Bronze Magic (Book 1) Page 30

  “Your wish is my command, Sire,” replied the wizard with a heavy touch of irony.

  Tarkyn raised his eyebrows. “Not that I’ve noticed,” he said dryly. “However, I will give you the choice because I know you are tired.” The prince returned his attention to the woodfolk. “So, if there are no further comments, I’m off. Someone needs to come with me, but only if Stormaway doesn’t. I’ll need some directions from the river to the road.”

  There was a general clamour of offers. Their forest guardian smiled to himself and said, “You sort it out among yourselves. And don’t forget to water in my poplars. I’m heading off. Give me an hour. I’ll meet you down at the river.” He rose gently into the air and then glided off through the trees in the general direction of his favourite spot by the river. hen Tarkyn reached the site of the battle against the wolves, there was little sign of the carnage that had been there earlier. Under a shady tree, there was a neat pile of black and grey switches, tied together at one end, presumably trimmed from the skins of the wolves. Tarkyn looked around carefully and spotted a small torn piece of brightly coloured fabric caught in the low branches of a spiky bush - definitely not from woodfolk clothing. Further scrutiny discovered a small spray of blonde human hair tangled in the branches of a hawthorn. Tarkyn wondered, with a frisson of dismay, where the woodfolk had procured it.

  Very subtle, he decided, not the scattering of belongings I was anticipating. You have to be looking carefully to find them but if someone is tracing the wolves, they will be looking everywhere for clues. Clever people, these woodfolk. Still, I suppose they are masters of tracking.

  Tarkyn sat down against a rock near the river and watched the water rolling over stones and spreading out to flow peacefully downstream. He could feel the roughness of the rock slightly scratchy against his bare back. Tarkyn shivered as the biting autumn wind played over his bare skin but he drank in the sensations, still so pleased to have survived. He took a deep pain-free breath and relaxed back, relieved to have some time away from everyone’s attention. The novice guardian of the forest slowly opened up his mind to his surroundings to see if some creature would make contact with him. As he relaxed his boundaries, a kaleidoscope of images flooded into his mind. He could see the woodlands from above, from within, from ground level, from the treetops all at once, and all superimposed over each other. He dragged his mind back from the edge of chaos and closed its boundaries with a snap.

  Tarkyn let out a long breath. “Whoa. That was excessive. Now everything’s trying to talk to me at once.” He shook his head to clear it and looked around him. “I need something specific to focus on.”

  As he watched, a swallow skimmed over the water near him twisting and swooping to catch the midges that were hanging there. Tarkyn focused narrowly on the swallow and sent a query about wolves. The swallow flicked past him and then suddenly the sorcerer was seeing the world through the swallow’s eyes. The little bird soared up into the treetops and swooped and swung its way through the air until she was above the woodlands. Tarkyn could feel his stomach struggling to keep up with the rapid changes of direction. He tightened his stomach muscles against the sudden lifts and dives that seemed to be a natural part of the little bird’s flying pattern. The sorcerer sent an image of the direction from which the wolves had come and the swallow banked sickeningly and flew swiftly westward, bobbing and swooping as she went to catch any insect she spotted on the way past. The woodland spread out below as the swallow climbed higher. Every now and then she swooped down and back up in an arc that made Tarkyn’s stomach lurch. Tarkyn gradually became aware that the swallow knew what effect these acrobatics were having on him and was playing with him.

  “Very funny,” he murmured through gritted teeth as, once more, the swallow took a joyous dive.

  After several more minutes of swooping dives and climbs, Tarkyn was feeling decidedly queasy. Just as well I’m already green, he thought grimly... saves me the trouble of going green around the gills now.

  Just when he was thinking that he would have to pull out and leave the swallow to her teasing, Tarkyn spotted a faint cloud of dust rising above the height of the trees in the distance. The sorcerer directed the swallow towards it. With cheerful good grace, the little bird swooped and flitted her way towards the dust cloud. As the swallow drew closer, Tarkyn could see, not the wolves he expected, but flashes of sunlight reflecting off the harnesses of a large group of horsemen riding hard. A lone wolf flitted ahead of them leading them towards the river. The next attack was not six hours away as the woodfolk had expected. These horsemen were less than two hours away.

  The sorcerer sent a quick sense of appreciation and pulled out of the swallow’s mind. He nearly vomited as he returned suddenly into his nauseated body, but a couple of deep breaths restored his equilibrium. As soon as he was re-oriented, Tarkyn searched out Waterstone’s mind and sent a clear image of the last part of the swallow’s journey above the trees.

  Half a mile away next to a new stand of poplars, Waterstone suddenly reeled, lost his balance and fell over as the swallow’s images sent his mind swooping and diving across the top of the forest.

  “Blast it, Tarkyn,” he exclaimed, even though the prince couldn’t hear him. “A bit of warning would have been nice.”

  Despite the urgency of the situation, Tarkyn chuckled quietly to himself, knowing exactly what havoc the image would be causing the woodman. When he had given Waterstone time to pick himself up, he sent a spurious wave of sympathy then a query about Stormaway. Once he knew that the wizard was coming to join him, Tarkyn sent a directive that the woodfolk should skirt around the area of the wolf fight and meet him nearer the road.

  A few minutes later, Stormaway appeared drifting through the air between the trees. He alighted neatly and presented Tarkyn with his freshly washed shirt. “One shirt, washed in a forest stream and dried over a wood fire,” he said with a small, courtly bow. “You may need this too,” he added, handing Tarkyn a long, light brown cloak.”

  The prince stood up and smiled his thanks. “What? No wolf cloak?”

  “No. It takes longer than a couple of days to cure the skins.”

  “Well, I would rather wait and not stink of wolf,” said Tarkyn, as he put on his shirt. “I’m glad you’re here. We have to move fast.” He flung the cloak around his shoulders. “There is a large group of horsemen heading this way. I’d say we have only an hour and a half safely, perhaps a bit longer but not much.”

  Stormaway raised his eyebrows. “And you know this how?”

  “Swallow,” replied the forest guardian briefly. “Let’s grab those switches and be on our way.”

  Forty minutes later, the wizard and the sorcerer stood beside the road through the forest. They had scuffled around the clearing and had left many heavy footprints at every point along the way. The wolf remains had been artistically dragged along the ground and against bushes and tree trunks on the way past to emulate carrying a large load. Now they were inspecting the road surface for signs of cartwheel tracks.

  Stormaway squatted down and studied the gravel surface. “There are a few sets of tracks going through,” he reported. “These ones here are the most recent, earlier today sometime, I think. We just need to deepen them a little at the point where we would supposedly be loading the wolves into the cart. Cartwheels leave slightly deeper impressions when they have been left standing in any one place for a while and the wind tends to build up sand and dirt into a small ridge against the side of the wheel.” He looked up into the gently waving branches of the trees. “There has been a sharp wind all day today so there would be quite a build up on the windward side of the tracks. Right!” said the wizard as he began some delicate sand sculpture along the edge of the wheel track, “I’ll sort the wheel tracks while you make some boot prints back and forth behind where the cart would have stopped and then down one side as though you are walking around to get into it. Then levitate yourself and the wolf remains straight up and out of here. I’ll do the same
and be right behind you.”

  The sun, low in the sky, cast strange long shadows down the road. The wizard and the sorcerer hung in the air, trailing pieces of fur, giving their handiwork a final inspection.

  “I’m impressed, Stormaway, came a voice out of the trees on the southern side of the road. “Unless I was expecting to be tricked, I would be convinced by your creation... and I am considered to be one of our best trackers.” Creaking Bough smiled at them. “Let’s go. We have to get those remains buried and set up camp before nightfall. We estimate from your images, Tarkyn, that the riders will be arriving at the riverside in less than an hour, around dusk.”

  abBA

  hen dusk came, Tarkyn was sitting with his back against an old elm, a little distance away from the others. He had reached out carefully and after searching specifically for the male tawny owl, had made

  contact. Now he was looking down on the riverside clearing through the owl’s eyes.

  Ten riders stream into the clearing behind the wolf. They are roughly dressed, each carrying knives, axes or staffs. Most have a bow and a quiver of arrows strapped to their saddles. They mill around, fighting to control their excited horses as the wolf sniffs back and forth around the clearing then sits down on his haunches, throws back his head and howls.

  One rider snarls something, obviously disliking the wolf ’s howling. A weedy young man snaps out orders and the riders dismount and begin to search the area. The piece of bright material and the blonde hair are quickly found but each is discarded out of hand. The wolf, when he has finished his tribute to his kin, responds to the young man’s call and trots over to him. He sniffs at a piece of brown cloth that the man has tucked into his waist. Then the wolf snuffles back and forth around the clearing again. He finds the trail left by Tarkyn and Stormaway but after zigzagging along it for several yards, returns to the clearing. Suddenly, the big wolf starts to bark at the base of one of the tree, lunging at the trunk in an attempt to jump up into the branches.

  The young man exclaims in triumph then slaps his thigh in frustration as he looks up into the empty tree. By his facial expressions and his gestures, it is clear that he knows his quarry has escaped him but it is equally clear that he is not looking for sorcerers or wizards.

  Tarkyn walked back to join the weary woodfolk around the fire. They seemed to be lower on energy than usual. Tarkyn sat on the ground near the fire leaning back against a large log. He feared the image would dispirit them even further. He was right.

  A horrified silence hung over the firesite once Tarkyn had relayed the owl’s images. Finally, Stormaway could stand it no more. “Could someone fill me in on what is happening? I don’t pick up images, remember.”

  Tarkyn dragged himself out of a reverie to answer, “Ten riders and a wolf are in the riverside clearing, as we speak. They were not interested in our carefully laid trail or in the evidence of travellers that was so neatly planted. There is a young man who seems to be in charge. The wolf was directed to seek out a particular scent, which led him to the base of the tree that the woodfolk must have climbed to leave the clearing. These people, whoever they are, are specifically hunting for the woodfolk.”

  “How did the young man direct the wolf to look for woodfolk?” asked the wizard.

  “He has a piece of our clothing,” said Waterstone tightly.

  Stormaway frowned, “I see. And is there any way you can be tracked from there to here?”

  Thunder Storm shook his head slowly. “No. Our scent will be all around that area and where we buried the wolves but we have only just come back down from the trees now.” He looked wearily at the wizard. “It has been a long hard day travelling everywhere through the tree tops but it looks like it was worth it.”

  Tarkyn realised with a jolt that he hadn’t considered the effort it would have cost them to climb up into the heights of each tree and jump down into the next one over several miles of woodland. He thought over the events of the day and worked out that they would all have had to travel at least five miles, some further if they had done more than one trip with wolf remains. No wonder they seemed dispirited. They were bone tired.

  The forest guardian stood up, still pleased with how little effort it cost him. He let his gaze travel around them all. “I know you are all very tired but will you please stand up and come to stand on either side of me? We can discuss these developments afterwards. You don’t need to do this, Stormaway.”

  For the first time, disgruntled glances were exchanged and some people were clearly reluctant to comply. Tarkyn made no comment but simply waited until they had all done as he asked.

  “Now, put your hand on your neighbour’s shoulder.” Their forest guardian placed his hands on the shoulders of the two woodfolk nearest to him on either side. “I am now going to replenish your energy.” A mutter of dissent and uncertainty ran through the woodfolk.

  Tarkyn spoke gently but with an underlying edge to his voice. “I am not offering this or requesting that you take it. I am requiring you to take it.” He paused. “Now. Close your eyes. Do not resist. Allow the energy to flow.” Tarkyn closed his own eyes and focused deep inside himself. He drew forth his esse and sent out a warm wave of strength into the exhausted wood folk. There was a communal intake of breath as the wave of gentle power washed into them. “You may open your eyes when you are ready.”

  When the woodfolk opened their eyes, they found themselves encased inside a warm bronze haze. Even as they gazed at it, it faded away. They looked at each other, saw renewed vitality in the faces before them and broke into smiles. Their forest guardian took his hands down and gestured that they could take their seats again.

  Tarkyn smiled and sent out a wave of gratitude and bonhomie as he sat down himself. “Thank you for your cooperation. I realise it took a big effort to stand up after your long day. I can’t thank you enough for what you all did for me today and I wished to give you something in return. Not only that, but as your forest guardian, I need to make sure you have enough strength to face whatever the next few days brings us.” He looked around at them all. There was still some residual tension among them so he sent out a ripple of reassurance and added, “And that’s it. I may have been a little too exuberant this afternoon but true to my word, I am not going to keep ordering you around – at least, only occasionally. As agreed, we will work together.”

  “Tarkyn,” said Sparrow, coming up to stand in front of him to peer at him closely, “You’re not green any more.”

  “Thank heavens for that!” exclaimed Tarkyn. He smiled at Sparrow and said in a loud voice. “Are you hungry?” She nodded. “So am I.” He looked around the side of the little girl and addressed no one in particular. “Without wishing to be too demanding... does anyone have enough energy now to make some dinner? I’m starving – and I don’t know how to cook.” He looked back at Sparrow and grinned, “And I don’t particularly want to learn how, either.”

  “That’s very lazy of you, Tarkyn,” said Sparrow severely.

  The prince didn’t look one bit abashed. “I know, but equality can only go so far, in my opinion.”

  Sparrow seemed a little confused by this answer but was rescued by her father who interceded to say dryly, “What His Highness means, is that he has other jobs to do that other people can’t do. So it’s fair if he doesn’t do any cooking.”

  “Is that what I meant? Thank goodness you’re here to keep me informed,” chortled Tarkyn.

  Sparrow frowned repressively at him, “I think you’re just trying to get out of it.”

  The prince smiled sweetly at her, “Oh no, I’m not trying. I’m determined. There are limits, you know. Now, haven’t you got something better to do than stand here telling me off?”

  Suddenly she smiled sunnily, and flung her arms around his neck before plonking herself on his knee. “I think you’re being very naughty but I’m not sure. Anyway, I’m glad you’re not mouldy any more and I’m glad I’m not feeling as tired as I was. I was aching everywhere. We did a
lot of climbing today, you know. It stops being fun after a while.”

  “Well, I hope it becomes fun again tomorrow when you’ve had a good sleep.” He said, wrapping his arm around her.

  She nodded and settled herself against his shoulder. “I expect it will be.” She answered drowsily. In the next breath, she was asleep.

  Tarkyn gazed down at her, “Oh dear. Maybe I should have given the children a double dose. Poor little things must be exhausted. The adults were close to exhaustion, let alone the littlies.” He looked at Waterstone, “What is she going to do about dinner?”

  Waterstone smiled down at his daughter, lying peacefully in Tarkyn’s arms. “If she is very hungry, she will wake up. If not, she can make up for it with a big breakfast in the morning.”

  Tarkyn stroked Sparrow’s hair. After a while, he asked quietly, “What did you decide about finding Falling Rain?”

  “That you’re right. We need to find him and bring him back into the fold. He is in the southwest beyond the mountains.” As he spoke, Waterstone drew a map in the dirt to demonstrate what he was saying. “We can travel parallel to the road until we reach the area where the attacks on travellers are increasing and see what we can find out on the way past. Then we’ll turn due south and travel over the mountains.”

  “And who is back-tracking the wolves?”

  The woodman glanced at Tarkyn. “We decided that those of us with you are a bare minimum for your safety really, and ours. So, another group, the harvesters, will track the horsemen and follow the wolves’ trail back to its source. We’ll send in more if we need to.”

  Tarkyn smiled wryly, “They’re still avoiding me, aren’t they?”

  Waterstone grimaced, “Well, they’re not exactly rushing to meet up with you, I would have to admit.”

  “Autumn Leaves said woodfolk don’t all meet together very often - or was it, don’t meet for very long?” The prince shrugged. “Anyway, how many groups are there? In fact, how many woodfolk are there?”