Bronze Magic (Book 1) Read online

  Sun Shower interrupted sharply at this point. “Do you think we can curtail this discussion until after lunch? It is getting late and the little ones are hungry. We have had the harvesters’ report, and we do not need to stand around for the rest of the day answering your questions.”

  A flush of colour darkened Tarkyn’s cheeks. “I apologize,” he replied stiffly. “That was thoughtless of me. Please don’t let me stop you.” He swung on his heel and walked away from them down to the stream. Tarkyn reflected that he always seemed to seek the comfort of running water when he was upset.

  Behind him, he could hear Raging Water saying, “That was badly done, you grumpy woman. He didn’t make everyone stand there and listen to him. You could have been getting things done quietly in the background if you were so worried about it.”

  “I will not have that young upstart coming in here and taking over. I don’t mind him being woodfolk. In fact I think he deserves it but it doesn’t give him the right to monopolise our time.”

  Gradually, as Tarkyn listened, others joined in the argument and before long, a heated discussion was raging amongst the whole group. Leaving them to debate his behaviour, the prince slowly made his way down the bank of the stream, watching tiny fish in the shallows and waterboatmen skating across the top of the water. Soon he had left the noise of the woodfolk behind him and immersed himself in the quiet sounds of the woods.

  Here, the woodlands were mostly towering old oak trees, leaves turning yellow and brown and starting to fall. The forest floor was a carpet of gold. The sorcerer focused his will for a moment and lifted himself high up into the branches of a gnarly old oak. He settled himself in the crook of two branches and closed his eyes.

  After a while, Tarkyn became aware that he was being watched. Opening his eyes, he found himself face to face with a red squirrel, perched on a nearby branch. A feeling of sympathy washed gently through the air. The squirrel flicked its tail and in two quick movements, was sitting on the top of Tarkyn’s raised knee. She sat there looking at him then, in an unmistakable gesture, offered him the acorn she held between her front paws.

  Tarkyn smiled and accepted the gift. “Thank you, my friend.”

  The squirrel nodded at him expectantly and Tarkyn realised that she was waiting for him to eat the acorn. Keeping his thoughts about the flavour of acorns carefully masked, the forest guardian peeled back the hard outer skin of the acorn with his teeth and took a small bite of the acorn’s pale flesh. It was every bit as bitter as he had been dreading. Using a lifetime of court training, Tarkyn managed to stop his face from screwing up in distaste and to produce a grateful smile at the same time. The unfortunate consequence of this was that the squirrel disappeared briefly to return with another acorn.

  Tarkyn doggedly finished the first acorn but couldn’t face eating another. Luckily he had an inspiration and pointed first to the acorn and then to his pocket. The squirrel who was a great hoarder herself, seemed to think this was an excellent plan and showed every sign of approval when Tarkyn pocketed the second acorn. He smiled with relief that the squirrel assumed was gratitude.

  “So, my friend,” said the prince, “Despite my best efforts, they are all still fighting over me. I think we now have four separate groups in total; those who are and are not bound by the oath, and within each of those two groups, those who resent me having any authority and those who don’t.” After sending out a careful request, Tarkyn began to stroke the squirrel as he talked. “Trouble is, the resentful ones see me giving orders when I’m just trying to take part in a discussion like anyone else.” He sighed. “Maybe I just come across as more arrogant then I realise. Now I think about it, I certainly do a lot of the talking. Maybe I should go and find Waterstone. He’ll be able to give me some perspective.”

  “What about me, little brother? Will I do?”

  Tarkyn started, making the squirrel flicked her way quickly up a nearby branch. He looked around to see Ancient Oak peering at him from around the enormous trunk of the oak.

  “Dog’s teeth!” exclaimed Tarkyn. “Is this a family trait, sneaking up on people when they are having a quiet conversation with themselves?”

  The woodman smiled a little uncertainly, “It must be, I suppose.” He nodded at the squirrel. “Do you think you can get your little friend to come back down?”

  “Sit down. I’ll try.”

  Tarkyn looked up at the squirrel who was watching him warily from a perch about ten feet above them. He sent up an apology for frightening her, then a wave of reassurance followed by invitation. She stared at him for a few moments then flicked her way back down to him to perch herself on the knee furthest from Ancient Oak.

  “Wow. That is fantastic,” breathed Ancient Oak. “Do you think I could pat her?”

  Tarkyn smiled. “Possibly. Let her get used to you first. I’ll ask her in a minute.”

  The woodman frowned. “Can animals talk then?”

  “Not in words. We use images and emotions instead.” The forest guardian raised his eyebrows, “I’ve just realised. My mind linking is exactly the same as that of all the creatures but not like the woodfolk’s. Stormaway thought my type of mind linking was unique in Eskuzor but it’s only unique among people. It’s quite common amongst everything else. Mmm, interesting, don’t you think?”

  Ancient Oak raised his eyebrows. “Very.”

  “So, big brother,” said Tarkyn, taking pleasure in the fact that his older brother was in fact notably smaller than he. “Did you jump or were you pushed?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, did you volunteer to come and find me, or were you talked into it?”

  “Oh. Well, to tell you the truth, Waterstone suggested it but I didn’t mind. I figured we are going to have to get to know each other better, sooner or later.”

  Immediately a constrained silence fell over them as they each tried to think of something to say.

  Eventually, Ancient Oak said, “Sparrow seems to have taken to you then.”

  Tarkyn gave a slight smile. “I’ve taken to her too. I’m quite surprised really. I haven’t had much to do with children before.”

  Ancient Oak looked sideways at Tarkyn and cleared his throat. “You know, I’m not sure that I deserved that apology you gave me yesterday. In fact, I think I owe you one. I’m not surprised you snapped at me on the first day. After all, I didn’t treat you well, as a stranger newly arrived among us, telling you how unwelcome you were…” He shrugged apologetically. “But I have grown up with the resentment of the oath all around me and I forgot to form my own opinion.” He gave Tarkyn a warm smile. “I didn’t make that mistake a second time.”

  Tarkyn could hear Waterstone’s values reflected in his younger brother’s words. He smiled in return and opened his mind to let Ancient Oak into an interchange of reassurance and query with the squirrel, before saying, “You may pat her, if you like.”

  When he had settled into stroking the squirrel, Ancient Oak asked, “If you don’t like being left out of things, why did you leave us all to it, when you must have known we were talking about you?”

  The prince’s smile became underpinned with anger. “I said I don’t like being left out of anything important. Frankly, people discussing my behaviour in that manner are beneath my notice and always have been. I will talk to you or Waterstone or Autumn Leaves about it, maybe a few others. But I am not going to indulge a rampant mob by taking them seriously. It matters very little what they decide I should do, because I have no intention of consulting them.”

  Silence greeted this pronouncement. After a few minutes, Tarkyn realised that Ancient Oak was looking white and strained.

  The prince frowned and leant forward, “Are you all right?” he asked gently. “You look a bit ill.”

  The woodman glanced up at him. His voice was tight when he spoke. “I forgot who you truly are. And now you have reminded me. For a while there, we were just two people talking. Now, I remember that you are King Markazon’s son and my
liege. I apologise. I should not have been so familiar with you.”

  Tarkyn leaned back in a sudden movement that startled the squirrel. She flicked her tail in annoyance and in a series of swift jumps, disappeared up into the branches.

  The prince sent a brief apology after her then turned to study the woodman for a few moments while he worked out what to say. “I may be King Markazon’s son – and I understand completely what you are implying about my behaviour by saying that – but now, so too are you.” He hesitated before continuing, his demeanour making it clear that he was sharing a confidence, not a recrimination. “And so I will tell you something that I wouldn’t bother saying to the vast majority of woodfolk... I loved my father. And I lost him when I was young and nothing in my life has caused me greater regret. He may have been autocratic and volatile but he could also be gruffly kind, and he tried to be fair... But above all, he was my father... and until I came to the woodlands, I was unquestioningly proud to be his son.”

  After a moment, Ancient Oak replied quietly, “Do not let woodfolk resentment damage your pride in him. We have had no experience of monarchs. I was too young to be involved at the time, but I have seen the memories. King Markazon was a formidable man, used to absolute rule. From his point of view, he compromised. Perhaps if he had come to know us better, he may have compromised more. But he worked tirelessly to save the woodfolk struck down by illness.” He glanced at Tarkyn. “And from what I can gather, Markazon went against all his instincts and traditions to make sure that you would be safe with us when he was gone.”

  “Yes, he did, didn’t he... even if it was at the cost of your free will and mine.” Tarkyn gave a little smile. “We are each his legacy to the other.” He took a deep breath. “Ancient Oak, you may be as familiar with me as you like. You are my brother, after all. If you had heard some of the things Waterstone has said to me, you would not be so concerned. He’s yelled at me. He’s threatened me. He fought with me. He even told me at one stage that he didn’t respect me as much as he respected woodfolk.”

  Still, the woodman did not reply.

  Tarkyn sighed. “I may be an arrogant bastard. Autumn Leaves certainly thinks I am.” He watched with amusement as the woodman’s eyes widened. “In fact, I know I am, some of the time. But that doesn’t mean I want, or expect to hold you at arm’s length.”

  Ancient Oak frowned. “But you are so dismissive of all those people down there, people who are my friends and kin.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, a week ago I offered to die for those people. I do care about them. But while they are heated up like that and arguing, most of them have forgotten that I even exist as a person. They are only thinking of me in my role and what they want from me.” The prince leaned forward. “You learn over the years, when you are always at the centre of attention, that no matter what you do, there will be someone who doesn’t like it. I’m not going to throw myself into an argument I can’t win.”

  Ancient Oak looked a little as though he was thawing but said nothing further.

  Tarkyn smiled ruefully at his new brother. “Feel free to pull me up any time you see me getting too arrogant or dismissive but, if you can help it, please don’t withdraw from me or reject me. I’m not all bad.”

  At this, Ancient Oak raised his head and finally held Tarkyn’s gaze. “I don’t suppose anyone is all bad. And, to be fair, there isn’t much that’s bad about you…volatile, arrogant, excessively powerful, dismissive, thoughtless…” His mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile.

  “Oh come on. Be fair. I’m not usually thoughtless. Actually, if I am, I wouldn’t notice, would I?”

  Before Tarkyn had time to wander off down this particular tangent, Ancient Oak added, “…but Waterstone thinks the sun shines out of you and he does not give praise lightly.”

  “Does he?” Tarkyn smiled. “Well, I can tell you the feeling is mutual. If I get on with you half as well, that will be good enough…and I hope to do better than that. Waterstone and Autumn Leaves tell me regularly that I am hard work to be around. So, welcome to a challenge.” Seeing Ancient Oak’s frown, he added, “It’s not always because of me. It’s often because of who I am and how other people react…well, admittedly... and how I react.”

  “Like today, for instance.”

  The prince nodded, “Shall we go back and face the music?”

  “If you’re ready. Do you want a hand down?”

  Tarkyn laughed. “You have missed a lot, haven’t you? I was going to ask you the same question. Tell you what. I’ll race you to the bottom. First to touch the ground, wins. …Go”

  The sorcerer sailed out and down while Ancient Oak swung swiftly down from branch to branch and jumped the last six feet.

  “Blast!” laughed Tarkyn. “You were miles quicker. It took me much less effort but I don’t seem to be able to go quickly.”

  “You cheated.” Ancient Oak was also laughing between catching his breath.

  “No I didn’t. I didn’t say how we had to get down. I just said I’d race you.”

  They walked back along the stream. When they had nearly reached the clearing, Tarkyn stopped. “One more thing. This might sound silly but I give you permission to hit me.”

  Ancient Oak looked at him in confusion. “Why would I want to hit you?”

  “Well,” said Tarkyn airily, “Waterstone is always wanting to hit me and it is bad for the forest if I don’t give my permission. So it’s only fair that I give it to you too. Then if I drive you crazy, you have a more even playing field.”

  Ancient Oak shook his head in bemusement. “You’re right. I have missed a lot.”

  ollowing Tarkyn’s exit, feelings ran high amongst the woodfolk. One strong camp argued against heeding anything Tarkyn said, wary of anyone usurping the natural authority of the woodfolk. Another more canny camp saw him as a new weapon to humour and use, as they saw fit, without allowing him into any mental discussion about their proposed tactics. When Waterstone and Autumn Leaves attempted to explain that Tarkyn would now insist on being included, they were regarded pityingly by many of the oathfree woodfolk and it was carefully explained to them that it was the welfare of the woodfolk as a whole, not Tarkyn, that was under consideration and that Tarkyn could not force them to include him if they chose not to.

  “I don’t know about that,” growled Raging Water. “If he is a woodman, he must be included like everyone else. You can’t have one rule for him and one for the rest of us.”

  “We can, if he can’t mind talk,” answered a rather unpleasant woodman from the mountains. “Or are you thinking that we should all change our way of life just to suit him? I am Driving Rain, for those who don’t know me.”

  “We must at least keep him informed of the important issues, as they arise,” rumbled Thunder Storm.

  Driving Rain sneered, “You have to stand up for him, don’t you? You’re sworn to honour him. Well, I’m not, and he’ll get no special privileges from me.”

  In fact, the opinions of those who had taken the oath were generally regarded as being tainted by compulsion, and so were given little credibility. And those who had stayed with Tarkyn were regarded almost as traitors by some woodfolk for having done more than the bare necessity required to fulfil their oath.

  “Someone had to stay with him to uphold the oath on behalf of all who swore it,” protested Autumn Leaves. “Just be glad we took the burden from the backs of the bulk of you.”

  “And we are proud,” came Lapping Water’s gentle voice, “to have been the first to realise that a new forest guardian had come among us and to have saved his life so that he can fulfil his role as our protector in the times to come.”

  “Bravo,” said Waterstone quietly, as he headed off to seek out Tarkyn.

  But as soon as he had rounded the first bend in the stream, a voice behind them said, “Not so fast, Waterstone. No doubt you’re off to let your new brother know what is being said. You remember me, don’t you? I’m Mudslide.”

  Wat
erstone sent Ancient Oak a brief mind message to go in his stead, and turned to face her.

  Mudslide was stringy but tough, and she was not alone. Driving Rain stood solidly beside her, arms folded. He was a strongly built, muscly woodman, his nose a tribute to past fights.

  “Out of all of them, Waterstone, you are the greatest disgrace to our nation.” Driving Rain unfolded his arms, and closed the gap between them, balancing on the balls of his feet. “You have no excuse for the inordinate amount of time you have spent with that sorcerer. You spent days with him when he was injured. We know. And for someone who is supposed to be such a strong advocate of woodfolk ways, how can you betray your values by seeking power and privilege at the side of that interloper?”

  “He is an interloper no more. He is a woodman and my brother,” said Waterstone, keeping his temper on a very tight rein.

  “Well done,” sneered Mudslide. “You were quicker than the rest of us to realise an opportunity. Now you have a powerful sorcerer in your back pocket...and a forest guardian, as it turns out. That was a real coup. You must be loving the reflected glory.”

  Waterstone’s eyes narrowed, “And I can now include generations of kings and queens in my family’s archive. Don’t forget that.”

  Driving Rain pushed Waterstone hard in the chest with one beefy hand, forcing him to take a step backwards. Waterstone flicked back several yards but the two woodfolk just flicked to land the same distance in front of him. But it had given Waterstone the slight respite he needed.

  “Oh what? No Tarkyn to protect you?” Mudslide closed in to Waterstone’s left and jabbed him in the bicep. “Where is he when you need him?”

  Alarm flashed in Waterstone’s eyes. “Leave him alone.”

  Driving Rain smiled unpleasantly, “Oh, we have no intention of risking our forests. It is you we object to. We don’t like toadeaters.”

  He followed his words by aiming a crushing blow at Waterstone’s midrift. Waterstone wrenched himself out of the way, not to his right as they had expected where Driving Rain’s left fist was waiting for him but to his left, straight into the woodwoman. As Driving Rain’s fist grazed past his stomach Waterstone, copying one of Tarkyn’s manoeuvres, grabbed Driving Rain’s fist and used the impetus of the woodman’s own attack to drive him past.