Bronze Magic (Book 1) Page 22

  Within moments, his view was filled with the faces of Waterstone and Autumn Leaves bending over him in concern. Tarkyn put up a restraining hand. “Don’t.” he said peremptorily. “Just let me get up in my own time. I’m all right.”

  The two woodfolk backed off and waited. Tarkyn sat up and moved a few yards so that his back rested against a tree. As soon as he was able to focus his mind, Tarkyn said, in a voice that brooked no argument, “Sit down. I have an image to show you and you need to be seated to see it.”

  He transmitted the eagle’s vision to them. Then it was his turn to wait. Waterstone and Autumn Leaves stayed out of focus for quite some time. Finally, the prince lost patience. “I presume you are informing the others and making plans?” He waited until this brought Waterstone’s eyes back into focus. “It may not have occurred to you but I would like to be included in those plans.” It was not a request.

  Unmistakably, he saw Waterstone’s expression move from impatience through resigned acceptance to calculation.

  “Yes,” responded Tarkyn, with a wry smile. “I do not have to be a millstone around your neck. I can assist you. I will show you your choices. You tell me what you want to use and how.” He closed his eyes and sent images of a power ray, fireball, magical net, levitation and shield.

  “I will have to relay this,” said Waterstone apologetically. “Try to focus on my thoughts and you may be able to see some of our discussion. I will get back to you as soon as I can.”

  The sorcerer saw woodfolk posted in trees all along the river. There was a particular concentration of them in trees around a ford about half a mile south of where they were seated. Even the children were up in the trees. Two of them were under the close supervision of Summer Rain, behind the line of fire. Sparrow and another child were standing in the branches, bows at the ready. Tarkyn could not pick up any of the discussion but he could pick up Sparrow’s and the other child’s carefully controlled fear. He sent them a feeling of reassurance and an image of himself and the other woodfolk stationed all around the children looking calm and ready. He was rewarded with the sight of them squaring their shoulders and smiling, albeit a little tightly.

  Waterstone re-focussed. “We need to get down to the river near the ford. As soon as we can, we must get up into the trees for safety. If by any chance we are caught out before we reach the river, you must get yourself up into a tree before you do anything else. Once you are safely out of their reach, you can attack. Not before. Your safety is paramount. I’ll explain the rest as we go.”

  Once Autumn Leaves had retrieved Tarkyn’s staff, the prince and the two woodfolk walked down towards the river as quickly as Tarkyn was able.

  “How high can you levitate yourself?” asked Waterstone.

  “I don’t know. I usually lift myself no more than ten feet or so, but I can’t see why there would be limit.”

  “If you could rise high enough to see where the wolves were coming from, we would know where to concentrate our attack. There aren’t very many of us and we have to maximise what we have.”

  If Tarkyn was disappointed with the passive role they had given him, he didn’t let it show. He merely nodded and focussed on moving as quickly as he could, given his stiffness.

  “Why don’t you just levitate yourself along sideways?” asked Autumn Leaves suddenly. As the other two stopped and looked at him, the woodman shrugged and said with his usual candour, “Well, you are holding us up. Your magical strength won’t have to fight against strained muscles like your physical strength has to.”

  The sorcerer smiled, “Good idea. I should have thought of it myself but I’m not used to using magic for everyday activities.” He muttered, “Maya Reeza Mureva” and rose gently into the air. From that point on, the sorcerer floated himself along above the ground while the woodfolk jogged to keep up with him. When they neared the river, Waterstone checked in with the woodfolk in the trees.

  “No sign of them yet,” reported the woodman. “Do you want to lift yourself up and see if you can find them? Autumn Leaves and I will climb up into the trees while we’re waiting. We don’t want to get caught on the ground either”

  With a quiet, “Maya Reeza”, the sorcerer rose up through the trees until he could see across the canopy of the forest. He had never before levitated so high and he could feel the strain on his untrained powers. He centred himself and then looked down into the trees on the far side of the river. He saw a small pack of wolves headed for the ford but not the large number he had noted previously. He scanned the trees and finally caught sight of another larger group heading north along the river. As he watched them, the front guard jumped straight into the fast running water and swam strongly across. The lead wolf shook himself and set off immediately into woods, heading in a direction that would cut in behind the woodfolk’s position.

  The sorcerer brought himself back down onto the firm branch of a large horse chestnut tree, and then relayed the image of what he had seen to Waterstone. Tarkyn picked up a quickly suppressed flash of panic and an image of woodfolk in trees, no arrows left and wolves surrounding them on every side. Tarkyn sent back a wave of reassurance, with an image of himself alternately blasting wolves and retrieving arrows and sending them back up to the woodfolk. A faint ripple of amusement reached him before he was left alone with his own thoughts while the woodfolk planned their strategy.

  Not long after this, Tarkyn heard the first howls as woodfolk arrows struck home. He felt restless not knowing where everyone was in relation to him and not being part of the attack. With nothing better to do, he rose above the trees again to track the wolves’ progress. Eight more wolves had crossed the river and were circling around through the trees towards the woodfolk. The sorcerer could feel their snarling hatred as they closed in. Tarkyn descended quickly into the cover of his own tree and found himself a secure position where he could sit straddled across a bough and lean against the trunk of the great horse chestnut before transmitting the image. Twenty long minutes passed. Nothing further happened. It felt like hours of waiting.

  They’re waiting for us to drop our guard and come down out of the trees, thought Tarkyn, I hope the woodfolk realise that and are patient. He thought about sending a message to wait, as he had to Autumn Leaves, but decided that it was his own need to be doing something rather than any real need to warn the skilled woodfolk that would be driving him to send the message.

  Finally, he saw the wolves emerge from the cover of the trees. Two of them passed directly beneath him but even though he was clearly visible and they must have smelt his scent, none of the wolves stopped to try to attack him. All their attention was focussed on reaching the woodfolk. As he watched, they seem to cluster around particular trees. Arrows sped through the air, dropping one wolf after another. But then the last group of three ran at a nearby oak in sequence, each using the one in front as a ladder to get further up its trunk. Once the leading wolf gained the lower branch, it bounded up from one branch to the next at the beleaguered Waterstone.

  Tarkyn could feel the savagery directed against the woodman and received a strong image of Waterstone, hard-pressed and climbing further up into the tree. The sorcerer aimed carefully, spoke “Fierspa!” firmly and sent forth a blast of power at the leading wolf before it could climb up out of sight. The huge wolf howled and, losing its footing, crashed to the ground. Tarkyn blasted it once more before it had time to recover. He sent one more streak of power at the second wolf but by then, Waterstone had had time to regroup higher in the tree and his arrows struck the remaining wolves with fast, deadly accuracy.

  Suddenly it was over. Tarkyn rose once more above the trees to check for any strays but there was no sign of the running grey shapes. He relayed this information to Waterstone and slowly the woodfolk descended from the trees and congregated next to the river.

  As the sorcerer landed gently on the ground to join them, a ball of energy threw itself around his waist. He staggered slightly under the impact and looked down to find Sparrow’s u
pturned face, beaming up at him.

  “Tarkyn,” She beamed at him. “You saved my dad with that fantastic beam of light and you told us the wolves were coming and then told us about the sneaky ones. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

  The young prince grinned back down at her and, ignoring the protest of his ribs, swung her up into his arms and gave her a big hug. “You’re welcome, young Sparrow. I think everyone did a great job of looking after one another, don’t you? And do you know, I think if I hadn’t been here, your dad would have just climbed up out of the way faster.” He swung her onto one hip so he could see the other woodfolk and asked, “Is everyone here and all right?”

  “Thanks to your warning, we were never in any danger,” rumbled Thunder Storm. “Things would have been a lot different if we’d been caught out of the trees. We needed more preparation time than the lookouts would have given us to meet such a large number of wolves.”

  Tarkyn spotted the other child who had been in the tree with Sparrow. The young boy was peeking out from behind his father, Rustling Leaves, watching the prince. Tarkyn swung Sparrow back down and crouched next to her.

  “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” he asked her, nodding at the boy.

  “This is Breaking Twigs. We are both ten years old and this was our first hunt,” said Sparrow proudly. “Come on. Come and say hello,” she urged the boy.

  Breaking Twigs disengaged himself from his father and walked forward uncertainly. “Good afternoon, Your Highness,” whispered the little boy, clearly over-awed by meeting the prince.

  “I am pleased to meet you, Breaking Twigs. You and Sparrow have been very brave fighting those fierce wolves. I was too far away from you to see. Did you hit any of them?”

  Sparrow and Breaking Twigs looked at each other then back at the prince before the little boy answered with resolute honesty, “I think one of us might have hit one in the rump but they didn’t come to our tree. So we didn’t get a close shot.”

  Tarkyn smiled. “That was a very good effort for your first hunt. I am glad the wolves didn’t come any closer to you. They were fearsome, weren’t they?”

  Both children nodded solemnly. The prince stood up and ruffled their hair. “Well done, you two. Now, would you happen to know where there might be some wine and food? I think lunchtime came and went while we were up in those trees.”

  A short time later, the woodfolk were seated around a firesite in a nearby clearing, eating a selection of fruits, nuts, cheeses and berries. The conversation was revolving around the disposal of the wolves’ bodies.

  “Fourteen wolves. That is going to take a lot of cleaning,” said Creaking Bough, as she reached for another handful of nuts. “We won’t be able to use that much fresh meat. We’ll have to dry most of it. There’ll be plenty of warm furs for cloaks and blankets.”

  “I suppose there are only thirteen good furs?” asked the sorcerer apologetically.

  Thunder Storm smiled understandingly. “You did better this time, my lord. There is only a small singed area where you struck the wolf. The rest of the hide is quite retrievable this time.”

  Waterstone looked from one to the other and smiled to himself as he correctly surmised the previous conversation. Tarkyn caught his eye and looked away quickly with a slight smile before Thunder Storm noticed.

  “And how are you after your exertions?” enquired Summer Rain. “Not resting as instructed, I notice.”

  The prince wondered if she was attempting a joke but one look at her serious face assured him that she wasn’t. “There are times,” he said carefully, “when rest and recovery must take second place.”

  The healer frowned at him. “First the trees drying out. Now the wolves, my lord. I wonder what your next excuse will be?”

  Much to Tarkyn’s relief, Thunder Storm butted in and said firmly, “Summer Rain. If it means a few extra days before we depart to seek your brother, then you must be patient. Prince Tarkyn’s actions today saved many of us from injury or even death. Do not demean his contribution by calling it an excuse.”

  Summer Rain coloured slightly. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness. I am merely concerned for your welfare.”

  Tarkyn smiled at her placatingly. “In answer to your original question, I am feeling stronger today than yesterday despite today’s exertions which, after all, were not so great.” He threw a glance at Waterstone, “Nothing like so hard as holding up tree branches for hours on end.” The prince looked around the group of woodfolk. “Since the topic has arisen, have you decided who will be travelling with me to find Falling Rain?”

  There was a short unfocused pause that Tarkyn endured with patience. Finally, Waterstone spoke for them, “All of us who are with you now will travel with you. The others will continue with the harvesting.”

  A wave of pleasure and gratitude spread out from the prince over the group.

  “Tarkyn,” said Waterstone with a slight shake of his head. “You are doing it again.”

  After a slight hesitation, Tarkyn realised what he meant and smiled. “It’s just as well I reacted well to the news then, isn’t it?” After a moment’s thought, he frowned, “What about the children? Will they be all right to travel so far?”

  Rustling Leaves answered him “Most woodfolk are itinerant, your Highness. We never stay long in one place anyway. The children are used to travelling although perhaps not so far at any one time. They will learn much on the way. They will be just as safe travelling as they would be staying in one place within the forest.”

  Tarkyn looked around them. “So when do we leave?”

  A lovely young woodwoman with soft eyes and shoulder length shining hair answered him in a soft rhythmic voice. “My Lord, the arrival of the wolves has set us back a little. We must attend to the wolf carcasses before we leave. It will take us several days to prepare and cure the meat and hides. By then we will be ready to leave and you may be recovered, if nothing else happens to distract you. I am Lapping Water.”

  With some amusement, Waterstone noted an arrested expression in Tarkyn’s eyes as he registered Lapping Water for the first time. However, the prince’s court training clicked in and he didn’t miss a beat as he answered, “Thank you, Lapping Water. I do not believe I have met you before and am pleased to do so now.” To cover his confusion, Tarkyn glanced around the group and said, “We have fought together and will be travelling together and yet I still have not been introduced to everyone here. This seems most remiss. Could those of you who have not yet introduced themselves, please do so now?”

  Once the seven remaining adult woodfolk had introduced themselves, the prince asked, “And your children, Thunder Storm?”

  “I beg your pardon, Your Highness,” answered Creaking Bough for him. “These are our sons Trickling Stream and Rain on Water.” Trickling Stream was a scruffy, bouncy five year old, with a couple of front teeth missing who bounded forward to meet Tarkyn without a second thought, while Rain on Water was much neater, more reserved and clearly intimidated by talking to the prince. Tarkyn made a mental note to get to know him better away from an audience.

  Once introductions had been completed, the prince addressed the whole group. “I would like to thank all of you who are here for having chosen to stand by me. I did not ask to be introduced only for form’s sake. I need to know your names if we are in situations such as we were today so that I can call out to you if I need to. All of you need to learn to understand my way of mind talking. I cannot use words, only images, gestures and feeling. As Autumn Leaves can attest, this can lead to some misunderstandings. I will leave him to explain that to you at some other time.”

  Tarkyn took a sip from his goblet before continuing. “I don’t know how you do things here, but where I come from, we discuss a battle of any sort afterwards to ensure we learn from it to improve the next time. Do you do this?”

  A few embarrassed glances between woodfolk answered his question.

  “You have done it already and not included me?” Tarky
n blinked in disbelief. A wave of outrage burst forth from him and rocked the entire group backwards. As leaves began to dance on the trees, the woodfolk glanced at each other with stricken faces. “So. You use my power and knowledge and then close ranks against me as soon as the danger has passed.”

  Their new liege lord grasped his staff and struggled to his feet. Gusts of wind picked up leaves and threw them across the clearing as he spoke, his voice intense with anger. “Perhaps you are unaware of the honour I bestowed on you by letting you choose which of my powers to use. By rights, I should have led that attack on the wolves. Instead, I allowed you to make the decisions. But at the very least, I expected to be treated as a valued contributor. You mistake the case completely if you think I am some tool to use, as and when it suits you.”

  Giving a significant glance at the gathering storm, Autumn Leaves said bravely, “Sire, on the feast night, you said that only when you had made your expectations known, would you demand our compliance

  – and yet now you are angry even though you have not stated your expectations.”

  The prince glared down at him. “No, I have not yet stated them. And I am not angry that you remain seated while I stand even though you, Autumn Leaves, know that is not what I am used to. But I am angry that the common courtesy you extend to each other does not also extend to me. Even without court training, I cannot imagine that any of you thought that you were honouring me by excluding me.”

  Small trees were bending in the rising wind. Dust and leaves gusted around the firesite and someone’s cup skittered away into the bushes. But no one moved. They watched transfixed, as the sorcerer stood glowering at them, his long hair whipping around his face.

  Thunder Storm found his voice enough to say, “We thanked you for what you did.”

  “As a general would thank a foot soldier,” snapped the prince.

  A particularly strong gust of wind sent sparks spiralling into the air. A glowing branch rolled off the fire. With a distracted flick of his wrist, Tarkyn murmured “Liefka,” and glided the burning branch back onto the coals.