Bronze Magic (Book 1) Read online

  Rainstorm nodded ruefully. “Especially when I can’t talk to any of my family about it. They might drive me crazy a lot of the time but when we are sharing something as huge as this, it is hard to keep it to myself.” He stood back to look at the face he had drawn. “Hmm, this one looks a bit lopsided.”

  “It doesn’t matter. As long as it’s near enough.” When Waterstone had finished drawing his own target, he said, “I am impressed by the care you are showing for our people, keeping such an enormous thing secret. It takes courage to do that, Rainstorm… and strength of character.” He walked over to the next large tree and began to size up where to put his next target. He glanced across at Rainstorm, “I suppose Tarkyn must have a fair idea of how you’re feeling?”

  Rainstorm grimaced and his eyes met North Wind’s, “Ooh, I’d say he has a slight inkling. I more or less fell apart right in front of him when I found out.”

  North Wind gave a short laugh. “Yes, you did, didn’t you? And Tarkyn was distressed about by your reaction. You could see it in his face.” North Wind rubbed at one side of the face he’d just drawn and tried to extend it out further. He frowned at the messy result, “Blast! This has gone all wrong. It’s fat on one side and skinny on the other!”

  “Don’t worry,” said Rainstorm, “Mine’s lopsided too.”

  “They’ll do,” said Waterstone shortly. Then he sighed, “Oh dear, Tarkyn must have had a great day that day. I followed that up by looking horrified.” He smiled reminiscently, “And then, when he suggested we should keep quiet about the oath having spread, I demanded to know if he was giving me an order.”

  The two young woodmen stopped what they were doing and goggled at him. North Wind chortled. “Waterstone! I can’t believe you’d be so, I don’t know, adolescent. That’s the sort of thing people expect Rainstorm and me to do. Not you.”

  “Thanks, North Wind,” responded Waterstone dryly, “I think the oath brings out the worst in me sometimes. Come on, get on with it!” he added to cover his embarrassment.

  North Wind and Rainstorm smiled knowingly at each other before moving on to start on new targets

  “Anyway,” continued Waterstone, ignoring their exchanged look, “I just wanted to check with you, Rainstorm, to see how you’re coping…. And I was hoping it was the forest and not the oath but it doesn’t look like it.”

  “Thanks.” Rainstorm shrugged, “I’m all right. Tarkyn gave me permission to attack him in case my temper gives the game away – not that I’m planning to. I might get myself hurt if I do. Other than that, it’s up to him really. As long as he doesn’t suddenly start issuing orders, I don’t think it’s going to make too much difference.”

  Rainstorm stopped talking for a few minutes while he lined up the placement of the next target. When he was satisfied, he gave a little smile and continued, “Tarkyn’s an impressive character, you know. You weren’t there when he took on the forestals. But I couldn’t believe how calm he was, faced with all those unfriendly, hostile woodfolk. If I had to follow anyone, it would be him.”

  Waterstone raised his eyebrows. “I’m amazed to hear you say that, especially with the oath being so raw for you.”

  Waterstone was taken aback. He realised that, in some ways, the young woodman accepted the prince’s authority more readily than he did. Waterstone could welcome Tarkyn as a friend and a brother but he still struggled to accept him as his liege lord. Maybe his age, pondered Waterstone. To me, Tarkyn is a young man barely out of adolescence. To them, he is older, a lot more powerful and more experienced in the ways of the world than they are. “And you, North Wind? What do you think about having to follow Tarkyn?” he asked, as he sketched out a large circle on the tree on front of him.

  North Wind finished adding some artistic eyebrows before he replied, “I don’t like it but having met Tarkyn, it’s not as bad as I had been lead to expect.” He leaned backwards to see how his face was looking. “Hmm. That’s a bit better…He’s had such an amazing life. You know, Tarkyn’s had people bowing to him since he was a little boy. Rank before age. That’s what he said. What a mad concept.” North Wind shook his head in wonder. “I don’t know how he has managed to come in here and leave all that behind.”

  “He hasn’t left all of it behind,” said Waterstone dryly as he added in two large eyes and a rather strange sideways nose. “He still thinks rank before age.”

  North Wind shrugged, “Maybe, but not in the same way as he was brought up to think.” He frowned reprovingly at the older woodman. “We’re just bloody lucky he’s not requiring us to behave like Danton. And I couldn’t believe it when I realised that here he is, trying to get an equal say, when he could simply dictate to the lot of us.” He paused in his creation of two almond shaped eyes to study Waterstone, “You’re too close to him. You’re used to him. But take a step back and you’ll realise how extraordinary that is for someone who’s always been used to power.”

  Waterstone thought back to the faint derision in his tone when he’d questioned Tarkyn’s need for greater influence and for keeping a dignified distance. He realised he had basically taken it for granted that Tarkyn would have similar views to his own and that discussions around distance and expectations were curious little peccadilloes in an otherwise normal woodman. Something of this must have shown on his face because North Wind added, “I wouldn’t be quibbling about the odd order here and there, if I were you.”

  “No, you may not,” answered Waterstone grimly, “but I would. It does not sit well with me to have to obey any man. He said he would sooner die than subvert his will to anyone. That’s pretty much how I feel. Maybe that’s one reason I get on so well with him. Unfortunately, I must obey Tarkyn if he insists, but I don’t like it and never will.”

  Rainstorm looked up from the eyebrows he was delicately sketching on his target. “And has Tarkyn always known you feel like this?” he asked curiously.

  Waterstone gave a short laugh, “To quote you, I think he might have an inkling! We even fought over it at one stage.”

  “Really?” North Wind gave a low whistle.

  “But I could fight him, only because he’d given me permission,” added Waterstone bitterly. “And it was not a play fight by any means. I stopped it pretty quickly but even then it was too late.”

  Rainstorm frowned, “Too late for what?”

  “Too late to stop one of us getting hurt.” Waterstone glanced at each of them in turn, then dropped his eyes. “Tarkyn hadn’t recovered properly from his fall and during the fight, one of his broken ribs punctured his lung. If Stormaway hadn’t known what to do and Tarkyn hadn’t been a forest guardian, he would have died. As it was, it was touch and go, even with all of us sharing our life force with him.”

  North Wind let out a low whistle. “Wow. That’s scary. With that and him falling out of the oak tree, we’ve come close to losing the forest twice in a few weeks.”

  “And Tarkyn,” said Waterstone with a sharp edge to his voice.

  North Wind shrugged, “And Tarkyn. But, much as he’s an interesting, likeable character, his loss would be our gain as long as the forest was safe.”

  Suddenly, Waterstone lunged forward, swinging his fist at the unsuspecting young woodman. As the punch connected solidly, North Wind was thrown over backwards. He found himself lying on the floor staring groggily at a sky that seemed to be spinning slowly through a web of overhanging branches. His jaw and shoulder hurt and he licked blood from a split lip. After what seemed like a several minutes but was actually only a moment, he lifted his head uncertainly and saw a thunderous Waterstone standing over him, ready to hit him again if he tried to rise.

  North Wind wisely decided to stay where he was and dropped his head back down. “Stars above, Waterstone! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t hit me again.” He wiped his mouth and frowned as his hand came away streaked with blood, “I don’t see why you’re so upset. You just finished saying that you resent having to obey Tarkyn.”

  “That doesn’t mean I
want to lose him, you bloody snake-in-the-grass. How could you be so cold blooded about him? I thought you liked Tarkyn.”

  “I do. But you can’t compare that with my freedom and the freedom of all woodfolk.”

  “But you said you wouldn’t hear a word against him,” protested Rainstorm.

  “I haven’t said anything bad about him. I told you. From the little I’ve seen of him, I like him. I’m just stating facts. After all, we would be a free people again if Tarkyn weren’t here,” said North Wind, watching Waterstone nervously.

  Waterstone threw him a disgusted look then turned his wrath on Rainstorm, “And you? Do you think Tarkyn’s loss would be our gain?”

  Rainstorm eyed the irate woodman askance. “Are you going to hit me too, if I give you an answer you don’t like?”

  Waterstone clenched his fists at his sides. “No,” he said through gritted teeth, “I will contain myself. I would rather know where you stand.”

  Rainstorm put his head on one side as he thought about it, “I like the prince and I trust him. Life was much duller around here before he came. But I don’t like following orders from anyone. Saying that, he said we would stay on the same footing as before and I believe him, though I suspect there might be times when that doesn’t hold true.” He gave a little smile. “Besides, he’s one of the few people who has any respect for what I have to say. But if Tarkyn’s death could release me from this oath without the forest being damaged….” Rainstorm shrugged and glanced at Waterstone standing like a wound up spring before him. He gave a little mischievous smile, making Waterstone wait, and then admitted, “No. I wouldn’t want Tarkyn hurt, even if it did release me from the oath. I guess I can cope with the oath. The ‘honour’ and ‘protect’ bits are fine. I think he actually deserves them. It’s the ‘serve’ bit that’s a struggle but I can live with it.” He frowned fiercely. “I am amazed to hear myself say that, though.”

  Some of the tension seeped out of Waterstone.

  Rainstorm glanced at the older woodman before drawing a wobbly circle then standing back to look at it. “But you hate being under this oath, don’t you?” Waterstone nodded briefly. “And so does Tarkyn. What he saw in Tree Wind’s memories horrified him almost as much as it had horrified us. Right from the start, he has known how much we resented the oath and him. Yet, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t walk away from it.”

  North Wind had gingerly lifted himself up onto his elbows while he listened. “But he could have isolated himself within the forest.”

  “Don’t worry. He’s thought of that.” Waterstone shrugged, “But he is vowed to protect us as we are to protect him. Anyway, that’s no life for a young man to be totally isolated. This isn’t just a few weeks or months we’re talking about here. It’s his whole life.”

  Rainstorm frowned, “I hadn’t really thought about all that. It must have been hard for him to have had all of you hating him at the start.”

  “It was and it still is.” Waterstone sighed, “And you and I haven’t made it any easier for him with our recent reactions. And he knows he is going to have to face that in scores of other woodfolk as they realise they have come under the oath.” Waterstone took a couple of paces then swung back around, hands on hips, “You know, the thing I detest most about the oath is that it muddies my friendship with Tarkyn. If I protect him or help him out of friendship, how does he know it’s not just because of the oath?”

  Rainstorm smiled, “Don’t worry. He knows. You wouldn’t be as nice about it, if it were because of the oath.”

  Waterstone gave a short laugh, “Huh. I hadn’t thought of that. You’re probably right.” He took his arms down from his hips and grimaced, “But the other thing that happens is my resentment wells up and I hurt him when he’s just trying to have a normal conversation with me.”

  “But surely he understands…” began Rainstorm.

  “Yes and no,” Waterstone’s words unknowingly echoed Danton’s; “In his head, Tarkyn understands. Stormaway warned him to make allowances for resentment. But in his heart, he takes it personally. You can see him struggling to deal with it.” He looked from one to the other of them. “In the end, he’s just a young man not much older than you. You might think you have the world against you at times, Rainstorm, but Tarkyn really does. At least, he did. I think he has managed to get a lot of people on side as they have come to know him. But as North Wind has so ably demonstrated, he still has a long way to go. I wouldn’t be Tarkyn, for all the trees in the forest.”

  Rainstorm shook his head in sympathy, “No, it must be tough, fielding all that resentment… and now there’s going to be more.”

  “I feel bad now,” stammered North Wind.

  “Good,” replied Waterstone shortly.

  “I don’t mean physically. I feel bad because you think I’ve betrayed Tarkyn. When I said his loss would be our gain, I was thinking about the forest’s safety and the woodfolk’s independence. Tarkyn’s existence places them both in jeopardy. It’s the concept of him that I was talking about, not the man himself.” He eyed Waterstone nervously, “Do you understand?”

  Waterstone let out a pent up breath. “Yes, I do understand. Even Tarkyn himself gets confused about that. But do you understand that the concept and the man are inseparable? If you betray one, you betray the other. Tarkyn doesn’t like it. You may not like it, but that’s the way it is. To support him as a person, at the very least you have to accept him for what he is, even if you don’t like it.”

  “If you go around saying his loss would be our gain, you’ll inflame people against him again,” put in Rainstorm. “We’re stuck with him. He’s stuck with us. You know from talking to him that he’s doing his level best to make the situation as bearable as possible for everyone. We might as well just get on with it and support him.”

  Waterstone raised his eyebrows, “You never cease to amaze me, Rainstorm.”

  “Get used to it, old man. Something Tarkyn said to me made me realise that what I think is okay. I just need to figure out how to say it, so people will listen to me.”

  Waterstone gave a wry smile. “I’m not sure that calling me old man is going to get me on side.”

  Rainstorm chuckled. “You love it, really. Anyway, you’re twice our ages.”

  “That does not make me old.”

  The young woodman grinned unrepentantly, “It does from where I’m sitting. Twenty is old. Thirty five is positively decrepit.”

  A short time later Tarkyn, sitting in the shade of an old oak, having a break from reconnoitring, watched the trio talking amongst themselves as they returned from creating the targets. He knew that Rainstorm and the oath would have been the centre of their discussion. The three woodmen parted company and North Wind headed over in his general direction. As he came nearer, Tarkyn saw his cut lip and the beginnings of bruising on his jaw.

  Tarkyn called out to him, “North Wind. What have you done to yourself? Do you want me to fix your lip?”

  North Wind, who was feeling guilty and that he had more or less earned his sore face replied shortly, “No thanks. I can look after myself.”

  “I’m sure you can.” In one short phrase, Tarkyn’s friendliness faded to constraint.

  North Wind veered off and passed him without another word. Tarkyn watched his retreating back and wondered what the three of them had been saying. After the unexplained change in atmosphere this morning, North Wind’s response to him made his stomach tighten. He grunted and, giving himself a small mental shake, returned to his view of the encampment through the crow’s eyes. The first sight that met his eyes was Andoran and Sargon.

  anton’s face went white with shock and his mouth thinned. Stormaway became more self-effacing than ever. Andoran and Sargon’s faces broke into smiles.

  “Danton. Fancy seeing you here!” said Andoran cheerfully, tossing his head to flick his mop of unruly red hair falling out of his eyes. “This is great!” He frowned. “Who’s your friend?” he added less enthusiastically.

/>   Danton had recovered himself sufficiently to produce a friendly smile, “This fellow here is Threadneedle.” He said, inventing freely. “He is a tailor, you know. Met him on the way to the camp here.”

  Andoran laughed, “A tailor, eh? With a name like Threadneedle, I never would have guessed.” Andoran sketched an ironic bow, “An honour to meet you, sir. I am Andoran and this is my friend, Sargon.”

  Stormaway bowed to them both, “An honour, my lords.” He glanced at Danton. “If you’ll excuse me, sirs, I have a few things to sort out. Perhaps I will see you later.”

  “Perhaps,” replied Sargon, his eyebrows slightly raised at the tailor’s temerity.

  “Well,” said Andoran, watching Stormaway’s retreating figure. “I don’t think your friend could manage the excitement of three exalted personages all at once. Perhaps one is his limit.”

  Danton shook his head, smiling. “I think you may be right.” He turned back to them. “So, how are you both? It is good to see you after all this time. What have you been up to?”

  Sargon shrugged. “This and that. We have thrown our lot in with these people for the time being.” He looked down at himself in his grey and blue jacket and dark blue trousers. “The uniforms are a bit of a deterrent but we are managing to overlook them as much as possible. Other than that, they seem a friendly team.”

  “So, what are you doing here?” asked Andoran.

  Deciding that, as far as possible, honesty was the best policy, Danton replied, “I don’t really know yet. I only arrived here this afternoon.”

  “So, were you amongst a group of travellers that was attacked? That’s how most people get here.”

  “Is it?” Danton put his head on one side. “No. I just fell in with a column of people and wandered in here with them. I’m actually taking some time out to visit my grandmother down in the southwest. But I’m in no great hurry. So I thought I’d spend a day or two here.”