Bronze Magic (Book 1) Read online

  A slight smile of satisfaction appeared on the wizard’s face. “My boy,” he said, “Your father would have been proud of you. I am even prouder of you because I understand, better than he would have, the subtlety of your style.” Stormaway addressed the woodman. “Waterstone, I hope Tarkyn’s faith in you is justified. I suspect it will be because I am beginning to develop a healthy respect for his judgement.” The wizard shrugged, “So be it. Shall we take up the discussion where we left off?”

  Tarkyn looked down at the badger and kept stroking it gently. “What would happen, Stormaway, if I ordered you to remove the sorcery in the oath? After all, you too have sworn the oath.”

  Stormaway breathed a sigh of relief. “I am so glad you phrased it like that. What would happen is that I would refuse.”

  “Hm, I see. No surprises there. And is this because your loyalty to my father is greater than your loyalty to me?”

  “No, Your Highness, it’s not. It’s because the oath was designed to keep you safe and without it, you might find it difficult to leave the forest alive, should you ever choose to.” The wizard glanced at the woodman as he said this but Waterstone offered no reaction.

  The prince frowned, “And what about the safety of the forest if I insisted on ordering you? Would you see it destroyed?”

  The wizard smiled with a hint of smugness, “My concern for your wellbeing far outweighs any consideration I may have for the forest. Now that you know I would refuse, you could not order it because you have vowed to protect the forest.”

  Tarkyn rocked back to sit upright as he considered this. His hand came away from the badger who, having had her fill of being stroked, took the opportunity to head off into the undergrowth. “I can see why you didn’t want Waterstone to hear this. Not,” he added hastily, looking at the woodman, “that I regret my decision to allow you to stay,” He returned his gaze to the wizard, “but I understand your reservations.”

  He asked Waterstone. “What are the exact words of the oath?”

  The woodman did not make the mistake of parroting the whole thing and merely repeated the relevant section. “To serve, honour and protect.”

  “According to your understanding of honour and service, Your Highness, not Markazon’s. I achieved that much for you.”

  “I suppose I should at least thank you for that, Stormaway” said Tarkyn gruffly. He rolled his eyes at Waterstone. “You really wouldn’t want to live under my father’s regime.”

  Waterstone stood up and looked up into another repaired tree, his face closed. After a moment’s scrutiny, he lifted himself up into the branches and began to unwrap the injured bough. He looked down at the prince and said tightly. “This is actually a difficult conversation for me to listen to. I feel like my future, my whole life is being bandied around like some sort of commodity.”

  Tarkyn was instantly contrite. “Oh Waterstone, I’m sorry. We are both affected by the terms of this oath, but of course, for you, it is even more critical. I need to know how much leeway I can safely give without destructive forces coming into play. I didn’t even think to ask you if you wanted to stay to hear all this. I just assumed you would. I think your perspective may help us all in coming to terms with managing this oath but I can come and talk to you about it afterwards if you prefer.”

  Wizard and woodman both smiled at this little speech. “Tarkyn,” said Waterstone, “You make it just as impossible for me to leave as you did for Stormaway not to speak in front of me. I don’t think you have any need of an oath to get what you want.”

  Tarkyn, embarrassed by this vote of confidence, bent down to pick up a dry stick which he then began methodically to demolish. “I did mean it, though,” he said, without looking up. “You don’t have to stay if you would rather go.”

  “I know you did. That’s what makes it so convincing.” Waterstone shook his head, smiling, and turned his attention to the wizard. “You need have no fear that your young prince will compromise his authority. He just goes about it differently from his father.”

  Tarkyn looked up at this and his eyes narrowed as he considered the wizard. “Out of those who swore the oath, you alone can oppose my will if you decide it serves my best interests to do so. Is that right?”

  “How do you work that out?” asked Waterstone, as he climbed back down out of the tree.

  Tarkyn smiled ruefully. “Because no one else, not even I, would place my welfare above the welfare of the forest.”

  Waterstone considered him for a long time. “I’m not sure that’s true,” he said slowly, “although it may be true of most people.” He shrugged, “I would hope that you will never put me in the position where I have to oppose you to protect you – but I will remember this if it ever happens.”

  Tarkyn frowned as he tried to work out the complexities of the oath. “It seems to me that anyone who calls my bluff will have the upper hand, whatever the issue. I can’t afford to order someone to do something that they don’t want to do. If they tell me they are going to refuse, I will have no choice but to back down. I’m honour bound to protect the forest so I can’t allow anyone the option of opposing me and invoking the destructive force of the oath.”

  The wizard nodded. “Now you see why I didn’t want any woodfolk here for this conversation.”

  “Waterstone is not just any woodman, even as I am not just any sorcerer.” The prince replied stiffly. “But I do see what you mean,” he conceded. He looked at Waterstone. “So where does this leave us then?”

  Waterstone’s green eyes travelled slowly from the prince to the wizard and back again. His eyes were glittering with anger. “Both of you have forgotten that the woodfolk are also people of honour. We agreed to swear that oath in good faith as a debt of gratitude for the assistance rendered to us by King Markazon and you, his wizard.He did not respect us enough to trust our word. Obviously you do not either.”

  “Oh no, Waterstone, don’t think that.” The prince was mortified. “I do trust you - you the woodfolk, I mean, to keep your word. I had just forgotten that angle on things because I was focusing on the danger to the forest. I have to be sure we know how to manage the destructive magic in the oath.” The prince turned impulsively to the wizard. “Couldn’t you find your way clear to neutralise your spell?”

  “No, Your Highness. Do not demand it of me.” Stormaway shook his head regretfully. “I am sorry if I offend you, Waterstone, but I do not know or trust the woodfolk well enough to risk the prince’s safety. I will not break faith with his father.”

  Waterstone shrugged. “You have certainly offended me but there is not much I can do against blind prejudice.” There was a pause while he visualised Sparrow going to live among a large group of stern, unfriendly wizards and sorcerers. He shared the image with Tarkyn and sighed. “I suppose I can understand how you might feel, at least to some extent.”

  Tarkyn smiled wryly and sent an image back to Waterstone of Sparrow ordering the sorcerers around, with the sorcerers glancing sideways at her with their eyes filled with resentment and malice.

  Waterstone raised his eyebrows in response. “True. To an even greater extent, I understand, but I am still offended.” He shrugged, “However, I suppose I can still work with you, Stormaway. I cannot purport to be honourable and, at the same time, expect you to break your own oath to Markazon.”

  “Good.” said, the wizard, suddenly all business, “because if this young man is truly a guardian of the forest, there are bad times coming and you are going to need all the help you can get.”

  ight had fallen. Everyone was sitting around a new firesite. After some discussion earlier in the day, it had been agreed that mind talking was permissible if it was for private conversations or routine communications. There was some initial constraint, but gradually the atmosphere around the firesite had become more congenial than it had been previously. The woodfolk were not as relaxed with the prince in the way that they were with each other but they were making a clear effort to include him and to fill him in on
any mind talking that occasionally wandered into the middle of conversations in which he was involved. As for Tarkyn, he was used to being set apart and felt that he had achieved as much familiarity as he could manage.

  “Tarkyn,” said a little voice at his side. The prince looked around to see Sparrow’s upturned face. “Could you hold these for me while I finish making this village?”She held out an assortment of rocks, twigs and leaves. Tarkyn held out his hands and she tipped her treasures into them. “I’ve just collected them all and I don’t want them to get dusty sitting on the ground while I finish this bit off.” She pointed at several little assemblies from bark and small branches that Tarkyn rightly surmised to be houses.

  “They’re not woodfolk houses,” he pointed out. “Have you ever been to a village like that?”

  Sparrow shook her head. “No, but I’ve seen one from the forest edge.” She gave an anxious frown. “Have you been to one? Do you think I’ve got it right?”

  Tarkyn smiled. “Near enough. There’s usually one bigger house called an inn which is where everyone goes for a chat and a drink in the evenings.”

  Sparrow scowled at her creation. “I don’t think I have time tonight to build a bigger one as well. This will have to be a village without an inn.” She set to, smoothing out the dirt between the houses to make roads and straightening up her houses. Then she began to place her collected items around the village as decoration. By the time she reached into Tarkyn’s hand for the last stick, tiny green shoots were clearly developing on it. Sparrow shot a sharp glance up into Tarkyn’s face. An image of him asking her to be quiet accompanied by a feeling of complicity appeared in her mind. She barely missed a beat. “This will look good as a tree in the front of this little house,” she said placidly as she dug the sprouting twig into a small hole.

  Unfortunately, woodfolk are very attuned to anything related to plants and the forest. Added to that, the novelty of the prince’s presence meant that at any one time, several people were likely to be idly watching him while they chatted among themselves. Sparrow and Tarkyn gradually became aware that everyone had fallen silent. Many eyes were out of focus as the embargo on mind talking was forgotten.

  Nearby, Waterstone was staying determinedly in focus, clearly resisting a battering of silent questions. On the pretext of bringing Tarkyn another drink, he leaned over and whispered in the prince’s ear, “The game is up, my friend. How do you want to play it?”

  Tarkyn’s mouth quirked. “Since it is now inevitable, I think I’ll just go for the grandiose,” he whispered back. “Anything else will seem apologetic.” He sent Sparrow a request for a bigger, green stick. In less than a minute, she returned with a stick about the length of his arm. Tarkyn thanked her and held it upright between his hands.

  He drew a deep breath and focused his will briefly on the stick before addressing the woodfolk. He allowed his voice a degree of severity. “It does not seem that agreements made with you endure for long. Already you are excluding me from your present conversation which, unless I am much mistaken, closely concerns me.”

  Around the firesite, woodfolk eyes snapped back into focus and they looked uneasily at each other, aware that they had transgressed. Then, as one, their green eyes became fixed on the new shoots that were curling forth out of the stick that Tarkyn held. The silence lengthened.

  “I didn’t say you had to stop talking all together,” observed the prince dryly, firmly suppressing a smile. “Who among you would like to tell me what you were saying? Perhaps you would like to ask me a question?”

  Waterstone’s mouth twitched in appreciation but he held his peace and turned away to help Sparrow pack up ready for bed.

  Finally Thunder Storm’s voice rumbled into life. “My lord, would you mind explaining how you became aware of the impending wolf attack?”

  “Did Autumn Leaves or Waterstone not tell you?”

  Thunder Storm shook his head. “No, my lord. We assumed that you had been levitating yourself for some reason and just happened to see them.” He paused, “But now, that explanation has been called into question.”

  The prince glanced in turn at Autumn Leaves and Waterstone. “I appreciate their discretion. However, it would now be my pleasure share the source of my knowledge with you. If you all make sure you are seated, I will show you.” The sorcerer waited until they were ready, then asked them to close their eyes. Tarkyn centred himself then sent them the image from the eagle’s eyes of the wolves running through the forest as it wheeled below them. He took them right through to where he was looking up from the ground at the eagle flapping slowly away through the trees above his prostrate form.

  There was a mass expulsion of breath. Tarkyn steeled himself. All around him, eyes opened and woodfolk gazed at him in wonder. In his hands, the stick had become a flourishing young sapling.

  Ignoring the woodfolk’s reaction, Tarkyn spoke to Thunder Storm, “Where are your children? Are they still up? And Breaking Twigs?”

  “Yes my lord. They are all playing over near the trees.”

  “Could you send for them please?” He turned to Waterstone, “And Sparrow.”

  Once the children were arrayed before him, the sorcerer said, “Before you go to bed, I have a very special job for you. Can you four take this sapling and choose somewhere to plant it to commemorate the coming of a guardian of the forest?” He ignored the mass intake of breath that this elicited and kept his eyes firmly on the children who nodded solemnly. “Each of you has to have an equal share in the task. Is that clear?” He handed the sapling to the quiet Rain on Water and nodded dismissal to them.

  Inevitably the moment came when Tarkyn had to raise his eyes to meet the awed gazes of the woodfolk gathered before him. “Could I just ask,” he said diffidently, “that you don’t treat me as more of stranger than you already do?” His voice gained assurance. “You all knew I had strong magical powers before this. Can we just keep it in perspective and think of the mind linking and the tree healing as another couple of powers to add to the rest that you already know about?”

  Suddenly everyone was smiling and shaking their heads. They swarmed forward and surrounded Tarkyn, patting him on the back, angling to get close to him and pressing wine and food into his hands. Flowers that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere were festooned over him and he was surrounded by a symphony of excited forest voices. The reticent prince blinked and, after a brief flicker of panic, succumbed to the kindness and enthusiasm of the woodfolk, a surprised smile dawning slowly on his face.

  Among the general hubbub, the prince was finally able to make out Autumn Leaves’ voice. “Don’t you realise, Tarkyn? The guardian of the forest is no stranger to us. You have been here a hundred times before. You just don’t remember. But we do.”

  Long into the night the festivities raged. Everyone sang, danced and retold all the old tales of the guardian of the forest. The people on lookout were rotated so that everyone could join in. No one remembered to put the children to bed and they gradually fell asleep in little heaps at various points around the fire. Everyone congratulated themselves that they were the ones who had stood by Tarkyn and were now the chosen few to have first met the new guardian of the forest. Stormaway looked on benevolently and drank solidly.

  All evening, the prince was plied with wine and carried along on the wave of the woodfolk’s excitement. As the dawn crept slowly across the sky, Tarkyn weaved his way ponderously up to his shelter and collapsed inside, watched from afar by Waterstone.

  abBA

  he following day dawned grey and chilly. A sharp wind blew through the trees and twitched at leaves that were beginning to change to shades of autumn.

  When Tarkyn finally emerged nursing a sore head, the air of celebration had completely evaporated, but the acceptance of him had not. He was greeted by friendly, relaxed nods from those woodfolk who were still clustered around the breakfast fire. Someone thrust a bowl of porridge and a cup of warm tea into his hands as he sat down with his back against a
tree.

  Summer Rain looked over at him, “Would you like something for your head?” she asked sympathetically.

  Tarkyn squinted at her and nodded. “Ow. That hurt. Yes please. Probably a double dose of whatever you were going to give me.”

  Thunder Storm and Waterstone walked into the clearing, deep in discussion. They helped themselves to cups of tea and sat down near Tarkyn.

  Waterstone studied the prince’s grey face. “How’s the head?” he asked.

  Tarkyn rolled his eyes at him. “Not good, but at least this time I’m not being beaten around the head by bounty hunters on top of the hangover.” When the woodman smiled, he demanded, “And why are you looking so disgustingly healthy?”

  Waterstone shrugged, “I had things to look after; lookout duty, Sparrow, you. I couldn’t afford to get too drunk. I’m glad you did, though. It was about time you let yourself go.”The woodman laughed as he saw the classic doubts of the morning after the night before chase across Tarkyn’s face. “No. Don’t worry. You didn’t make a fool of yourself.”

  Summer Rain handed him a cup of some murky green herbal concoction. Tarkyn sniffed it suspiciously and screwed up his nose at it. “Can I gulp it down or do I have to endure it slowly?”

  “It’s not as bad as it smells, but you can take it how you like. Fast or slow. The quicker it’s in your blood stream the quicker it will work. As long as you don’t drink it so fast that you can’t keep it down.”

  “Thanks.” He took a deep breath and slugged it down in one draught. For a few seconds, he turned greenish and it was touch and go whether it would stay down, but then he let out a long breath and the colour returned to his cheeks. “We’re a tough lot, we guardians, you know,” he chortled.

  “I think you’re still drunk,” said Waterstone dryly.