Bronze Magic

by Jennifer Ealey

  “Perhaps I was,” answered the prince silkily. “For those of you who did not see it the first time, would you like me to repeat the image of the wolves’ attack and the arrival of the riders at the scene of the wolves’ deaths? Then you can draw your own conclusions. Perhaps you may notice things we missed.”

  Because he was annoyed with Tree Wind, Tarkyn did not warn anyone to sit down. Consequently, woodfolk fell like ninepins as his image of the eagle took them soaring over the forest to see the wolves’ approach. The group that Tarkyn had begun to think of as his home guard all knew what was coming, and had managed either to sit down in time or brace themselves to stay upright.

  “Tarkyn. Stop it,” whispered Autumn Leaves, smothering a laugh. “This is serious.”

  “So is being doubted. Hang on!” said the sorcerer unrepentantly. “After the wolf attack, I’ll show you the swallow’s view of the hunters riding through the bush. The eagle’s flight was easy, compared to this one.”

  The fallen woodfolk wisely decided not to try to stand up until the visions were finished. Even so, many of them looked a little pasty by the time they had seen the forest below them through the swallow’s eyes as it bobbed and swooped its way through the air. The owl’s view of the wolf and horsemen’s arrival was more measured and they were able to recover before the images concluded.

  There was a stunned silence as the woodfolk unused to Tarkyn took in the scope of the forest guardian’s connection with the woodlands.

  “Of course,” said Tarkyn in an off-hand manner, completely unmoved by their reaction, “I may be providing you with inaccurate or mistaken images. I don’t know how you can be sure.” His eyes glittered with anger.

  “Now calm down, young man,” said Raging Water, “No need to fly into your high boughs. I think we would all like you to be mistaken because the alternative, that someone knows about woodfolk and is trying to hunt us down, is a pretty frightening concept.” He huffed out his cheeks. “However, I’m sorry to say I think your images are quite conclusive and we have a serious problem on our hands.” As an afterthought he added, “It’s just as well we didn’t kill you. I think you’re going to come in quite handy, one way or another.”

  This last comment finally drew a smile from the offended sorcerer. Tarkyn gave a small bow. “Happy to be of service.”

  “Oh my word! He’s bowing again.” Raging Water frowned repressively, “In that case, young Tarkyn, what else do you have to offer us as our forest guardian?”

  The sorcerer thought for a moment. “Protection if you are under attack, perhaps.” Tarkyn nodded at the edge of the clearing. “If a band of sorcerers or wolves came rushing in here, I could throw up a shield to protect us all, like so,” A bronze dome appeared around them. “But you probably can’t get out any more than they could get in.” Only the conversational tone of the sorcerer’s voice saved the woodfolk from wholesale panic as they found themselves trapped. “Go on. Waterstone, try to get out. It won’t hurt.”

  Waterstone pushed hard against the translucent bronze barrier. It bulged slightly but showed no signs of giving way. Tarkyn turned to the wizard. “Is there a way of making it possible to leave the protection of the shield while keeping it strong against attack?”

  Stormaway shook his head. “I don’t think so….unless you can raise it a little on one side?”

  The sorcerer focused on changing the shape of the shield so that it wasn’t a complete hemisphere. A small gap appeared along the ground near Waterstone.

  “Try that,” he said to Waterstone. When the woodman looked askance at him, the sorcerer added, “Don’t worry. It won’t fall down on you, as long as I concentrate. But even if it does, it won’t go through you.” He glanced at Stormaway for confirmation. “I think the worst that could happen is that you would be pinned to the ground until I removed the shield.”

  The wizard nodded.

  Waterstone took a deep breath and began to wriggle his way under the shield. As the woodfolk watched, the shield dropped slowly down and held Waterstone in place. His eyes widened with fear.

  “It’s quite safe, Waterstone,” said Tarkyn, sending a wave of reassurance to everyone in general. “Tell me if it becomes too uncomfortable. I am slowly lowering that side of the shield to see what happens. At a word from you, I’ll remove it.”

  Waterstone exerted an extra effort and after several attempts that each became more frantic than the last, pulled himself free. Even before he had rolled around and stood to face Tarkyn, white faced and angry, the shield had winked out of existence.

  “Blast you, Tarkyn! That was frightening,” growled the woodman.

  “Sorry. You could have stopped me.” Tarkyn smiled ruefully at him. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, although it was very firm pressure. I think the little ones would panic if they got caught like that.”

  “It’s not something I would plan to happen. I just need to know where we stand if you are all trying to leave and something distracts me.”

  “On the other hand,” said Tree Wind dryly, “we could just disappear.”

  “I agree.” Tarkyn looked at her steadily. “Go on then. Demonstrate.”

  In the blink of an eye, Tree Wind was gone.

  The sorcerer’s mouth quirked, “Not just Tree Wind. Everyone. I want to see how safe that will make you from wolves and sorcerers.” He turned around as he found himself talking to thin air. “Stars above, you people are brilliant. I wish I could do that.” He turned to Stormaway. “Do you know where they are?”

  Stormaway looked around carefully. “They are hiding in the trees and bushes around the clearing.”

  Tarkyn stood with his hands on his hips, letting his gaze travel slowly across the foliage of the trees and bushes. Gradually his eyes tuned in and then, as he focused in on the occasional flicker of movement, he could make out the dim outline of some part of a person.

  “You can come back now, if you’d like to.”

  Immediately he was surrounded by woodfolk as before. He frowned around the group until he spotted Autumn Leaves.

  “Autumn Leaves, I distinctly remember you telling me that woodfolk don’t have any magic. So what do you call that, then?”

  The big woodman shrugged. “We all do it. It’s nothing special.”

  “It certainly is special,” retorted the sorcerer. “I can’t do it. Neither can Stormaway, I would think.”

  The wizard shook his head in confirmation.

  “So, how do you do it?” asked Tarkyn.

  “We just think ourselves somewhere else and hidden,” replied Autumn Leaves.

  “And how far can you go?”

  “I don’t really know. Not far. It has to be somewhere in sight.”

  Sun Shower interrupted sharply at this point. “Do you think we can curtail this discussion until after lunch? It is getting late and the little ones are hungry. We have had the harvesters’ report, and we do not need to stand around for the rest of the day answering your questions.”

  A flush of colour darkened Tarkyn’s cheeks. “I apologize,” he replied stiffly. “That was thoughtless of me. Please don’t let me stop you.” He swung on his heel and walked away from them and down to the stream. Tarkyn reflected that he always seemed to seek the comfort of running water when he was upset.

  Behind him, he could hear Raging Water saying, “That was badly done, you grumpy woman. He didn’t make everyone stand there and listen to him. You could have been getting things done quietly in the background if you were so worried about it.”

  “I will not have that young upstart coming in here and taking over. I don’t mind him being woodfolk. In fact I think he deserves it, but it doesn’t give him the right to monopolise our time.”

  Gradually, as Tarkyn listened, others joined in the argument and before long a heated discussion was raging amongst the whole group. Leaving them to debate his behaviour, the prince slowly made his way down the bank of the stream, watching tiny fish in the shallows and water boatmen skatin
g across the top of the water. Soon he had left the noise of the woodfolk behind him and immersed himself in the quiet sounds of the woods.

  Here, the woodlands were mostly towering old oak trees, their leaves turning yellow and brown and starting to fall. The forest floor was a carpet of gold. The sorcerer focused his will for a moment and lifted himself high up into the branches of a gnarled old oak. He settled himself in the crook of two branches and closed his eyes.

  After a while, Tarkyn became aware that he was being watched. Opening his eyes he found himself face to face with a red squirrel, who was perched on a nearby branch. A feeling of sympathy washed gently through the air. The squirrel flicked its tail and in two quick movements, was sitting on top of Tarkyn’s raised knee. She sat there looking at him then, in an unmistakable gesture, offered him the acorn she held between her front paws.

  Tarkyn smiled and accepted the gift. “Thank you, my friend.”

  The squirrel nodded at him expectantly and Tarkyn realised that she was waiting for him to eat the acorn. Keeping his thoughts about the flavour of acorns carefully masked, the forest guardian peeled back the hard outer skin of the acorn with his teeth and took a small bite of the acorn’s pale flesh. It was every bit as bitter as he had been dreading. Using a lifetime of court training, Tarkyn managed to stop his face from screwing up in distaste and produced a grateful smile at the same time. The unfortunate consequence of this was that the squirrel disappeared briefly to return with another acorn.

  Tarkyn doggedly finished the first acorn but couldn’t face eating another. Luckily he had a flash of inspiration and pointed first to the acorn and then to his pocket. The squirrel, who was a great hoarder herself, seemed to think this was an excellent plan and showed every sign of approval when Tarkyn pocketed the second acorn. He smiled with relief that the squirrel assumed was gratitude.

  “So, my friend,” said the prince, “Despite my best efforts, they are all still fighting over me. I think we now have four separate groups in total; those who are and are not bound by the oath, and within each of those two groups, those who resent me having any authority and those who don’t.” After sending out a careful request, Tarkyn began to stroke the squirrel as he talked. “Trouble is, the resentful ones see me giving orders when I’m just trying to take part in a discussion like anyone else.” He sighed. “Maybe I just come across as more arrogant then I realise. Now I think about it, I certainly do a lot of the talking. Maybe I should go and find Waterstone. He’ll be able to give me some perspective.”

  “What about me, little brother? Will I do?”

  Tarkyn started, making the squirrel flick her way quickly up a nearby branch. He looked around to see Ancient Oak peering at him from around the enormous trunk of the oak.

  “Dog’s teeth!” exclaimed Tarkyn. “Is this a family trait, sneaking up on people when they are having a quiet conversation with themselves?”

  The woodman smiled a little uncertainly, “It must be, I suppose.” He nodded at the squirrel. “Do you think you can get your little friend to come back down?”

  “Sit down. I’ll try.”

  Tarkyn looked up at the squirrel who was watching him warily from a perch about ten feet above them. He sent up an apology for frightening her, then a wave of reassurance followed by an invitation. She stared at him for a few moments then flicked her way back down to him to perch herself on the knee furthest from Ancient Oak.

  “Wow. That is fantastic,” breathed Ancient Oak. “Do you think I could pat her?”

  Tarkyn smiled. “Possibly. Let her get used to you first. I’ll ask her in a minute.”

  The woodman frowned. “Can animals talk then?”

  “Not in words. We use images and emotions instead.” The forest guardian raised his eyebrows, “I’ve just realised. My mind linking is exactly the same as that of all the creatures but not like the woodfolk’s. Stormaway thought my type of mind linking was unique in Eskuzor but it’s only unique among people. It’s quite common amongst everything else. Mmm, interesting, don’t you think?”

  Ancient Oak raised his eyebrows. “Very.”

  “So, big brother,” said Tarkyn, taking pleasure in the fact that his older brother was in fact notably smaller than he. “Did you jump or were you pushed?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, did you volunteer to come and find me, or were you talked into it?”

  “Oh. Well, to tell you the truth, Waterstone suggested it but I didn’t mind. I figured we are going to have to get to know each other better, sooner or later.”

  Immediately a constrained silence fell over them as they each tried to think of something to say.

  Eventually, Ancient Oak said, “Sparrow seems to have taken to you then.”

  Tarkyn gave a slight smile. “I’ve taken to her too. I’m quite surprised really. I haven’t had much to do with children before.”

  Ancient Oak looked sideways at Tarkyn and cleared his throat. “You know, I’m not sure that I deserved that apology you gave me yesterday. In fact, I think I owe you one. I’m not surprised you snapped at me on the first day. After all I didn’t treat you well, as a stranger newly arrived among us, telling you how unwelcome you were…” He shrugged apologetically. “But I have grown up with the resentment of the oath all around me and I forgot to form my own opinion.” He gave Tarkyn a warm smile. “I didn’t make that mistake a second time.”

  Tarkyn could hear Waterstone’s values reflected in his younger brother’s words. He smiled in return and opened his mind to let Ancient Oak into an interchange of reassurance and query with the squirrel, before saying, “You may pat her, if you like.”

  When he had settled into stroking the squirrel, Ancient Oak asked, “If you don’t like being left out of things, why did you leave us all to it when you must have known we were talking about you?”

  The prince’s smile became underpinned with anger. “I said I don’t like being left out of anything important. Frankly, people discussing my behaviour in that manner are beneath my notice and always have been. I will talk to you or Waterstone or Autumn Leaves about it, maybe a few others. But I am not going to indulge a rampant mob by taking them seriously. It matters very little what they decide I should do, because I have no intention of consulting them.”

  Silence greeted this pronouncement. After a few minutes, Tarkyn realised that Ancient Oak was looking white and strained.

  The prince frowned and leant forward, “Are you all right?” he asked gently. “You look a bit ill.”

  The woodman glanced up at him. His voice was tight when he spoke. “I forgot who you truly are. And now you have reminded me. For a while there, we were just two people talking. Now, I remember that you are King Markazon’s son and my liege. I apologise. I should not have been so familiar with you.”

  Tarkyn leaned back in a sudden movement that startled the squirrel. She flicked her tail in annoyance and in a series of swift jumps, disappeared up into the branches.

  The prince sent a brief apology after her then turned to study the woodman for a few moments while he worked out what to say. “I may be King Markazon’s son – and I understand completely what you are implying about my behaviour by saying that – but now, so too are you.” He hesitated before continuing, his demeanour making it clear that he was sharing a confidence and not a recrimination. “And so I will tell you something that I wouldn’t bother saying to the vast majority of woodfolk… I loved my father. And I lost him when I was young and nothing in my life has caused me greater regret. He may have been autocratic and volatile but he could also be gruffly kind, and he tried to be fair… But above all, he was my father… and until I came to the woodlands, I was unquestioningly proud to be his son.”

  After a moment, Ancient Oak replied quietly, “Do not let woodfolk resentment damage your pride in him. We have had no experience of monarchs. I was too young to be involved at the time, but I have seen the memories. King Markazon was a formidable man, used to absolute rule. From his point of view
, he compromised. Perhaps if he had come to know us better, he may have compromised more. But he worked tirelessly to save the woodfolk struck down by illness.” He glanced at Tarkyn. “And from what I can gather, Markazon went against all his instincts and traditions to make sure that you would be safe with us when he was gone.”

  “Yes, he did, didn’t he… even if it was at the cost of your free will and mine.” Tarkyn gave a little smile. “We are each his legacy to the other.” He took a deep breath. “Ancient Oak, you may be as familiar with me as you like. You are my brother, after all. If you had heard some of the things Waterstone has said to me, you would not be so concerned. He’s yelled at me. He’s threatened me. He’s fought me. He even told me at one stage that he didn’t respect me as much as he respected woodfolk.”

  Still, the woodman did not reply.

  Tarkyn sighed. “I may be an arrogant bastard. Autumn Leaves certainly thinks I am.” He watched with amusement as the woodman’s eyes widened. “In fact I know I am, some of the time. But that doesn’t mean I want, or expect, to hold you at arm’s length.”

  Ancient Oak frowned. “But you are so dismissive of all those people down there, people who are my friends and kin.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, a week ago I offered to die for those people. I do care about them. But while they are heated up like that and arguing, most of them have forgotten that I even exist as a person. They are only thinking of me in my role and what they want from me.” The prince leaned forward. “You learn over the years, when you are always at the centre of attention, that no matter what you do, there will be someone who doesn’t like it. I’m not going to throw myself into an argument that I can’t win.”

  Ancient Oak looked a little as though he was thawing but said nothing further.

  Tarkyn smiled ruefully at his new brother. “Feel free to pull me up any time you see me getting too arrogant or dismissive but, if you can help it, please don’t withdraw from me or reject me. I’m not all bad.”