Bronze Magic

by Jennifer Ealey

  “Blast!” exclaimed Tarkyn quietly. “We can’t go out there. They’ll see us and be able to report back after we’re gone.” He looked back over his shoulder. “Come on. We’ll have to skirt back around the other side of the tent.”

  They crept back around to the front of the tent. But as soon as they touched the canvas near the door, the magic ward lit up and set up a loud warning wail.

  The sounds of running footsteps closed in from all sides. “Sorry Autumn Leaves. Nothing for it now.” Tarkyn clasped the woodman close with one arm, thrust his other hand into his pocket and grasped the spray of berries. “Maya Mureva Araya! Ka Mureva Araya!” he intoned urgently.

  Tarkyn felt himself dragged backwards at speed but his arm felt as if it was trying to lift a ton weight. He clenched hard with every fibre of his strength, his biceps screaming with the strain. He could feel himself sweating and the bile rising in his throat. He held on grimly. He felt as though he was being torn apart at his shoulder. Tarkyn reached deep inside and brought his whole being together to focus his strength on his straining arm. With a strange sensation like being dragged out of thick mud, Tarkyn and his burden suddenly came free and were catapulted onto the floor of the forest to land sprawled at the feet of Rainstorm and the other woodmen.

  Tarkyn lay there gasping, too tired to move. He found himself looking up into the anxious faces of the four woodmen who were meant to be protecting him. Others were gathered in the background. He could see Rainstorm smiling in relief and a wrathful frown gathering on Thunder Storm’s face. Ignoring them all, Tarkyn rolled over and looked down at the bloody woodman who lay pale and unconscious on his outstretched arm.

  “Find Summer Rain. Get her here fast,” he ordered. Tarkyn closed his eyes and placed his other hand on Autumn Leaves’ chest. Realising he was still clutching the berries, Tarkyn threw them away and replaced his open palm on Autumn Leaves. He focused his mind through his arm into the woodman. With relief, he felt Autumn Leaves’ heart beating slowly but strongly. He drew on his own diminished strength and let it flow into the injured woodman. After several agonising moments, Autumn Leaves stirred and opened his eyes. One eye was swollen nearly shut and the other was bleary and unfocused. Slowly, as Tarkyn’s strength flowed into him, the woodman became aware of his surroundings and smiled rather muzzily up at the four woodmen leaning over them.

  “I feel sick,” Autumn Leaves pronounced slowly, “And my face hurts. But I am so glad to see you all.” He let his eyes travel slowly across the branches above him before bringing his eyes around to stare up into Tarkyn’s face. He gave a faint smile. “You brought us back to the forest.” He frowned vaguely, “I think you’d better save some strength for yourself. That flow is feeling very wavery.”

  Tarkyn nodded and fell back weakly onto the ground beside him, his arm still stretched beneath the woodman.

  “He needs a tree,” said Thunder Storm shortly. “Come on. Help me pick them up and move them over to that big oak.”

  Running Feet, North Wind and Rainstorm looked puzzled, but nevertheless followed Thunder Storm’s instruction without question.

  “Now place Tarkyn’s palm against the tree’s trunk.”

  “Thanks,” murmured Tarkyn. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes, lifted his head and twinkled up at them, “So that was interesting. I think that might be an all-time first for sorcery; translocating two people with one spell.” He let his head drop down again. “Takes it out of you, though.” He looked at Thunder Storm whose face seemed to oscillate between concern and anger. Tarkyn sent up a wave of reassurance that did little to reconcile the angry woodman. He closed his eyes again. “Thunder Storm. Go off and be angry somewhere else. I can’t deal with it at the moment. Save it up and hit me with it later when I’m feeling stronger. I need my strength now to help Autumn Leaves.” A fretful frown appeared on his face. “Where’s Summer Rain?”

  “She is on her way, Your Highness,” replied Running Feet. “She was stationed near the edge of the woods close to the encampment in case there were any injuries. So she has some distance to cover. All those who did not ride should be returning here shortly.”

  The prince roused himself, opened his eyes and snapped impatiently, “Don’t wait for them. Do a head count now. I don’t want to find that anyone else is missing.”

  Running Feet raised his eyebrows at Tarkyn’s tone, “Yes, my lord.” He glanced at Thunder Storm and moved quickly away to concentrate on sending out the message.

  Before long, the clearing began to fill with returning woodfolk. The air was full of excitement and success. But gradually, as they realised that Autumn Leaves lay injured under the oak, the sound of voices became more subdued. Once Running Feet had returned with Summer Rain, Tarkyn extricated himself from beneath Autumn Leaves and sat up.

  “I have done the best I could, Summer Rain. You will need to set his nose and check him for other injuries. Let me know if you need more healing power.” He looked down at Autumn Leaves, “I’ll leave you to Summer Rain for a while. Is that all right? I’ll be back soon.”

  Tarkyn wandered down the slope to find Thunder Storm amongst the throng. Not surprisingly, he found him deep in conversation with Waterstone and Ancient Oak who had just arrived. Tarkyn squared his shoulders and walked over to join them, with Rainstorm and North Wind bringing up the rear.

  Taking one look at Waterstone’s thunderous expression, Tarkyn waved a hand and said, “Before you get stuck into me, let me assure you I had no plans to sacrifice myself or to do anything silly. I thought it out beforehand and took precautions. The worst that could have happened was that I came back alone.”

  “We should have been there to protect you,” said Thunder Storm shortly.

  Tarkyn shrugged, “Since you are all so concerned for my safety, I could not risk you refusing my orders and jeopardising the forest. I hope you weren’t too angry with Rainstorm. He did not know about my translocating, so he didn’t realise what he was helping me to do.” He gave a little smile. “As it turns out, I did this better on my own anyway.”

  “You must not place yourself in danger like that again,” spluttered Thunder Storm.

  Tarkyn smiled faded and he raised a supercilious eyebrow. He spoke with cutting formality, “I beg your pardon, Thunder Storm, but I am not accustomed to taking orders. I have not been used to it and I have no intention of starting now. I now realise that Stormaway was wrong about the paradox. When I gave Waterstone permission to attack me, that permission overrode your requirement to protect me and kept the forest safe. My orders can override your vow to protect me. The paradox only exists if you refuse to obey me.” He let his gaze travel around all the woodmen surrounding him. “Now, I see two choices before you; either I will simply go into danger without your knowledge when I feel the need, or you guarantee to support my decisions so that I know the forest will not be placed in jeopardy.”

  There was a stony silence.

  Tarkyn did not relent. With a glance at Waterstone, he continued, “In return, I will undertake not to place myself in danger unnecessarily. However, this has gone far enough. None of you may dictate my actions. You may express your opinions and I may refrain from dictating to you, if I so choose. But no one dictates to me.”

  The silence continued.

  Tarkyn looked around him, “May I remind you that I have a responsibility to protect all of you, even as you must protect me?” He shrugged and his voice lost its harsh edge. “But the oath had nothing to do with this. I could not have left Autumn Leaves suffering at the hands of Andoran and Sargon while there was something I could do about it. Autumn Leaves is my friend and kinsman.” The prince ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry if I have spoilt your celebrations. I did not intend to be quite so emphatic.”

  Tarkyn turned on his heel to walk away but Ancient Oak’s creaking voice stopped him, “I think our celebrations would have been spoilt a lot more by losing Autumn Leaves,” he said quietly. “Speaking for myself, I would like to thank you
for what you did.”

  Tarkyn swung back around and gave a short, mirthless laugh, “Huh. Don’t mention it. Anyway, I didn’t do it for your gratitude…. And I didn’t do it to prove a point. I did it for Autumn Leaves.”

  Just as he finished speaking, the three rescued woodfolk emerged from the shelter, clinging nervously to each other as they confronted this fearsome sorcerer. Tarkyn frowned to see them still chained together, unaware that his concern for them made him appear even more frightening.

  “Can’t we get these chains off them? They are demeaning.”

  “We are trying, my lord,” said Falling Branch. “It will take some time, I’m afraid.”

  Tarkyn realised that the freed woodfolk were looking at him in alarm and softened his tone, “I beg your pardon. I did not wish to appear harsh. I will see if I can help you in a minute. Perhaps we should sit down near the fire. Then I won’t be towering over you.” When they were seated, Tarkyn asked, “Have you had anything to eat or drink? I know it’s late but you might like something.”

  Golden Toad plucked up courage to reply, “I could do with a good stiff drink, if there’s one around. I haven’t had a wine in weeks.”

  Tarkyn was intrigued to hear that Golden Toad’s voice was indeed deep and stop-started so that the phrases came out jerkily. Feeling trapped with this huge young man, Golden Toad glanced at the other woodfolk in supplication.

  “Don’t worry,” said Waterstone reassuringly, “Even if he is a little autocratic, this sorcerer is not going to hurt you. He is one of us, not one of them.” He glanced at Tarkyn and, despite their recent disagreement, managed a little smile, “His looks are deceiving.” When they still looked unconvinced, Waterstone added, “He is my brother. Look!”

  He rolled up his sleeve and showed them his scar. Tarkyn did the same.

  Golden Toad looked in wonder from one to the other. “How can this be? It has never happened before.”

  “Long story. We’ll tell you another time,” said Ancient Oak as he handed them mugs of fine wine. “I can tell you this, though. Without my brother here, we would never have found you or been able to rescue you. He is a forest guardian.”

  “No! Are you really?” asked Golden Toad. “That’s amazing!”

  Tarkyn smiled disarmingly, “Yes, it is rather amazing, isn’t it?”

  “So, that’s how you controlled the horses, isn’t it?” Golden Toad turned to his wife. “Imagine that, Rushwind. A real forest guardian!”

  Tarkyn was beginning to feel like a travelling freak show again. He transferred his attention to Falling Branch, “How long will it take you to break those chains?”

  Falling Branch grimaced, “Quite some time. I can’t get in close enough with a chisel, and a file will take ages.”

  Tarkyn’s eyes narrowed as he thought about it, “Do you want me to try?”

  Falling Branch glanced at the chained woodfolk then back at Tarkyn. “I’m not sure. Maybe.”

  Tarkyn caught his look and correctly interpreting it, asked Golden Toad, “How would you feel about me exerting a little magic to remove your chains? I won’t go near you if you don’t want me to. It’s up to you.”

  “Will it hurt?” asked Rushwind nervously.

  Tarkyn gave a slight smile, “To be perfectly honest, I don’t know. If I do it, I’ll try it on a loose bit of chain first and see what happens.”

  The rescued woodfolk looked at each other then back at Tarkyn. “Try it on the loose chain first. Then we’ll decide.”

  “Fair enough.”

  The sorcerer laid out the end of the chain nearest the stake, then raised his hand and sent a thin, intense beam of power into it. One of the links snapped apart with a sharp report. Everyone jumped back. Tarkyn leaned forward quickly and felt the neighbouring links. Then he flicked his fingers away shaking his hand and put them in his mouth.

  “Ow. That burned!” Tarkyn mumbled around hurting fingers.

  “Well, heal yourself and get on with it,” said Rainstorm unsympathetically. “I’ve seen you do it before with the rope marks.”

  “All right. All right. Give me a chance. I’ve got blisters, you know.” He took his fingers out of his mouth and shook his hand. “Ow. Just because I can fix it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” He took a deep breath, shut his eyes and focused his being into soothing and healing his damaged fingers. As the woodfolk watched, the redness on his fingers disappeared and the blisters melted back into the skin. He opened his eyes. “There! Feel free to be sympathetic next time.” He looked around. “Right. So that’s only going to work if we can shield their bodies from the heat. What could we use?”

  “A thick wad of bark,” suggested Waterstone.

  Tarkyn nodded. “Let’s try it.” He smiled evilly, “Rainstorm. You can put your hand under the bark and test it this time. I will heal you if you get burnt.”

  Rainstorm scowled at him but realised his lack of sympathy had dumped him in it. “Fine. But you had better heal me fast if I need it.”

  “I will. Ready?” Once more Tarkyn aimed a thin strong ray of bronze at a link. The link cracked apart but Rainstorm didn’t move. Slowly the bark began to smoulder on the outside. “Thank you Rainstorm. You’ve made your point. It worked. You had better move before the bark catches alight, though.” Tarkyn looked at Golden Toad. “Well? Are you prepared to take the chance? You don’t have to, but it will be quicker. If the worst comes to the worst and you get burnt, I can heal you.”

  Golden Toad looked at Rushwind who nodded, then back at Tarkyn. “Yes. Go on.”

  Thick wads of bark were pushed in between the chains and their waists. They lifted their arms up out of the way. “Ready?” asked Tarkyn. “I’m going to do all three of you at once. So hold still until I say.”

  The sorcerer took a deep breath and centred himself to steady his hand. Then he sent a short sharp pulse of bronze power into a link of each of the three chains one after another. The chains fell to the ground with a clatter and the smoking bark was whisked away by waiting hands and thrown on the fire. Everyone let out the breaths they had been holding, while the released woodfolk jumped up and cavorted about.

  “Oh. It’s good to be free again after all this time,” chortled Rushwind. “Thank you, young man, whoever you are.”

  The rest of the woodfolk seemed to find this exquisitely funny. Tarkyn rolled his eyes and laughed. “It’s a nice change not to be at the centre of someone’s universe.”

  The woodfolk swung into full-scale celebrations and plied their rescued kin with wine and food. Everyone gathered around them, catching them up on births, deaths and marriages they had missed.

  Eventually Golden Toad came nervously over to sit near Tarkyn. “I believe we owe you our thanks. I did not thank you properly before.”

  “You are most welcome. But I would have to say that I was only one among many who mounted this rescue. Do not confine your thanks to me.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I haven’t.” Golden Toad bobbed his head apologetically; “In fact I’ve left you until last because, well to be quite honest, I’m a little nervous of you”

  “Considering the recent company you’ve been keeping, that is hardly surprising.” Tarkyn looked gravely at him, “I don’t know whether you’ve worked out who I am yet but I would like to say on behalf of most sorcerers that I am sorry for what you have been through. There are rogues in every society. Most sorcerers are generally kind, work hard for their living and look after their friends and families just as you do. I’m afraid you and most of the other woodfolk have developed a very jaundiced view of sorcerers. But please, at least get to know me before you judge me.”

  “And who are you exactly?” Golden Toad looked puzzled. “I believe you’re our new forest guardian which is more than enough on its own. But I gather there is more to you than that.”

  Tarkyn shrugged and gave a little smile. “I am Tarkyn Tamadil, third son of King Markazon and youngest brother of King Kosar. Also known as rogue sorcerer, I’m afraid to
say.”

  Golden Toad swallowed, “Oh dear. And holder of the Sorcerer’s Oath and our long awaited liege lord.”

  “Yes. I’m afraid so.”

  Golden Toad looked into the fire as he digested this information. After a while he said, “Well, you seem pretty generous with your time and power for a liege lord. That’s not what I saw at the encampment. Lords seemed much more high and mighty from what I could see of them. Not that I could see much through the cracks in the canvas.”

  Tarkyn laughed. “Well, I’m overlord to most of those lords. That is, I was.”

  Golden Toad swung his head around to look at Tarkyn. His eyes narrowed, “They’re saying some pretty terrible things about you. I’m glad I met you before I knew who you were. I’d have been scared to death, otherwise.”

  “I thought you might have been. But not now?”

  Golden Toad shrugged, “You seem all right so far. You’ve done nothing but try to help us as far as I understand it. Anyway, if you were as bad as they were saying, you wouldn’t have become our liege lord. So a lot of it must be untrue.”

  Tarkyn raised his eyebrows. “You’re taking this all very calmly. I thought you’d be upset when you found out who I was. I wasn’t very popular with everyone else, to start with.”

  “No. I imagine you weren’t. On the other hand, from what Ancient Oak said, I believe we owe you our freedom.”

  The prince grimaced, “I’m afraid that is all too true. You are among those who swore the oath, aren’t you?”

  Golden Toad nodded.

  “Then if you remember the words, you do indeed owe me your freedom, I’m afraid. You are bound to honour, serve and protect me, as am I bound to protect and support you.”

  Golden Toad looked around the clearing at various woodfolk wandering around, chatting, drinking and eating, none of them paying Tarkyn much attention. He brought his gaze back to the prince. “They don’t seem to be finding it too onerous. It has to be better than being chained up. No one’s dragged me aside to warn me about you. So you can’t be too bad.”