Bronze Magic (Book 1) Read online

  Summer Rain looked at him for a long time. “Have we been so hard on you?”

  “Not everyone, and not all the time. But I know most woodfolk resent me,” remembering Waterstone’s memory, he added, “and consider me a liability.”

  For the first time, Summer Rain smiled. “Not completely. I think a travelling party might appreciate the talents of a sorcerer on their side. I don’t know that you’re ready to travel yet, though.”

  “How long?”

  Summer Rain shrugged, “You are pretty tired again today. Aren’t you?”

  “But I just spent four days lifting branches.” He saw her about to protest and cut in, “And in answer to your next question. No, I wasn’t just sitting around and yes, it does tire me even if it’s only magic. You don’t do physical magic, so you don’t understand.”

  “If that’s the case, you shouldn’t have done so much then.”

  Tarkyn smiled, “No pleasing you, is there? No, I probably shouldn’t have. But we only had a short time to repair the trees before they would have been too dried out. So, better to work too hard for four days and recover on the fifth, don’t you think?”

  The healer nodded reluctantly. “I think you will need another few days or you will just hold everyone up. Then you would be a liability. We don’t want you overstraining yourself trying to keep up. But we will need time to assemble supplies and equipment, so you may be well enough by then, anyway. If not, we will wait. After twelve years, another week will not matter.” He remembered this was not what she had said to him a few days ago but saw no point in mentioning it. She smiled at him. “And thank you.”

  By the time Thunder Storm arrived, it was almost dinnertime. A huge pot of stew hung over the fire, its tantalisingly smell wafting over the clearing. Thunder Storm filled two bowls and handed one to the Tarkyn as he sat down next to him.

  The prince blew on the hot food and ate a few mouthfuls. “This is good stew, a bit gamey perhaps but plenty of herbs...Hmm, very tasty indeed.”

  “Thank you, Sire,” Thunder Storm took a mouthful himself, “Ah yes. You need the herbs. It takes a fine chef to cook a good wolf stew. Taste’s too strong for roasting.”

  Tarkyn choked. “Did you say wolf? Not the wolves we killed yesterday?”

  “Of course.” Thunder Storm rumbled happily. “You have to cook it quickly so that it doesn’t go off.

  This answer was so eminently sensible that Tarkyn was left with nothing to say. He peered into his bowl, steeled himself and kept eating.

  “Mind you, there’s a lot of meat on two wolves. We should have plenty of stew for the next few days, at least. And not only that,” continued the woodman, blithely unaware of the prince’s heroism, “I think the pelt of the wolf Waterstone shot down will be large enough to make you a good thick cloak for winter.”

  “Marvellous,” said the prince with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, as he thought of the finely tailored cloaks he had left hanging in his wardrobe at the palace.

  “However,” rumbled Thunder Storm with a disapproving frown, “Your fireworks didn’t do much for the quality of the other pelt. Probably worth bearing in mind next time, Your Highness.” he added kindly, giving the prince’s knee an avuncular pat.

  The prince nearly choked again and cast a weather eye in Stormaway’s direction to see whether he had noticed Thunder Cloud’s over-familiarity. Luckily, the wizard was intent on listening in on someone’s conversation, a common activity for him, Tarkyn suspected. “I’ll try to do better next time,” he managed, smothering a laugh.

  Thunder Storm beamed at him and asked why the prince had wanted to see him. When Tarkyn explained, he was relieved to find that once Thunder Storm had expressed his shock and dismay, he was quite happy to send out a message on the prince’s behalf even though he had previously been an advocate for Falling Rain’s continued exile. Almost at once, Tarkyn was rocked backwards by a wave of outrage followed by a deluge of relief and rejoicing.

  The prince grinned. “Did you feel that? I think my first decree, or whatever you call it, has met with approval.”

  Thunder Storm smiled. “No. I didn’t feel anything but my mind is jammed up with excited messages coming from everywhere. People are so pleased to hear that Falling Rain did not willingly betray us after all. Glad for him that he can come home, and glad for all woodfolk that the pact we have amongst ourselves is still intact.”

  arly the next morning, Tarkyn slipped down to the river before anyone, and in particular Stormaway, could accost him. He loved the river’s tranquillity and the way its moods changed at different times of the day and night. But more than this, he wanted to try to develop his mind links with the otter again, if it reappeared.

  He sat quietly in the sun for a while and tried to send out waves of invitation into the river. As he gazed down into the water, he suddenly realised he was staring at a huge golden fish that was looking expectantly up at him. This is getting a bit silly, he thought. What do I say to a fish? He produced a picture of the otter and a feeling of uncertainty. He received a frisson of fear followed by an image of the otter far downstream heading the other way. Then he received a view of the river directly below him, with an understanding of all the safe holes, feeding areas and smaller fish accompanied by a sense of pride. Somehow, the prince realised from the vision coupled with the fish’s size that he was communing with the old man of the river, so to speak. In return, the prince sent a picture of himself in the surrounding trees with woodfolk in the background, also with a sense of pride. The huge fish rose slowly to the surface and watched him for a few minutes before turning and swimming slowly down into the shadows. I must say, conversation tends to be laboured without words, no matter whom you’re talking to, he thought.

  Tarkyn lay on his back and focused his will on trying to tune in to any feelings or images around him. Slowly he became aware that he was being watched and opened his eyes to find himself being scrutinised by the heron he had seen on his first morning in the forest. The sorcerer radiated calm and sat up slowly while the heron watched patiently. Tarkyn received a clear impression that he was wasting time moving slowly and that the heron was quite disdainful of any danger he might represent. Slightly riled, the sorcerer sent the bird an image of a fireball blasting towards him, but the heron merely tilted his head disbelievingly. Having had his bluff called, Tarkyn shrugged and grinned. The heron looked him sternly in the eyes then flapped his wings slowly and took off. At first, Tarkyn was disappointed but suddenly realised he was seeing trees gliding past and below as the heron gained height. Soon, the sorcerer was viewing the forest from above the treetops as the bird glided in ever-increasing circles higher in the sky. With a sense of wonder, Tarkyn realised that the domain of his forest spread as far as the eye could see in every direction but one, which he presumed was the north eastern approach from which he had entered. In the distance to the southwest, he could see wooded mountains soaring above jagged cliffs that rose from the forests below. He could see the changes in foliage from one area to another and thought he could pick out the route he had been forced to take by the bounty hunters, which had ended in a large stand of pines to the north northwest. Then the river came back into view as a shining, snaking line partly covered by trees. As he watched, the river drew closer and closer until he was streaking headfirst towards it. At the last minute he saw a fish just below the surface before the image was lost in a blur of white water.

  A splash slightly downriver signalled the return of the heron. A minute later, it stalked into view carrying the hapless fish firmly in its beak and settled down on the rock next to the sorcerer to eat it. Just a small fish, not the old man of the river, Tarkyn was relieved to see. Tarkyn sent a message of thanks to the bird who ruffled his feathers nonchalantly and concentrated on devouring his catch. When the heron had finished his meal, he flapped his wings slowly and rose into the air without any further communication.

  After a while, Tarkyn’s mind turned to Watertstone. He still hadn’t
seen him or Autumn Leaves. He didn’t want to intrude on him so he decided to send a message to Autumn Leaves instead. He couldn’t use words but he could use gestures, he realised. Targeting the right person was another issue. He shrugged. I can only try. He thought hard about Autumn Leaves; how he looked and sounded, what he knew of his personality then sent an image of himself signalling for Autumn Leaves to come to him.

  When Autumn Leaves arrived, his face was tight and closed and he spoke formally with no trace of his former familiarity.

  “Yes, Your Royal Highness. I believe you required my presence.”

  “Please sit down. I need to talk to you.” The prince eyed the woodman who showed no sign of thawing. “Autumn Leaves, unless I am mistaken, you appear to be annoyed with me. I can think of a few reasons why that might be, but to save me guessing, why don’t you just tell me?”

  Autumn Leaves glanced at him coldly then looked away. “I am not used to obeying commands, Your Highness. Hopefully, it will become easier over time but at the moment, I resent it.”

  “Autumn Leaves, when you are up in the trees and on lookout duty or whatever, are there not times when one of the other woodfolk instruct you to do something?”

  “Of course, but that is on equal terms. I can just as easily instruct them, if the need arises.”

  “I see. And yet you seemed to be instructing me quite forthrightly the other night,” observed the prince dryly. He thought for a moment. “I think we may be at cross purposes here. I did not really intend to command you to come down here. Admittedly, there might be times when I would, but this wasn’t one of them. I wanted you to come but if it had not suited you, I would have accepted that. Perhaps the problem lies in my mind message. Was it too peremptory? Without the words, you can’t build in phrases like ‘could you’ and ‘please’ that turn a command into a request.”

  Autumn Leaves finally met the prince’s eyes properly for the first time since he’d arrived. “Your gesturing was pretty emphatic,” he said shortly.

  Tarkyn gave a self-conscious smile. “I have only just started using mind messages. Maybe I need to add a feeling of uncertainty to make it a request.”

  “Go on then. Try it and I’ll tell you what I think.” After a moment, the woodman shook his head. “No. That comes across as a question; ‘Are you coming here?’”

  “Maybe just less emphatic gesturing?”

  “All right. Try that.” Autumn Leaves frowned. “That’s better, but I think you’re going to have to talk to people about it, so they understand. Especially with the oath, they’re going to assume, as I did, that they have no choice.”

  The prince eyed him speculatively, “I would like my requests to be acceded to unless there is a good reason not to be, but I don’t want to create unnecessary antagonism and I don’t want a request to be confused with a command. Will I show you what I’d send if I really were sending out a command? I warn you it would probably only be in a situation where I was angry or in some kind of danger so there would be a strong emotion attached.”

  “Go on then. To make sure we can tell the difference.”

  Tarkyn thought for moment, imagining such a situation. Then he sent Autumn Leaves the gesture to come to him accompanied by an intense wave of anger, hauteur and compulsion.

  Autumn Leaves went white. “Stars above! Well, that’s certainly clears one thing up. You didn’t send me a command.”

  Tarkyn smiled disarmingly. “No. Something to be used fairly sparingly, I would have thought.”

  The woodman studied the smiling prince for a few moments. “I’m beginning to see why Waterstone likes you so much.”

  The young man coloured slightly, more nonplussed by this one grudging remark than by any of the beautifully phrased compliments he had had thrown at him throughout his life at court. Noting the prince’s discomfort with some amusement, Autumn Leaves kindly moved the conversation on. “So why do you want to see me? About Waterstone, I presume.”

  “Yes. I haven’t heard from any of you and I want to know how he is and what, if anything, I can do to help.”

  “Well, do you know,” said the woodman thoughtfully, “I think he’s all right now. He’s just feeling embarrassed about seeing you for some reason.He won’t tell me why, but no doubt it has to do with whatever his private thoughts or feelings he exposed to you, so I’m not going to press him.” He looked at Tarkyn. “Maybe we just need some way to break the ice again before it becomes too thick.”

  They sat and pondered in silence for a few minutes.

  “If I were in any sort of danger, he would come,” said Tarkyn, considering possibilities.

  “True. So would everybody else. But you’re not in danger and hopefully unlikely to be for a while.”

  They fell silent again.

  “What if I have something of interest to show him?”

  Autumn Leaves looked at him speculatively. “Depends what it is. He mightn’t find it interesting at all.”

  Tarkyn subsided. “You’re right. It may be commonplace to woodfolk.” He thought it through, before continuing with more conviction. “But it is not at all commonplace to me and I would like the chance to discuss it. That in itself should be enough, surely?”

  “I suppose so, if it’s important to you.”

  The sorcerer hesitated. “The only thing is, I’m not sure that I can show him.”

  “Why not? Don’t you trust him?”

  “Very funny. Of course I bloody trust him. That’s what this was all about in the first place.” Tarkyn scratched his head. “I’m just not sure how to do it.”

  “Well, you can either figure that out with Waterstone or you can work it out with me as a dress rehearsal, so to speak.” Autumn Leaves shrugged. “Personally, I think a practice run will just make you self-conscious.”

  “It is quite unnecessary to make elaborate preparations. All I need is a pretext for visiting Waterstone the first time, which I now have, however flimsy. Let’s just find him and get on with it. At the very least, I can tell him about it even if I can’t show him.” Tarkyn pulled himself to his feet, accepting the offer of Autumn Leaves hand. “Where is he?”

  The solid woodman guided Tarkyn through a stand of small silver birches then deep into a thicket of hazel trees where they came upon Waterstone sitting outside his shelter, whittling a new arrow into shape. There was a certain tension in his movements and he sent a singeing glance at Autumn Leaves as the two of them approached.

  Obviously he knew we were coming, thought the sorcerer. He’s a woodman. Well, at least he hasn’t avoided us.

  “Please don’t blame Autumn Leaves,” said the prince, his voice sounding formal because of his tension. “I have something I wanted to show you.” Tarkyn heard the cold tone of his own voice and took a moment to thaw. Then he swung from one extreme to the other and began to blither. “Well actually, I wasn’t going to show you yet, because it’s a bit of a work in progress but I decided I would, anyway. Autumn Leaves thought it mightn’t be as interesting to you as it is to me even though he doesn’t actually know what it is….” He rolled his eyes beseechingly at Autumn Leaves. “I’m not doing too well here, am I?”

  He broke off as he realised that both woodmen were grinning broadly at him.

  “No wonder you’re so blindingly honest. You couldn’t lie to save yourself,” chortled Waterstone. “Come on. Come and sit down. I’ll get us something to drink and you can tell me what’s so interesting, if you can think it up before I’ve brought you some juice.”

  Once the three of them were seated with cups of apple juice, Tarkyn said, “Actually, I do have something interesting to tell you and hopefully show you. But first I need to clarify something. If someone has sent you an image at some time in the past, can you send that image on to someone else?”

  The woodfolk nodded. “It’s just like sending a memory,” said Autumn Leaves, “An image is an image, wherever it comes from. It can be a real view of something, it can be imaginary or it can be from your memory.�
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  Tarkyn smiled in satisfaction. “Good. In that case, I think I should be able to do it. I’ll send you the image first and tell you how I got it second. Are you ready?” He closed his eyes and brought back the views he has seen from the heron’s eyes - lifting up over the river, soaring high above the woodlands, then swooping back down into the river. When he had finished, he opened his eyes and looked at them expectantly. “So, what do you think? Can you all do that?

  Waterstone and Autumn Leaves both looked stunned.

  Waterstone was the first to speak. “That was…unexpected. I have never seen the forest from above, except from the mountain peaks. But can we all do what? Are you imagining how the forest would look? Where did you get the images from?”

  Tarkyn beamed at them. “From a heron. That’s what I’ve been learning to do, mind link with animals.”

  The woodmen exchanged glances before Waterstone spoke, “None of us can share images with animals.” He shrugged, “Maybe it’s because we use words so much. Your mind linking does work differently from ours. Have you tried it with any other animals?”

  Tarkyn grimaced. “I haven’t yet instigated an exchange. The animals seem to come to me, really. Like the otter, the other night. It just happened to be there, working its way up the river so I sent out waves of reassurance and it came over to me. I could show you the whole exchange but I’d have to explain the feelings afterwards.

  “Go on,” said Autumn Leaves quietly.

  Once he had sent the image, he said, “The otter sent me the river from her point of view to make sure I knew she was mind linking with me.” Tarkyn smiled, “She was irritated with me because I was a bit slow on the uptake.” He shrugged, “Hardly surprising I was slow, since it was the first time.” The sorcerer frowned suddenly, “Actually, now I think about it, it wasn’t the first time. On the night of the feast, I was upset,” here he glanced self-consciously at Autumn Leaves, “after seeing Tree Wind’s memory of my father and the way he enforced the oath taking. Anyway, there was a tawny owl up in the pine tree above me... the same one that came swooping over the firesite later that night... and now I think about it, he sent down some sort of comforting waves so that I could pull myself together and come out to face you all.” Before the woodfolk had time to absorb the prince’s admission of vulnerability, an idea suddenly struck him, “... The owl that warned me about the wolf the other night was female.” He grinned suddenly, remembering the woodfolk’s disbelief on the first night. “Maybe it was the other one’s mate?”