By mutual agreement, they swung into action. Under Lapping Water’s direction, those in the trees synchronised their actions to fire simultaneously at the perimeter guards. Moments later, six sorcerers grunted and crumpled to the ground.
Immediately, light shadowy figures emerged from the tree line and sped across the open ground to the edge of the encampment. As they reached the cover of the occasional trees and bushes within the encampment’s boundaries, they seemed to blend away into nothing.
Then two sorcerers guarding the horses grunted as they were caught by waiting hands and lowered quietly to the ground. Sharp knives flashed in the moonlight and the last strands of the horses’ ropes were sliced through. The horses watched calmly and trod quietly behind the fleeting shadows through the night. As they neared the sleeping wolves, some of the horses rolled their eyes but a distant presence calmed them and kept them from snorting or making any sound.
Inside the nearby tent, three woodfolk awoke to find their mouths held shut by firm hands. As their eyes struggled to become accustomed to the dark, they stared wild-eyed in to the faces of their kindred.
“Keep quiet,” whispered Autumn Leaves. He waited until recognition dawned in their eyes. “Can we take our hands away?”
The three woodfolk nodded.
“We are going to slip you out under the side of the tent, chain and all. There are horses waiting outside. We are going to tie all three of you onto one horse.”
Autumn Leaves could dimly see the whites of three sets of eyes in the gloom as they rolled their eyes in alarm.
“Shh. It will not be for long. And then you will be safe. Once we are safely away, we can see about removing the chains.”
The imprisoned woodfolk looked frightened but nodded.
“Hold your chains still, as much as possible when we move.”
Other hands lifted the canvas of the tent wall while Autumn Leaves and Falling Branch helped the chained woodfolk out into the night. When they saw the wolves lying close by, they started and pulled back. The chains rattled loudly in the night.
“Shh. Don’t worry. The wolves are drugged,” whispered Autumn Leaves.
Woodfolk swarmed around them, and lifted them up onto a placid, solid mare. Despite everyone’s best efforts, the sound of the chains seemed to reverberate around the campsite. Once the wood folk were seated, ropes flew across them and were quickly tied to secure them to the horse’s back. Someone passed them up the iron stake to hold.
“There are no reins,” mouthed Golden Toad, panic stricken.
“Hold the horse’s mane. Trust us. You will be all right. Now go!”
Autumn Leaves gave the horse a gentle pat on the rump and it walked quietly towards the perimeter of the encampment, surrounded by the other horses.
Forty yards away, in Andoran and Sargon’s tent, Danton was fretfully trying to keep Andoran and Sargon’s attention focused on a game of cards. An unfortunate side effect of the drug Stormaway had placed in the wine seemed to be sleeplessness. Ever since they had drunk the doctored bottle of wine, Andoran and Sargon had been jumpy and had kept looking sideways at the other two. From time to time one of them would ask an odd question, then shake his head and looked frightened when no one else had heard or seen what he had.
Andoran sat up and listened, “Did you hear that?”
Danton, whose hearing had been finely tuned to the world outside the tent all evening, did indeed hear the quiet clop of horses’ hooves. His heart leapt in his chest but he said impatiently, “Andoran, what is it this time? You keep holding us up. Play your card.”
Andoran shook his head, looked uncertainly at the other two and drew his attention back to his cards.
A few moments later, Sargon’s head went up. “Did you hear that? I’m sure I heard a chain being rattled.”
Danton threw down his cards in disgust. “You two are hopeless to play with. How could you be hearing a chain? I haven’t even seen any chains.” His voice thickened with sarcasm, “Perhaps there’s a ghost around here somewhere and it’s rattling its chain? You would expect a castle to go with it, though. Wouldn’t you?” He sighed in exasperation and picked up his cards again. “Do you think we could get on with it?”
Sargon glanced at Andoran but, receiving no confirmation from him, reluctantly frowned once more at his hand. Even before he could put down another card, his head went up again. “I can hear horses too.”
“Well, they are tied up nearby. Maybe they’re just restless,” suggested Danton, knowing he was now fighting a losing battle.
Andoran frowned, “If you can hear it too, Sargon, then it must be happening,”
“Quick. Let’s see what’s going on.”
Because of the drugged wine, they fell over themselves several times before they reached the doorway. Once they had disentangled themselves, Andoran reeled out of the tent with Sargon and Danton in hot pursuit.
Suddenly Andoran’s shout rent the night. “Hoy. Someone’s stealing the horses!”
“Go!” urged Autumn Leaves. As the horses thundered out of the encampment, the woodfolk used them as cover to reach the perimeter. A few brave woodfolk threw themselves onto the backs of the passing horses but most ran out into the night and flicked back into the cover of the trees.
Unnoticed by the two bounty hunters, two dark shadows stole up from behind, hit Danton on the head and whisked him off into the night. Andoran and Sargon threw themselves clumsily but enthusiastically into the chase. As the last horse broke through the perimeter, Andoran lunged wildly and just managed to grab the tail end of Autumn Leaves’ shirt. He dragged the woodman backwards and swung him around in an arc into Sargon’s waiting fist. Autumn Leaves crumpled without a sound. The fleeing woodfolk, intent on their escape, did not look back.
56
The horses cantered off through the forest, bearing their cargo of woodfolk. Once well inside the trees, they slowed to a walk and the nervous woodfolk on their backs sat up carefully and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Golden Toad, you are safe now,” called Creaking Bough quietly from astride a large roan. “Just hold on for a while longer and we will take you down and get those chains off you.”
The horses carried them further into the forest, but every ten minutes or so, they would stop beneath a large tree and mill around pointlessly for a few minutes before once more setting off. Eventually, they brought the woodfolk into a large clearing deep within the forest canopy. The horses came to a halt and stood quietly, facing a tall young sorcerer with glowing golden eyes and long black hair. Golden Toad and his family smothered cries of consternation.
“No. Don’t be fearful. He is a friend,” said Creaking Bough hastily.
Waiting hands reached down to grab Golden Toad and his family and bear them off through the trees into a nearby shelter while small bundles of wood were strapped onto the horses’ backs.
The guardian of the forest bowed to the horses and sent forth waves of gratitude. The leading mare bowed her head, then tossed it and snorted. The horses wheeled around behind her and galloped off into the night.
He smiled and turned back into the clearing. “Rainstorm, North Wind, where are you?” As the two woodmen swung down out of the trees to land in front of him, he said, “The horses will be fine. They will circle around and eventually return to the encampment.” He gave a short laugh “They could have stayed free but they like the food there and winter is coming. Where are the others?”
North Wind went out of focus for a few moments. “With Golden Toad and his family. You’ll meet them when they come out. Not enough room in the shelter. Thunder Storm thought you might like to postpone telling them who you are for a while until they’ve settled down a bit.”
Tarkyn grimaced. “I expect they don’t want to see another sorcerer for as long as they live. Maybe I should make myself scarce for the time being.”
“No, prince,” said Rainstorm firmly, “You might as well hang around. They saw you when they arrived on the horses. You pro
bably need to reassure them that you’re friendly.”
Tarkyn threw Rainstorm a sardonic glance. “Like a tamed wolf, you mean?”
Rainstorm grinned. “Yes. Something like that,”
“We’ll go and see how they’re going.” said North Wind, and the pair disappeared.
Tarkyn paced back and forth to keep himself warm while he waited for the woodfolk to recover and re-emerge. Suddenly he gasped and reeled, an intense jab of fear piercing his mind. Almost immediately the image of a knife flashed before his eyes. Sargon is waving the knife up close to me while Andoran leers into my face over Sargon’s shoulder. As I watch, the two sorcerers direct puzzled frowns at me, arguing about something. Suddenly the knife is reversed and comes plunging towards me, hilt first. Then the image went black.
Tarkyn staggered against a tree and leaned there for a minute catching his breath, thinking about the image he had just seen. He knew, without a doubt, that Autumn Leaves had been captured. He wondered if everyone had received that image but there did not seem to be anyone reacting around him. Maybe it’s the strength of feeling that allowed me to pick it up. No one else receives feelings.
Without further thought, Tarkyn sent forth a command to Rainstorm. The young woodman appeared at his side, looking shaken.
“Sorry,” said Tarkyn peremptorily. “I need your help. Now. Will you help me without knowing why? And are you willing to risk your kinsmen’s ire to do as I ask?”
Rainstorm nodded without hesitation, his eyes gleaming in anticipation.
“Good. Now go back into that shelter and find a blade of grass or any piece of vegetation on those woodfolk that has come from the tent in which they were held captive. Then bring it to me without anyone knowing. Clear?”
Rainstorm frowned, “How will I know if it’s from the tent or from the bushes they passed through on the horse?”
“Rainstorm, you’re the woodman. You figure it out. Now go. It’s urgent.”
Tarkyn paced up and down, frantic with worry, while he awaited Rainstorm’s return. Gradually, he calmed enough to start thinking through what he needed to do. He found a low bush, plucked a spray of berries off it and stuffed them into his pocket. Then he composed himself and sat with his palm against an oak tree. He focused on the sap of the forest and sent an image of what had happened and what he wanted to do, deep into the heart of the forest trees. Slowly a gentle breeze wafted through the woodlands and, as the branches sighed with the passing wind, the guardian of the forest knew the forest would support him. He breathed slowly and deeply until he was calmer and then sent his mind wandering around the encampment until he found the friendly little mouse he had worked with before. He directed it to head towards the tent where the woodfolk had been kept. When he was sure it had understood and was on its way, he broke contact and set to pacing once more as he waited for Rainstorm to re-appear.
Finally, Rainstorm returned bearing a small blade of grass smeared with mud. “It’s from the mud on the bottom of Golden Toad’s boot. It can’t be from the horse ride.”
“Well done. I knew you’d figure something out.” Tarkyn took the blade of grass and sat down. “Now, listen carefully. I want you to go back into the tent and give me as much uninterrupted time as you can. After twenty minutes, tell North Wind, Running Feet and Thunder Storm that you have given me this grass. They will explain the rest.”
Rainstorm looked a little puzzled but he stood by his resolve to assist Tarkyn. He nodded briefly “Good luck with whatever you’re doing, then.”
“Thanks, Rainstorm,” said Tarkyn warmly, “Now go and stall everyone for as long as you can.”
As soon as Rainstorm was out of sight, Tarkyn resumed contact with the mouse. It was now in the tent that had held the woodfolk. The mouse scuttled around the edges of the tent, darting from clothing to bags to bits of rubbish. The tent was clearly unoccupied. Tarkyn broke contact, took a deep breath and focusing in the blade of grass, incanted quietly, “Maya Mureva Araya!”
He experienced a rushing, nauseating sensation, then a slowing down and a hesitation. For a moment it felt as though his travel pushed at a soft barrier that gave way but then cushioned him to a gentle landing at the other end. Tarkyn opened his eyes and found himself lying on his side in the now familiar tent. He drew a couple of steadying breaths, sat up and looked around. He spotted the mouse cowering behind a pile of clothes in the corner. Tarkyn sent out a wave of reassurance. He listened carefully. He couldn’t hear any movement outside. Perhaps they have all chased off after the horses. He regained contact with the mouse and asked it to go out under the side of the tent to see what lay beyond. Tarkyn was not planning to risk his safety any more than he felt was necessary.
Once outside, the mouse snuffled about and soon picked up the scent of horse dung. Oh no! Not again, thought Tarkyn. He sent it an urgent message to keep looking around.
It’s very quiet out here. Over there are a lot of nasty big animals but they are sleeping too. Wait! Someone nearby. People in that tent over there. No one else is out here. There are a few mounds of lovely dung over here though. Nice and warm.
Tarkyn pulled out quickly. He took a deep breath, carefully raised the side of the tent and slithered out beneath it. He brought his feet up under himself and waited, crouching low while he gained his bearings and located the source of the voices.
He crept to the outside of the tent and listened.
“I think he’s coming around again,” said a voice that Tarkyn recognised as Sargon’s.
“Well, who’s going to hit him this time? You or me?”
“Are you sure he’s really there? I’ve never seen anyone like him before.”
“Of course he’s there, you idiot. We can both see him.”
“We could talk to him…Find out who he is…what he is?”
“I don’t think so. We need to sober up a bit first. He might trick us. Who knows what magic he has up his sleeve.”
Tarkyn sent forth a wave of hope and friendship, with a gesture indicating silence. A fuzzy image of the two bounty hunters came back to him. They were standing over the woodman with their backs to the door. Tarkyn didn’t hesitate. In two sure strides, he entered the tent and incanted “Shturrum” before either of them could look around. Then he grabbed their heads and bashed them together with a resounding crunch. Sargon and Andoran fell senseless to the ground.
Tarkyn stepped over them and knelt down next to the woodman, “Oh my stars! Autumn Leaves! What have they done to you?”
Autumn Leaves’ face was covered with blood and his nose was on a sickening angle. He shook his head groggily. “I don’t know. Just hit me, I think. I feel sick. I think my nose is broken.” He frowned vaguely. “What are you doing here? Are we back in the woods?”
“Shh. No. We’re not. But we will be soon.” Seeing Autumn Leaves frown deepen, Tarkyn said hastily, “Don’t worry. We’re leaving now.”
He lifted Autumn Leaves up gently and set him down on his feet. “Can you walk?” The woodman collapsed as soon as Tarkyn slackened his grip. Tarkyn lowered him carefully back down. “No. Clearly not. Wait. I’ll check outside.” Tarkyn tuned back in with the mouse to find himself surrounded by soft, smelly warmth. Overcoming his distaste Tarkyn persevered, and after an initial reluctance, the little mouse good-naturedly ventured back out into the cold to look around. Nothing was moving. Tarkyn sat down with the woodman leaning against him “Okay, Autumn Leaves. Think about my hands holding you. I’m going to send some strength and healing through them into you. Just relax and accept the power.”
But Autumn Leaves was too befuddled to concentrate. After a few unsuccessful attempts, Tarkyn sent his own mind out along his arms and into the woodman’s body. He fed energy into the bruising around Autumn Leaves’ temple and soothed the knots out of overstressed muscles. He didn’t repair the nose because it needed to be set straight, but he shored up the damage enough to enable Autumn Leaves to withstand the pain and to regain his senses.
Tarkyn’s min
d came back out of Autumn Leaves’ body just as Sargon groaned and began to sit up. Without a moment’s thought, Tarkyn backhanded Sargon hard across the head with the full force of his arm and shoulder, slamming him back down onto the ground. He stood up and assisted the woodman to rise.
“How’s that? Can you manage now?” he asked gently.
Autumn Leaves glared at him through his one open eye. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be staying safely inside the forest.”
“I would have thought that was obvious. I’m rescuing you.” Tarkyn put his arm around the woodman’s waist. “Let’s argue about the rest later.”
Tarkyn poked his head out of the door of the tent and, after checking for any signs of life, supported the woodman towards the perimeter of the encampment. “Can you do your flick thing?” he asked in a whisper.
Autumn Leaves smiled faintly in the gloom. “Not yet. We need to be closer to the woods. I should be able to do it when we’re about halfway to the trees. What about the guards?”
Tarkyn shook his head, “I don’t know. Could be a problem. They have probably all woken up by now and I bet not all of them chased after the horses.”
“Stars above Tarkyn! What are you thinking? Don’t you have a plan? What if someone sees you?”
“Don’t worry. I’m safe. It’s just you we have to worry about.” Tarkyn glanced down at the woodman and frowned, “Do you think you can run?”
Just then they heard the sound of solid footsteps and a pair of guards walked into sight along the edge of the encampment not twenty yards from them. Tarkyn and Autumn Leaves pressed into the shadow of the woodfolk’s tent and held their breaths.
“It’s a bloody strange thing,” growled one of the guards. “It must be some clever sorcerer to be able to knock them all out at once like that.”
“I don’t understand why they didn’t see anyone.”
Tarkyn peered out from the shadow, waved a hand and intoned Shturrum softly. The two guards froze but were facing half towards Tarkyn and Autumn Leaves.
Bronze Magic Page 62