“Stop!” came a chorus of voices.
Tarkyn opened his eyes and grinned. “Thanks.” He inspected himself. He looked healthier, although he knew his legs were still a little shaky and his stomach was right on the edge. “I feel a bit better now. Probably just as well I did that. Last time I went green I had an over-abundance of energy, as I recall, and came on rather too strongly.” He laughed. “I think if I came on any stronger at the moment with the folk back there, we’d have a mass rebellion.”
“They would be an ungrateful pack of bastards if they did that,” responded Rainstorm hotly.
“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Tarkyn. “I think it is Stormaway they have to thank more than me.” He turned to the wizard and said seriously, “And I thank you too, Stormaway. That was truly amazing. You have so much knowledge that I lack. And it is your skill, not mine, that has saved the woodfolk from this crisis.”
“I have had a few more years to accrue it, you know, young man,” he responded gruffly. Nevertheless, Stormaway was clearly gratified by the prince’s acknowledgement.
Looking around at the group of bedraggled but happy woodfolk, Tarkyn said, “And thank you to all of you too, for coming out in this terrible weather. I hope it was worth it.”
“Best compensation I’ve ever had for doing lookout duty,” said Ancient Oak, endorsed with great enthusiasm by those behind him.
“I think this will go a long way towards dissolving some of that resentment, Your Highness,” said Running Feet.
“Perhaps.” Tarkyn smiled wryly at the others. “Having just discovered that no one outside the home guard has heard much about our recent activities, I realise I still have their terrible first impressions of me to overcome.”
“I thought you said you didn’t care what people thought of you,” said Ancient Oak.
Tarkyn glanced sideways at him. “To be honest, I may have been a bit angry when I said that. It’s probably more that I can’t afford to care too much.”
He was distracted by sounds of shouting and cheering which grew louder as they rounded the last clump of trees. As they reached the edge of the clearing, the prince and his small entourage were greeted by the sight of all the woodfolk, young and old, completely soaked like themselves, waving and smiling at them as they walked towards them.
Tarkyn gave a puzzled frown. “What’s going on?”
“How could you ask? The best sound and light show we’ve seen in years, possibly ever,” beamed Raging Water. “We weren’t going to let a little thing like torrential rain put us off.”
“Tarkyn and Stormaway, on behalf of everyone, I thank you,” said Sun Shower, smiling. She walked forward and patted the sorcerer on the back. “I’m sorry I called you an upstart, young Tarkyn. I could see that remark smarted. And even in the face of our antagonism, you have still fought to support us.”
“And you, you old rogue,” said Raging Water bracingly to Stormaway. “You might be a stubborn old bastard, but your orchestration of that attack on the storm was magnificent.”
“But how did you all know what was happening?” asked Tarkyn.
Waterstone and Sparrow walked out of the trees from behind the prince. The woodman grinned at him. “Running Feet and I knew everyone would be interested in seeing some magic. So we made sure they all knew. We’ve been sending them images of what you and Stormaway were doing on the ground to explain what they were seeing in the sky.” He smiled down at Sparrow. “And there was no way Sparrow was going to let me sit in the nice dry shelter when all this excitement was happening out here.”
“We’ve been watching with Autumn Leaves and Running Feet,” said Sparrow, with a big smile.
“Oh, have you now?” The prince looked around in a bit of a daze. He shook his wet hair and sent spray over all those stranding near him. He gave a vague grin. “Sorry about that. I don’t suppose anyone has been able to light a fire in all this wet?” he asked hopefully.
“No one’s tried yet but we’ll have one going in no time. Then everyone can dry out,” replied Falling Branch. He looked at the wizard, “Perhaps you could give us a hand with one of those spells you mentioned?”
Stormaway nodded. “I think our young forest guardian here replenished my strength quite sufficiently for that. Lead the way.”
37
With the assistance of the wizard’s magic, a cheery, warm fire had been lit and the ground around it had been dried out. Woodfolk were all master bushcraftsmen and could have lit the fire quite easily even in the damp conditions, but they couldn’t have dried out the ground. Besides which, they were all keen to see a bit more magic. As an added precaution, Stormaway placed some sort of enchantment on the wood smoke so that it could not be seen against the late afternoon sky. All around the clearing, various items of clothing and bedding were hanging on every available twig or branch to dry out.
Stormaway, by nature solitary, found himself the centre of a constant ring of admirers. However, not being one to miss an opportunity, he sat back and made use of the attention so that consequently, many deals for delivery of woodland produce were struck by the end of the evening.
Tarkyn, in a similar position, was failing dismally in his attempts to keep a low profile. Given a choice, he would rather have been on the road far away from this uncertain crowd, leaving them to sort out the details of how to carry out the edicts he had made as their forest guardian. Despite the energy from the oak, he was feeling hammered by the volume of power that had run through his body. His eyes were still bloodshot and smarting and he decided that he wouldn’t use them again for transmitting power unless there was no other choice.
When everyone was settled, Summer Rain approached him bearing a new bandage. “My lord, I notice you used your bandage as a hand kerchief when you were ill. So I thought you might like a new one. I’ve brought one for you too, Waterstone, since yours must be sodden.”
Tarkyn smiled at her. “Thank you. That would probably improve the aroma around here.”
“Quite possibly,” she replied, betraying not a glimmer of humour.
As she unwrapped the old bandage, she leaned forward to inspect the long shallow knife wound. She frowned and ran her fingers gently along it. Tarkyn looked over her shoulder and met Lapping Water’s eyes. He grimaced and grinned, knowing what was coming.
“My lord. Your arm has already healed.”
Tarkyn’s eyebrows shot together and he looked down at his arm. That had not been what he had expected or wanted to hear.
“But,” continued Summer Rain, “you have a slightly raised, bright green scar all the way along it. Very unusual. Possibly the swelling will go down over time but I’m not sure what we’re dealing with here, with the green. Perhaps the oak’s healing power has seeped into the tissue of your arm. Most interesting.”
Lapping Water moved forward to peer over the healer’s shoulder. “Very nice, Sire. Better than you would have expected, in fact,” she said with a cryptic smile.
“Yes, it is rather dashing, isn’t it?” remarked Tarkyn, holding his arm out to admire the scar.
Summer Rain moved on to Waterstone with her offering of bandages.
Waterstone put up his hand. “No thanks. It will dry in time. I’ll just leave it.”
The healer frowned. “You should not leave a wet bandage on. Your wound could fester beneath it.”
“No thanks. I’ll take my chances. I’ll make sure I dry it out thoroughly by the fire.”
As she turned to leave, her arm brushed against Waterstone’s and Tarkyn saw him wince. A dawning suspicion entered the prince’s mind. Twenty minutes later, Tarkyn said casually to Waterstone, “Could you come and have a quick look at something for me?”
As soon as they were away from prying eyes and ears, Tarkyn turned to him and said, “Come on. Take the bandage off.”
“I would prefer not to,” replied Waterstone steadily.
“Come on,” urged Tarkyn, “Take it off.”
Waterstone’s eyes narrowed. “Is that an
order?”
“Oh stop being silly. Of course it’s not an order. You can be a stubborn old goat if you want to, but I know what I will see when you take it off, so you might as well.”
Reluctantly, Waterstone unwound the bandage from his arm. The last layers were stuck to the wound with seeping blood and puss.
“Stars above, Waterstone, your arm is a mess.” Tarkyn peered closely at the wound to check that his suspicions were right. “Rubbing dirt into a wound can cause infection, you know.”
The woodman turned a dull red.
Tarkyn smiled broadly at him. “Lapping Water told me that, when she caught me doing the same thing yesterday morning.”
Waterstone’s tight face relaxed into a grin. “Did you do it too?”
Tarkyn nodded, his eyes crinkling with laughter. “Yes, but the oak has healed mine. Luckily, after all that effort, I still have a scar, and a green one at that.” He studied Waterstone’s arm. “Come on, my friend. I think I need to give your arm some help with healing.”
Seeing Waterstone frown, he added hastily, “Don’t worry. I won’t take the dirt out but I do think we need to get rid of some of that infection, don’t you? We might need your right arm in the days to come.” As Waterstone still hesitated, Tarkyn explained, “All I will do is send you some esse. It’s up to you to direct it as you will.”
The woodman nodded reluctantly and complied. When the infection had eased, Tarkyn said, “Wait here. I’ll ask Lapping Water to procure us another bandage. We must maintain your disguise, after all.”
A few minutes later, Lapping Water returned with the prince.
“Put out your arm,” she instructed the woodman. As she carefully wrapped the bandage around his arm, she said, smiling, “I think you should have a nice clean, raised scar at the end of all this. Congratulations.”
Waterstone looked anxiously at her. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
Lapping Water raised her eyebrows. “His Highness had to put up with having his arm unwrapped in full view of everyone. Why shouldn’t you?”
Waterstone looked even more anxious. “But no one knew why his arm was like that. They all think it was just the oak tree.”
“Ah yes, but he didn’t know it was going to look like that and he was prepared to endure the teasing.”
Tarkyn directed a small frown at her. “But only because I couldn’t think of a way out of it fast enough. I didn’t even want Waterstone to know, let alone anyone else.” He grinned at his friend. “And I have only told him now because I couldn’t let him suffer the embarrassment alone.”
Lapping Water let her gaze travel slowly from one to the other, as though considering the matter. Then she smiled. “Don’t be silly, Waterstone. Of course I wouldn’t tell anyone.” She added in a sugary voice, “I think it’s so sweet that you want to keep a memento. No wonder you’re such good friends: you’re each as sentimental as the other.” She laughed at the pained expressions on their faces.
Waterstone grimaced and said acerbically, “I think just a third person knowing gives plenty of opportunity for teasing without opening it up to a wider audience.”
Lapping Water shook her head, smiling. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll stop now. Shall we go and see if there’s some food ready yet?”
When they returned to the gathering around the fire, discussions were in full swing about making sure they were in contact with all woodfolk and trying to work out who could be missing. A great deal of it was mind talking, but Tarkyn did not ask to be updated or included and was content to sit quietly among the animated woodfolk. Now and again someone would try to draw him into the conversation, but he kept his responses minimal.
After a while, Autumn Leaves came over and sat down next to him.
“Are you all right?” he asked quietly.
Tarkyn nodded. “A bit drained, but fine otherwise.”
Autumn Leaves frowned at him, “You’re not in a huff, are you?”
The prince raised his eyebrows and looked at the woodman in some surprise. “No. Why do you ask?”
Autumn Leaves shrugged, “You’re so quiet, that’s all.”
“I am trying to be unobtrusive,” explained the prince, with a wry smile. “I think I’ve had more than my fair share of centre stage over the last few days. I’ve said all I needed to say. It’s up to everyone else now.”
“And is everyone keeping you in the picture?”
“Not as much as we all agreed, but it’s not just the home guard here. None of the others was part of the agreement we made.” Tarkyn shrugged. “I can’t be bothered going through all of that again. It was hard enough the first time.”
“Do you want me to do something about it?” asked Autumn Leaves.
Tarkyn smiled tiredly. “No, not tonight. Let’s just enjoy one evening without having to manoeuvre our way through people’s antipathy. They will have forgotten their gratitude tomorrow and be ready to find new reasons for disliking me. So let’s make the most of this hiatus while we can.”
“You are in a huff,” accused Autumn Leaves.
The prince shook his head. “No, I’m not. I just know crowd mentality…. especially a crowd laced with people who hate the oath and therefore me.” He looked at Autumn Leaves. “I almost wonder if Stormaway is right to keep the oath tied to the forest’s welfare.”
The woodman’s eyes widened in shock.
“I’m not casting aspersions on woodfolk honour, but how true to an oath can people be if their thoughts are constantly warped by resentment?” Tarkyn continued, disregarding the woodman’s reaction. “Surely they would begin to rationalise small transgressions and then become more and more convinced that what they are doing is good enough. Even with the forest’s welfare at stake, some people have lost sight of what is expected.”
The prince became aware of woodman’s shuttered face. “Oh Autumn Leaves, please don’t take offence. I don’t mean any of this for the home guard. But you know I think I, or we, made a big mistake letting all the other oathbound woodfolk keep away from me. They have built me up into a big ogre in their minds.” Tarkyn pulled at his dry but matted hair, trying to ease out the worst of the tangles. “And at the moment, if the oath were disarmed, I would be in more danger from them than I ever was from the oathless woodfolk.”
Autumn Leaves was silent for a while as he mulled this over. Finally he said, obviously feeling uncomfortable, “I don’t know what to say, really. You might be right. If the oath has made some of these people hate you, it would only take one of them to break it and you could be in danger.” He heaved a sigh. “And even though as a people, we are honourable, you can’t guarantee everyone’s behaviour.”
Tarkyn smiled in understanding. “You may find this hard to believe but we sorcerers also consider ourselves to be honourable - and look at the treachery that abounds in the society I have come from.”
Autumn Leaves could not prevent a sceptical expression from crossing his face.
Tarkyn gave a short derisive laugh. “You see what I’m battling against. It’s not just me personally. Woodfolk have a pretty low opinion of sorcerers generally.” Tarkyn regarded the woodman thoughtfully. “I can see you share that opinion but you might like to consider where my own sense of honour came from.”
Autumn Leaves nodded reluctantly. “I suppose you had to learn it from somewhere. And it wasn’t from us because you came into the forest with it.” The woodman shifted his position against the log. “Ah, but perhaps you are the exception from your society while the traitor would be the exception in ours.”
Tarkyn could feel generations of royal heritage rearing up inside him in outrage at such a suggestion. His eyes glittered in the firelight. His voice was flat with suppressed anger when he said, “I think we have taken this discussion far enough. We must agree to disagree on how despicable my heritage is.”
Autumn Leaves’ head shot up from his contemplation of the fire. “Oh dear, I’ve offended you now, haven’t I?”
“Would you l
ike it if I said you were the only trustworthy woodman? That all these people around us were untrustworthy and dishonourable? I think not.”
The woodman returned the prince’s outraged stare steadily. “No, I would not. On the other hand, I can’t point to one of them that has turned on me or cast me out in the way that some of your closest friends and family have done to you.” Seeing Tarkyn’s stricken face, Autumn Leaves added hurriedly, “I’m sorry. I should not have thrown that up in your face.”
“It is very hard,” After a fraught silence, Tarkyn said carefully, “to keep believing in myself when I have been constantly surrounded, both as a sorcerer and as a woodman, by people who would kill me as quickly as look at me if they had the chance.” He turned his eyes away to look into the fire. “It is particularly difficult to come to terms with, when I know, whether you believe it or not, that both societies are full of good, honourable people.”
Moments later, Waterstone came wandering over. “Could you come and have a quick look at something for me?” he asked, echoing Tarkyn’s earlier words to him.
Tarkyn frowned a little suspiciously but stood up and followed the woodman into the darkness beyond the firelight and away from the other woodfolk. Autumn Leaves walked beside him. Waterstone took them to a small clearing where the strong rays of the moon bathed the ferns and treetops in a silvery light. They could see their shadows stretching across the grass and mosses under their feet.
“Come on,” said Waterstone firmly, “Find somewhere to sit. We need to talk.”
The sorcerer looked from one to the other mutinously. “You relayed our conversation without telling me.” Tarkyn said to Autumn Leaves.
“Come on,” repeated Waterstone unequivocally, “Sit. I did what you wanted earlier, even though I didn’t want to. Now you have to do something for me.”
With ill grace, Tarkyn dropped himself down into a damp bed of moss. His eyes flashed in the moonlight. “I do not like having my conversations monitored by others without my knowledge, even if it is you.”
Bronze Magic Page 44