Bronze Magic (Book 1) Read online

  He peered over the top of his blanket at the woodfolk sitting around the fire. He studied them as they talked and laughed quietly among themselves. In many ways they looked just like a group of sorcerer troops gathered after a day’s patrol. A wave of homesickness washed over the prince. Then he remembered the wary courtesy that sorcerer troops would have accorded him and laughed softly to himself when he contrasted it with the memory of Waterstone yelling at him, Ancient Oak snapping back at him and Autumn Leaves berating him. Despite their oath to him and their secrets, woodfolk were still less guarded than most sorcerers in their dealings with him.

  Tarkyn sat up and ran his hands through his hair. His mouth twitched in a half smile as he remembered he had nearly been killed for doing that in his confrontation with the forestals. He leaned over and scooped up some water to splash his face. Then he took a deep breath, stood up and walked into the light of the fire.

  A hush fell over the woodfolk. Tarkyn blinked as his eyes became accustomed to the light. “Good evening,” he said, as he gathered his thoughts. His amber eyes swept slowly around, studying the assembled woodfolk. “I believe there are many new arrivals I have not yet met. I look forward to making your acquaintance. I am Tarkyn Tamadil to those of you who have not yet met me.” He waved a hand and immediately wished he hadn’t, as several people blanched in fear and more than a few ducked for cover. “Don’t let me interrupt you. Does anyone happen to have a spare glass of wine?”

  Tarkyn didn’t really know where to sit. Wherever he chose to sit would be making a statement. In the end, he walked over to a group of complete unknowns and sat with them. They eyed him uncertainly and unconsciously pulled their cloaks in tighter around themselves.

  He smiled ruefully at them, “I beg your pardon. I forgot you’d be frightened of me if you hadn’t met me.” He went to stand up again. “Would you rather I sat somewhere else?”

  A dried up old woman waved a thin, long-fingered hand at him from inside her cloak. “No. Stay. We did not mean to be unwelcoming. You’re just a bit unnerving on first sight, you know. I am Ancient Elm.”

  “I am pleased to meet you. Where have you come from? Or is that classified information?”

  Ancient Elm frowned at him, “I suspect your navigational skills in the forest wouldn’t get you to us even if I told you.”

  Tarkyn eyes glinted in the firelight, “You may keep your secrets. Now that I have seen you, I could find an owl or an eagle to guide me to you, wherever you are.”

  The old woodwoman glared at him. “You are not helping your cause threatening me like that, you know.”

  “I was not aware that I had a cause. Besides, I am not threatening you. I am merely stating a fact.” The sorcerer took a slow sip of wine. “All right. I apologise. I admit I was feeling a little snaky. I am just becoming tired of being surrounded by secrets. I have no wish to intimidate you.” Tarkyn smiled at her disarmingly. “Actually, I seem to spend most of my life carefully not frightening people.”

  Another scrawny old woman piped up, “What’s this oath you made to the woodfolk then? I am Dried Berry.”

  Very apt. Tarkyn looked at her in some surprise. “If you know about the oath, why don’t you know the contents?”

  “Not my business, until now.”

  “Why is it your business now?” asked the prince.

  “Now that is none of your business,” she said severely. When he blinked at her in confusion, she snapped at him impatiently. “Well, go on. Tell us your vow, all of it.”

  “If you insist.” He took a deep breath, remembering the words. As soon as he began, the words reverberated around the clearing and all the woodfolk fell silent to listen. “I, Tarkyn Tamadil, Prince of the Forests of Eskuzor, give my solemn vow that I will fulfil my obligations and responsibilities as your liege lord and will protect the woodfolk and the forests of Eskuzor. Your just cause will be my cause and your fate will be my fate. This is the covenant bequeathed to me by my father, Markazon Tamadil, 48th King of Eskuzor.”

  A babble of discussion broke out after this, followed by the silence of intense mind talking.

  Eventually, Autumn Leaves came over and sat down next to the prince, “You know, none of us really listened to what you vowed at the oathtaking. We were too concerned about ourselves at that stage. But you made an even bigger commitment than we did.”

  Tarkyn went to run his hand through his hair but stopped himself. He let his hand drop to his side. “I know I did and I had no more choice than you about doing it.”

  “Yes, but you’re not our liege lord,” objected Dry Berry. “So it doesn’t apply to us.”

  The prince narrowed his eyes, “I have vowed to protect the woodfolk. I didn’t say the woodfolk who swore the vow or who are my liegemen. I simply said the woodfolk. As far as I’m concerned, I have made a commitment to all of you.”

  “Well, don’t think we’re going to make one in return because we’re not,” snapped the scrawny old woodwoman.

  Tarkyn raised his eyebrows haughtily, “I didn’t ask you to and I had no intention of doing so.”

  The first old woman he had spoken to, Ancient Elm, looked at him sharply, “But you must feel pretty hard done by, now you know there are others of us who haven’t taken the oath.”

  The sorcerer waved a dismissive hand and saw fewer heads duck instinctively for cover than previously. He ignored them and continued with their public conversation. “I certainly feel hard done by, but it’s not because of that.” Tarkyn broke into a rueful grin. “In fact, when I first heard the words I had vowed, I was absolutely horrified. Having my whole fate entwined with the fate of a people I didn’t even know…” He glanced at Autumn Leaves. “That was another reason I drank too much that night.”

  Tarkyn looked around. Everyone was hanging on his every word. Some were frowning at what he had just said so he moved on quickly. “Anyway, once I came to know the people I was with and we had worked out a way of living together, I became truly committed to the words I had vowed. Then came the day I realised that other woodfolk existed… The best and worst day of my life.”

  Tarkyn took another sip of wine and finally looked over at Waterstone and his group of woodfolk. “I don’t know if you are all aware of this but, six days ago, each of these woodfolk gave me a part of their life force to keep me alive. Then, only hours later, I worked out the existence of the other woodfolk they had told me nothing about and felt totally betrayed.” He took a breath to steady himself and looked around the rest of the audience, “I now realise that, as a people, you are vowed to secrecy. So they and you have no choice but to hold me at arm’s length.” The prince returned his gaze to Ancient Elm and shrugged, “As a prince among my own people, I have been used to living like that. So I suppose I can continue as I always have.”

  “And can you prove that you’re a forest guardian?” she demanded in a total non-sequitor.

  Tarkyn regarded her stonily for a moment. “Yes, I can, but I have no intention of doing so. I proved it for the forestals. But I am not a walking, talking freak show, here for your entertainment. Believe your fellow woodfolk or not as you choose. I am not going to prove myself to you.”

  Ancient Elm waved a skinny hand, “Fair enough, young man. No need to get hoity-toity.”

  Another intense silence descended on the clearing as woodfolk conferred. After several minutes, they stood up and gathered in a large semicircle with Tarkyn at its centre. Feeling it was required of him, Tarkyn also stood up. He towered over the two little old ladies on either side of him.

  Raging Water hobbled over to stand before him. “Tarkyn Tamadil, Guardian of the Forest, we have considered your words and your deeds. The vow you made to us might have been only words: but by giving your fate into the hands of the forestals, you proved to us that you do indeed place the welfare of the woodfolk above your own life. This being the case, we have decided, in an unprecedented move, to ask you to become a member of the woodfolk nation.”

  Tarkyn’s heart mi
ssed a beat as he bowed his head in acknowledgement. “I would be truly honoured.”

  Thunder Storm came forward to join Raging Water. “In all the history of the woodfolk, no outsider has ever been granted membership of the woodfolk. So we have no ceremony for accepting you into our nation. However, all woodfolk must be a member of a family. If all of a person’s blood relations die, then that person, no matter what their age, is officially adopted into a new family. All woodfolk must have kin - and we do have a ceremony for that.”

  And now Waterstone, Ancient Oak and Sparrow stepped forward and stood beside the other two in front of Tarkyn.

  Waterstone looked Tarkyn squarely in the eye and spoke formally, “Tarkyn Tamadil, I offer you membership of my family that you may share with us the joys and trials of kinship and that we may call upon each other’s strength in times of need. Do you accept?”

  For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then Tarkyn gave a courtly bow of his head and spoke equally formally. “I am honoured by your offer and I accept.”

  Did he mistake it, or did Tarkyn see a slight release of tension in Waterstone’s shoulders? Before he could be sure, his attention was drawn to Raging Water who now addressed the whole assembly. “To establish a new blood tie, blood must be shared.” So saying he produced a wickedly sharp knife and advanced towards Tarkyn. For a wild moment the thought flicked across Tarkyn’s mind that it had all been a ruse to kill him but he decided almost simultaneously that any one of them could have stuck a knife into him while they were talking.

  “Roll up the sleeve of your right arm,” instructed Raging Water. “Now hold out your arm, palm upwards.” He waited until both Waterstone and Tarkyn were standing with their bared right arms held out. Then in two swift movements, he sliced each arm from wrist to elbow.

  As the blood welled up, Waterstone grasped Tarkyn’s arm near the elbow so the two long cuts lay over each other. Tarkyn grasped the woodman’s in return. As their blood intermingled, a deep hush fell upon the forest. Not a leave stirred. Then a faint shudder ran through the ground beneath them. A cascade of red and golden leaves swirled down from the trees around them and all was still again.

  Keeping his eyes firmly on the prince, Waterstone intoned, “We are now of one blood. My kin are your kin. My ancestors are your ancestors. Ancient Oak and I welcome you as a brother. Sparrow welcomes you as her uncle.”

  Tarkyn’s eyes narrowed slightly at the confirmation of his dawning realisation that Ancient Oak was Waterstone’s brother. He realised he didn’t know what he should say next. He had winged it so far but now he was stuck. He took a breath and kept improvising. “I thank you for your welcome. I will do all I can to bring harmony and honour to my new family and to fight with you all against the dangers that lie ahead.”

  Thunder Storm leant over and whispered in the prince’s ear. Tarkyn’s mouth quirked a little as he added, “Waterstone, we are now of one blood. My kin are your kin. My ancestors are your ancestors. I welcome you and Ancient Oak as brothers and Sparrow as my niece.”

  Raging Water addressed the woodfolk, “Tarkyn Tamadil, Guardian of the Forest, is now a member of a woodfolk family and no longer an outsider.” He turned back to Tarkyn, “Welcome to our nation.”

  Tarkyn’s face relaxed into a huge smile and an enormous wave of gratitude emanated from him, rolling over the crowd and bowling many woodfolk over onto the ground. Tarkyn and Waterstone wrapped their left arms around each other in an awkward bear hug as everyone crowded around offering congratulations. Someone came forward with cloth to bandage their right arms while Sparrow burrowed her way through the crowd to give Tarkyn a hug.

  Ancient Oak embraced him stiffly and Tarkyn grasped him warmly in return. As they broke apart, Ancient Oak said quietly, “Welcome to our family. I am truly proud to have you as a brother.” And Tarkyn understood that he was proud despite, not because, Tarkyn was a prince.

  “I passed your vetting process then, Ancient Oak?”

  The woodman’s eyes gleamed briefly in acknowledgement, before he replied gravely. “It is no small step to adopt a brother. So I knew Waterstone would not make such a request lightly. It clearly mattered a great deal to him.”

  “It matters a great deal to me also.”

  Ancient Oak gave a slight smile. “But although I have implicit faith in his judgement, I preferred my welcome to be based on my own opinion.”

  Tarkyn looked into the depths of the woodman’s eyes, a softer green than his brother’s. “You have a quiet strength that rivals Waterstone’s, don’t you? I am proud to be your brother. Thank you for your welcome.”

  abBA

  hen the fuss following the ceremony had subsided, Tarkyn found himself seated with his back against a log between Autumn Leaves and Waterstone. Despite a lifetime of adulation, he was

  still dazed by the honour the woodfolk had accorded him. Sparrow was asleep on his knee, leaning into the crook of his left arm and he was already the worse for wear to the tune of several glasses of wine. He leaned his head back and said dreamily, “What a long week… Firstly, I was bashed up and nearly died from my injuries.” He rolled his head towards Waterstone to watch his outraged expression. “And I was nearly killed by the forestals for sweeping my hair out of my eyes. Then I let them tie me up. I hated that bit, but what else could I do? You can’t talk sense with frightened people. Then I endured a week of being sidelined… Actually, I mostly expected to be dead by now but instead, amazingly, I am now officially a woodman.” Tarkyn grinned. He fiddled with the bandage on his right arm, his eyes idly roving over the similar bandage onWaterstone’s arm. After a moment he said, “You never told me Ancient Oak was your brother. More classified information, was it?”

  Waterstone shook his head and smiled, “No, I did tell you about him… in that time when you were semi-conscious. I suppose you just don’t remember.”

  “Oh. And have we been waiting all week for Ancient Oak to arrive so that he could be at the ceremony?”

  The woodman laughed. “Partly. I could not have done it without his agreement or without his presence at the ceremony. But for such a momentous occasion as this, we needed a full gathering of woodfolk to reach an accord and to witness it. So we were also waiting for people from the more distant groups to arrive.”

  “I see. So was the true purpose of this gathering to consider making me a woodman?”

  “Partly.” Autumn Leaves raised his eyebrows. “Although, in case you’ve forgotten, there is still someone out there trying to hunt us down.”

  “Oooh dear,” Tarkyn gave a gusty rather wine-soaked sigh. “I’m being a very bad forest guardian. I had forgotten all about that.” His eyes twinkled, “Well, almost.”

  Autumn Leaves gave a grunt of laughter. “I’m not surprised. You have other things on your mind at the moment.”

  The prince looked rather owlishly at him, “And what do you think Kosar and Jarand are going to think of their new brothers, when I tell them about Waterstone and Ancient Oak?”

  Autumn Leaves’ eyebrows snapped together before his eyes narrowed as he realised Tarkyn was winding him up.

  “Ha! Nearly had you.” Tarkyn smiled. He wagged his finger at the woodman. “You see, old habits die hard, don’t they?” He snorted derisively, “As if I could go anywhere near either of them, even if I wanted to - and as if I would tell them anything, even if I did. You’re lucky I’ve had a drink or two to mellow me, or I might have taken offence at that.” He looked up as Rainstorm came over to join them. “Enjoyed scheming with Ancient Oak this afternoon, did you?”

  “Hi, prince,” said Rainstorm cheerily as he plonked himself down on the grass in front of Tarkyn. “Or should I say princes?” He grinned cheekily at Waterstone who turned a dull red. “I’m not sure about this adoptive family thing. Do you gain Prince Tarkyn’s ancestors and kin, or does he just get yours?”

  “Rainstorm,” said Tarkyn repressively, acutely embarrassed for his friend, “I don’t know how you managed to live to be sixteen but i
f you don’t shut up, you may not make seventeen.”

  Autumn Leaves, the peacemaker, waded in, “Among woodfolk, the ancestors are combined, as I’m sure you know perfectly well. However, since this is an exceptional situation…”

  The prince looked reproachfully at Waterstone, although his eyes were still twinkling. “Is he trying to tell me that you don’t want to share my family?” Tarkyn shrugged, “Well, I suppose I can understand it. I know my father was not a great hit with everyone and frankly, Kosar and Jarand are significantly worse.You might like my mother, if you could get her on her own. She’s really quite a kind person, intelligent in her own way, but just too much of a pushover. Can’t stand up to my brothers. Still, you can now lay claim to forty-eight generations of kings and queens of Eskuzor and that has to be worth dropping into conversations, if nothing else.”

  “Yes,” persisted Rainstorm, “but does it make him a prince too?”

  Tarkyn wrinkled his brow in thought. “Now that is a very tricky question. Since you don’t have ranks among woodfolk, then I would say no. But if Waterstone ever came among the sorcerers, then I would say yes.”

  “So what about you? Are you a prince among the woodfolk if we don’t have ranks?”

  Tarkyn rolled his head from one side to the other to look at each of the woodmen in turn, “You can see, can’t you, what a thorn in the side this young man is?” When they had both nodded, he continued, “But a very astute thorn in the side.” The prince turned his head back to regard Rainstorm, “Sometimes in life, a person has to make an executive decision… and I’m afraid, for better or worse, I can’t get my head around being totally equal,” He gave a crooked smile and tightened his arm around the sleeping Sparrow, “...especially if it might involve me having to cook.”

  Rainstorm frowned, “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  Tarkyn sighed, “No, it doesn’t really. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that. As you can see,” he added in an aside to the other two woodmen, “persistence is another of his endearing traits.” Tarkyn sat himself up a little straighter against the log and shifted Sparrow more comfortably against his left shoulder. “Very well, Rainstorm. It comes down to this. I was born and bred to be a prince and in my mind, I probably always will be. In your mind, I don’t know, I’m probably some delusional fish out of water.” He grinned rather sheepishly, “I keep setting out to say that I’m not your prince but… truth is, I am. You mightn’t acknowledge it, but my father decreed that I would be liege lord of the woodfolk… although he was unaware that not all woodfolk had sworn that oath to me.”