Bronze Magic

by Jennifer Ealey

  Ancient Oak embraced him stiffly and Tarkyn grasped him warmly in return. As they broke apart, Ancient Oak said quietly, “Welcome to our family. I am truly proud to have you as a brother.” And Tarkyn understood that he was proud despite, not because, Tarkyn was a prince.

  “I passed your vetting process then, Ancient Oak?”

  The woodman’s eyes gleamed briefly in acknowledgement, before he replied gravely. “It is no small step to adopt a brother. So I knew Waterstone would not make such a request lightly. It clearly mattered a great deal to him.”

  “It matters a great deal to me also.”

  Ancient Oak gave a slight smile. “But although I have implicit faith in his judgement, I preferred my welcome to be based on my own opinion.”

  Tarkyn looked into the depths of the woodman’s eyes, a softer green than his brother's. “You have a quiet strength that rivals Waterstone’s, don't you? I am proud to be your brother. Thank you for your welcome.”

  VI

  Unrest

  30

  When the fuss following the ceremony had subsided, Tarkyn found himself seated with his back against a log between Autumn Leaves and Waterstone. Despite a lifetime of adulation, he was still dazed by the honour the woodfolk had accorded him. Sparrow was asleep on his knee, leaning into the crook of his left arm, and he was already the worse for wear to the tune of several glasses of wine. He leaned his head back and said dreamily, “What a long week… Firstly, I was bashed up and nearly died from my injuries.” He rolled his head towards Waterstone to watch his outraged expression. “And I was nearly killed by the forestals for sweeping my hair out of my eyes. Then I let them tie me up. I hated that bit, but what else could I do? You can’t talk sense with frightened people. Then I endured a week of being sidelined… Actually, I mostly expected to be dead by now but instead, amazingly, I am now officially a woodman.” Tarkyn grinned. He fiddled with the bandage on his right arm, his eyes idly roving over the similar bandage on Waterstone’s arm. After a moment he said, “You never told me Ancient Oak was your brother. More classified information, was it?”

  Waterstone shook his head and smiled, “No, I did tell you about him… in that time when you were semi-conscious. I suppose you just don’t remember.”

  “Oh. And have we been waiting all week for Ancient Oak to arrive so that he could be at the ceremony?”

  The woodman laughed. “Partly. I could not have done it without his agreement or without his presence at the ceremony. But for such a momentous occasion as this, we needed a full gathering of woodfolk to reach an accord and to witness it. So we were also waiting for people from the more distant groups to arrive.”

  “I see. So was the true purpose of this gathering to consider making me a woodman?”

  “Partly.” Autumn Leaves raised his eyebrows. “Although, in case you’ve forgotten, there is still someone out there trying to hunt us down.”

  “Oooh dear,” Tarkyn gave a gusty rather wine-soaked sigh. “I’m being a very bad forest guardian. I had forgotten all about that.” His eyes twinkled, “Well, almost.”

  Autumn Leaves gave a grunt of laughter. “I’m not surprised. You have other things on your mind at the moment.”

  The prince looked rather owlishly at him, “And what do you think Kosar and Jarand are going to think of their new brothers, when I tell them about Waterstone and Ancient Oak?”

  Autumn Leaves’ eyebrows snapped together before his eyes narrowed as he realised Tarkyn was winding him up.

  “Ha! Nearly had you.” Tarkyn smiled. He wagged his finger at the woodman. “You see, old habits die hard, don’t they?” He snorted derisively, “As if I could go anywhere near either of them, even if I wanted to - and as if I would tell them anything, even if I did. You’re lucky I’ve had a drink or two to mellow me, or I might have taken offence at that.” He looked up as Rainstorm came over to join them. “Enjoyed scheming with Ancient Oak this afternoon, did you?”

  “Hi, prince,” said Rainstorm cheerily as he plonked himself down on the grass in front of Tarkyn. “Or should I say princes?” He grinned cheekily at Waterstone who turned a dull red. “I’m not sure about this adoptive family thing. Do you gain Prince Tarkyn’s ancestors and kin, or does he just get yours?”

  “Rainstorm,” said Tarkyn repressively, acutely embarrassed for his friend, “I don’t know how you managed to live to be sixteen but if you don’t shut up, you may not make seventeen.”

  Autumn Leaves, the peacemaker, waded in, “Among woodfolk, the ancestors are combined, as I’m sure you know perfectly well. However, since this is an exceptional situation…”

  The prince looked reproachfully at Waterstone, although his eyes were still twinkling. “Is he trying to tell me that you don’t want to share my family?” Tarkyn shrugged, “Well, I suppose I can understand it. I know my father was not a great hit with everyone and frankly, Kosar and Jarand are significantly worse. You might like my mother, if you could get her on her own. She’s really quite a kind person, intelligent in her own way, but just too much of a pushover. Can’t stand up to my brothers. Still, you can now lay claim to forty-eight generations of kings and queens of Eskuzor, and that has to be worth dropping into conversations if nothing else.”

  “Yes,” persisted Rainstorm, “but does it make him a prince too?”

  Tarkyn wrinkled his brow in thought. “Now that is a very tricky question. Since you don’t have ranks among woodfolk, then I would say no. But if Waterstone ever came among the sorcerers, then I would say yes.”

  “So what about you? Are you a prince among the woodfolk if we don’t have ranks?”

  Tarkyn rolled his head from one side to the other to look at each of the woodmen in turn, “You can see, can’t you, what a thorn in the side this young man is?” When they had both nodded, he continued, “But a very astute thorn in the side.” The prince turned his head back to regard Rainstorm, “Sometimes in life, a person has to make an executive decision… and I’m afraid, for better or worse, I can’t get my head around being totally equal,” He gave a crooked smile and tightened his arm around the sleeping Sparrow, “…especially if it might involve me having to cook.”

  Rainstorm frowned, “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  Tarkyn sighed, “No, it doesn’t really. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that. As you can see,” he added in an aside to the other two woodmen, “persistence is another of his endearing traits.” Tarkyn sat himself up a little straighter against the log and shifted Sparrow more comfortably against his left shoulder. “Very well, Rainstorm. It comes down to this. I was born and bred to be a prince and in my mind, I probably always will be. In your mind, I don’t know, I’m probably some delusional fish out of water.” He grinned rather sheepishly, “I keep setting out to say that I’m not your prince but… truth is, I am. You mightn’t acknowledge it, but my father decreed that I would be liege lord of the woodfolk… although he was unaware that not all woodfolk had sworn that oath to me.”

  Tarkyn saw Rainstorm’s eyes dilate in shock and added hastily, “No. Don’t panic. I have no intention of ruling over you. Ask these two. Even with the oath, we negotiate nearly everything…and you aren’t even subject to the oath.”

  A few minutes of intense mind talking ensued while Autumn Leaves and Waterstone tried to use images of past conversations to reassure the young woodman.

  Tarkyn frowned, “Why is this taking so long?”

  Waterstone laughed. “Because, for all your good intentions, you are quite clearly exerting authority in most situations we can think of.”

  The prince looked quizzically at Rainstorm. “Well, I did say I couldn’t come to terms with being totally equal, didn’t I?”

  Rainstorm scowled at him, “You had better not try to order me around.”

  Tarkyn could feel that the other two were also waiting to hear what he was going to say. “My friend, from what I have seen of you, you make your own judgements on the value of people’s requests to you and act accordingl
y. If you do the same for me, I could ask no more.”

  The young woodman raised his eyebrows and nodded. He looked at the other two woodmen. “He’s not bad, this prince of yours. Friendly, but with just a hint of menace!”

  The sorcerer looked crushed. “What do you mean a hint of menace? I bend over backwards not to be intimidating.”

  “Exactly,” exclaimed Rainstorm. “None of us needs to do that.” He laughed. “You should have seen him when he first got here. We’re trying to kill him and he’s getting crabby because people are firing arrows at him. Not frightened, mind you, crabby. He called us a bunch of hooligans!”

  Autumn Leaves and Waterstone both turned their heads to stare at Tarkyn. Then they looked back at Rainstorm. “And exactly how close did he come to getting himself killed?”

  “Oh, he was safe enough then,” replied Rainstorm airily. “He had his shield up at that point.” Just as the other two began to relax, he added, “But it was on a knife edge for the best part of an hour at least - only because he chose it to be, by relinquishing all his defences. He even made sure his hands were tied behind him not in front, when none of us would have known the difference.”

  Tarkyn was looking steadfastly at the ground, “Ah, but in time you would have discovered that I had made fools of you if I pretended to be helpless with my hands tied in front.” He looked up, “Besides, I am not in the business of giving false impressions.”

  This statement, which began as a simple explanation of Tarkyn’s actions, ended hanging in the air as an indictment of the fact that the woodfolk sitting on either side of him had concealed the presence of their kin from him. “So, on that topic… ” said Tarkyn slowly. The two woodmen braced themselves as the prince picked restlessly at the bandage on his arm. Rainstorm was intrigued to notice a wicked little smile playing around his lips. Then, seemingly unaware of their tension, Tarkyn continued, “So on that topic, what are we going to do about Stormaway?”

  Two relieved woodmen punched him simultaneously on the nearest shoulder to them.

  “Ow. That is a serious question,” said Tarkyn, laughing.

  “You’re a bastard. Do you know that?” said Waterstone, half smiling, half frowning. “Exactly how long are you going to make us pay?”

  Tarkyn put his head on one side, a smile lurking in his eyes, while he considered it. “Well, let me see. I had to endure total misery for nearly twenty-four hours and deal with isolation for a week, not to mention the previous weeks of deception. So I think you might still have a bit more coming to you.” He put up his right hand to forestall a sudden movement of Waterstone’s. “Now stop. You can’t punch me anymore. You might wake Sparrow!”

  As Waterstone subsided, Rainstorm asked, “So who is this Stormaway?”

  “There you are,” said Tarkyn, smiling at the young woodman. “At least someone is taking me seriously. For your information, Stormaway is the wizard who devised the spell-bound oath for my father and is my faithful but determinedly disobedient retainer.”

  Rainstorm nodded, catching on. “I know. He’s the one who thought that woodfolk would kill you if you didn’t have the oath to protect you.”

  “Yep. That’s the one.”

  “He wasn’t far off, was he?” observed the young woodman dryly.

  “No,” said Tarkyn, “but just far enough.” The prince rolled his head from one woodman to the other, “So, the question remains. What are we going to do about him?”

  Rainstorm frowned. “Am I to understand he’s an outsider who knows about woodfolk?”

  Waterstone nodded.

  “Well. It’s easy then. We will just have to kill him before he tells anyone,” said the young man with an air of finality.

  Tarkyn shook his head, smiling. “Much as I admire your straightforward, bloodthirsty style, I should point out that Stormaway has already known about woodfolk for some twelve years and if he dies, I will never be able to find out how to release the welfare of the forest from the oath.”

  Rainstorm gave this some thought, then said, “Right, then. Let’s find out how to disarm the oath. Then we can kill him.”

  Tarkyn raised his eyebrows. “If I had realised I had such simplistic minds as this around me, I might have taken a few less chances with the forestals.”

  “Very funny,” growled the young woodman.

  “Stormaway has visited us, off and on, ever since the oath was first sworn to Tarkyn’s father,” explained Waterstone. “He was appointed as judge of Tarkyn’s fitness to assume the role of liege lord. So he had to stay in contact with us. Over the years, we began to use him as an agent to sell produce to outsiders so we could buy things we don’t want to make or can’t obtain ourselves.” He smiled at Rainstorm. “I think you’ll find that all woodfolk products that go to outsiders are channelled through him.”

  Tarkyn looked puzzled. “If everyone is using Stormaway as an agent, why doesn’t Rainstorm know about him?”

  “I can answer that myself,” put in Rainstorm. He cleared his throat self-consciously. “I have only just reached an age where I have any interest at all in adult affairs. So there are still a lot of things I know little about.”

  Tarkyn smiled warmly at him, “Now there you are, you see. That is the advantage of not being a prince. I’ve been forced into adult affairs ever since I can remember. Do you know how old I was, when I first swore that oath? Seven.”

  Rainstorm whistled. “Wolves’ teeth! You didn’t have any choice, did you?”

  The prince laughed. “No. None at all. But I wouldn’t change it now, even if I did have.” He fiddled with his bandage again, lost in his own thoughts for a while. Then he looked up again, “So, we still haven’t sorted this out. What are we going to do about Stormaway?” He gave a wry smile. “I have to warn you; he is only an hour away. So you’d better get it sorted somehow.”

  Autumn Leaves showed no surprise but heaved himself to his feet. “I’ll go and talk to the others about it. Come on, young man. You can help me as long as you don’t advocate killing off the prince’s loyal retainer.”

  “Autumn Leaves, please let us know if there is likely to be any danger to Stormaway,” said Tarkyn gently but firmly. “Despite my differences with him, I really couldn’t countenance any harm coming to him after all his years of holding true to my father and me.”

  Autumn Leaves smiled reassuringly, “Tarkyn, if we don’t want him to find us, he won’t. We don’t need to kill him. If he is nearly here, he is following the path we have laid out for him.”

  When they had gone, Tarkyn turned his head to look at Waterstone.

  “I haven’t had a chance to thank you yet,” began Tarkyn.

  Waterstone shook his head, “And I haven’t had a chance to apologise for my presumption.”

  “No.” said the prince softly. “Don’t say that. I meant what I said. I am truly honoured to be part of your family.” He looked down at his bandage and pulled at a loose thread.

  “What’s wrong? You keep fiddling with it. Is your arm hurting?”

  “Hmm? No. My arm is fine.” Tarkyn threw the woodman an embarrassed glance and looked back down. “I just like having the bandage on there. It keeps reminding me that you…” he shrugged, “I don’t know….that you were willing to risk me rejecting you in front of all those people, that you are willing to have me in your family.”

  Waterstone shook his head in wonder. “You’re a strange character, young Tarkyn. One minute, you’re the most arrogant thing on two legs. The next minute, you are so humble it’s scary. I can’t work you out at all.”

  Tarkyn stroked Sparrow’s head and kept his eyes down. “It is one thing to know your worth as a prince or leader among men. It’s quite another to be accepted by someone when they don’t have to accept you and when you know most people are either scared stiff of you or resent you.”

  The woodman patted him on the shoulder. “You know, Tarkyn, I think you’re a little out of date with your perceptions. Thunder Storm and Autumn Leaves would have g
ladly taken you into their family too, you know. I nearly had to fight them for the privilege.”

  Tarkyn looked up in surprise. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. None of us who knows you is frightened of you anymore. We might be frightened for you after your shenanigans with the forestals, but not of you.”

  The prince gave a slight smile. “You know, I was beginning to think things were settling down,” the smile faded, “but when I found out about the other woodfolk, everything I thought I knew fell apart.”

  Waterstone heaved a sigh, “I can imagine it did. I am so sorry, Tarkyn, that you had to go through feeling betrayed again. I was as open as I possibly could be, given the demands of secrecy placed on us by woodfolk lore.” He looked at the prince. “I really don’t have any ulterior motives for my friendship with you…. And I’ve done the best I could to repair the damage.”

  Tarkyn gave a relaxed smile as he went back to fiddling with his bandage, his arm still around Sparrow. “Don’t worry. Your best is well and truly good enough.”

  After a minute or two, the forest guardian shifted his weight under the little girl and said, “I keep receiving images from various animals and birds warning me of Stormaway’s impending arrival. I don’t know why - maybe because he is very angry and they can sense his antipathy towards us. I think we had better go and meet him before he storms in here and wreaks havoc. What do you think?”

  Waterstone nodded, “Good idea. Then we can stall him, if we need to, to give those woodfolk who wish to enough time to leave. I’ll ask Creaking Bough or Thunder Storm to mind Sparrow. They can keep her with their two kids.”

  “So, do I need to ask a creature to guide us to him?”

  “Much as that would be entertaining for me, no,” replied the woodman. “I know where to find him. He will be following our trail.”