Bronze Magic

by Jennifer Ealey

  Twenty minutes later, on a thin deer track through the depths of the forest, Stormaway rounded a corner and came into view. When he spotted Tarkyn and Waterstone, he stopped dead and put his hands on his hips.

  “So, you found him, did you?” said the wizard sternly. Stormaway then ignored Waterstone and turned the full strength of his wrath on Tarkyn, “Heavens above, Sire, what on earth did you think you were doing, disappearing like that?” He waved his hand in the woodman’s general direction. “I’m used to this lot disappearing but not you. The forest’s a dangerous place. There are all sorts of people lurking in the forest who might wish you harm.”

  Tarkyn raised his eyebrows. “What? Me in particular?”

  “Yes. You in particular. In case you’ve forgotten, you’ve been branded a rogue sorcerer.”

  The sorcerer grimaced. “Hmm. I do keep forgetting that, I must admit.”

  “So what were you doing with yourself?” demanded Stormaway angrily. “And why didn’t you let anyone know where you were going? You left everyone in a total panic.”

  Waterstone waited with interest to hear how Tarkyn was going to respond to this.

  The prince looked his retainer in the eye and drew a breath. “Stormaway, I apologise if I distressed you in any way. However, I was upset and needed time away from you all to sort things out.” He let a faint note of hauteur enter his voice. “Beyond that, there is nothing else I am prepared to tell you. My business is my own, after all.”

  “Bloody arrogant Tamadils!” exclaimed the wizard. “I don’t know how I’ve put up with you all. You’re as bad as your father. Use you one minute. Freeze you out the next.”

  Tarkyn relented, “Stormaway, I don’t mean to freeze you out. However, equally, there will always be times when what I am doing is not necessarily your business, or anyone else’s, for that matter.” He paused. “I don’t know everything about you. You don’t need to know everything about me.”

  Stormaway eyed him, only half placated. “But you can’t just run off when it suits you. You need the protection of the woodfolk.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I can tell you that I do not intend to make a habit of running off, as you put it.” The prince raised his eyebrows derisively, “And I think I have made it clear in the past that I value the woodfolk rather more than you do.”

  As they neared the clearing, Tarkyn could see that there were notably fewer woodfolk. However, he was shocked to realise that many who had attended the ceremony had remained. He spoke quietly to Waterstone, “We can’t just walk in without preparing him. He might attack them to protect me.”

  Once the woodman had nodded his agreement, Tarkyn turned to the wizard and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Stormaway, before we go on, I must ask you to trust me. Whatever happens, do not attack anyone. At the very worst, raise your shield if you must.”

  Just as he finished speaking, Raging Water stomped up to Stormaway. “Good evening, old man. You’ll be wanting something to eat and drink after your long walk, I’m thinking. I am Raging Water.”

  Stormaway, with years of court intrigue behind him, barely missed a beat as he replied, “Good evening. I would indeed be glad of some refreshments after my long, solitary journey here.” He sketched a slight bow, but tension showed in every line of his body. “I am Stormaway Treemaster, wizard.” As he fell in beside the old woodman, he asked tightly, “Would I be right in assuming that you are not bound by the oath to His Royal Highness?”

  “That would be correct, wizard.”

  Stormaway sent a sharp glance to Tarkyn. “And this would be your private business that you would say nothing about, I presume?”

  The prince nodded.

  They reached the firesite and Stormaway was introduced to the wide array of woodfolk from different parts of the forest. He sat himself down on a log and was given wine and a plate of spit roast deer, bread and fruit.

  Everyone seated themselves comfortably around him and indulged for a short time in a desultory chat about the weather, the harvests and the potential for marketing.

  “I did have my suspicions that there might be more woodfolk than I had met,” said Stormaway eventually. “There was so much produce from such a small number. However, I thought the prince would be safe enough as long as he was with woodfolk who were sworn to protect him.” The wizard took a sip of his wine and turned to frown at Waterstone. “I am surprised you brought him here, nevertheless. I don’t know how you could be sure that you could protect him against so many, if it were needed - no offence intended.” he added, glancing around the group. “Besides, don’t you have a code of secrecy?”

  Amused glances passed between the assembled woodfolk.

  Raging Water answered. “Wizard, your young prince appeared among us many hours before Waterstone and his lot arrived.” The woodman bent a rather evil smile on the wizard. “He’d have been long dead by then if we had decided to kill him.”

  Stormaway turned a stony face towards the prince.

  Tarkyn smiled cheerily at him. “But as you can see, I am still alive and kicking. Better still, woodfolk don’t have to worry about protecting me against each other and we can all get on with facing the coming threat together.”

  If Tarkyn thought this would mollify his faithful retainer, he was sadly mistaken. Stormaway glared furiously at him and demanded angrily, “Your Highness, how could you place yourself at such risk? Have you no understanding of your importance both as prince and as guardian of the forest?”

  For the first time, the new woodfolk saw Tarkyn’s arrogance emerge. In a cool voice that sent a chill up the spine of his listeners, the prince replied, “I know exactly how much or how little I am worth. I will place myself at risk when and where I see fit and, unlike you, I will place my trust in the good sense and honour of the woodfolk. Not only that, but I will thank you to remember to whom you are speaking and to treat me with some vestige of respect.”

  The woodfolk watched him in shock. Gone was the placating, self-deprecating sorcerer with whom they had spent the week. In his place was the proud, sure prince of the realm asserting his authority. Then Tarkyn’s anger was gone as quickly as it had come. He took a short breath and continued more calmly, but still in a manner that would brook no opposition. “Stormaway, I am not answerable to you. I know you have my best interests at heart and I will always listen to your advice, but I will not be called to account by you.”

  The wizard looked steadily at him. “I beg your pardon, Sire,” he said stiffly after a moment. “Perhaps I did not express myself very well. I would appreciate it if someone could take the time to tell me what happened that has led us to where we are now.”

  Stormaway frowned as he learned the reason for the prince’s flight. As several woodfolk filled the wizard in on Tarkyn’s deliberate surrender to the woodfolk’s will, his mouth became set in a thin tight line. Then his eyes grew round as he heard about Tarkyn’s inauguration into the woodfolk as a member of Waterstone’s family.

  When he was clear on the details, Stormaway turned once more to Tarkyn who was quietly concentrating on demolishing a long dry stick while everyone around him talked about him. “My lord, I wonder if you realise how great your achievements have been? The honour you have been accorded is breathtaking.”

  Tarkyn dropped the last of the stick and straightened his bandage a little. He smiled around at everyone and said, “Oh yes, Stormaway, I do. I told you before; I know exactly how much and how little I am worth.”

  Stormaway cleared his throat. “And might I enquire where I am left amidst all these changes?”

  “Stormaway, I cannot decide for the woodfolk. I don’t think you are in any danger, though, or Autumn Leaves would not have let us bring you to this firesite. Is that correct?” Several heads nodded. The prince placed a hand on the wizard’s shoulder and addressed the woodfolk. “As forest guardian, I need Stormaway by my side. He is a skilful, powerful wizard who can teach me to use my own powers more fully. I know we don
’t agree on the oath but I cannot force him to change. However, I’m sure he and I will continue to discuss it.” His amber eyes swept around the woodfolk. “Have you worked out what you are going to do?”

  Ancient Elm’s creaky old voice made itself heard. “We have decided to put up with you, Stormaway Treemaster, even though you created that disgraceful oath. Not only that, we have decided that, as our forest guardian’s companion, you should be included in woodfolk affairs as they concern our guardian. From what we understand, you have already assisted woodfolk against the evil that hunts us.” Her bony shoulders twitched in a shrug. “And if you’ve known about woodfolk for twelve years and haven’t let on, there’s no reason to suppose you would start now.” She gave a little cackle. “Besides, it is very handy to have a link with the outside world. We have all used you to trade our goods for us and it would be churlish to turn on you now.”

  The wizard raised his eyebrows. “I must admit I am pleasantly surprised that woodfolk not involved in the oath are willing to work with me. I can see I may have to re-evaluate my preconceptions of all of you woodfolk, but particularly of you, Your Highness.”

  31

  Lapping Water carried the empty skin bag down to the stream and walked along a little way looking for a place where she could easily draw clear water. The morning sky was heavy with dark, rolling clouds and the stream had swollen with overnight rain. She pushed past a bush growing close to the water’s edge and found herself standing only feet away from the prince, who was seated on the bank.

  When Tarkyn started and looked around, clearly discomforted, Lapping Water stepped back and prepared to withdraw.

  “I beg your pardon, my lord,” said the woodwoman nervously, “I did not mean to intrude.”

  Tarkyn reddened and held out his left hand, which was trailing his bandage, in a restraining gesture. “No. Please don’t go. I was just fiddling with this bandage and trying to get it back on.” He looked around him and nodded slightly downstream. “There is a good spot just there for drawing water.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Lapping Water walked around him and knelt to fill her waterbag. She watched Tarkyn out of the corner of her eye as he made one attempt after another to wind the bandage neatly around his right arm. When her waterbag was full, she hung it from a nearby branch and came over to him.

  “Here. Let me do it,” she said quietly. “It will be much easier with two hands.”

  Tarkyn glanced up at her. “Thanks, but I think I just about have it in place now.” Even as he said this, the other end of the bandage came loose and started to unwind. “Blast! No, I haven’t. Drat the thing.” He grimaced at her and gave a little sigh. “Very well, thank you. I accept your offer.”

  He held out his right arm and the bandage in his left hand. As she took the bandage and began to straighten it out, she asked, “Why didn’t someone do this for you in the first place?”

  “Someone did. I just took it off and now I can’t get it back on again.”

  A slight frown appeared on Lapping Water’s face but she didn’t ask anything further. As she began to wind on the bandage, her frown deepened and she looked more closely at the cut on his arm. “You can’t re-bandage your arm like this. There’s dirt in the cut.”

  “I know there is,” said the prince in a tight voice.

  Lapping Water brought her soft green eyes up to meet Tarkyn’s. “So why are you leaving it there? You must know it will hinder the healing?”

  A dull red had seeped into the prince’s cheeks. He dropped his eyes. “If you must know…”

  Lapping Water put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “No. I don’t have to know if you don’t want to tell me. I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

  Tarkyn raised his eyes and gave a half smile. “No. Having come this far, I will tell you…although I admit it is a bit embarrassing.” He took a breath. “I want to make sure the cut leaves a scar so I can carry it as a reminder…of being accepted by Waterstone and by all of you woodfolk.”

  Lapping Water smiled as she resumed the bandaging of his arm. “I think that is a fine thing to do. I suppose you could heal yourself anyway if it became infected, couldn’t you?”

  He nodded, rather surprised that she had taken it so prosaically. After a minute, he said, “Did you know I could actually feel Waterstone’s blood going around inside me? It’s beginning to fade now. I suppose it’s been absorbed into my own blood, but to start with I could have told you where every drop of it was inside me.”

  “Ooh, that sounds quite horrible.” She wrinkled her nose. “Did it make you feel queasy?”

  Tarkyn laughed. “No. It was just interesting.” He shrugged. “I don’t suppose Waterstone felt anything at all. I think it’s part of the forest guardian thing.” He glanced at the woodwoman to gauge her reaction.

  She finished tying the bandage then looked at him. “You still don’t feel comfortable about being a forest guardian, do you?”

  The prince shook his head. “It’s getting better but it’s all moving so fast: all of these new abilities emerging and developing. Growing plants. Talking to birds and animals, not in words, but you know what I mean. And weird things like turning green and healing myself and feeling Waterstone’s blood. Even being able to send images and feelings. I couldn’t do that before, either.” He shook his head again and smiled ruefully, as he rose to his feet. “It’s a lot to get used to.”

  “I suppose so.” Lapping Water walked over to the tree and retrieved her waterbag. “Still, it must be exciting, having all these new experiences. I’d give my right arm to be able to do what you can do.”

  Tarkyn smiled. “Would you? That’s pretty much what Rainstorm said. Well, words to that effect” He reached for the waterbag. “Here, let me take that.”

  “Why?” she asked unexpectedly.

  The prince frowned in confusion. “Why what?”

  “Why should you take the waterbag?”

  Tarkyn was taken aback. He suddenly realised any argument about gentlemanly courtesy wasn’t going to cut the mustard. “Well,” he said, “because I am repaying the kindness you showed me in re-bandaging my arm.”

  She glanced at him uncertainly. “I’m not sure that it’s proper.”

  “What sort of proper?” Tarkyn asked in some alarm.

  “Well, you’re the prince and we’re supposed to be serving you.”

  The prince breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, is that all? I can get around that easily enough. I insist that you let me carry your water.”

  “I can’t argue with that then, can I?” Lapping Water grinned. “You realise that if we hadn’t spent all this time talking about it, we could have been back at the firesite with the water by now.”

  “I can see gratitude is not one of your strong traits then,” said Tarkyn dryly as he walked back up the stream beside her, carrying her waterbag.

  Lapping Water flashed him a smile and answered, “Not for anything as trivial as that.”

  Just as he began to frown, Tarkyn realised he was being deliberately provoked. Hard on the heels of this realisation came the uncomfortable knowledge that he didn’t know how to respond. He was rescued from his predicament by the spectacle of a large group of woodfolk congregated in the clearing, clustered around Tree Wind and the harvesters.

  “Oh look, the harvesters are about to report on what they found at the end of the wolves’ tracks.” Lapping Water’s eyes twinkled at him, “They would have done it yesterday but other issues took precedence.” She took off and called over her shoulder, “Come on. The harvesters should be able to tell us where the riders and wolves came from.”

  Tarkyn followed more slowly, surveying the clustered woodfolk. He skirted the edge of the firesite and found somewhere to hang the waterbag. Then he stood under the shadow of the tree and watched while everyone milled around, smiling, chatting and mind talking to each other. The prince felt a deep sense of contentment that these were his people. But at the same time he knew that when they becam
e aware of him standing there, he would become the centre of attention. Standing apart was a quiet pleasure, he reflected, when one could choose to be a part of things.

  Inevitably, someone noticed him standing there and almost immediately there was a lull in the conversation.

  “Ah, Your Highness,” said Tree Wind, “Now that you have graced us with your presence, we can begin.”

  Tarkyn inclined his head, thinking that his new status as a woodman showed no signs of shielding him from Tree Wind’s antipathy. “I beg your pardon. I did not realise that you were waiting for me.”

  Tree Wind continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “There is an encampment of many men about forty miles due west of here,” she explained out aloud, mostly for the benefit of Stormaway and Tarkyn. “The horsemen and the wolf returned there. The young man who led them has other trained wolves chained up in the encampment.”

  “How many sorcerers? Any wizards?” asked Stormaway.

  Tree Wind shrugged, “I don’t know the difference between sorcerers and wizards but I can tell you there were at least three, maybe four hundred of them.”

  “Three or four hundred?” The wizard whistled. “That’s the beginning of a small army. Were they all men? Or were there women and children as well?”

  The woodwoman thought carefully. “I would say about three quarters were men. The rest were women and children. Many of them looked like the travellers you see along the woodland roads.”

  “So, were they bandits?” asked Tarkyn.

  Tree Wind avoided his eye but answered his question, “No, my lord. I don’t think so. I don’t know what they are doing in the forest but they don’t look like they are planning to clear trees for farming and they don’t look as rough as the usual bandits. I think we will have to watch them and try to work out what they are up to.”

  “Other than trying to hunt down woodfolk, you mean,” said Thunder Storm dryly.

  “Yes.” After a slight hesitation, Tree Wind added, with the faintest undertone of derision, “Although perhaps His Highness was mistaken in his vision of that.”