Bronze Magic (Book 1) Read online

  Without further thought, Tarkyn sent forth a command to Rainstorm. The young woodman appeared at his side, looking shaken.

  “Sorry,” said Tarkyn peremptorily. “I need your help. Now. Will you help me without knowing why? And are you willing to risk your kinsmen’s ire to do as I ask?”

  Rainstorm nodded without hesitation, his eyes gleaming in anticipation.

  “Good. Now go back into that shelter and find a blade of grass or any piece of vegetation on those woodfolk that has come from the tent in which they were held captive. Then bring it to me without anyone knowing. Clear?”

  Rainstorm frowned, “How will I know if it’s from the tent or from the bushes they passed through on the horse?”

  “Rainstorm, you’re the woodman. You figure it out. Now go. It’s urgent.”

  Tarkyn paced up and down, frantic with worry, while he awaited Rainstorm’s return. Gradually, he calmed enough to start thinking through what he needed to do. He found a low bush, plucked a spray of berries off it and stuffed them into his pocket. Then he composed himself and sat with his palm against an oak tree. He focused on the sap of the forest and sent an image of what had happened and what he wanted to do, deep into the heart of the forest trees. Slowly a gentle breeze wafted through the woodlands and, as the branches sighed with the passing wind, the guardian of the forest knew the forest would support him. He breathed slowly and deeply until he was calmer and then sent his mind wandering around the encampment until he found the friendly little mouse he had worked with before. He directed it to head towards the tent where the woodfolk had been kept. When he was sure it had understood and was on its way, he broke contact and set to pacing once more as he waited for Rainstorm to re-appear.

  Finally, Rainstorm returned bearing a small blade of grass smeared with mud. “It’s from the mud on the bottom of Golden Toads’ boot. It can’t be from the horse ride.”

  “Well done. I knew you’d figure something out.” Tarkyn took the blade of grass and sat down. “Now, listen carefully. I want you to go back into the tent and give me as much uninterrupted time as you can. After twenty minutes, tell North Wind, Running Feet and Thunder Storm that you have given me this grass. They will explain the rest.”

  Rainstorm looked a little puzzled but he stood by his resolve to assist Tarkyn. He nodded briefly “Good luck with whatever you’re doing, then.”

  “Thanks, Rainstorm,” said Tarkyn warmly, “Now go and stall everyone for as long as you can.”

  As soon as Rainstorm was out of sight, Tarkyn resumed contact with the mouse. It was now in the tent that had held the woodfolk. The mouse scuttled around the edges of the tent, darting from clothing to bags to bits of rubbish. The tent was clearly unoccupied. Tarkyn broke contact, took a deep breath and focusing in the blade of grass, incanted quietly, “Maya Mureva Araya!”

  He experienced a rushing, nauseating sensation, then a slowing down and a hesitation. For a moment, it felt as though his travel pushed at a soft barrier that gave way but then cushioned him to a gentle landing at the other end. Tarkyn opened his eyes and found himself lying on his side inside the now familiar tent. He drew a couple of steadying breaths, sat up and looked around.He spotted the mouse cowering behind a pile of clothes in the corner. Tarkyn sent out a wave of reassurance. He listened carefully. He couldn’t hear any movement outside. Perhaps they have all chased off after the horses. He regained contact with the mouse and asked it to go out under the side of the tent to see what lay beyond. Tarkyn was not planning to risk his safety any more than he felt was necessary.

  Once outside, the mouse snuffled about and soon picked up the scent of horse dung. Oh no! Not again, thought Tarkyn.He sent it an urgent message to keep looking around.

  It’s very quiet out here. Over there are a lot of nasty big animals but they are sleeping too. Wait! Someone nearby. People in that tent over there. No one else is out here. There are a few mounds of lovely dung over here though. Nice and warm.

  Tarkyn pulled out quickly. He took a deep breath, carefully raised the side of the tent and slithered out beneath it. He brought his feet up under himself and waited, crouching low while he gained his bearings and located the source of the voices.

  He crept to the outside of the tent and listened.

  “I think he’s coming around again,” said a voice that Tarkyn recognised as Sargon’s.

  “Well, who’s going to hit him this time? You or me?”

  “Are you sure he’s really there? I’ve never seen anyone like him before.”

  “Of course he’s there, you idiot. We can both see him.”

  “We could talk to him…Find out who he is...what he is?”

  “I don’t think so. We need to sober up a bit first. He might trick us. Who knows what magic he has up his sleeve.”

  Tarkyn sent forth a wave of hope and friendship, with a gesture indicating silence. A fuzzy image of the two bounty hunters came back to him. They were standing over the woodman, with their backs to the door. Tarkyn didn’t hesitate. In two sure strides, he entered the tent and incanted “Shturrum” before either of them could look around. Then he grabbed their heads and bashed them together with a resounding crunch. Sargon and Andoran fell senseless to the ground.

  Tarkyn stepped over them and knelt down next to the woodman, “Oh my stars! Autumn Leaves! What have they done to you?”

  Autumn Leaves’ face was covered with blood and his nose was on a sickening angle. He shook his head groggily. “I don’t know. Just hit me, I think. I feel sick. I think my nose is broken.” He frowned vaguely. “What are you doing here? Are we back in the woods?”

  “Shh. No. We’re not. But we will be soon.” Seeing Autumn Leaves frown deepen, Tarkyn said hastily, “Don’t worry. We’re leaving now.”

  He lifted Autumn Leaves up gently and set him down on his feet. “Can you walk?” The woodman collapsed as soon as Tarkyn slackened his grip. Tarkyn lowered him carefully back down. “No. Clearly not. Wait. I’ll check outside.” Tarkyn tuned back in with the mouse to find himself surrounded by a soft smelly warmth. Overcoming his distaste, Tarkyn persevered and after an initial reluctance, the little mouse goodnaturedly ventured back out into the cold to look around. Nothing was moving. Tarkyn sat down with the woodman leaning against him “Okay, Autumn Leaves. Think about my hands holding you. I’m going to send some strength and healing through them into you. Just relax and accept the power.”

  But Autumn Leaves was too befuddled to concentrate. After a few unsuccessful attempts, Tarkyn sent his own mind out along his arms and into the woodman’s body. He fed energy into the bruising around Autumn Leaves’ temple and soothed the knots out of overstressed muscles. He didn’t repair the nose because it needed to be set straight but he shored up the damage enough to enable Autumn Leaves to withstand the pain and to regain his senses.

  Tarkyn’s mind came back out of Autumn Leaves’ body just as Sargon groaned and began to sit up. Without a moment’s thought, Tarkyn backhanded Sargon hard across the head with the full force of his arm and shoulder, slamming him back down onto the ground. He stood up and assisted the woodman to rise

  “How’s that? Can you manage now?” he asked gently.

  Autumn Leaves glared at him through his one open eye. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be staying safely inside the forest.”

  “I would have thought that was obvious. I’m rescuing you.” Tarkyn put his arm around the woodman’s waist. “Let’s argue about the rest later.”

  Tarkyn poked his head out the door of the tent and, after checking for any signs of life, supported the woodman towards the perimeter of the encampment. “Can you do your flick thing?” he asked in a whisper.

  Autumn Leaves smiled faintly in the gloom. “Not yet. We need to be closer to the woods. I should be able to do it when we’re about halfway to the trees. What about the guards?”

  Tarkyn shook his head, “I don’t know. Could be a problem. They have probably all woken up by now and I bet not all of them chased
after the horses.”

  “Stars above Tarkyn! What are you thinking? Don’t you have a plan? What if someone sees you?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m safe. It’s just you we have to worry about.” Tarkyn glanced down at the woodman and frowned, “Do you think you can run?”

  Just then they heard the sound of solid footsteps and a pair of guards walked into sight along the edge of the encampment not twenty yards from them. Tarkyn and Autumn Leaves pressed into the shadow of the woodfolk’s tent and held their breaths.

  “It’s a bloody strange thing,” growled one of the guards. “It must be some clever sorcerer to be able to knock them all out at once like that.”

  “I don’t understand why they didn’t see anyone.”

  Tarkyn peered out from the shadow, waved a hand and intoned Shturrum softly. The two guards froze but were faced half towards Tarkyn and Autumn Leaves.

  “Blast!” exclaimed Tarkyn quietly. “We can’t go out there. They’ll see us and be able to report back after we’re gone.” He looked back over his shoulder. “Come on. We’ll have to skirt back around the other side of the tent.”

  They crept back around to the front of the tent. But as soon as they touched the canvas near the door, the magic ward lit up and set up a loud warning wail.

  The sounds of running footsteps closed in from all sides. “Sorry Autumn Leaves. Nothing for it now.” Tarkyn clasped the woodman close with one arm, thrust his other hand into his pocket and grasped the spray of berries. “Maya Mureva Araya! Ka Mureva Araya!” he intoned urgently.

  Tarkyn felt himself dragged backwards at speed but his arm felt as if it was trying to lift a ton weight. He clenched hard with every fibre of his strength, his biceps screaming with the strain. He could feel himself sweating and the bile rising in his throat. He held on grimly. He felt as though he was being torn apart at his shoulder. Tarkyn reached deep inside and brought his whole being together to focus his strength on his straining arm. With a strange sensation like being dragged out of thick mud, Tarkyn and his burden suddenly came free and were catapulted onto the floor of the forest to land sprawled at the feet of Rainstorm and the other woodmen.

  Tarkyn lay there gasping, too tired to move. He found himself looking up into the anxious faces of the four woodmen who were meant to be protecting him. Others were gathered in the background. He could see Rainstorm smiling in relief and a wrathful frown gathering on Thunder Storm’s face. Ignoring them all, Tarkyn rolled over and looked down at the bloody woodman who lay pale and unconscious on his outstretched arm.

  “Find Summer Rain. Get her here fast,” he ordered. Tarkyn closed his eyes and placed his other hand on Autumn Leaves’ chest. Realising he was still clutching the berries, Tarkyn threw them away and replaced his open palm on Autumn Leaves. He focused his mind through his arm into the woodman. With relief, he felt Autumn Leaves’ heart beating slowly but strongly. He drew on his own diminished strength and let it flow into the injured woodman. After several agonising moments, Autumn Leaves stirred and opened his eyes. One eye was swollen nearly shut and the other was bleary and unfocused. Slowly, as Tarkyn’s strength flowed into him, the woodman became aware of his surroundings and smiled rather muzzily up at the four woodmen leaning over them.

  “I feel sick,” Autumn Leaves pronounced slowly, “And my face hurts. But I am so glad to see you all.” He let his eyes travel slowly across the branches above him before bringing his eyes around to stare up into Tarkyn’s face. He gave a faint smile. “You brought us back to the forest.” He frowned vaguely, “I think you’d better save some strength for yourself. That flow is feeling very wavery.”

  Tarkyn nodded and fell back weakly onto the ground beside him, his arm still stretched beneath the woodman.

  “He needs a tree,” said Thunder Storm shortly. “Come on. Help me pick them up and move them over to that big oak.”

  Running Feet, North Wind and Rainstorm looked puzzled, but nevertheless followed Thunder Storm’s instruction without question.

  “Now place Tarkyn’s palm against the tree’s trunk.”

  “Thanks,” murmured Tarkyn. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes, lifted his head and twinkled up at them, “So that was interesting. I think that might be an all-time first for sorcery; translocating two people with one spell.” He let his head drop down again. “Takes it out of you, though.” He looked at Thunder Storm whose face seemed to oscillate between concern and anger. Tarkyn sent up a wave of reassurance that did little to reconcile the angry woodman. He closed his eyes again. “Thunder Storm. Go off and be angry somewhere else. I can’t deal with it at the moment. Save it up and hit me with it later when I’m feeling stronger. I need my strength now to help Autumn Leaves.” A fretful frown appeared on his face. “Where’s Summer Rain?”

  “She is on her way, Your Highness,” replied Running Feet. “She was stationed near the edge of the woods close to the encampment in case there were any injuries. So she has some distance to cover. All those who did not ride should be returning here shortly.”

  The prince roused himself, opened his eyes and snapped impatiently, “Don’t wait for them. Do a head count now. I don’t want to find that anyone else is missing.”

  Running Feet raised his eyebrows at Tarkyn’s tone, “Yes, my lord.” He glanced at Thunder Storm and moved quickly away to concentrate on sending out the message.

  Before long, the clearing began to fill with returning woodfolk. The air was full of excitement and success. But gradually, as they realised that Autumn Leaves lay injured up under the oak, the sound of voices became more subdued. Once Running Feet had returned with Summer Rain, Tarkyn extricated himself from beneath Autumn Leaves and sat up.

  “I have done the best I could, Summer Rain. You will need to set his nose and check him for other injuries. Let me know if you need more healing power.” He looked down at Autumn Leaves, “I’ll leave you to Summer Rain for a while. Is that all right? I’ll be back soon.”

  Tarkyn wandered down the slope to find Thunder Storm amongst the throng. Not surprisingly, he found him deep in conversation with Waterstone and Ancient Oak who had just arrived. Tarkyn squared his shoulders and walked over to join them, Rainstorm and North Wind bringing up the rear.

  Taking one look at Waterstone’s thunderous expression, Tarkyn waved a hand and said, “Before you get stuck into me, let me assure you I had no plans to sacrifice myself or to do anything silly. I thought it out beforehand and took precautions. The worst that could have happened was that I came back alone.”

  “We should have been there to protect you,” said Thunder Storm shortly.

  Tarkyn shrugged, “Since you are all so concerned for my safety, I could not risk you refusing my orders and jeopardising the forest. I hope you weren’t too angry with Rainstorm. He did not know about my translocating, so he didn’t realise what he was helping me to do.” He gave a little smile, “As it turns out, I did this better on my own, anyway.”

  “You must not place yourself in danger like that again,” spluttered Thunder Storm.

  Tarkyn smiled faded and he raised a supercilious eyebrow. He spoke with cutting formality, “I beg your pardon, Thunder Storm, but I am not accustomed to taking orders. I have not been used to it and I have no intention of starting now. I now realise that Stormaway was wrong about the paradox. When I gave Waterstone permission to attack me, that permission overrode your requirement to protect me and kept the forest safe. My orders can override your vow to protect me. The paradox only exists if you refuse to obey me.” He let his gaze travel around all the woodmen surrounding him.“Now, I see two choices before you; either I will simply go into danger without your knowledge when I feel the need, or you guarantee to support my decisions so that I know the forest will not be placed in jeopardy.”

  There was a stony silence.

  Tarkyn did not relent. With a glance at Waterstone, he continued, “In return, I will undertake not to place myself in danger unnecessarily. However, this has gone far enough. None of you
may dictate my actions. You may express your opinions and I may refrain from dictating to you, if I so choose. But no one dictates to me.”

  The silence continued.

  Tarkyn looked around him, “May I remind you that I have a responsibility to protect all of you, even as you must protect me?” He shrugged and his voice lost its harsh edge. “But the oath had nothing to do with this. I could not have left Autumn Leaves suffering at the hands of Andoran and Sargon while there was something I could do about it. Autumn Leaves is my friend and kinsman.” The prince ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry if I have spoilt your celebrations. I did not intend to be quite so emphatic.”

  Tarkyn turned on his heel to walk away but Ancient Oak’s creaking voice stopped him, “I think our celebrations would have been spoilt a lot more by losing Autumn Leaves,” he said quietly. “Speaking for myself, I would like to thank you for what you did.”

  Tarkyn swung back around and gave a short, mirthless laugh, “Huh. Don’t mention it. Anyway, I didn’t do it for your gratitude…. And I didn’t do it to prove a point. I did it for Autumn Leaves.”

  Just as he finished speaking, the three rescued woodfolk emerged from the shelter, clinging nervously to each other as they confronted this fearsome sorcerer. Tarkyn frowned to see them still chained together, unaware that his concern for them made him appear even more frightening.

  “Can’t we get these chains off them? They are demeaning.”

  “We are trying, my lord,” said Falling Branch. “It will take some time, I’m afraid.”

  Tarkyn realised that the freed woodfolk were looking at him in alarm and softened his tone, “I beg you pardon. I did not wish to appear harsh. I will see if I can help you in a minute. Perhaps we should sit down near the fire. Then I won’t be towering over you.” When they were seated, Tarkyn asked, “Have you had anything to eat or drink? I know it’s late but you might like something.”