Bronze Magic (Book 1) Read online

  Golden Toad plucked up courage to reply, “I could do with a good stiff drink, if there’s one around. I haven’t had a wine in weeks.”

  Tarkyn was intrigued to hear that Golden Toad’s voice was indeed deep and stop-started so that the phrases came out jerkily. Feeling trapped with this huge young man, Golden Toad glanced at the other woodfolk in supplication.

  “Don’t worry,” said Waterstone reassuringly, “Even if he is a little autocratic, this sorcerer is not going to hurt you. He is one of us, not one of them.” He glanced at Tarkyn and, despite their recent disagreement, managed a little smile, “His looks are deceiving.” When they still looked unconvinced, Waterstone added, “He is my brother. Look!”

  He rolled up his sleeve and showed them his scar. Tarkyn did the same.

  Golden Toad looked in wonder from one to the other. “How can this be? It has never happened before.”

  “Long story. We’ll tell you another time,” said Ancient Oak as he handed them mugs of fine wine. “I can tell you this, though. Without my brother here, we would never have found you or been able to rescue you. He is a forest guardian.”

  “No! Are you really?” asked Golden Toad. “That’s amazing!”

  Tarkyn smiled disarmingly, “Yes, it is rather amazing, isn’t it?”

  “So, that’s how you controlled the horses, isn’t it?” Golden Toad turned to his wife. “Imagine that, Rushwind. A real forest guardian!”

  Tarkyn was beginning to feel like a travelling freak show again. He transferred his attention to Falling Branch, “How long will it take you to break those chains?”

  Falling Branch grimaced, “Quite some time. I can’t get in close enough with a chisel, and a file will take ages.”

  Tarkyn’s eyes narrowed as he thought about it, “Do you want me to try?”

  Falling Branch glanced at the chained woodfolk then back at Tarkyn. “I’m not sure. Maybe.”

  Tarkyn caught his look and correctly interpreting it, asked Golden Toad, “How would you feel about me exerting a little magic to remove your chains? I won’t go near you if you don’t want me to. It’s up to you.”

  “Will it hurt?” asked Rushwind nervously.

  Tarkyn gave a slight smile, “To be perfectly honest, I don’t know. If I do it, I’ll try it on a loose bit of chain first and see what happens.”

  The rescued woodfolk looked at each other then back at Tarkyn. “Try it on the loose chain first. Then we’ll decide.”

  “Fair enough.”

  The sorcerer laid out the end of the chain nearest the stake, then raised his hand and sent a thin intense beam of power into it. One of the links snapped apart with a sharp report. Everyone jumped back. Tarkyn leaned forward quickly and felt the neighbouring links. Then he flicked his fingers away shaking his hand and put them in his mouth.

  “Ow. That burned!” Tarkyn mumbled around hurting fingers.

  “Well, heal yourself and get on with it,” said Rainstorm unsympathetically. “I’ve seen you do it before with the rope marks.”

  “All right. All right. Give me a chance. I’ve got blisters, you know.” He took his fingers out of his mouth and shook his hand. “Ow. Just because I can fix it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” He took a deep breath, shut his eyes and focused his being into soothing and healing his damaged fingers. As the woodfolk watched, the redness on his fingers disappeared and the blisters melted back into the skin. He opened his eyes. “There! Feel free to be sympathetic next time.” He looked around. “Right. So that’s only going to work if we can shield their bodies from the heat. What could we use?” “A thick wad of bark,” suggested Waterstone.

  Tarkyn nodded. “Let’s try it.” He smiled evilly, “Rainstorm. You can put your hand under the bark and test it this time. I will heal you if you get burnt.”

  Rainstorm scowled at him but realised his lack of sympathy had dumped him in it. “Fine. But you had better heal me fast if I need it.”

  “I will. Ready?” Once more Tarkyn aimed a thin strong ray of bronze at a link. The link cracked apart but Rainstorm didn’t move. Slowly the bark began to smoulder on the outside. “Thank you Rainstorm. You’ve made your point. It worked. You had better move before the bark catches alight, though.” Tarkyn looked at Golden Toad. “Well? Are you prepared to take the chance? You don’t have to, but it will be quicker. If the worst comes to the worst and you get burnt, I can heal you.”

  Golden Toad looked at Rushwind who nodded, then back at Tarkyn. “Yes. Go on.”

  Thick wads of bark were pushed in between the chains and their waists. They lifted their arms up out of the way. “Ready?” asked Tarkyn. “I’m going to do all three of you at once. So hold still until I say.”

  The sorcerer took a deep breath and centred himself to steady his hand. Then he sent a short sharp pulse of bronze power into a link of each of the three chains one after another. The chains fell to the ground with a clatter and the smoking bark was whisked away by waiting hands and thrown on the fire. Everyone let out the breaths they had been holding, while the released woodfolk jumped up and cavorted about.

  “Oh. It’s good to be free again after all this time,” chortled Rushwind. “Thank you, young man, whoever you are.”

  The rest of the woodfolk seemed to find this exquisitely funny. Tarkyn rolled his eyes and laughed, “It’s a nice change not to be at the centre of someone’s universe.”

  The woodfolk swung into full-scale celebrations and plied their rescued kin with wine and food. Everyone gathered around them, catching them up on births, deaths and marriages they had missed.

  Eventually Golden Toad came nervously over to sit near Tarkyn. “I believe we owe you our thanks. I did not thank you properly before.”

  “You are most welcome. But I would have to say that I was only one among many who mounted this rescue. Do not confine your thanks to me.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I haven’t.” Golden Toad bobbed his head apologetically; “In fact I’ve left you until last because, well to be quite honest, I’m a little nervous of you”

  “Considering the recent company you’ve been keeping, that is hardly surprising.” Tarkyn looked gravely at him, “I don’t know whether you’ve worked out who I am yet but I would like to say on behalf of most sorcerers that I am sorry for what you have been through. There are rogues in every society. Most sorcerers are generally kind, work hard for their living and look after their friends and families just as you do. I’m afraid you and most of the other woodfolk have developed a very jaundiced view of sorcerers. But please, at least get to know me before you judge me.”

  “And who are you exactly?” Golden Toad looked puzzled. “I believe you’re our new forest guardian which is more than enough on its own. But I gather there is more to you than that.”

  Tarkyn shrugged and gave a little smile. “I am Tarkyn Tamadil, third son of King Markazon and youngest brother of King Kosar. Also known as rogue sorcerer, I’m afraid to say.”

  Golden Toad swallowed, “Oh dear. And holder of the Sorcerer’s Oath and our long awaited liege lord.”

  “Yes. I’m afraid so.”

  Golden Toad looked into the fire as he digested this information. After a while he said, “Well, you seem pretty generous with your time and power for a liege lord. That’s not what I saw at the encampment. Lords seemed much more high and mighty from what I could see of them. Not that I could see much through the cracks in the canvas.”

  Tarkyn laughed. “Well, I’m overlord to most of those lords. That is, I was.”

  Golden Toad swung his head around to look at Tarkyn. His eyes narrowed, “They’re saying some pretty terrible things about you. I’m glad I met you before I knew who you were. I’d have been scared to death, otherwise.”

  “I thought you might have been. But not now?”

  Golden Toad shrugged, “You seem all right so far. You’ve done nothing but try to help us as far as I understand it. Anyway, if you were as bad as they were saying, you wouldn’t have become our liege l
ord. So a lot of it must be untrue.”

  Tarkyn raised his eyebrows. “You’re taking this all very calmly. I thought you’d be upset when you found out who I was. I wasn’t very popular with everyone else, to start with.”

  “No. I imagine you weren’t. On the other hand, from what Ancient Oak said, I believe we owe you our freedom.”

  The prince grimaced, “I’m afraid that is all too true. You are among those who swore the oath, aren’t you?”

  Golden Toad nodded.

  “Then if you remember the words, you do indeed owe me your freedom, I’m afraid. You are bound to honour, serve and protect me, as am I bound to protect and support you.”

  Golden Toad looked around the clearing at various woodfolk wandering around, chatting, drinking and eating, none of them paying Tarkyn much attention. He brought his gaze back to the prince. “They don’t seem to be finding it too onerous. It has to be better than being chained up. No one’s dragged me aside to warn me about you. So you can’t be too bad.”

  “Don’t let him get you worried about it,” piped up Rainstorm from the other side of Tarkyn. “It’s not as bad as you’d think it would be.”

  “And you’d know that because…?” asked Tarkyn, a clear note of warning in his voice.

  Rainstorm shrugged sheepishly. “Just from what I’ve observed, you understand.”

  “I assumed that’s what you meant,” said Golden Toad, unaware of the undercurrent of the conversation. “You’re one of the forestals, aren’t you? Your lot didn’t swear the oath, did they?”

  Rainstorm cleared his throat, “No. They didn’t.”

  Golden Toad yawned, “Does anyone go to sleep around here? It can’t be long until dawn.”

  Tarkyn smiled, “They are just excited at having succeeded in their rescue and having you back among them. Tonight is the climax of a lot of planning, you know. Go on. You’ll have to go and chat with them all before you go to bed.”

  As soon as he had gone, Tarkyn turned to Rainstorm. Before he could say anything, Rainstorm smiled ruefully and said, “I’m sorry. I nearly gave the game away, didn’t I?”

  Tarkyn waved a hand. “I’m not worried about that. You recovered quickly enough. Anyway now the rescue is over, it doesn’t matter as much. It might be time to face the music soon. But not tonight.” hen the world swam back into focus, Danton found himself once more with his hands tied behind his back. His first reaction was alarm that the sorcerers had discovered his complicity in the woodfolk’s activities. Then he looked around and realised that he was somewhere in the forest. Breathing a sigh of relief, he let his head drop back down. Just as he was drifting back to sleep, a feeling of intense irritation overcame him. He was tired of being mistrusted.

  In the grey before dawn, the sound of birds singing in nearby trees woke him. Danton struggled into a sitting position and leant his head back against a tree. He thought about the events of the night before and knew that his actions had been misconstrued. He remembered what Tarkyn had said about the world not being big enough to hide him if he betrayed his prince. His stomach lurched in fear before anger took over. Well, he hadn’t betrayed the prince and he was sick of having to prove himself.

  Time passed slowly. A pale yellow sun was streaming between the sparse leaves of the trees by the time anyone bothered to approach him. Danton heard a slight rustle and turned his head to find Waterstone watching him from the edge of the clearing.

  “How long have you been there?” Danton asked.

  “For a few minutes.”

  “So. What now? Do I go on trial?” Danton’s voice was scathing. “Or do you kill me out of hand as a traitor without a hearing?

  Waterstone walked around and sat down cross-legged in front of the bound sorcerer. “What do you think should happen?”

  Danton scowled at him, “It’s too late for what I think should happen. You should have left me to get on with the job as we had agreed. Now I will be associated with your activities and will no longer be able to walk freely among the sorcerers. That severely reduces my usefulness to you and Tarkyn.” He shrugged and added bitterly, “But since none of you trusts me, I am of no use to you anyway.”

  Waterstone considered him, his head to one side. “What could you say that might convince us? How would we know you weren’t acting?” He paused, “We all watched you in action with Sargon and Andoran. Either you were acting then or you are acting now. And we saw you rush out with them right into the middle of our raid. So how can we trust what you say?”

  “You can’t,” replied Danton flatly. “And frankly, I have no intention of putting any more effort into convincing you.”

  Waterstone gave a slight smile, “I can understand your irritation but it would seem, in your position, that it might be worth your while to find a way to prove your trustworthiness.”

  “It can’t be done. I see no point in continuing an association where I am under constant examination. I supported you against my own people and this is the thanks I get. You can all go hang, for all I care.”

  “How do I know your display of self righteous anger isn’t a ploy in itself?”

  “You don’t,” said Danton shortly. “That’s why I’m not going to even bother trying. And if you want to know, I told Stormaway that I would have absolutely no qualms about acting to you people if I could find a way to convince you of my good faith. So, you can safely assume I’ll act if I think it will help me.”

  “Danton, have a care. You are painting yourself into a corner.”

  “Then kill me.”

  For once, Waterstone was at a loss. After a few moments he said, “For what it’s worth, I told Tarkyn yesterday that I trusted you. Recent events may have strained my belief but I certainly have no intention of condemning you out of hand.”

  “Considering how I find myself, your faith in me doesn’t impress me much,” Danton retorted. He wriggled his shoulders to ease their stiffness. “And you can tell His Royal Highness that he seems to have learnt how to reward loyal service from his brothers! I thought he was better than that. But apparently not.”

  Waterstone’s eyes glittered. He said in a voice husky with anger, “Don’t you ever compare Tarkyn with his brothers!”

  Danton was completely unrepentant. “Then tell him not to act like them.”

  “The cases are not at all the same,” protested Waterstone vehemently.

  “The cases are very much the same,” responded Danton promptly. “They didn’t trust Tarkyn. Tarkyn doesn’t trust me.” He glowered at Waterstone. “I’m tired of tying myself in knots only to be kicked in the teeth. I spent a month on my own, scouring the countryside to find the prince because, despite all the evidence condemning him, I stayed true to him. And when I finally found him, I was greeted with a cool reception and suspicion. Then, against my natural instincts, I threw myself into the rescue of your kin, spent long torturous hours talking to two people whom I would have preferred to kill on sight and for this, I am rewarded with imprisonment and mistrust.” He tilted his head to one side. “I am loyal, and yet I am mistrusted and imprisoned. So tell me, how is that different from what happened to Tarkyn?”

  Waterstone stood up and began to pace back and forth before the palace guard. Finally, he stopped and turned towards Danton, “Your behaviour with Sargon and Andoran provided us with more grounds for suspicion than Tarkyn’s performance at the tournament did for his brothers”.

  Danton gave a derisory smile, “It took you a long time to think of that.”

  Waterstone raised his eyebrows. “It’s true nevertheless.”

  “Yes,” conceded Danton, “It is true.”

  “So, can you explain what happened between you, Sargon and Andoran?”

  “Yes,” replied Danton. He stared up into the sunlight streaming through the branches then looked back at the woodman. “But I won’t.”

  Waterstone frowned in exasperation. “Well, can you prove your good faith in some other way?”

  “Yes, I think so, but I won’
t do that either.” Danton rubbed his shoulders against the tree trunk. “Have you ever sat with your hands tied behind your back? It’s bloody uncomfortable and bloody humiliating, if you really want to know. I don’t like being at the mercy of your whims and it is not something I’m prepared to put up with, every time you get the jitters about me.”

  Danton took a deep breath and looked Waterstone in the eye. “So. This is the end of the road. You either trust me or you don’t. If you don’t, I suppose you’ll have to kill me because I know too much.”

  Waterstone frowned, “Is self sacrifice a common trait among sorcerers?”

  “Oh no. I’m not sacrificing myself. Be it on your head if you kill me. That would not be my choice. My choice is to be trusted and to live.”

  The woodman’s eyes narrowed. “You’re trying to force my hand, aren’t you, without having to explain yourself?”

  Danton shrugged, “You can look at it that way, if you like.”

  “I don’t like having my hand forced, Danton,” came Tarkyn’s voice quietly from the side.

  Danton whipped his head around to see the prince sitting motionlessly with his back against the next tree. “And how long have you been there?” he demanded. “Does none of you announce your presence like civilized folk?”

  Tarkyn raised his eyebrows and asked, with an edge to his voice, “Are you implying that we, that I am not civilized?”

  “I beg your pardon, my lord.” Danton stammered, his bravado evaporating. “Of course I meant no such thing.”

  Tarkyn’s amber eyes bored into him. “So you think I’m as unjust as my brothers, do you? – Perhaps I am. I am, after all, tainted with the same Tamadil blood.”

  This was so uncomfortably close to what Sargon had said that Danton could feel the colour seeping into his cheeks. “I didn’t know you were listening to them, my lord.”

  “I wasn’t, Danton. But I am not a fool. I know what people are saying about me.”

  Danton dropped his eyes. “My lord, I am sorry to have to tell you this but I spoke slightingly of you several times to Andoran and Sargon.”

  “I am sure you did, Danton. I would have expected no less.”