Bronze Magic

by Jennifer Ealey

  36

  Five people in a shelter made for one was proving to be logistical nightmare. Every time anyone needed to move to keep a limb from cramping up or going to sleep, the others had to re-arrange themselves to accommodate them. Sparrow was getting tired of sitting on Tarkyn’s or her dad’s lap but there wasn’t any room for her in between them.

  “Don’t worry, Sparrow,” Waterstone was saying, “The two biggest people are leaving soon. Then we’ll have plenty of room.”

  “Good,” said a seriously discontented little girl. “Then I can show you my map and Running Feet can tell you all about it.” She gave a little huff, “Well, I could have shown it to you, except you’re sitting on it and it will be all smudged.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be able to fix it up.” Waterstone glanced at Running Feet who was sitting beside him while the sorcerer and the wizard planned their tactics up the other end. “It’s good to see you again. We used to spend a lot of time together before… well, before Tarkyn arrived. In fact, you were always with Autumn Leaves and Thunder Storm and me. I suppose that was why you were in the frontline when his lordship lost his temper. We were just lucky he didn’t pick one of us instead of you… Have you been all right?”

  Running Feet turned his head to look at his old friend. “I am now but I haven’t been. I couldn’t sleep for weeks afterwards. As soon as I would start to drift off I would wake with a jerk, thinking I was falling. Only recently I’ve been able to get to sleep but I’ve always woken several times a night with the same nightmare of being lifted up and then dropped.”

  “Oh, you poor bastard! You must have been horrified when you realised whose shelter you’d come into.”

  “I was.” Running Feet grimaced, “What’s worse, by the time I realised, I had already opened my big mouth and complained to Sparrow about His Highness throwing his weight around.”

  Waterstone glanced across at the prince. The woodman was pretty sure that Tarkyn would have half an ear tuned into their conversation, but he had no intention of letting that affect what he was saying to Running Feet. “Did he get angry? … Silly question. Did he get angry for long?”

  Running Feet shook his head. “In fairness, he came over as threatening for about thirty seconds. Then Sparrow pulled him up and he stopped. Once he discovered who I was he couldn’t have been nicer, but he had already backed off before that.” The woodman gave a small sigh, “I have probably done him quite a bit of damage, you know. I’ve twisted and derided anything good that we heard about him. And everyone was just looking for reasons to hate him. So it wasn’t hard.”

  “And now he’s forced you to send out his latest pronouncements.”

  Running Feet gave a small smile. “No. He didn’t force me. He just assumed I’d do it.” He grinned, “But he did order me to tell him if I get any kickback from it.”

  “Did he?” Waterstone raised his eyebrows. “In all the time I’ve known him, he hasn’t given me a single order. Yes he did, just one. But that was just something silly between him and me,” he added, making light of something that actually mattered a great deal to him.

  “So he was telling the truth about that, was he? He said he was making it an order so that I didn’t have to choose.”

  Waterstone shrugged, “You have to give it to him. That was a good reason to give an order.” He paused, “By the way, just so you know, Tarkyn never deliberately lies.”

  Running Feet watched the prince in animated conversation as he said slowly, “So I can take it that everything he told me about his time with you people is true?”

  “Yes. Of course it is. Only a fool would tell you lies that you could go straight out and disprove.”

  “He was courageous, wasn’t he, to throw himself on the mercy of the forestals?”

  Waterstone flicked a warning glance down at his daughter. “We were not very happy with him about that,” he said tightly. “Tarkyn left in the middle of the night and made sure we couldn’t follow him, to protect the forest. But he didn’t consider how we would have felt at our failure to protect him.” The woodman grunted, “Actually, at that stage, he probably thought we wouldn’t care. But he was wrong. We really don’t want to lose him…any more than I would want to lose this little ratbag,” he added, giving his daughter a squeeze and a tickle that made her twist and giggle in his lap.

  Running Feet smiled but quickly became serious again. “But how can you stand having someone in charge all the time when we are all used to having an equal say in things?”

  Waterstone raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Tarkyn’s not in charge. Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” replied Running Feet sarcastically, “Something about his manner, the constant stream of edicts…the way he takes over all the discussions.”

  “He is at the heart of many discussions,” conceded Waterstone. “And sometimes he does have an arrogant air about him, like last night for example. But not all the time by any means.” The woodman smiled, “And the stream of edicts? We all worked them out together during the afternoon when everyone else was giving him the cold shoulder. We would have included everyone but the morning session showed us that it wasn’t viable. In case you didn’t notice, most of this morning’s edicts, as you call them, were basically the recommendations made by Stormaway and me. Our forest guardian is the only person who can command everyone’s attention at a time when we can’t afford the luxury of long debates and inaction. So he’s prepared to put up with being disliked to make sure we can protect ourselves.”

  Running Feet frowned. “He seems to have a strong tendency towards self-sacrifice.”

  “He does when he feels it’s needed.” Waterstone shook his head. “It worries me sometimes. Most of it stems from the oath he swore to us, but the other morning I’m not so sure about. From what I’ve been told, I’d say he was right on the edge. He didn’t just give them the opportunity to… you know.” He glanced down at his daughter, “I think he was almost trying to talk them into it.” He looked steadily at his friend. “He was devastated by what he saw as our betrayal of him. We’ve sorted it out now, but he doesn’t give trust easily. You have no idea how hard it was to get him to trust us after the repeated betrayals he has suffered.” Waterstone’s voice developed a distinct edge to it. “I would not like to see anyone develop a closeness with him and then betray his trust. They would have his home guard to answer to.”

  Running Feet’s eyes widened. “You really do care about him, don’t you?”

  Waterstone shrugged, easing off the tension. “I wouldn’t let just anyone into my family.”

  “I suppose not. I was surprised by that, I must admit, but not so much now as I was.” Running Feet paused. “In answer to your unspoken question, I have no intention of undermining him any further than I already have done.” The woodman glanced at his friend. “But I suppose I would say that, wouldn’t I, whatever I was going to do?”

  Waterstone considered him for a few seconds before replying. “No, my friend, I don’t think you would. You have been honest about undermining him in the past, after all. A lot has changed since we last met but a lot remains the same, and I hope you will be able to travel again with us sometime.”

  Running Feet surprised him by saying, “I would come with you now if I could, but the prince has asked me to help reduce the resentment among the other woodfolk. So I think I’ll do that first. But perhaps I may join you further down the track.”

  Before Waterstone had time to reflect on the astonishing change that had been wrought in Running Feet’s attitude in the course of one short morning, Tarkyn interrupted, “Right. We’re off. We need a strong tree to draw strength from, so unfortunately that means getting wet.”

  “Are you going to be focussing as hard as you did with me?” asked Running Feet.

  “Yes, probably harder.” The prince raised his eyebrows, “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, you can’t go off without protection if you’re going to lose sight of your surr
oundings.” Running Feet grabbed his boots from next to the doorway. “Wait. I’ll come with you.”

  Waterstone raised his eyebrows, “He’s right, you know. I should have thought of that.”

  “What? Not the Fount of all Wisdom all the time?” quipped Running Feet, as he pulled on his shoes.

  “Who said I was?” demanded the woodman.

  “I did,” said Tarkyn with a grin. He looked at Running Feet. “You’ll need weapons. I don’t have any in here. Waterstone…?”

  “Wait a minute. I’ll ask Autumn Leaves to come down with bows and quivers and he can go with you and get wet too. Sadly, I’ll have to stay here in the dry and mind Sparrow.” Waterstone promptly went out of focus.

  Shortly afterwards, Autumn Leaves arrived outside. “Come on, you lot,” he shouted. “I’m getting soaked out here.”

  When they emerged from the shelter, they found Ancient Oak had also joined them.

  “Hello, little brother,” he said as Tarkyn straightened up out of the shelter to tower over him. “Mind if I come along? I want to watch your magic display and I can guard your back at the same time.”

  Tarkyn grinned at him. “The more the merrier, although I think you’re mad. I wouldn’t come out in this if I didn’t have to.” He pushed his already soaking hair out of his eyes. “There are some big old oaks along the stream this way. We’ll use one of them. At least their branches will provide a bit of shelter.” He turned to Stormaway as he walked, “Are you all right?”

  The wizard nodded tetchily, “As good as I’m going to be, soaked to the skin and cold.”

  “I don’t suppose you know any warming or dry spells do you?” asked the sorcerer hopefully.

  “Yes, I do, but we’re going to need all our power to fight this storm.”

  “What about a shield?”

  The wizard shook his head. “Come on. Just get on with it. We don’t want to risk attracting the attention of whoever’s creating this storm by using magic until we’re ready to challenge him or her.”

  “All right. All right. I’m going as fast as I can without falling over in the mud.”

  The gentle stream of yesterday had turned into a raging torrent. In several places, the prince and his little entourage had to skirt around areas where the water had spilled over the banks of the stream.

  Just as they reached the tree line, Lapping Water and Rainstorm came running through the rain to join them. Tarkyn noted their arrival with mixed feelings. He would have been glad to see either of them on their own but their joint arrival sent a twinge of jealousy through him. Resolutely stamping down on his feelings, he greeted them both warmly and returned his attention to the task at hand.

  Once the group reached the shelter of the trees, there was a noticeable abatement in the force of both wind and rain.

  “This one should do,” said Tarkyn, patting his hand against the trunk of a tall, sturdy oak. “Old, but not too old.”

  The sorcerer stood beside the oak and placed his right hand against the trunk. He placed his left hand on Stormaway’s shoulder and waited. As the wizard closed his eyes and began to concentrate, Tarkyn looked beyond him to see a ring of faces watching intently. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to focus with you people staring at us like that. Besides, I can’t see how you will have any hope of protecting us with your backs to the rest of the world.”

  “Good point,” said Autumn Leaves with a grin. “Come on. Let’s back off a bit.”

  Once the woodfolk had redeployed themselves less obtrusively, Tarkyn closed his eyes and focused within himself to find his essence. Then he reached out through the palm of his right hand to connect with the inner strength of the great oak. When he could feel himself blending with the oak, he transferred his focus to his left hand and sent a trickle of power into Stormaway.

  “Right,” he said, “I’m ready. I can give you as much power as you need now. Just let me know.”

  Tarkyn felt Stormaway’s shoulder move slightly as the wizard nodded.

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, Tarkyn found his mind joined with the wizard’s. He could see the storm through the wizard’s eyes; sense the swirling clouds high above them and feel their source somewhere several miles beyond the stream. The sorcerer followed the wizard as he explored the extent and texture of the turbulence. It soon became clear that the clouds of the storm were slowly rotating in a clockwise direction around a distant focal point.

  For the first time, Stormaway spoke. “It is easier to work with a force than against it. We will augment the clockwise rotation and add in a vertical component. That will have the added advantage of disguising our interference for longer. By the time the storm-maker realises what is happening, he or she will be unable to counteract it.”

  “That sounds simple enough,” said Tarkyn.

  “There is nothing simple about working with weather,” replied Stormaway repressively. “Follow my lead.”

  “Am I going to use my power separately or direct it all through you?”

  “Through me, to start with. Once I tune in to the movement of the storm and begin to add my force to the wind, you can break off and use your power to force the clouds upwards.”

  Even as he spoke, a vast green column of light thrust upwards through the boughs of the tree. As it cleared the roof of the forest, the column bent before the force of the wind just as a slender sapling would. Then the wizard directed more power into it so that instead of being pushed before the wind, the green column streamed forth, spreading out across the sky and driving the clouds before it.

  There was a long delay before the effects of Stormaway’s efforts translated themselves around the full circle of the storm. Tarkyn could feel the strength of the great oak pouring through him as the wizard’s magic demanded more power. Then, slowly, the wind increased in velocity until, after a time, it was howling through the trees.

  “Now,” yelled Stormaway above the roar of the storm. “Break off and drive your own power upward.”

  As the sorcerer removed his hand from the wizard’s shoulder, his eyes flew open, glowing like lanterns in the dim light. He thrust his arm skywards and bronze light arced upward into the sky. As it hit the clouds, it spread into a glowing wall. The clouds began to build up behind it.

  “Not straight up,” yelled the wizard, “Angle it.”

  The sorcerer did not reply but the top of the bronze wall swung away from the wind. Immediately, the bank of clouds rolled up its incline.

  “Higher. You have to take it higher as the cloud lifts,” shouted Stormaway.

  A few minutes later the wizard yelled, “I’m going to join my power to yours. We have to keep increasing the height of the wall. Keep yours steady until I take over. Then bring your hand back onto my shoulder and we’ll combine forces again.”

  Stormaway’s green magic contracted and swung back up until it was running parallel to Tarkyn’s bronze wall of power.

  “Ready? Now keep your eyes open, focussed on your power. Let your eyes take over from your hand.”

  In answer, bronze light seemed to stream from both the sorcerer’s upstretched hand and his glowing amber eyes.

  “Keep it steady,” shouted Stormaway. “Hold your focus. Now, bring down your arm and put your hand back on my shoulder.”

  As soon as Tarkyn’s hand touched the wizard’s shoulder, the two walls of light slammed together and a wave of power rippled up from the ground to disappear into the roiling clouds above.

  A short time later, Tarkyn realised he wasn’t being buffeted by the wind any more. But overhead, he could still see the branches being thrashed about and he could still hear the wind’s howl. As he watched, the lower of branches of the oak quietened and gradually level after level of the tree stilled. The wind still shrieked above the tree line but all around him, the forest was quiet. As the clouds rose, the rain began to ease.

  “We’ve done it,” murmured Stormaway quietly. “It will be self perpetuating from now on. The clouds are spiralling upwards. Now, let y
our power go slowly. Then I’ll release mine. If you can just keep your hand on my shoulder for a little longer, it might save me from collapsing with fatigue.”

  As Tarkyn drew in his bronze wall and redirected the flow of energy into the wizard, he rocked slightly on his feet as the force changed directions. His eyes stung and he was beginning to feel sick from the constant flow of power using him as a conduit from the oak to the wizard.

  A few minutes later, the forest guardian asked in a tight voice, “Enough? I can’t manage much more. I think I’m going to throw up. It feels as though I have a river running through me.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Tarkyn. That’s enough. Don’t make yourself sick.”

  “Too late, I’m afraid.” He doubled over and heaved.

  “Ooh dear,” remarked Autumn Leaves, appearing out of nowhere, “you’ve gone green again.”

  “I feel green.”

  “That was great,” enthused Ancient Oak, “Absolutely unbelievable.”

  Tarkyn looked sideways at him from his doubled up position. “It doesn’t feel great, I can tell you.”

  Stormaway slapped him on the back. “Don’t worry, young man. The feeling will pass. You did a fine job.”

  The sorcerer finally straightened up, wiping his mouth on his bandage. He was a distinctive shade of pale moss green and it was hard to tell what his own pallor would be underneath it

  Lapping Water looked him over thoughtfully. She spoke softly. “My lord, I don’t mean to be rude, but why don’t you give back some of the power to the oak? Then you might get rid of some of the green.”

  Tarkyn looked askance at her, thinking that being a forest guardian wasn’t very good for one’s image. He ran his hand through his sodden hair. “I don’t know that I could stand it, just at the moment.”

  Stormaway gave him another gentle pat. “I think you’ll find that if the power is only going out of you and not in at the same time, you won’t feel that queasiness.”

  Tarkyn looked at each of them in turn, then resolutely placed his hand back on the oak’s trunk. “All right. Tell me when my colour goes back to normal.” He took a deep breath and focused on sending some of his life force back into the oak.