “Yes. The dreaded King Markazon,”

  “Hmm.” Rainstorm lapsed into silence as he picked his way carefully through the bones of the trout.

  Eventually Tarkyn could no longer contain himself and asked, “Hmm?”

  Rainstorm shrugged, “I was just thinking that your father and my grandfather are very alike, according to you, and yet their reputations and their places in history are so different.”

  “Not just according to Tarkyn.” Waterstone casually sat down next to Rainstorm with his own plate. “I worked with Markazon when he helped our people through the illness. Tarkyn’s right. He was tough but he was also kind in some circumstances.” He smiled disarmingly. “Very good trout, boys.”

  Tarkyn’s eyebrows flickered at the form of address but he gave Waterstone a genuine smile. “I’m very proud of it. It’s the first trout I have ever caught.”

  “We will make a woo… forester of you yet.” Waterstone grimaced at his faux pas.

  “Yes,” said Tarkyn heartily. “That’s what I’ll become. Not a forestal or a woodman, of course, but a forester. Good term, Waterstone. Perfect description for an outsider living in the woods.”

  “Ah sorry, Tarkyn.” Waterstone ran his hand across his eyes. “This is hard for all of us. You don’t have to pretend you’re all right, if you’re not. In fact, please don’t.”

  Tarkyn realised that Rainstorm had mysteriously disappeared. “He’s developing tact, that boy,” he muttered to himself. As he returned his attention to Waterstone, the need for revenge warred inside him against his understanding of the woodman’s predicament. As he remembered everything Waterstone had done for him, rationality won by a slim margin. “Autumn Leaves is a very good advocate. He champions your cause against me over and over again. He produced all sorts of hypothetical arguments but in the end, all he ever needed to say was that you were under oath. I know you are people of honour and that you could not break your avowed commitment to your people.” He gave a little shrug, “So. There it is. The beginning and the end of it. Nothing else needs to be said.”

  Waterstone looked sideways at the prince, trying to gauge the innuendo beneath the words. “Yes, it does.”

  “No,” said Tarkyn firmly. “I accept that your friendship is genuine but also that it has limitations. And you and I will have to live with that, just as we live with so much about the oath that is distasteful.” He glanced briefly at Waterstone before looking away. “Obviously, from now on, we will both be aware of the distance in our relationship whereas before, only you were.”

  Waterstone threw his plate down with a clatter. “No Tarkyn. It was not like that.”

  Tarkyn looked at his friend with some sympathy. “Yes it was, Waterstone. You just assumed that woodfolk business was exclusively between you people. And you were right. It was and still is. I will not insist on intruding. When you want my assistance as forest guardian, no doubt you will decide among yourselves what I need to know. Hopefully, you will not inadvertently exclude me from any vital information.”

  “That sounds very lonely, Tarkyn.”

  Tarkyn bit his lip. After a few moments he said, “For a woodman used to sharing every thought, that may be lonely. But I was brought up to stand apart. For a while, I nearly escaped my heritage. But it was an illusion, and now my heritage has come back to haunt me.” He gave a wistful smile, “We are what we are, Waterstone. You are a woodman and I am an exiled sorcerer prince, an outsider among you, made more welcome than I could have dared to hope.”

  Waterstone grimaced, “Stop being so bloody noble about it. I think I would prefer anger from you, rather than this stoic acceptance.”

  Tarkyn gave a grunt of laughter. “I’ll admit I did consider raging at you but Raging Water saved you. He said you did your best under the circumstances and I believe you did. So,” he shrugged, “what else can I do but accept the situation?” He slapped Waterstone on the knee. “Come on. Cheer up. From your point of view, you are in a less invidious position than before, because now you don’t have to conceal the fact that you woodfolk harbour secrets between you. Just tell me and I won’t ask any further.” And because Tarkyn had years of court training behind him, he almost convinced Waterstone that all was well.

  But as the week wore on and various woodfolk new to Tarkyn arrived, the change in the prince became apparent. As soon as he knew of an impending arrival he would absent himself, going off for long solitary walks, albeit overseen by a discreet lookout, or retire to his shelter. He made no attempt to meet these new woodfolk and would not allow anyone to speak to him about them, reasoning that the woodfolk were under oath not to reveal the presence of their kin.

  “But you already know of their presence,” protested Waterstone on the third day, catching up with him as he headed off once more into the woods. “Stop being such a martyr. You are making everyone feel uncomfortable. Don’t make the situation worse than it is. There will be times when we confer on our own but we have agreed that you, as forest guardian, should be able to meet these people. Besides, the fact that you have vowed to protect us, and that you already know of woodfolk presence, means that the rules apply differently to you.”

  “As and when the mood takes you,” retorted Tarkyn, making no attempt to slow his pace.

  “No. As and when we get full agreement from all woodfolk.” Waterstone grabbed the prince’s arm. “Tarkyn. Stop.”

  Tarkyn stopped and swung around to confront Waterstone. “What?”

  “Despite your best intentions of accepting the situation, your actions are reeking of anger… Has it occurred to you that if I had broken my woodfolk covenant and told you about the existence of other woodfolk, I could have been exiled?”

  Tarkyn stared at him. Several times, the prince went to say something but didn’t. Finally, he simply turned on his heel and headed back to the firesite. As they emerged from the shadow of the trees, he said, “You just make bloody sure, Waterstone, that you don’t ever take that risk. I need you. Sparrow needs you. We all need you. And I can tell you from experience that exile is … ” Tarkyn hesitated, realising that his exile coincided with his life among woodfolk, “… exile is not easy,” he finished lamely.

  “No. So I gather.” Waterstone patted Tarkyn on the back. “Come on. Come and meet those who have arrived so far.”

  From then on Tarkyn allowed himself to be included in the discussions but his participation was characterised by formal courtesy, and the dry humour and exuberance that he had brought to his life among the woodfolk had disappeared. Even so, without conscious intention, the prince became the focal point of ensuing discussions, bringing to them his perspective as a prince and sorcerer, and his potential as a forest guardian.

  With growing concern, Tarkyn listened as wolf attacks were reported from two other groups, and tales of sorcerer unrest and increasing attacks on travellers and isolated homesteaders were brought in from all parts of the forest with each new arrival.

  28

  On the fifth day after Tarkyn’s confrontation with the forestals, the last of the woodfolk arrived. Tarkyn had been cajoled by Rainstorm into helpin
g him gather firewood after lunch. As they walked between towering chestnut trees, the prince said firmly, “Just don’t come to expect this. I do it because I enjoy your company and it gives me an excuse to get away for a while.”

  Rainstorm grinned, not at all abashed. “Understood, Your Highness.” Just as he reached to break off a dry branch, the young woodman went still for a moment. Then, in response to a distant request, he continued as though nothing had happened.

  Minutes later a woodman came into view, walking towards them from the direction of the clearing. As he drew nearer, Tarkyn recognised him as Ancient Oak, the woodman who had sat with him on his first day among the woodfolk. Remembering how they had sniped at each other he understood why Ancient Oak had chosen to leave his vicinity but equally, he was surprised to see him now.

  The two woodmen nodded to each other in greeting before Ancient Oak presented himself to Tarkyn. “Good afternoon, Your Highness. I thought I would lend you a hand since the numbers at the firesite have swelled in your absence.”

  “Good afternoon, Ancient Oak. I am pleased to see your arm is no longer in a sling. So the harvesters have arrived, have they?”

  “Yes my lord, and so too have some of our kin from the mountains and others from the forest near Tormadell. Our gathering is now complete.”

  “But are you not tired after your journey? I understand that you people have had to travel some distance.”

  The woodman inclined his head. “That is true, my lord, but some things cannot wait.”

  When Tarkyn looked puzzled, Rainstorm said, “Woodfolk business, I’m afraid, prince.”

  “I see,” Tarkyn replied noncommittally. He cracked a long branch over his knee, and placed both pieces neatly on the ground before straightening up and looking Ancient Oak in the eye, “I believe I owe you an apology, Ancient Oak.” At the woodman’s look of enquiry, he replied, “As I recall, the last time I saw you, you had just enlisted Tree Wind and Autumn Leaves’ help to escape from my presence after I had berated you about the expected behaviour of a liegeman.” He gave a wry smile. “In view of all I have learnt since, I can imagine that didn’t go down too well with you.”