Bronze Magic (Book 1)

by Jenny Ealey

  With his anger spent, the prince was mortified by what he had done. He placed his hand gently on the shoulder of the terror-stricken woodman and said quietly, “I am so sorry. I had no right to use you thus. I may be outraged at being held in the forest against my will, but that does not justify my treatment of you.”

  A voice that sounded like scrabbling claws in the undergrowth replied, “Perhaps not, my lord, but unless I’m much mistaken, your actions now have sealed our fates.” The woodman looked around at his companions who all nodded silently.“You may do with me as you will.” There was no mistaking the undercurrent of bitterness. “You are my liege lord and these forests are yours – my name is Running Feet”

  The prince rocked back on his heels, stunned. “This is my domain? And if so, has it not been forfeited?”

  “No one can overturn your father’s will in this, my lord,” answered Ancient Oak, “And we could not accept it, even if they tried.”

  The prince slowly surveyed the woodfolk. “I am truly sorry that I subjected you to such unkindness. If, as you say, I am your liege lord, there is even less excuse for my behaviour, not more. – And Running Feet, I may not use you as I will, neither by right of might nor by birth right.”

  A soft sighing heralded Tree Wind’s voice. “My lord, the issue is decided. The wizard accepted your integrity and now, so do we.” She sounded resigned. “Each word you speak proves it more. You are true.”

  Tarkyn frowned in confusion. “Why? How have I suddenly achieved that? By ranting and raving, and throwing dire threats at you?”

  “Exactly that,” rumbled Thunder Storm. “Even at the height of your rage and even under attack, you did not harm anyone. If you didn’t hurt us then, we believe that you won’t hurt us at any other time.”

  “Oh.” Tarkyn sat down quite suddenly, so surprised was he, by this response.

  Thunder Storm heaved a sigh, “And now we must accept that Stormaway will irrevocably bind us into your service at moonrise tonight.”

  Tarkyn, who was used to people clamouring to serve him, did not consider this an issue, “And if I insist on leaving the forest?”

  “Sire, you cannot stop the process. The spell has already begun to work. Only if you had proved to be really evil, could it have been reversed.”

  Tarkyn waved his hand, “I am not concerned about reversing the process. I am concerned about my free will. I wish to be able to leave the forest when I choose.”

  The woodfolk exchanged glances.

  “Your Highness,” said Waterstone, “We did not stop you. The forest did. The forest wards, which are part of the trees themselves, are not letting you leave while the danger to you is so great beyond their borders.”

  “We could not harm you, if you insisted on leaving.” Autumn Leaves’ voice was sullen, “But we are sworn to protect you. So, if you place yourself in jeopardy, you risk all of us.”

  Tarkyn did not see that this was a logical progression but decided it was pointless to pursue the argument while the forest held him anyway. usk was gathering as four woodfolk strode into the clearing, carrying a long twisty branch, from which hung a slain deer.

  Ancient Oak nodded at them, “There’ll be some fine spit roasted venison tonight.” The woodman had spoken very little, and seemed at a loss to know what to talk about, most of the time. Tarkyn suspected that the task of entertaining him had fallen to this particular woodman because of his injured arm. Ancient Oak turned to the prince, and spoke formally, “Tonight we will honour your arrival among us, Your Highness. We have long awaited the day when you would come to claim your own.”

  The four hunters handed the deer over to a waiting group of woodfolk who immediately set to skinning and cleaning the carcass. Meanwhile, others were tidying the clearing, gathering firewood and setting the fire. If the prince was disturbed by the woodman’s cold tone, he gave no indication. “I am honoured by your kindness, Ancient Oak,” he replied with equal formality. He was seated on the ground next to the woodman, his back leaning against a tree. “Tell me, are your homes nearby? I cannot see them.”

  “They are all around us, my lord, scattered through the nearby woodland, although the untutored eye cannot distinguish them.” Did the prince discern a note of derision in the woodman’s voice? “Each dwelling is constructed within a thicket of shrubbery. Branches from the growing plants are woven into a small dome that is lined with grasses and mud to make it waterproof.”

  “I see, or rather I don’t see because, as you so rightly point out, I am untutored in your ways.”

  “That is how I injured my arm,” said Ancient Oak, in a sudden burst of confidence.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “One of the saplings we were using to build a shelter was not secured properly and flicked back into my arm.” He gave the prince a shy smile, “It’s not broken, you know. Only bruised. But if I don’t have it in a sling, I might forget and climb into a tree and then find my arm unable to support me when I need it.”

  “You climb trees a bit, do you?”

  Ancient Oak smiled at the prince’s lack of knowledge, “All our lookouts are stationed up in trees. We spend nearly as much time in trees as on the ground, especially if there is a potential danger.”

  “Interesting.” Tarkyn was watching another group of woodfolk prepare vegetables to be roasted in the fire. “And I suppose you can quickly obliterate all of this, should the need arise?”

  Ancient Oak nodded, “Yes. The lookouts will warn us of any outsiders’ approach. We can pack away the food and put out the fire, then scatter leaves and forest debris to disguise our presence within minutes. By the time outsiders arrived here, they could walk across this clearing and never know we had been here.”

  Tarkyn studied his companion. Ancient Oak was not old, as might have been expected. He was named purely for the qualities of his voice. Tarkyn was beginning to be able to differentiate the woodfolk from each other. At first, the similarity in their stature, dress, hair and eye colour had made them all appear alike to him. However, as they became more familiar, he could discern differences in hair length, shade and style and in facial shape and expression. Ancient Oak was young but more fully grown into manhood than Tarkyn. He wore his hair straight and shoulder length and sported a small goatee. Now that Tarkyn knew him better, he couldn’t imagine how he had ever been unable to tell him from the others.

  “So when will your leader present himself... or herself to me?” asked the prince. “I would have expected to be introduced by now.”

  Ancient Oak raised his eyebrows, “But Your Highness, did we not make it clear? We have had no leader until now.”

  “Don’t play games with me, Ancient Oak. You know what I mean. Who organizes the lookouts and the arms practice? Who adjudicates arguments? I haven’t been here. There must be someone who leads you…. and why have they not presented themselves to me?”

  Ancient Oak looked distinctly uncomfortable at Tarkyn’s sharp tone. “We don’t have leaders. Different people tend to direct different activities depending on the knowledge and skills needed....” He trailed off.

  The prince merely waited, keeping his eyes fixed on the woodman’s face. Ancient Oak was watching, with slightly unfocused eyes, the woodfolk hanging garlands of flowers in the trees around the clearing. Finally, he glanced at Tarkyn. “Your Highness, there is no-one to dispute your claim, if that’s what’s concerning you. We have known for years that you would one day come to claim our fealty.”

  “Yet, despite this,” said Tarkyn dryly, “my arrival has been greeted with hostility, not welcome.”

  “I do not see why knowing about something for years should make it any more welcome,” retorted the woodman.

  Tarkyn raised his eyebrows. “You have a bit to learn about being a liegeman, Ancient Oak. That is not how you speak to your lord.”

  The woodman’s cheeks tinged with colour, not with embarrassment as Tarkyn first assumed, but with anger. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness. I had not rea
lised that dishonesty would be a requirement of serving you.”

  Tarkyn was completely taken aback. No one spoke to him like that. And yet, he found himself in a quandary. He did not want dishonesty from his liegemen and women. He had never enjoyed the guiles of court, so why recreate them here? On the other hand, he would not countenance impertinence.

  “Ancient Oak, I expect the highest standards of courtesy and honesty both from my liegemen and women, and from myself. This does not necessarily mean that I will rub unpleasant truths into people’s faces. Perhaps you could also learn to avoid that practice.”

  Ancient Oak’s mouth tightened but he gave no response. Again, his eyes lost focus.

  The prince frowned and looked away quickly. Watching the preparations for the feast, he mulled over its significance. The woodfolk had agreed not to use mindpower on him. So if it wasn’t that, what was it? The woodfolk may have declared their intention of trusting Tarkyn, but he was a long way from trusting them in return.

  Suddenly, Autumn Leaves and Tree Wind appeared on either side of them.

  “Go on, Ancient Oak,” said Autumn Leaves, waving his hand. “You’re needed to help mind the children. Creaking Bough needs a break.”

  Tarkyn frowned as the woodman left without his dismissal, but decided that he could not spend the entire afternoon berating him. And although he had not seen Ancient Oak gesture, he was fairly sure that the arrival of the two woodfolk was not coincidental.

  “Had enough of enduring my company, has he?”

  A glint in Autumn Leaves’ eye acknowledged the prince’s acuity. He smiled, “We try to be fair in apportioning onerous tasks, my lord.”

  “And exactly how did you two turn up so fortuitously?”

  “Sire, since you value honesty, I will tell you.” Tarkyn frowned in a suspicion that was confirmed by Autumn Leaves’ next words. “Ancient Oak relayed your conversation to us and asked us to come.”

  “How dare he share with others his private conversation with me?”

  Autumn Leaves shrugged disarmingly, “Sire, we all do it. We speak with our minds, as much as with our mouths.”

  “Perhaps you do, but I do not appreciate having an unseen audience to my conversations.”

  A tense glance passed between the two woodfolk. At a slight nod from Autumn Leaves, Tree Wind cleared her throat and said in her sighing voice, “Your Highness, would you be kind enough to walk with me awhile? We have some time before the food is ready and the moon is not due to rise for another hour.”

  Tarkyn stood up and inclined his head, “It would be my pleasure, Tree Wind.”

  The prince and the woodwoman walked away from the bustle of the clearing into the quiet gloom of the forest.

  Tarkyn murmured, “Lumaya, ” under his breath. Slowly a gentle radiance spread around them allowing them to find their way beneath the huge overhanging trees. “You must let me know, Tree Wind, if the light may endanger us and I will extinguish it.”

  The woodwoman nodded but said nothing. Tarkyn glanced at her set face and wondered why she had offered to walk with him if she felt so ill at ease in his company. Finally, he said, “It seemed to me that there was a point in time this morning when my fate held by a thread. I would like to thank you for resisting the impulse to kill me.”

  Tree Wind pushed a strand of hair back from her face and forced herself to look him in the eye. “I apologize for reacting so hastily. I understand from Stormaway that it is a heinous crime to attack a member of the Royal Family.” There was no vestige of warmth in her soft voice. “Besides, in hindsight, it was not warranted by your actions.”

  Tarkyn looked at her quizzically. “No, but at the time, you thought it was. You thought I was placing a spell on you. Why did you not kill me? I could feel it. Every fibre in you wanted to plunge that arrow further into me and yet you held.”

  “If I had been able to kill you with impunity and save us all from the future that lies ahead of us, I would have done so. But if you remember, Stormaway reminded us that only he could make the final decision. And only if you were totally corrupt, would the binding spell not take hold. If we had killed you and you were true, we would all have perished.” The woodwoman drew herself up. “In the end, the forest saved you.”

  Tarkyn stopped walking to look at her. “It did?”

  “Don’t you remember the wind that sprang up? The swirling leaves?”

  Tarkyn thought back and nodded slowly.

  “Our oath to you is bound in sorcery to the welfare of the forest and therefore to our own welfare. The effects of the binding spell had already begun to work. Because I was threatening you and your claim was just, the binding spell was threatening the forest.” She continued impatiently, “It is not yet autumn. No leaves should have been falling. Fey whirlwinds do not spring up in the middle of the forest.”

  The young man raised his eyebrows. “No, I suppose they don’t.” Tarkyn frowned in an effort of memory, “So when did you swear this spellbound oath to me?”

  “Twelve years ago, my lord. My people and I made a solemn vow to your father that we would protect you and recognize you as our liege, should you return to the forest.”

  Tarkyn brow cleared. He looked around the overhanging trees of the surrounding woodlands. “I’ve been here before, haven’t I?” he said slowly. “I vaguely remember coming into the woods for a long ceremony of some sort. A long time ago, when I was very young. It is one of the last vague memories of my father.”

  Tree Wind considered Tarkyn for a moment then offered, as though the idea had only just occurred to her, “If you wish, I can show you. You will need to look deeply into my eyes so that I can share my memory with you.”

  She must have known that Tarkyn would be wary of her mindpower but she did not offer any reassurance. He thought it unlikely that she would try to control his mind again and he felt reasonably sure that, if necessary, he could resist as he had before. So, after a slight hesitation, the prince agreed.Nevertheless, it took a leap of faith to look into her eyes.

  “So, stand relaxed and focus deep into my eyes,” instructed Tree Wind calmly, “Now let your mind drift and allow the images to form. You will not lose your own self awareness. You will simply gain the awareness of my images and feelings.”

  The night is bitterly cold. I can feel my legs stiffening up. We have been warned of their arrival at the forest edge half an hour ago and we have been waiting in readiness. I can hear the jangle of harnesses as they draw near: now the quiet thudding of horses’ hooves on the forest floor. Three riders emerge from the gloom. A large burly man with black hair and beard mounted on a strong black horse. He is wearing deep burnt orange robes and cloak, richly embroidered in silver thread. Behind him on a grey pony sits a much smaller, slighter, beardless replica of the first, whitefaced and swaying with fatigue. There is a shimmering light around them, possibly a shield of some sort. The third rider is Falling Rain, one of our number who has been missing for over a week. He is slumped over the neck of his pony with his wrists tied to the pommel of the saddle. Outrage ripples through those of us waiting. Many people notch arrows ready to attack as a fourth rider appears.

  With a start, Tarkyn recognised Stormaway Treemaster, resplendent in his green court dress, stronger and more confident in the vision than the wizard he had met recently.

  King Markazon’s hawk-like gaze sweeps across us. He dismounts and indicates that we should assist the little boy and our stricken companion down from their mounts. Although he sanctions releasing Falling Rain’s bonds, no one is clear whether the woodman has been bound in captivity or merely kept tied for his safety. Falling Rain collapses when he is set upon the ground and has to be supported to a comfortable spot against an old oak. No one has yet spoken and the air is filled with mistrust and foreboding. No one has ever before come into our woodland home. The wizard watches warily from horseback then, when all are settled, dismounts and joins the king and the rest of us seated around the firesite. Food and drink are brought forth for
our guests.By previous agreement, it falls to me to greet our visitors.

  “Welcome to our forest, Your Majesty. We are honoured by your presence among us. My name is Tree Wind.”

  The king’s frown is forbidding. “I thank you for your welcome. However, you labour under a misapprehension. These are my forests and you live here at my discretion.” He glares around the circle at our ashen faces. “I have not been pleased to discover a whole community of people who have never sworn allegiance to the Crown.”

  A stricken silence greets this pronouncement. Then one of our number breaks the silence.

  “But Your Majesty, you cannot rule a people you cannot find. My name is Autumn Leaves.”

  All eyes turn to glare at the speaker of such provocative words. We glance nervously at each other around the firesite, acutely aware that Autumn Leaves’ words are ill-chosen. Surprisingly, no explosion of wrath follows. Perhaps noting our reaction, the king merely waves an impatient hand and declares calmly, “All that is at an end. Now that the illness of Falling Rain has betrayed your presence, your unnatural, treasonous independence is at an end.”

  We are filled with dread at what that may mean but before we can respond, Stormaway cuts in smoothly but respectfully, “However, we understand that many of your people are near death from this sickness and we have come bearing medicines that will heal them. Beyond the forest edge, this malady is common enough and easily cured but because you woodfolk have never been exposed to it, you have no resistance to it or knowledge of the cure.”

  “I am concerned for Falling Rain. Should he not be put to bed?” I ask.

  The wizard produces a small packet of herbs from an inner pocket and hands it to the nearest woodman.

  “Here. Make a tisane from these. Hopefully, now he is back amongst you, that will revive him. The journey has tired him excessively as I feared it might. But for some reason, he did not respond to my treatment while he was within the palace. I believe he may need to be within the forest to recover.”