“Rainstorm, I just finished talking to Waterstone about it. I don’t want to start all over again.”
“Fine. I’ll leave then. You might just remember sometimes that Waterstone is not your only friend.”
He turned to leave but Tarkyn put out a restraining hand. “Don’t go. Come down to the stream with me.”
Rainstorm eyed him belligerently for a moment, then grinned, “All right, I will, and if you’re very lucky I might just shut up.”
Tarkyn laughed, “I think that might be a bit much to hope for.”
When they reached the stream, Tarkyn dragged off his boots and waded straight in. Rainstorm watched him, horrified. “What are you doing? It’s freezing in there, prince.”
Tarkyn ducked his head under the water and came up gasping. “Yep. It certainly is.” He shook his head and sent his long black hair flying. He grinned, “Don’t tell me you’re going to let me suffer alone.”
“I was thinking of it, I must say.”
“Come on. Don’t be a wimp. Get in here,” said Tarkyn before disappearing under the water again.
In a split second, it ran through Rainstorm’s head to wonder if this was an order. In the same instant he knew it was not. He suddenly understood what Waterstone had meant about the oath getting in the way of friendship. He put his hands on his hips and tried to work out what his natural response would be. Before Tarkyn had time to resurface he shrugged, threw off his boots and gingerly stepped into the freezing water. This might not be what he would usually do. He wasn’t sure. But it was what was needed at the moment.
Tarkyn came up close to him and blew a spout of muddy water into the air that landed neatly on Rainstorm’s head and dripped in icy rivulets down his back.
“Wolves’ teeth Tarkyn! Stop it! That’s freezing.”
“Come on. Stop standing there, shivering. Just get in. Once you’re in, it gets better.”
Rainstorm took a deep breath and resolutely let himself fall forward into the shallow waters. As soon as he could get his feet under him, he shot upwards, gasping. “Stars above, prince. You’re mad. This is murderously cold.”
Tarkyn grinned, “I know. You have a streak of true heroism in you, Rainstorm.”
Even as Rainstorm’s eyebrows twitched together in suspicion, Tarkyn sank under the water again. Moments later, a tug on Rainstorm’s ankle dragged him under. He just had time to grab a breath before he was submerged in the icy water. When he came up spluttering, he found himself face to face with an expectant Tarkyn.
Rainstorm laughed and launched himself at Tarkyn. Tarkyn went flying over backwards and sank beneath the water. There were a few moments of quiet while Rainstorm caught his breath and waited for Tarkyn to re-emerge so that he could push him under again. The moments stretched beyond a minute and still Tarkyn didn’t reappear. Suddenly Rainstorm’s stomach turned over and he began to feel frantically around in the muddy water.
“Looking for something?” asked a voice behind him.
Rainstorm swung around to find Tarkyn watching him, a huge smile on his face.
“That’s it. You will die,” roared Rainstorm and threw himself at the prince. Tarkyn sidestepped neatly and threw Rainstorm into the water before dumping himself down into it again. They both came up spluttering and laughing and, by unspoken agreement, stopped fighting and sat side by side up to their necks in water in the deep golden light of late afternoon.
After a while, Tarkyn glanced at Rainstorm, “Do you know, there’s a large owl about two trees along over there watching us. I’m not sure that she approves of our antics. She’s worried about me drowning.” He smiled and nodded further along the river. “There’s an otter downstream there a bit. She’s not happy with us because we’ve churned up the water. But over there behind those bushes is a sneaky little fox who has been using us as a sound screen to close in on a dim, hapless rabbit who hasn’t even noticed us.”
“Is that right?” Rainstorm let his senses roam through the gathering shadows of early evening but in the end shook his head. “For all my years of woodland training, I can’t tell any of that.” He turned his head to look at the prince. “Of course, you could be making it up.”
“I could be.”
Rainstorm dipped the back of his head into the water, “But of course you’re not because you couldn’t lie to save yourself.” He lifted his dripping head back up. “You know, prince, you are very lucky to have those gifts and we’re lucky to have you. Even if we can’t do it ourselves, you can show us the world through the eyes of an eagle or a heron. It will be generations before anyone gets that chance again.”
He let himself sink right under the water again. As he came back up he spat away the excess water and added, “Don’t worry about the oath. I’m over it. I think you more or less deserve it anyway - as our forest guardian. Maybe not so much as prince, but that’s a hierarchy thing, isn’t it? And we don’t do hierarchies.”
“Thanks Rainstorm. I think you’re the first person who’s said that to me. Even the best of them, like Waterstone, only endures the oath at best.” Tarkyn dunked the back of his head in the water and watched his long hair floating around him. “I’m not looking forward to the forestals finding out about it, I can tell you.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you. If they see that I can deal with it, they’ll know anybody can.” In a gush of water, Rainstorm stood up and waded to the bank. He looked back over his shoulder, “Come on. We’d better get back.”
They sloughed off all the excess water they could and stood there dripping, their wet clothes clinging to them.
“Ugh. That feels horrible,” said Rainstorm as a gentle night breeze plastered his wet clothes against his skin, “I think we need a fire in a hurry. I’m not putting my boots back on until my feet are dry.”
They trod gingerly back up the track in the dark and emerged, still dripping, into the firelight of the clearing.
“Hello, all,” said Rainstorm jauntily as he headed for the fire, ignoring the raised eyebrows.
Tarkyn followed more quietly and squatted down at the fire, his hands held out in front of him to warm them. When the silence didn’t dissipate, he looked around and asked, “So, what do you think about the horses then?”
Autumn Leaves appeared out of the gloom with two towels, distributed them without a word and sat down next to the prince.
“Thanks,” said Tarkyn as he towelled dry his hair. “So what do you think?”
“I think the idea is good in principle. But how confident are you that you can control these horses?” asked Autumn Leaves. “As far as I know, you’ve only guided individual animals before.”
Tarkyn concentrated on putting his socks and boots back on. “True. Even with the rats, I made the request of one who then enlisted help. And that’s all I’ll do this time. If I can guide the lead mare, she will guide the others.”
“I see,” said Autumn Leaves slowly. “Fair enough. And what about afterwards? We send them off into the distance to be recaptured or not as they choose?”
Tarkyn nodded, “Something like that. That’s the other good thing about it. The encampment guards won’t be able to scour the forest on horseback looking for us. And you people will be miles faster than them on foot if we need to get further away.”
“You realise Golden Toad and his family will be frightened of getting up on a big horse, especially hindered by chains.”
Tarkyn stared at him for a moment. “Yes. I expect they will. But frankly, that is the least of our worries…or theirs. Don’t pussyfoot around their feelings. Throw them up there, tie them on and get them out of there as fast as you can. If they threaten to make too much noise, gag them. If they complain about it later, you can blame me. It’s not just their welfare at stake. It is the welfare of all of us. We can’t afford half measures.”
“You’re very forceful all of a sudden.”
“Needs must in times of war.” Tarkyn gave a quick smile. “For once, we are discussing something I know about.
I know how to be ruthless in combat situations, much more than you do I suspect. I’ve trained in it all my life.” He reiterated his instructions, then asked, “Can you do that?”
Autumn Leaves smiled, “Yes, I can do that though I mightn’t have, if you hadn’t mentioned it.”
Tarkyn looked across at Waterstone, “And Danton?”
“We discussed Danton. Like you we’re not sure but if there is any doubt, we’ll grab him. We can’t afford to risk him telling the sorcerers about us.”
“Maybe we should never have sent him in the first place,” mused Tree Wind, “On reflection, it seems dreadfully naïve of us to have sent a sorcerer who has only known us for a couple of days back into the midst of his own kind. How could we expect his loyalty to us to override his loyalty to them?”
“We didn’t,” said Tarkyn. “I expected his commitment to justice and his loyalty to me to overcome his prejudices. I just hope I’m right.”
54
Just as the last of the sun’s ray disappeared behind the trees, Danton sauntered into the food tent and asked in a loud voice, “Could I ask who cooked that marvellous meal we had last night?”
Several voices clamoured to be heard.
Danton waved a hand. “One at a time, please.”
“My lord, we all had our part to play.”
“Oh really? A joint effort?” The lordly blonde sorcerer raised his eyebrows. “But was there not some culinary genius behind it all, coordinating your efforts?”
A scruffy, middle-aged woman wiped her hands on her apron and drawled, “That would be me.”
“Well, congratulations, ma’am, on a fine effort, especially in this makeshift kitchen.” Danton kept a casual eye on the back wall of the tent, which lifted quietly from the bottom as he spoke. “And what marvel are you preparing for this evening, I wonder?”
A sprinkling of pink and white powders flowed under the flap of canvas and swirled above the bucket of meaty off cuts.
“We’re having venison pie, sir.” The head cook bobbed a curtsy.
“Are we indeed? Well, I look forward to it.” The powders swirled gently down into the bucket and out of sight. “Still, I mustn’t keep you. Good afternoon.” Danton gave them all a charming smile and departed.
As he walked away, the wizard fell in beside him “Phase one completed. Now, let’s see about filling Sargon and Andoran’s water barrel.”
Danton found a bucket and filled it at the small stream that ran through the encampment. He met Stormaway at the bounty hunters’ tent. They glanced around them and when they were sure they were unobserved, the wizard instructed Danton, “Right, pour in enough to almost fill it. Leave about an inch at the top.”
As soon as this had been done, Stormaway produced a small phial filled with a thick dark liquid. He poured it slowly into the barrel, being careful not to get any of it on his hands or on the outside of the barrel. He stood back and smiled in satisfaction. “Good! Phase two completed. One of our longer term surprises is now in place.”
Danton raised an eyebrow.
“A nasty but mild concoction of larkspur, stinkweed and chilli suspended in oil,” explained Stormaway. “The oil will float on the top of the water so, as they draw the water from the bottom, they will drink this barrelful of water free of its effects. However, as the water level drops, the tainted oil will seep into the wood of the barrel and affect the next barrel full of water. If we are really lucky and they don’t work out what is happening, it may also affect the barrelful of water after that.” The wizard gave a satisfied smile. “That would give them a good eight to ten days’ worth of very unpleasant symptoms.”
“Go on then. What are the symptoms?”
“The larkspur will cause severe nausea, perhaps a little vomiting and some truly embarrassing muscle twitches. Hopefully I have the dose right and they will escape paralysis and death. The chilli will burn their mouths and lips and the stinkweed will cause vision distortions and delirium and they will find it difficult to put a sensible sentence together. So that should add nicely to their difficulties.” Stormaway gave the barrel a friendly pat and looked around briefly before slipping inside the tent. “I’ve only put a dash of stinkweed into the mix. We wouldn’t want them so delirious that they missed the misery of the other symptoms, now would we? Of course, the severity of their reactions will depend very much on how thirsty they are. Still, I have erred on the side of caution. We don’t want their suffering cut short by death, do we?”
“You’re a dangerous man, aren’t you?” mused Danton, raising his eyebrows.
“All men are dangerous in their own ways.”
Danton followed the wizard inside Sargon and Andoran’s tent. “I almost begin to feel sorry for them.”
“Oh, we haven’t even started yet,” Stormaway drew out a small bag filled with dried leaves finely crushed into a light green powder. “Have you brought the gloves? You don’t want to get this on your hands.”
When Danton was ready, the wizard sprinkled a fine film of green dust across the bounty hunters’ bedding and over their clothes. He paid particular attention to their undergarments. “Okay, Danton, rub the powder into the material until it can’t be seen.”
Suddenly there was the sound of footsteps in the gravel outside. They froze. The footsteps stopped for a moment then continued on past. Sorcerer’s eyes met wizard’s and the two breathed a sigh of relief. Danton quickly finished rubbing in the powder while Stormaway stood guard at the entrance to the tent
“Well done Danton. Phase three completed. Now, I think I’d better doctor the wine somewhere else. I don’t think I can stand the tension of being in here much longer.” The wizard poked his head outside and said, “Come on. Bring a bottle of wine with you and let’s go back to our own tent.”
Once back inside their own tent away from prying eyes, Danton produced the bottle of wine and watched with interest as Stormaway prised the cork out and added a few pinches of a dark brown powder to the wine before resealing it. He gave it a good shake, then handed it back to Danton.
“There. Phase four completed. You can take it along with you tonight when you go to visit them. Try not to drink any yourself, although it won’t kill you if you can’t avoid it.”
Danton held the bottle up to the light and studied it. “And what will happen to me if I do?”
The wizard gave a wicked smile, “You will become disoriented and start seeing things. Not particularly pleasant even if you’re expecting it, although I’ve heard some people actually seek these experiences. However if you don’t know it’s going to happen, it is frightening in the extreme. You think you are losing your mind.”
“And the green powder?”
“Poison ivy and stinging nettle. I would have just left it at poison ivy. On its own, it causes severe itching and irritation, often leading to delightful infections if scratched. But sadly not everyone is affected by it. So to make sure of their misery, I’ve added the nettles. Very satisfactory, don’t you think?”
Danton laughed. “Very satisfactory indeed. I only hope Tarkyn watches at least some of their effects.”
“So do I!” Stormaway heaved a sigh, “Right! Onto phase five. So we’re going to take a chance and loosen the stake while the wolves are being fed?”
Danton nodded. “It’s as good a distraction as any. Even if Tarkyn made the horses bolt, someone could still look around and see us. So let’s get it over and done with.”
“Are you clear on what you have to do? I won’t have time to give you instructions.”
“I’m clear. Let’s go.”
They emerged from the tent just as the wizard’s ex-apprentice reached the wolves with the bucket of meat scraps. The wolves yanked on their chains and howled, teeth bared, trying to reach the meat. Danton and Stormaway walked unhurriedly and quietly behind the wolves’ keeper until they stood outside the imprisoned woodfolk’s tent, on either side of the metal stake. Checking that all eyes were on the wolves, they each sent a small but intense
streak of magic circling the ground around the stake. Stormaway’s green twanged as it touched the turquoise stream of Danton’s magic. Their eyes widened in alarm, but only they had heard it above the din of the wolves.
They maintained their magic streams for another long minute, on tenterhooks that someone would look around.
“Enough,” said Stormaway in an urgent undertone.
The green and turquoise winked out. Danton looked around quickly, then pressed his hand against the side of the stake. It gave way easily. He righted it hurriedly and moved away. Stormaway walked off casually in another direction. Ten minutes later they reconvened inside their tent and smiled at each other with relief.
55
Fireside conversations had died away and finally, the last of the sorcerers had made their way from communal fires to their respective sleeping tents. Spots of light from unquenched fires and lanterns, both inside and outside tents, were still dotted around the encampment. In a distant corner, the fretful cries of a baby signalled the presence of at least one wakeful sorcerer while the undiminished sounds of a few drink-laden voices emitted from a tent closer to hand. Half an hour later, the guards around the perimeter were replaced. Those relieved of duty did not linger and soon they too had retired.
Within the tree line, the woodfolk watched and waited for another half an hour, some stationed in the trees as close as possible to the guards’ posts and the rest strung out along the ground, hidden behind trees and bushes. The baby had quieted but the nearby revellers carried on.
The raiding party could not afford to wait much longer. The moon was riding high, partly obscured by a wispy patch of cloud. Not ideal for a clandestine raid, but it would have to do. They had three and a half hours before the next changing of the guards and they wanted as much time to elapse as possible before their activities were discovered.
Bronze Magic Page 61