Bronze Magic (Book 1) Page 61

  “We didn’t,” said Tarkyn. “I expected his commitment to justice and his loyalty to me to overcome his prejudices. I just hope I’m right.” ust as the last of the sun’s ray disappeared behind the trees, Danton sauntered into the food tent and asked in a loud voice, “Could I ask who cooked that marvellous meal we had last night?”

  Several voices clamoured to be heard.

  Danton waved a hand. “One at a time, please.”

  “My lord, we all had our part to play.”

  “Oh really? A joint effort?” The lordly blonde sorcerer raised his eyebrows. “But was there not some culinary genius behind it all, coordinating your efforts?”

  A scruffy, middle-aged woman wiped her hands on her apron and drawled, “That would be me.”

  “Well, congratulations, ma’am, on a fine effort, especially in this makeshift kitchen.” Danton kept a casual eye on the back wall of the tent, which lifted quietly from the bottom as he spoke. “And what marvel are you preparing for this evening, I wonder?”

  A sprinkling of pink and white powders flowed under the flap of canvas and swirled above the bucket of meaty off cuts.

  “We’re having venison pie, sir.” The head cook bobbed a curtsy.

  “Are we indeed? Well, I look forward to it.” The powders swirled gently down into the bucket and out of sight. “Still, I mustn’t keep you. Good afternoon.” Danton gave them all a charming smile and departed.

  As he walked away, the wizard fell in beside him “Phase one completed. Now, let’s see about filling Sargon and Andoran’s water barrel.”

  Danton found a bucket and filled it at the small stream that ran through the encampment. He met Stormaway at the bounty hunters’ tent. They glanced around them and when they were sure they were unobserved, the wizard instructed Danton, “Right, pour in enough to almost fill it. Leave about an inch at the top.”

  As soon as this had been done, Stormaway produced a small phial filled with a thick dark liquid. He poured it slowly into the barrel, being careful not to get any of it on his hands or on the outside of the barrel. He stood back and smiled in satisfaction. “Good! Phase two completed. One of our longer term surprises is now in place.”

  Danton raised an eyebrow.

  “A nasty but mild concoction of larkspur, stinkweed and chilli suspended in oil,” explained Stormaway. “The oil will float on the top of the water so, as they draw the water from the bottom, they will drink this barrelful of water free of its effects. However, as the water level drops, the tainted oil will seep into the wood of the barrel and affect the next barrel full of water. If we are really lucky and they don’t work out what is happening, it may also affect the barrelful of water after that.” The wizard gave a satisfied smile. “That would give them a good eight to ten days worth of very unpleasant symptoms.”

  “Go on then. What are the symptoms?”

  “The larkspur will cause severe nausea, perhaps a little vomiting and some truly embarrassing muscle twitches. Hopefully, I have the dose right and they will escape paralysis and death. The chilli will burn their mouths and lips and the stinkweed will cause vision distortions and delirium and they will find it difficult to put a sensible sentence together. So that should add nicely to their difficulties.” Stormaway gave the barrel a friendly pat and looked around briefly before slipping inside the tent. “I’ve only put a dash of stinkweed into the mix. We wouldn’t want them so delirious that they missed the misery of the other symptoms, now would we? Of course, the severity of their reactions will depend very much on how thirsty they are. Still, I have erred on the side of caution. We don’t want their suffering cut short by death, do we?”

  “You’re a dangerous man, aren’t you?” mused Danton, raising his eyebrows.

  “All men are dangerous in their own ways.”

  Danton followed the wizard inside Sargon and Andoran’s tent. “Almost, I begin to feel sorry for them.”

  “Oh, we haven’t even started yet,” Stormaway drew out a small bag filled with dried leaves finely crushed into a light green powder. “Have you brought the gloves? You don’t want to get this on your hands.”

  When Danton was ready, the wizard sprinkled a fine film of green dust across the bounty hunters’ bedding and over their clothes. He paid particular attention to their undergarments. “Okay, Danton, rub the powder into the material until it can’t be seen.”

  Suddenly there was the sound of footsteps in the gravel outside. They froze. The footsteps stopped for a moment then continued on past. Sorcerer’s eyes met wizard’s and the two breathed a sigh of relief. Danton quickly finished rubbing in the powder while Stormaway stood guard at the entrance to the tent

  “Well done Danton. Phase three completed. Now, I think I’d better doctor the wine somewhere else. I don’t think I can stand the tension of being in here much longer.” The wizard poked his head outside and said, “Come on. Bring a bottle of wine with you and let’s go back to our own tent.

  Once back inside their own tent away from prying eyes, Danton produced the bottle of wine and watched with interest as Stormaway prised the cork out and added a few pinches of a dark brown powder to the wine before resealing it. He gave it a good shake, then handed it back to Danton.

  “There. Phase four completed. You can take it along with you tonight when you go to visit them. Try not to drink any yourself, although it won’t kill you if you can’t avoid it.”

  Danton held the bottle up to the light and studied it. “And what will happen to me if I do?”

  The wizard gave a wicked smile, “You will become disoriented and start seeing things. Not particularly pleasant even if you’re expecting it although I’ve heard some people actually seek these experiences. However, if you don’t know it’s going to happen, it is frightening in the extreme. You think you are losing your mind.”

  “And the green powder?”

  “Poison ivy and stinging nettle. I would have just left it at poison ivy. On its own, it causes severe itching and irritation, often leading to delightful infections if scratched. But sadly, not everyone is affected by it. So to make sure of their misery, I’ve added the nettles. Very satisfactory, don’t you think?”

  Danton laughed. “Very satisfactory indeed. I only hope Tarkyn watches at least some of their effects.”

  “So do I!” Stormaway heaved a sigh, “Right! Onto phase five. So we’re going to take a chance and loosen the stake while the wolves are being fed?”

  Danton nodded. “It’s as good a distraction as any. Even if Tarkyn made the horses bolt, someone could still look around and see us. So let’s get it over and done with.”

  “Are you clear on what you have to do? I won’t have time to give you instructions.”

  “I’m clear. Let’s go.”

  They emerged from the tent just as the wizard’s ex-apprentice reached the wolves with the bucket of meat scraps. The wolves yanked on their chains and howled, teeth bared, trying to reach the meat. Danton and Stormaway walked unhurriedly and quietly behind the wolves’ keeper until they stood outside the imprisoned woodfolk’s tent, on either side of the metal stake. Checking that all eyes were on the wolves, they each sent a small but intense streak of magic circling the ground around the stake. Stormaway’s green twanged as it touched the turquoise stream of Danton’s magic. Their eyes widened in alarm but only they had heard it above the din of the wolves.

  They maintained their magic streams for another long minute, on tenterhooks that someone would look around.

  “Enough,” said Stormaway in an urgent undertone.

  The green and turquoise winked out. Danton looked around quickly, then pressed his hand against the side of the stake. It gave way easily. He righted it hurriedly and moved away. Stormaway walked off casually in another direction. Ten minutes later they reconvened inside their tent and smiled at each other with relief.

  ireside conversations had died away and finally, the last of the sorcerers had made their way from communal fires to their respective sleeping tents.
Spots of light from unquenched fires and lanterns, both inside and outside tents, were still dotted around the encampment. In a distant corner, the fretful cries of a baby signalled the presence of at least one wakeful sorcerer while the undiminished sounds of a few drinkladen voices emitted from a tent closer to hand. Half an hour later, the guards around the perimeter were replaced. Those relieved of duty did not linger and soon they too had retired.

  Within the tree line, the woodfolk watched and waited for another half an hour, some stationed in the trees as close as possible to the guards’ posts and the rest strung out along the ground, hidden behind trees and bushes. The baby had quieted but the nearby revellers carried on.

  The raiding party could not afford to wait much longer. The moon was riding high, partly obscured by a wispy patch of cloud. Not ideal for a clandestine raid, but it would have to do. They had three and a half hours before the next changing of the guards and they wanted as much time to elapse as possible before their activities were discovered.

  By mutual agreement, they swung into action. Under Lapping Water’s direction, those in the trees synchronised their actions to fire simultaneously at the perimeter guards. Moments later, six sorcerers grunted and crumpled to the ground.

  Immediately, light shadowy figures emerged from the tree line and sped across the open ground to the edge of the encampment. As they reached the cover of the occasional trees and bushes within the encampment’s boundaries, they seemed to blend away into nothing.

  Then, two sorcerers guarding the horses grunted as they were caught by waiting hands and lowered quietly to the ground. Sharp knives flashed in the moonlight and the last strands of the horses’ ropes were sliced through. The horses watched calmly and trod quietly behind the fleeting shadows through the night. As they neared the sleeping wolves, some of the horses rolled their eyes but a distant presence calmed them and kept them from snorting or making any sound.

  Inside the nearby tent, three woodfolk awoke to find their mouths held shut by firm hands. As their eyes struggled to become accustomed to the dark, they stared wild-eyed in to the faces of their kindred.

  “Keep quiet,” whispered Autumn Leaves. He waited until recognition dawned in their eyes. “Can we take our hands away?”

  The three woodfolk nodded.

  “We are going to slip you out under the side of the tent, chain and all. There are horses waiting outside. We are going to tie all three of you onto one horse.”

  Autumn Leaves could dimly see the whites of three sets of eyes in the gloom as they rolled their eyes in alarm.

  “Shh. It will not be for long. And then you will be safe. Once we are safely away, we can see about removing the chains.”

  The imprisoned woodfolk looked frightened but nodded.

  “Hold your chains still, as much as possible when we move.”

  Other hands lifted the canvas of the tent wall while Autumn Laves and Falling Branch helped the chained woodfolk out into the night. When they saw the wolves lying close by, they started and pulled back. The chains rattled loudly in the night.

  “Shh. Don’t worry. The wolves are drugged,” whispered Autumn Leaves.

  Woodfolk swarmed around them, lifted them up onto a placid, solid mare. Despite everyone’s best efforts, the sound of the chains seemed to reverberate around the campsite. Once the wood folk were seated, ropes flew across them and were quickly tied to secure them to the horse’s back. Someone passed them up the iron stake to hold.

  “There are no reins,” mouthed Golden Toad, panic stricken.

  “Hold the horse’s mane. Trust us. You will be all right. Now go!”

  Autumn Leaves gave the horse a gentle pat on the rump and it walked quietly towards the perimeter of the encampment, surrounded by the other horses.

  Forty yards away, in Andoran and Sargon’s tent, Danton was fretfully trying to keep Andoran and Sargon’s attention focused on a game of cards. An unfortunate side effect of the drug Stormaway had placed in the wine seemed to be sleeplessness. Ever since they had drunk the doctored bottle of wine, Andoran and Sargon had been jumpy and had kept looking sideways at the other two. From time to time, one of them would ask an odd question, then shake his head and looked frightened when no one else had heard or seen what he had.

  Andoran sat up and listened, “Did you hear that?”

  Danton, whose hearing had been finely tuned to the world outside the tent all evening, did indeed hear the quiet clop of horses’ hooves. His heart leapt in his chest but he said impatiently, “Andoran, what is it this time? You keep holding us up. Play your card.”

  Andoran shook his head, looked uncertainly at the other two and drew his attention back to his cards.

  A few moments later, Sargon’s head went up. “Did you hear that?I’m sure I heard a chain being rattled.”

  Danton threw down his cards in disgust. “You two are hopeless to play with. How could you be hearing a chain? I haven’t even seen any chains.”His voice thickened with sarcasm, “Perhaps there’s a ghost around here somewhere and it’s rattling its chain? You would expect a castle to go with it, though. Wouldn’t you?” He sighed in exasperation and picked up his cards again. “Do you think we could get on with it?”

  Sargon glanced at Andoran but receiving no confirmation from him, reluctantly frowned once more at his hand. Even before he could put down another card, his head went up again. “I can hear horses too.”

  “Well, they are tied up nearby. Maybe they’re just restless,” suggested Danton, knowing he was now fighting a losing battle.

  Andoran frowned, “If you can hear it too, Sargon, then it must be happening,”

  “Quick. Let’s see what’s going on.”

  Because of the drugged wine, they fell over themselves several times before they reached the doorway. Once they had disentangled themselves, Andoran reeled out of the tent with Sargon and Danton in hot pursuit.

  Suddenly Andoran’s shout rent the night. “Hoy. Someone’s stealing the horses!”

  “Go!” urged Autumn Leaves. As the horses thundered out of the encampment, the woodfolk used them as cover to reach the perimeter. A few brave woodfolk threw themselves onto the backs of the passing horses but most ran out into the night and flicked back into the cover of the trees.

  Unnoticed by the two bounty hunters, two dark shadows stole up from behind, hit Danton on the head and whisked him off into the night. Andoran and Sargon threw themselves clumsily but enthusiastically into the chase. As the last horse broke through the perimeter, Andoran lunged wildly and just managed to grab the tail end of Autumn Leaves’ shirt. He dragged the woodman backwards and swung him around in an arc into Sargon’s waiting fist. Autumn Leaves crumpled without a sound. The fleeing woodfolk, intent on their escape, did not look back. he horses cantered off through the forest, bearing their cargo of woodfolk. Once well inside the trees, they slowed to a walk and the nervous woodfolk on their backs sat up carefully and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Golden Toad, you are safe now,” called Creaking Bough quietly from astride a large roan. “Just hold on for a while longer and we will take you down and get those chains off you.”

  The horses carried them further into the forest, but every ten minutes or so, they would stop beneath a large tree and mill around pointlessly for a few minutes before once more setting off. Eventually, they brought the woodfolk into a large clearing deep within the forest canopy. The horses came to a halt and stood quietly, facing a tall young sorcerer with glowing golden eyes and long black hair. Golden Toad and his family smothered cries of consternation.

  “No. Don’t be fearful. He is a friend,” said Creaking Bough hastily

  Waiting hands reached down to grab Golden Toad and his family and bear them off through the trees into a nearby shelter while small bundles of wood were strapped onto the horses’ backs.

  The guardian of the forest bowed to the horses and sent forth waves of gratitude. The leading mare bowed her head, then tossed it and snorted. The horses wheeled around b
ehind her and galloped off into the night.

  He smiled and turned back into the clearing. “Rainstorm, North Wind, where are you?” As the two woodmen swung down out of the trees to land in front of him he said, “The horses will be fine. They will circle around and eventually return to the encampment.” He gave a short laugh “They could have stayed free but they like the food there and winter is coming. Where are the others?”

  North Wind went out of focus for a few moments. “With Golden Toad and his family. You’ll meet them when they come out. Not enough room in the shelter. Thunder Storm thought you might like to postpone telling them who you are for a while until they’ve settled down a bit.”

  Tarkyn grimaced, “I expect they don’t want to see another sorcerer as long as they live. Maybe I should make myself scarce for the time being.”

  “No, prince,” said Rainstorm firmly, “You might as well hang around. They saw you when they arrived on the horses. You probably need to reassure them that you’re friendly.”

  Tarkyn threw Rainstorm a sardonic glance, “Like a tamed wolf, you mean?”

  Rainstorm grinned. “Yes. Something like that,”

  “We’ll go and see how they’re going.” said North Wind, and the pair disappeared.

  Tarkyn paced back and forth to keep himself warm while he waited for the woodfolk to recover and re-emerge. Suddenly, he gasped and reeled, an intense jab of fear piercing his mind. Almost immediately the image of a knife flashed before his eyes. Sargon is waving the knife up close to me while Andoran leers into my face over Sargon’s shoulder. As I watch, the two sorcerers direct puzzled frowns at me, arguing about something. Suddenly the knife is reversed and comes plunging towards me, hilt first. Then the image went black.

  Tarkyn staggered against a tree and leaned there for a minute catching his breath, thinking about the image he had just seen. He knew, without a doubt, that Autumn Leaves had been captured. He wondered if everyone had received that image but there did not seem to be anyone reacting around him. Maybe it’s the strength of feeling that allowed me to pick it up. No one else receives feelings.