Bronze Magic (Book 1) Read online

  After a period of silent concentration on eating, the prince looked around the group thoughtfully then asked, “So what would you do next time if another group of sorcerer bounty hunters threatened me? What can you do against sorcerers’ shields?”

  “You’d probably know the answer to that better than us.” Waterstone pointed out. “What can we do?”

  The sorcerer shrugged. “Not much with bows and arrows, and you can’t break through their shields and grab them.” He paused while he thought about it. “A shield takes power and focus. Most sorcerers can’t maintain them for long, if at all. Those who can, would eventually run out of power but possibly not for a long time. It’s not as hard to maintain a shield, as it is to lift tree branches, for instance. If you could hold the sorcerers somehow until they went to sleep, they would be vulnerable. We can’t maintain our shields while we’re asleep.”

  “What about using nets or misleading them so they can’t find their way out of the forest until they tire?” asked Rustling Leaves.

  “Yes. That would work.” Tarkyn frowned. “But what would you do with them once they were asleep? If you kill them, mightn’t someone come looking for them?”

  “For that very reason, killing them would be the last resort,” said Waterstone. “Keeping you hidden is the simplest solution. It works for us. We may need to teach you some of our camouflaging techniques. How are you at climbing trees?”

  The sorcerer smiled, and incanting “Mayareeza Mureva,” rose gently into the air and drifted into the nearest tree. “Not bad,” he said, grinning down at them.

  “Good. That’s sorted then,” continued Waterstone with a completely straight face. “So now we have to deal with your hair…” He broke off and stood looking up at the sorcerer with his hands on his hips, laughing. “Get down from there before you fall down. You’re too tired to go mucking about in trees tonight.”

  Tarkyn floated gracefully back down, staggering slightly as he landed. “Whoops! You may be right, at that.”

  Waterstone grabbed his arm to steady him. “I think you’ve had about enough for your third day out of bed. Why don’t we help you back to your shelter now, to save us having to carry you later?”

  Tarkyn’s smiled tiredly down at him and nodded.

  he prince suffered no ill effects from his over-exertion and for the next three days, the sorcerer and the woodfolk worked hard on repairing the damage caused by Waterstone’s rage. By the afternoon of the fourth day, most of the repair work that could be done had been completed. Tarkyn was sitting under a tree directing two shafts of power up into the last group of trees that they had decided was worth working on.

  Suddenly, a booming voice rang out from behind him, “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

  Tarkyn jumped and both branches juddered out of place, unbalancing Waterstone and Autumn Leaves in two separate trees.

  “Tarkyn!” yelped Waterstone, “Help!”

  Ignoring the intrusive presence behind him, the sorcerer refocused his will and steadied both woodmen in their respective trees. Then he maintained steady shafts of power to hold the boughs in place until they were secured, despite the reproachful voice behind him that grew in intensity as it insisted on knowing what had happened to his sense of consequence. Once the branches and the woodmen were safe, the sorcerer released his power and without looking around, said politely, “Good Afternoon, Stormaway. I am sorry. I was concentrating. Could you repeat that, please?”

  The wizard stomped around, to stand glaring down at the young prince. “Where is your sense of propriety?” he demanded. “A prince of the realm is not a gardener. A person of your consequence does not lower himself to working on manual tasks in the company of common woodfolk.”

  The prince hauled himself up from the ground until he stood looking down at the wizard from his superior height, his amber eyes blazing. There was a long silence. When Tarkyn finally spoke, his voice was pitched low and was shaking with anger. But the anger in his voice was nothing compared to the blast of rage that silently hit Stormaway’s mind. “I believe you forget yourself. It is not I but you who have forgotten my consequence. I will spend my time as I choose, with whom I choose. You may offer me advice but you may not dictate to me and above all, you may not insult these people.”

  The wizard stared back up at him for a moment. Then his stance relaxed and he bowed low, hand on heart. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness. I am pleased to see that you have not forgotten your status completely.”

  The prince merely raised his eyebrows as he sent an image of his staff to Sparrow. When it arrived, Tarkyn broke eye contact with Stormaway to look down at Sparrow. He smiled and thanked her as he took hold of his staff and leant heavily on it. “Come,” he invited the wizard, “Let us get settled at tonight’s firesite. You must need some food and drink after your journey.” Tarkyn noticed that the woodfolk had melted away into the surrounding woods. He sent out an image of a firesite coupled with a feeling of uncertainty to Waterstone and received back an image of a nearby clearing. “This way,” he said as he altered the direction of his steps. As they walked, the prince commented, “I believe I have to thank you for your efforts on my behalf.”

  “A pleasure, Your Highness, a pleasure. Come on. I’ll tell you all about it.

  Once they were comfortably seated at the firesite, wine in hand and food on its way, Stormaway began his story.

  “By the time the sorcerers returned to collect you, I was waiting nearby in the forest, making a lot of noise to entice them to chase me.”

  “How did they think I had managed to free my hands?”

  Stormaway shrugged, “I don’t think they did, at that stage.” He took a sip of wine and gave a satisfied sigh before continuing

  Tarkyn frowned, “Weren’t you worried they would capture you instead?”

  The wizard raised his eyebrows. “Have you so little faith in me?”

  “I hardly know you,” retorted the prince tartly.

  “Hmph. Well, be that as it may, I was never in any danger. I didn’t let them get anywhere near close enough to attack me. I just let them catch tantalizing glimpses of me running off through the trees, long black hair streaming out behind me!”

  Tarkyn put his head on one side. “Go on, then. Show me how you do the hair!”

  It wasn’t just the hair. Right before his eyes, Stormaway’s body slimmed down; his face grew longer, his cheekbones higher and hair long and black. His eyebrows blackened and swept upwards in pronounced arch. His eyes became yellower but were still greenish and nothing like Tarkyn’s extraordinary amber ones. Overall, however, there was a clear resemblance that would certainly have passed muster from a distance, even more so from the back view.

  The prince laughed, “That’s pretty good!”

  “I can do better if I spend longer on it. I can even improve the eye colour but no one I have ever met other than you and your father have those amazing amber eyes and I just don’t seem to be able to replicate them.” The glamour faded and the wizard’s real form re-emerged. He took another sip of wine. “Ah, that’s better. Can’t really relax when I’m maintaining a disguise.”

  The sorcerer nodded slowly as he absorbed this information then asked, “So what happened after you left the forest?”

  Stormaway settled down to telling the story of his escapades with the bounty hunters.

  The prince’s smiles of appreciation did not reach his eyes. He was too busy trying to gauge the calibre of this disingenuous wizard. When there was finally a gap in the wizard’s flow, Tarkyn asked, “But didn’t all this take place over two weeks ago? Where have you been since then?”

  “I kept leading them further away until we reached the northwest coast. A false trail to the docks led them to believe you had left the country. So they gave up the chase.”

  The younger man frowned “That won’t bring them back through the forest, will it?”

  The wizard raised his eyebrows. “No, of course not. I wouldn’t put in all t
hat effort otherwise. No. They will travel back home well to the north of the forest edge.” He regarded Tarkyn thoughtfully. “Outsiders don’t usually venture into these woods unless they are in large groups or have a particular reason for doing so. Those who live near the woods know that many who have ventured in, have failed to come out.”

  Tarkyn looked at him sceptically. “But I thought it was very rare for woodfolk to need to kill outsiders. They’re so good at staying hidden that the need rarely arises.”

  Stormaway swept his arm around in a semicircle. “These woods are not as benign as you may think. Many people lose their way and die from cold or lack of food in the depths of the forest. In some parts of the forest, there are savage wolves and dark creatures of the night that attack without warning. Besides these, there are refugees from justice.”

  “Not unlike myself,” quipped the prince.

  “Very unlike yourself,” returned the wizard repressively, “Renegades who, as I was going to say, skulk in the woods and prey on unwary travellers.”

  “Oh dear,” said Tarkyn, rolling his eyes. “Yet another bunch of reprehensible sorcerers that have helped to form the woodfolk’s less than favourable impression of us.”

  Stormaway frowned. “What about the travellers? Most of them would be perfectly well-behaved sorcerers.”

  The prince shrugged. “True enough. Maybe the woodfolk have only seen them using magic to defend themselves against the renegades you spoke of.”

  “That doesn’t make them bad,” protested the wizard.

  The sorcerer shook his head smiling. “I know it doesn’t. It’s just that Waterstone was shocked that magic could be used for something productive. So it made me think about how sorcerers appeared from the woodfolk’s point of view.” In answer to the wizard’s raised, interrogative eyebrow, he answered, “Generally, not very well at all. Waterstone thought that magic was just used as a weapon. No one realised that sorcerers’ magic could be used for anything else.” Tarkyn grimaced, “It’s been quite salutary, becoming aware of the woodfolk’s impressions of us.”

  The wizard frowned. “I can’t help deploring a lack of respect for your person that seems to have developed in my absence.”

  The prince raised his eyebrows with a hint of disdain. “Are you implying that respect and honesty are mutually exclusive?”

  “You will not intimidate me that easily, young man,” chuckled the old wizard. “It depends very much on how the honesty is delivered, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Tarkyn nodded shortly, thinking back to what he had said to Ancient Oak. “It was said courteously, Stormaway. We just became aware that we had different impressions of sorcerers.”

  Stormaway shook his head dolefully. “I should not have left you so long alone and vulnerable with these woodfolk.”

  “Why not?” demanded the prince, “There is the oath to protect me and they have looked after me well.”

  “Ah, Your Highness,” The old wizard shook his head sagely, “You don’t realise how people can take advantage of you. When you are alone and injured, as you have been, your emotions are rawer and your need for support is so much higher.” He smiled condescendingly. “You know so little of the intricacies of personal influence within circles of power.”

  The prince stared at him. “What utter rot! I have spent the whole nineteen years of my life living and breathing those intricacies. You haven’t even been at court for the last eleven years!” But despite his protests, Tarkyn could feel the seed of doubt implanted by Stormaway’s words beginning to fester as he remembered that he was, in fact, not particularly good at discerning duplicity.

  As dusk fell, the woodfolk reappeared to set the fire and gather together food for the evening’s meal. The camaraderie that had developed over the last three days had been replaced by formal courtesy. Although he noted it, Tarkyn did not try to rekindle the earlier congeniality. He could see that the woodfolk had backed off as his father’s faithful retainer assumed his place at the prince’s side. Tarkyn suspected that the wary woodfolk would watch his interchanges with the wizard and take their time to gauge where they fitted into the new regime that Stormaway had brought back with him.

  Waterstone was uncharacteristically quiet all evening and excused himself early, on the pretext of putting Sparrow to bed. However, unlike other evenings, he did not return.

  While the woodfolk listened or talked amongst themselves, Stormaway spent the evening enquiring after various people he had known and encouraging the prince to tell him about his recent life at court. Now, as the prince talked about his companions and their exploits, he found himself re-evaluating every chance remark and gesture his friends and acquaintances had made. “Why am I being so hard on my old friends?” he wondered. “I wasn’t betrayed by them. None of them even had the chance to choose whether or not to support me.”

  Then Stormaway’s voice broke in on his ruminations. “I am not just asking these questions for my own entertainment, Your Highness. It helps all of us,” Here he swept his arm around the gathering, “to know something of your associates if we are to serve and protect you.”He paused and prodded at the fire with a stick, clearly uncertain how to continue. As he stared into the flames, he said awkwardly, “So. There is something I think you should know”.

  A stillness settled on the clearing.

  “Yes?” Tarkyn’s voice seemed unnaturally loud.

  Stormaway flicked a glance at him before seeking the refuge of staring into the flames. “The two bounty hunters who kept out of sight were your friends, Andoran and Sargon.” The wizard cleared his throat. “I noticed you mentioned them a few times. They seem to have been regular companions of yours from what you were saying.”

  The young prince felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. All his doubts clicked into place as he realised that some part of him must have recognised his unseen captors. There was an awkward silence while Tarkyn mustered his thoughts and resources to say, “They were not among my closest friends but you’re right. I did spend quite a bit of time with them, one way and another. I defeated both of them in the tournament. They always did like any excuse for an adventure. I knew there were times when they were thoughtless pranksters but I never knew they were cruel.” He could not keep the bitterness out of his voice, “No doubt they thought it might be a good bit of sport. At the same time they could gain favour with one or both of my brothers since they have now lost their route of influence through me. In fact they were probably very angry that my exile had ruined the value of their carefully nurtured friendship with me.” Tarkyn turned bleak eyes towards the wizard who was still gazing studiously into the fire. “You see, Stormaway, this is not the first time that apparent friendships have winked out of existence when these so-called friends have realised that they would not get the influence they craved, through me.” Tarkyn managed to raise a half smile as he hauled himself to his feet. “Anyway, the good thing about it is that it keeps me from having too high an opinion of myself. With all that power I wield, it would never do to be blindly arrogant as well, would it?... And now, if you’ll excuse me, I will take a short walk to ease my stiffness before retiring.”

  Tarkyn walked away from the gentle light of the fire into the gloom of the forest, heading down to the river. He did not choose to use his sorcery to give himself light and so had to pause every few yards to allow his eyes to adjust. He heard a spate of talking break out soon after he left. From what he could tell, the woodfolk were reproaching the wizard and Stormaway was having to defend himself. In the darkness, despite himself, Tarkyn smiled.

  When he reached the river, the moon had just cleared the top of the trees and had turned the river into a ribbon of silver. His whole being felt jarred by the betrayal of his erstwhile friends and their brutal treatment of him. More than this, Tarkyn’s faith in his own perceptions had once more been undermined.

  He sat on a rock at the river’s edge and let the peace of the forest wash over him. After a while, he became aware of an otte
r working its way busily upstream, ducking into side pockets and sliding up and over small rocks. When it noticed Tarkyn, it did a double take then flicked out of sight under the far bank. A few minutes later its head gingerly reemerged and it watched Tarkyn for several seconds before disappearing again. After several repeats of this performance, it glided slowly across the river and emerged right beside Tarkyn to shake itself off at his feet. Tarkyn smiled but other than that, did not dare move a muscle.

  He remembered the mind linking and worked on sending out waves of friendship. The otter stared up at him and Tarkyn realised he was receiving curiosity, wariness and a dawning hint of trust.

  Am I just reading this from its body language or is this animal actually sending me messages? wondered the prince.

  This uncertainty was rewarded by a clear wave of irritation and a view of the river from where the otter was standing. Tarkyn raised his eyebrows in amusement, and sent ruefulness and an invitation, which the otter accepted by scuttling up the rock to sit next to him. The sorcerer visualised a tentative image of patting, and received consent. So he reached out slowly and started to stroke the otter in slow gentle movements. The otter was cold and wet under his hand and not particularly enjoyable to stroke but the wonder of being able to pat a wild otter more than made up for it.

  Suddenly the otter flicked back into the water. Almost simultaneously, Tarkyn heard the thrum of a bowstring and saw an arrow streak past his face. Even as he threw up a shield and dived for cover, he heard a dull thwack and a strangled snarl as the arrow found its mark. Gasping in pain from his abused ribs, he emerged to find himself face to face with a huge black wolf, its teeth bared and its dulling, yellow eyes staring into his. Waterstone was calmly removing the arrow that stuck out of its neck.

  Fear made the prince angry. “Why didn’t you warn me?” he demanded.

  Waterstone shrugged. “Didn’t want to warn the wolf.”

  “Couldn’t have that, could we?” returned Tarkyn sarcastically. “And you didn’t feel the need to kill it before it sprang at me?”