Bronze Magic (Book 1) Read online

  The wizard inclined his head but made no further comment.

  “Please be seated.” Tarkyn smiled. “I have always thought Stormaway Treemaster to be such an excellent name. I wish I had one so colourful.”

  “Do you?”

  Tarkyn drew his cloak around himself against the cooling night air. “Any name but my own would be better right now.”

  For the first time, the forest wizard returned his gaze levelly and said with unexpected sympathy, “I imagine it would be.” He leaned forward and poked the fire again, “Even if you weren’t sharing my fire, I wouldn’t attempt to turn you in. You are far too dangerous.”

  Tarkyn gave a short mirthless laugh. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

  “It certainly does. But I suspect the tales of your misdeeds may have been vastly exaggerated.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know what they are, but I can’t imagine that they are much worse than the reality.”

  “But regardless of the rumours,” continued the wizard, “the strength and skill required to win the Harvest Tournament is indisputable.”

  A genuine smile lit the prince’s face. “Thank you. I had almost forgotten that achievement in the turmoil that followed.”

  Stormaway stirred the fire then asked in a completely different tone of voice, gentle and firm, “Would you like to tell me about it?”

  After a minute’s silence, he looked up to see Tarkyn staring at him, considering his decision. The wizard, who seemed to have grown in assurance, said, “Take your time deciding. We have all night if we need it.” His eyes fell to the fire once more as he continued, “If you trust me not, so be it. Perhaps the truth is worse than the rumours, but I doubt it. But knowing who you are, places you in as much danger as anything you could say.”

  Tarkyn eyes narrowed. “I thought you said you would not betray me?”

  The wizard frowned impatiently, “I won’t. I’m saying that I need no further information to betray you, should I choose to do so. Therefore, you can tell me your story without fear of further consequence.”

  Tarkyn re-evaluated his impression of the wizard. The man before him, who had seemed shifty and shiftless, now exuded natural authority. “I’ve been watching you, Stormaway. You’re like a chameleon. The person I sat down with, is not who I see before me now.”

  “We must all wear disguises in the face of potential danger, Sire.” “And you would consider a lone stranger to be a potential danger?”

  The wizard spread his hands disarmingly. “Often, Your Highness. But in your case, absolutely.”

  “I hope you realise that I intend you no harm,” said Tarkyn quietly. Suddenly, he hit his hand on his thigh in irritation. “Blast it! I am not used to being treated as such a pariah.”

  Stormaway smiled condescendingly. “Might I suggest that you are not used to being without a bevy of toadeaters and sycophants?”

  The prince glared at him, “You would not say that of me, if we were at court.”

  “My point exactly.”

  “That is not what I meant,” retorted Tarkyn hotly. The air around him shimmered with anger. Then suddenly, he gave a short laugh. “You’re deliberately goading me, aren’t you?” He looked at the unremarkable, tatty figure before him with dawning respect. “Despite what you say, you must be pretty sure of yourself to take that risk.”

  “Oh, I get by,” replied the wizard airily. “So, will you deign to tell me your story?”

  The prince stood up and towered over him for a moment, clearly annoyed. But then he merely turned and walked over to the woodpile. Between gathering dry branches into his arms, he looked over his shoulder and said, “I don’t know you well enough yet to know what I think of you, but you seem to have formed a very poor opinion of me.” He brought the branches across and fed them into the fire before he sat down again.

  The wizard watched and waited.

  “Not only that,” continued Tarkyn as he brushed the wood dust off his hands, “Having said that I could take my time deciding whether to tell you what happened, you are now trying to goad me into it...Why?”

  The question hung on the night air for what seemed a long time. Then Stormaway leaned forward to adjust a burning branch and replied gravely, “Because I would trust you, my lord.”

  Tarkyn was taken aback. After giving it some thought, he said slowly, “And I would value your trust, should I earn it. You say the rumours are bad but you may think the reality is little better. Still, I will tell you what happened and you must judge for yourself.”

  He settled himself against the tree, drew his long legs up and rested his arms on his knees. Then he began.

  “As you no doubt know, I have twin older brothers. One of them is king; the other would like to be. Kosar and Jarand have grown up in fierce competition with each other and their common ambition to assume the monarchy has overshadowed all other loyalties.”

  The wizard frowned, “You have not been brought up in a moral household since your father died, then.”

  Tarkyn threw an impatient glance at the wizard, “Stormaway, don’t judge my worth too hastily – and when you do, judge me on my own merits, not on my family’s.”

  As Stormaway gave a short nod, Tarkyn continued, “The Harvest Festival was when it all went wrong.” He shifted his weight a little as he grimaced at the memories, “I think it might be about here that my tale will part company with the rumours...During the final bout, my shaft of power went slightly off target and damaged one of the wooden spectator stands. People jumped off in a panic as the stand sagged to one side but as soon as they could see it wasn’t going to collapse, they came back and sat down to watch the rest of the tournament.”

  “That’s it?” demanded Stormaway.

  Tarkyn gave a lop-sided smile. “The damage to the spectator stand is the only incident of any note that occurred during the tournament. More happened later of course, but I will come to that.

  “Unfortunately, as you know, I won the whole tournament. I say unfortunately, because I gather it made my brothers realise how strong my magic had become and that I now have… or had, a following among the people. From what they said afterwards, they seem to have thought I might mount a challenge for the throne.” The prince shook his head in bewilderment, “But just because I possibly could, doesn’t mean that I would. The thought never entered my mind. I want nothing to do with the throne. All my life, I have watched the misery and anxiety caused by the manoeuvrings around the monarchy. I find even the peripheral intrigue of being the king’s brother enough to manage. I have never had any wish to become the focal point.”

  Tarkyn ran his hand distractedly through his hair. “They didn’t even ask me my intentions.” He lapsed into silence, staring moodily into the fire. After a few minutes he stirred himself enough to glance up at Stormaway with a wry grimace, “Still, I suppose they wouldn’t have believed me anyway, once the idea was planted in their heads.”

  Not wishing to stand up this time Tarkyn, with a flick of his wrist and a muttered “Liefka,” floated another branch onto the fire and when the branch was settled, he continued his story.

  “For the first time in who knows how long, they acted in concert instead of vying with each other. They had me arrested late at night when no one was there to raise objections. I don’t know if you can understand how embarrassing it is to be arrested by Palace Guards whom you have known all your life?” He shrugged, “Hard for them, hard for me.” He waved a dismissive hand, “Anyway, because of the incident at the tournament, Kosar sentenced me to foreswear my power for four years, on pain of imprisonment.”

  “What?” demanded Stormaway, incensed. “For misdirecting one blast in a tournament? If they were worried about it, they should have organised boundary shields.”

  Tarkyn shrugged. “That’s what I said, but I realise now it was never about that. The twins just wanted me disarmed and that was their excuse.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I couldn’t let them take
my magic. It would have been like...I don’t know... losing my arm, being blinded, having my heart ripped out of me.”

  Stormaway nodded sympathetically. “Totally barbaric, even to consider it.”

  “So I defied the king and threw up my shield...” He trailed off and glanced uncertainly at Stormaway before clearing his throat, “Hmm. This may be the point where the rumours have a greater basis in truth...”

  “Go on, Sire,” said the wizard gently, “I don’t have to agree with everything you’ve done, to be able to trust you.”

  The prince grimaced, “I’m not sure how far that holds…. However... Basically, things spun out of control. I think perhaps the intensity of my emotions altered my shield’s composition. Instead of blocking, it reflected.

  “If no one had attacked me, nothing would have happened. But one guard threw a bolt of magic at me and my shield reflected it straight back at him. Next thing I knew, every guard in the room was sending beams of power and arrows at me and coming at me with swords. They were all reflected back, knocking out guards and ricocheting around the walls.”

  Tarkyn rubbed his hands up and over his face and down his hair, to hold his head with linked hands at the nape of his neck. He sighed, “I don’t know how many died that night. My brothers didn’t die. They left me to my fate. I saw them later in the palace. But many guards were killed or wounded.”

  “So how did you escape?”

  “As the building collapsed and the guards were running for their lives, I finally recovered my senses enough to use a re-summoning spell on my surcoat that took me to the tailor’s out in the town. And then, while everyone’s attention was still on the Great Hall, I went back to the palace and collected enough valuables to sustain me, at least for the foreseeable future.”

  Seeing the speculative gleam in the wizard’s eyes, Tarkyn added hastily, “No. I’m not carrying them all with me, if that’s what you’re wondering.

  The wizard smiled disarmingly. “Just trying to gauge your level of competence, Sire.”

  Tarkyn grunted in self-deprecation, “It was not my competence. In fact, I heeded the advice of a thief, and went to some lengths to hide them.”

  Stormaway blinked. “Not where he could find them, I hope?”

  Tarkyn sent him a look of pure derision. Stormaway assumed he had received the look for stating the obvious, but in fact it was because he had cast aspersions on a thief whose honour Tarkyn trusted.

  Stormaway hastily changed the subject, “And what about your friends? Did they help you?”

  “I didn’t ask them,” replied the prince shortly. “I didn’t want to compromise anyone else’s safety. One life in tatters seemed plenty for one day without dragging my friends down with me.”

  “Not to mention the guards,” added the wizard dryly.

  “I did have some particular friends among the guards but none of them was there that day. So I wasn’t talking about them”

  “Obviously.”

  Tarkyn stopped short and stared at the wizard.

  “You really don’t think much of me, do you?”

  “On the contrary, Your Highness. I think more of you than I expected to.”

  “Stars Above! The rumours must be bad then”

  “They are.” Stormaway looked at him sympathetically, “But it’s obvious to me now that none of this was your fault. You were just the fall guy.”

  The prince stared at him. “What? Weren’t you listening? I caused the death of all those guards and the destruction of the Great Hall. Something went wrong with my shield.”

  “I wondered if you would see that,” said the wizard mildly.

  “Oh, you condescending, old hedge-dweller!” exclaimed Tarkyn, outraged. He stood up abruptly and shook out his cloak. “I find,” he said icily, staring down at the wizard, “that I am no longer interested in gaining your trust. You hold me in such low regard that it would be pointless. Believe what you choose. There is no good version. But don’t bother telling me what you decide, because I am no longer interested.”

  So saying, Tarkyn pulled his cloak around him and turned to stalk off into the night.

  He found his way blocked by a slight, green-eyed man with light brown hair, dressed in a brown jerkin, loose-fitting leggings and soft leather boots. Tarkyn turned and realised that he was surrounded by similar figures. They looked harmless enough, but he wasn’t silly enough to believe appearances. A trap, after all, he thought bitterly. Why did I trust a complete stranger when I can’t even trust my own brothers?

  Fighting panic, he took a breath to slow his heart rate then flicked up his shield, hoping that calming himself first would make his shield absorbent, not reflective.

  A deep voice rang out from behind him. “Woodfolk of the forest, you are right to appear before him. He has passed my final test.”

  Tarkyn took a moment to recognise the wizard’s voice. He spun on his heel and beheld Stormaway exuding power, resplendent in emerald robes, brown hair smoothly spilling over his shoulders. As the prince watched, Stormaway raised his staff. But before he could bring it down, the sounds of the forest seemed to swell into a frenzied cacophony.

  Tarkyn looked up into the trees in confusion. He could hear the sounds of wind blowing through the trees, water gushing over rocks, leaves and rain falling, thunder rumbling and a myriad of other sounds that should have accompanied the sight of a storm surging through the forest. But none of the trees moved.

  Slowly, Stormaway lowered his staff and nodded his head. He did not look pleased as he addressed the people standing around them, “If I am right, the spell’s binding will begin to take effect over the next twenty four hours. At moonrise tomorrow night, I will seal it beyond return unless you give me good reason not to. You have until then. But remember; only I can make the final decision.”

  “What is going on? What test, what spell are you talking about? And who are these people?” Tarkyn asked wildly.

  With an effort, Stormaway brought his attention back to the prince’s confusion. “I thank you for taking care with your shield, Sire.” He waved his arm in invitation. “Why don’t you come back and sit by the fire so that we can discuss this further?”

  “I would know your intentions first. There is some sorcery here that I do not understand. And are you planning to turn me in, despite your assurances? You have me surrounded,” said Tarkyn stiffly, “so is your request an invitation or an order?”

  Hand on heart, Stormaway bowed low, “I would not presume to issue an order to you, Your Highness. You are free to leave if you choose. I am hoping your curiosity will get the better of you.”

  “Hmph.” After careful consideration, the prince returned to resume his seat at the fire, while the people surrounding him remained watching him, faces impassive.

  “This is very unnerving,” Tarkyn muttered to himself.

  “These people are the woodfolk, Sire. Although unknown to the sorcerers of Eskuzor, they inhabit these forests. And they have been here all evening. It’s just that you can see them now.”

  “That’s even more unnerving. They could have attacked me at any time. I’ve been completely unshielded.”

  The wizard gave a low chuckle. “Now you know how high the stakes were, when you told your story.”

  Tarkyn mouth tightened. He took in a deep breath and composed himself, as he thought back over what he had said.

  “Don’t worry, Sire. You have acquitted yourself well.” The wizard. At his request, a couple of the woodfolk brought them goblets containing an oaky silver birch wine.

  Tarkyn gazed in bemusement at the goblet in his hand. After a moment, he sniffed it surreptitiously before trying it. His brow cleared as he said, “This is an excellent wine. I’m sure I’ve tasted similar before.”

  “The woodfolk supply wine to many great houses in the country, including your own.”

  Tarkyn looked up from the wine and asked, “And what was this final test of yours? That I accepted responsibility for the deaths?”

&
nbsp; “No, although that was one of them. The final test was that you held to the truth of your tale, when you no longer cared for my good opinion.”

  The prince frowned as he considered this.

  Stormaway leaned forward, “You do understand, don’t you? I had to be sure you weren’t lying to gain my trust.”

  Tarkyn scowled, “Oh I understand, all right. I’ve been played like a fish on a line from the start. You couldn’t lie straight in bed.”

  “I do apologise, Your Highness. However, I have found that being devious provides a much more accurate estimate of character than straightforward questions and answers.” The wizard sipped his wine and looked at Tarkyn over the rim of the goblet. “And now, at least to my satisfaction, I have established your integrity.”

  Tarkyn looked at him long and hard. Then in a sudden movement, he clicked his fingers and the shield winked out of existence. “It seems I am in your debt. I thank you for giving me the chance to explain myself to you. I hope I will not disappoint you in the future.”

  He waved his hand to indicate that he was also talking to the woodfolk, only to find he was waving at empty space. They had disappeared. Tarkyn scanned the woods around him then turned back to the wizard.

  “Where have they gone?” he demanded in hushed tones. “Or are they still here and I just can’t see them?”

  The wizard was chuckling quietly. “I think waving your arm around on such a short acquaintance and with such a dire reputation as yours may have pushed the friendship a bit far at this stage.”

  “Oh lord! I’d better not drink any more wine then, if people are going to run for cover every time I gesture.”

  Stormaway did not try to reassure him, “I think it would be wise to be careful. They have no reason to love you... And anyone branded a rogue sorcerer is bound to be feared.”

  “What!” Tarkyn was stunned. “Is that what they are saying? A rogue sorcerer?”

  “I’m afraid so, young man.”

  Panic flared in the young prince’s eyes. “But I’m not a madman. I defied the king but the rest... the rest just happened.”