Bronze Magic (Book 1) Page 43

  Running Feet surprised him by saying, “I would come with you now if I could, but the prince has asked me to help reduce the resentment among the other woodfolk. So I think I’ll do that first. But perhaps I may join you further down the track.”

  Before Waterstone had time to reflect on the astonishing change that had been wrought in Running Feet’s attitude in the course of one short morning, Tarkyn interrupted, “Right. We’re off. We need a strong tree to draw strength from, so unfortunately that means getting wet.”

  “Are you going to be focussing as hard as you did with me?” asked Running Feet.

  “Yes, probably harder.” The prince raised his eyebrows, “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, you can’t go off without protection if you’re going to lose sight of your surroundings.” Running Feet grabbed his boots from next to the doorway. “Wait. I’ll come with you.”

  Waterstone raised his eyebrows, “He’s right, you know. I should have thought of that.”

  “What? Not the Fount of all Wisdom all the time?” quipped Running Feet, as he pulled on his shoes.

  “Who said I was?” demanded the woodman.

  “I did,” said Tarkyn with a grin. He looked at Running Feet. “You’ll need weapons. I don’t have any in here. Waterstone…?”

  “Wait a minute. I’ll ask Autumn Leaves to come down with bows and quivers and he can go with you and get wet too. Sadly, I’ll have to stay here in the dry and mind Sparrow.” Waterstone promptly went out of focus.

  Shortly afterwards, Autumn Leaves arrived outside. “Come on, you lot,” he shouted. “I’m getting soaked out here.”

  When they emerged from the shelter, they found Ancient Oak had also joined them.

  “Hello, little brother,” he said as Tarkyn straightened up out of the shelter to tower over him. “Mind if I come along? I want to watch your magic display and I can guard your back at the same time.”

  Tarkyn grinned at him. “The more the merrier, although I think you’re mad. I wouldn’t come out in this, if I didn’t have to.” He pushed his already soaking hair out of his eyes. “There are some big old oaks along the stream this way. We’ll use one of them. At least their branches will provide a bit of shelter.” He turned to Stormaway as he walked, “Are you all right?”

  The wizard nodded tetchily, “As good as I’m going to be, soaked to the skin and cold.”

  “I don’t suppose you know any warming or dry spells, do you?” asked the sorcerer hopefully.

  “Yes, I do, but we’re going to need all our power to fight this storm.”

  “What about a shield?”

  The wizard shook his head. “Come on. Just get on with it. We don’t want to risk attracting the attention of whoever’s creating this storm by using magic until we’re ready to challenge him or her.”

  “All right. All right. I’m going as fast as I can without falling over in the mud.”

  The gentle stream of yesterday had turned into a raging torrent. In several places, the prince and his little entourage had to skirt around areas where the water had spilled over the banks of the stream.

  Just as they reached the tree line, Lapping Water and Rainstorm came running through the rain to join them. Tarkyn noted their arrival with mixed feelings. He would have been glad to see either of them on their own but their joint arrival sent a twinge of jealousy through him. Resolutely stamping down on his feelings, he greeted them both warmly and returned his attention to the task at hand.

  Once the group reached the shelter of the trees, there was a noticeable abatement in the force of both wind and rain.

  “This one should do,” said Tarkyn, patting his hand against the trunk of a tall sturdy oak. “Old, but not too old.”

  The sorcerer stood beside the oak and placed his right hand against the trunk. He placed his left hand on Stormaway’s shoulder and waited. As the wizard closed his eyes and began to concentrate, Tarkyn looked beyond him to see a ring of faces watching intently. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to focus with you people staring at us like that. Besides, I can’t see how you will have any hope of protecting us with your backs to the rest of the world.”

  “Good point,” said Autumn Leaves with a grin. “Come on. Let’s back off a bit.”

  Once the woodfolk had redeployed themselves less obtrusively, Tarkyn closed his eyes and focused within himself to find his essence. Then he reached out through the palm of his right hand to connect with the inner strength of the great oak. When he could feel himself blending with the oak, he transferred his focus to his left hand and sent a trickle of power into Stormaway.

  “Right,” he said, “I’m ready. I can give you as much power as you need now. Just let me know.”

  Tarkyn felt Stormaway’s shoulder move slightly as the wizard nodded.

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, Tarkyn found his mind joined with the wizard’s. He could see the storm through the wizard’s eyes; sense the swirling clouds high above them and feel their source somewhere several miles beyond the stream. The sorcerer followed the wizard as he explored the extent and texture of the turbulence. It soon became clear that the clouds of the storm were slowly rotating in a clockwise direction around a distant focal point.

  For the first time, Stormaway spoke. “It is easier to work with a force than against it. We will augment the clockwise rotation and add in a vertical component. That will have the added advantage of disguising our interference for longer. By the time the storm-maker realises what is happening, he or she will be unable to counteract it.”

  “That sounds simple enough,” said Tarkyn.

  “There is nothing simple about working with weather,” replied Stormaway repressively. “Follow my lead.”

  “Am I going to use my power separately or direct it all through you?”

  “Through me, to start with. Once I tune in to the movement of the storm and begin to add my force to the wind, you can break off and use your power to force the clouds upwards.”

  Even as he spoke, a vast green column of light thrust upwards through the boughs of the tree. As it cleared the roof of the forest, the column bent before the force of the wind just as a slender sapling would. Then the wizard directed more power into it so that instead of being pushed before the wind, the green column streamed forth, spreading out across the sky and driving the clouds before it.

  There was a long delay before the effects of Stormaway’s efforts translated themselves around the full circle of the storm. Tarkyn could feel the strength of the great oak pouring through him as the wizard’s magic demanded more power. Then, slowly the wind increased in velocity until, after a time, it was howling through the trees.

  “Now,” yelled Stormaway above the roar of the storm. “Break off and drive your own power upward.”

  As the sorcerer removed his hand from the wizard’s shoulder, his eyes flew open, glowing like lanterns in the dim light. He thrust his arm skywards and bronze light arced upward into the sky. As it hit the clouds, it spread into a glowing wall. The clouds began to build up behind it.

  “Not straight up,” yelled the wizard, “Angle it.”

  The sorcerer did not reply but the top of the bronze wall swung away from the wind. Immediately, the bank of clouds rolled up its incline.

  “Higher. You have to take it higher as the cloud lifts,” shouted Stormaway.

  A few minutes later the wizard yelled, “I’m going to join my power to yours. We have to keep increasing the height of the wall. Keep yours steady until I take over. Then bring your hand back onto my shoulder and we’ll combine forces again.”

  Stormaway’s green magic contracted and swung back up until it was running parallel with Tarkyn’s bronze wall of power.

  “Ready? Now keep your eyes open, focussed on your power. Let your eyes take over from your hand.”

  In answer, bronze light seemed to stream from both the sorcerer’s upstretched hand and his glowing amber eyes.

  “Keep it steady,” shouted Stormaway. “Hold your focus. Now,
bring down your arm and put your hand back on my shoulder.”

  As soon as Tarkyn’s hand touched the wizard’s shoulder, the two walls of light slammed together and a wave of power rippled up from the ground to disappear into the roiling clouds above.

  A short time later, Tarkyn realised he wasn’t being buffeted by the wind any more. But overhead, he could still see the branches being thrashed about and he could still hear the wind’s howl. As he watched, the lower of branches of the oak quietened and gradually level after level of the tree stilled. The wind still shrieked above the tree line but all around him, the forest was quiet. As the clouds rose, the rain began to ease.

  “We’ve done it,” murmured Stormaway quietly. “It will be self perpetuating from now on. The clouds are spiralling upwards.- Now, let your power go slowly. Then I’ll release mine. If you can just keep your hand on my shoulder for a little longer, it might save me from collapsing with fatigue.”

  As Tarkyn drew in his bronze wall and redirected the flow of energy into the wizard, he rocked slightly on his feet as the force changed directions. His eyes stung and he was beginning to feel sick from the constant flow of power using him as a conduit from the oak to the wizard.

  A few minutes later, the forest guardian asked in a tight voice, “Enough? I can’t manage much more. I think I’m going to throw up. It feels as though I have a river running through me.”

  “Yes. Thank you Tarkyn. That’s enough. Don’t make yourself sick.”

  “Too late, I’m afraid.” He doubled over and heaved.

  “Ooh dear,” remarked Autumn Leaves, appearing out of nowhere, “you’ve gone green again.”

  “I feel green.”

  “That was great,” enthused Ancient Oak, “Absolutely unbelievable.”

  Tarkyn looked sideways at him from his doubled up position. “It doesn’t feel great, I can tell you.”

  Stormaway slapped him on the back. “Don’t worry, young man. The feeling will pass. You did a fine job.”

  The sorcerer finally straightened up, wiping his mouth on his bandage. He was a distinctive shade of pale moss green and it was hard to tell what his own pallor would be underneath it

  Lapping Water looked him over thoughtfully. She spoke softly. “My lord, I don’t mean to be rude, but why don’t you give back some of the power to the oak? Then you might get rid of some of the green.”

  Tarkyn looked askance at her, thinking that being a forest guardian wasn’t very good for one’s image. He ran his hand through his sodden hair. “I don’t know that I could stand it, just at the moment.”

  Stormaway gave him another gentle pat. “I think you’ll find that if the power is only going out of you and not in at the same time, you won’t feel that queasiness.”

  Tarkyn looked at each of them in turn, then resolutely placed his hand back on the oak’s trunk. “All right. Tell me when my colour goes back to normal.” He took a deep breath and focused on sending some of his life force back into the oak.

  “Stop!” came a chorus of voices.

  Tarkyn opened his eyes and grinned. “Thanks.” He inspected himself. He looked healthier, although he knew his legs were still a little shaky and his stomach was right on the edge.“I feel a bit better now. Probably just as well I did that. Last time I went green, I had an over-abundance of energy, as I recall, and came on rather too strongly.” He laughed. “I think if I came on any stronger at the moment with the folk back there, we’d have a mass rebellion.”

  “They would be an ungrateful pack of bastards if they did that,” responded Rainstorm hotly.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” replied Tarkyn. “I think it is Stormaway they have to thank more than me.” He turned to the wizard and said seriously, “And I thank you too, Stormaway. That was truly amazing. You have so much knowledge that I lack. And it is your skill, not mine that has saved the woodfolk from this crisis.”

  “I have had a few more years to accrue it, you know, young man,” he responded gruffly. Nevertheless, Stormaway was clearly gratified by the prince’s acknowledgement.

  Looking around at the group of bedraggled but happy woodfolk, Tarkyn said, “And thank you to all of you too, for coming out in this terrible weather. I hope it was worth it.”

  “Best compensation I’ve ever had for doing lookout duty,” said Ancient Oak, endorsed with great enthusiastism by those behind him.

  “I think this will go a long way towards dissolving some of that resentment, Your Highness,” said Running Feet.

  “Perhaps.” Tarkyn smiled wryly at the others. “Having just discovered that no one outside the home guard has heard much about our recent activities, I realise I still have their terrible first impressions of me to overcome.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t care what people thought of you,” said Ancient Oak.

  Tarkyn glanced sideways at him. “To be honest, I may have been a bit angry when I said that. It’s probably more that I can’t afford to care too much.”

  He was distracted by sounds of shouting and cheering that grew louder as they rounded the last clump of trees. As they reached the edge of the clearing, the prince and his small entourage were greeted by the sight of all the woodfolk, young and old, completely soaked like themselves, waving and smiling at them as they walked towards them.

  Tarkyn gave a puzzled frown. “What’s going on?”

  “How could you ask? The best sound and light show we’ve seen in years, possibly ever,” beamed Raging Water. “We weren’t going to let a little thing like torrential rain put us off.”

  “Tarkyn and Stormaway, on behalf of everyone, I thank you,” said Sun Shower, smiling. She walked forward and patted the sorcerer on the back. “I’m sorry I called you an upstart, young Tarkyn. I could see that remark smarted. And even in the face of our antagonism, you have still fought to support us.”

  “And you, you old rogue,” said Raging Water bracingly to Stormaway. “You might be a stubborn old bastard, but your orchestration of that attack on the storm was magnificent.”

  “But how did you all know what was happening?” asked Tarkyn.

  Waterstone and Sparrow walked out of the trees from behind the prince. The woodman grinned at him. “Running Feet and I knew everyone would be interested in seeing some magic. So we made sure they all knew. We’ve been sending them images of what you and Stormaway were doing on the ground to explain what they were seeing in the sky.” He smiled down at Sparrow. “And there was no way Sparrow was going to let me sit in the nice dry shelter when all this excitement was happening out here.”

  “We’ve been watching with Autumn Leaves and Running Feet,” said Sparrow, with a big smile.

  “Oh, have you now?” The prince looked around in a bit of a daze. He shook his wet hair and sent spray over all those stranding near him. He gave a vague grin. “Sorry about that. I don’t suppose anyone has been able to light a fire in all this wet?” he asked hopefully.

  “No one’s tried yet but we’ll have one going in no time. Then everyone can dry out,” replied Falling Branch. He looked at the wizard, “Perhaps you could give us a hand with one of those spells you mentioned?”

  Stormaway nodded. “I think our young forest guardian here replenished my strength quite sufficiently for that. Lead the way.”

  ith the assistance of the wizard’s magic, a cheery, warm fire had been lit and the ground around it had been dried out. Woodfolk were all master bushcraftsmen and could have lit the fire quite easily even in the damp conditions, but they couldn’t have dried out the ground. Besides which, they were all keen to see a bit more magic. As an added precaution, Stormaway placed some sort of glamour on the wood smoke so that it could not be seen against the late afternoon sky. All around the clearing, various items of clothing and bedding were hanging on every available twig or branch to dry out.

  Stormaway, by nature solitary, found himself the centre of a constant ring of admirers. However, not being one to miss an opportunity, he sat back and made use of the attention so that co
nsequently, many deals for delivery of woodland produce were struck by the end of the evening.

  Tarkyn, in a similar position, was failing dismally in his attempts to keep a low profile. Given a choice, he would rather have been on the road far away from this uncertain crowd, leaving them to sort out the details of how to carry out the edicts he had made as their forest guardian. Despite the energy from the oak, he was feeling hammered by the volume of power that had run through his body. His eyes were still bloodshot and smarting and he decided that he wouldn’t use them again for transmitting power unless there was no other choice.

  When everyone was settled, Summer Rain approached him bearing a new bandage. “My lord, I notice you used your bandage as a hand kerchief when you were ill. So I thought you might like a new one. I’ve brought one for you too, Waterstone, since yours must be sodden.”

  Tarkyn smiled at her. “Thank you. That would probably improve the aroma around here.”

  “Quite possibly,” she replied, betraying not a glimmer of humour.

  As she unwrapped the old bandage, she leaned forward to inspect the long shallow knife wound. She frowned and ran her fingers gently along it. Tarkyn looked over her shoulder and met Lapping Water’s eyes. He grimaced and grinned, knowing what was coming.

  “My lord. Your arm has already healed.”

  Tarkyn eyebrows shot together and he looked down at his arm. That had not been what he had expected or wanted to hear.

  “But,” continued Summer Rain, “you have a slightly raised, bright green scar all the way along it. Very unusual. Possibly the swelling will go down over time but I’m not sure what we’re dealing with here, with the green. Perhaps the oak’s healing power has seeped into the tissue of your arm. Most interesting.”

  Lapping Water moved forward to peer over the healer’s shoulder. “Very nice, Sire. Better than you would have expected, in fact,” she said with a cryptic smile.

  “Yes, it is rather dashing, isn’t it?” remarked Tarkyn, holding his arm out to admire the scar.

  Summer Rain moved on to Waterstone with her offering of bandages.