Bronze Magic (Book 1) (17 page)

“In the shape of myself.” Tarkyn considered the healer as she packed
away her herbs and bandages. Finally he asked, “And do you think Falling
Rain should have been banished?”
“Excuse me,” interrupted Waterstone quietly, “I have to go and check
on Sparrow.” Since the woodman could easily have mind linked with his
daughter, Tarkyn raised his eyebrows slightly in query. “And I’ll fashion
a walking stick for you while I’m there,” added Waterstone quickly. “I’ll
be back shortly.”
When he had gone, the prince turned to Summer Rain. “What was
that all about?”
The woodwoman gave a gentle smile. “Waterstone does not want to
become involved in influencing your decisions.”
“I presume that means he has a strong view on this subject.” observed
the prince.
“Yes, he does but I would not betray his intentions by telling you what
it is,” said the healer firmly.
“Nor would I expect you to,” the prince retaliated stiffly. “But you
have not yet told me your own views on your brother’s banishment.”
The healer met his gaze steadily. “Until recently, I have always advocated
that Falling Rain should not have been exiled, certainly not for such a long
period of time. Many woodfolk agreed with me, especially those who had
been saved or whose relatives had been saved by your father and the wizard.”
“But then,” continued the prince for her, “I came into the forest and
now the debt has been called in.”
Summer Rain nodded. “And the forest has already been damaged
twice in the short time you have been here.”
Tarkyn thought of saying that the incidence of damage to the forest
was likely to decrease as the woodfolk came to terms with the power of
the oath, but on balance he decided that the comment might be more
harmful than helpful. So he merely asked, “So, what is your view now?”
“As both a healer and his sister, I still believe that his betrayal of us did
more good than harm. But now memories of the sickness have faded and
the reality of your presence has swung away most of the support I might
have had.”

Politics is alive and well and living in the woodlands,
thought the prince.
He closed his eyes imagining the pull of opposing forces dragging at him.
He took a careful, deep breath and gazed steadfastly at the floor as he
thought through what he was saying, “So, on the one hand, you resent
me and all I represent but on the other hand, you know I could choose to
end your brother’s exile.” He raised his eyes to look at her. “And because
Falling Rain was exiled for complying with my father’s wishes, it seems
likely that I would champion his cause.”

She returned his stare in silence. When he said nothing further,
Summer Rain swallowed and said tightly, “And yet you will not.”
The prince shook his head slowly. “I have not said that. I will
think on it. However, I am facing enough resentment at the moment
without overturning such a pivotal decision. I can’t do that on such
short acquaintance. It would look as though I had no respect for
woodfolk lore.”
The healer’s gentle green eyes flashed. “I doubt there is much you
could do to persuade us that you respect us. Meanwhile, my brother will
suffer in exile to ease your passage into our society.”
“Charmingly put, ma’am,” said the prince with heavy irony. “And on
that note, might I suggest we close the discussion?”
Summer Rain looked as though she would say more but the forbidding
expression on the prince’s face stopped her. As she left the shelter, bearing
her bag of herbs and bandages, Tarkyn relented enough to say stiffly
to her retreating back, “Do not despair. I will not forget your brother’s
plight. Thank you for your care.”
By the time Waterstone returned, Tarkyn had managed to wash
himself using the basin of water that had been left for him in the corner
of the room and had dressed himself in his new woodfolk garb. The
effort of this activity had depleted his reserve of energy and he was lying
down recovering when Waterstone walked in, bearing a long sturdy staff
of wood.
Again the woodman’s face showed signs of strain and although he
smiled as he presented Tarkyn with the staff and commented on his new
clothes, there was a haunted look at the back of his eyes.
Tarkyn frowned in concern. “What is wrong, Waterstone? I feel
you have withdrawn from me. Are you still angry with me because of
Sparrow? What is it?”
Waterstone looked at him without speaking for several seconds, and
then made up his mind. “Come. I will show you.”
When they had emerged from the winding path through the brambles,
the prince found himself facing a scene of devastation. Twigs and branches
littered the ground. Broken branches hung, half ripped off standing trees.
And some smaller trees had been virtually stripped bare of leaves. From
where he stood, Tarkyn could see at least three fallen trees other than
the great oak. The prince stood and surveyed the scene for long minutes
before asking, “How far does the damage go?” he asked quietly. “Is it like
this throughout the forest?”
“No.” Waterstone shook his head, his eyes bright with tears. “Probably
thanks to your intervention, the damage is all within a two hundred yard
radius. But look what I’ve done,” The woodman waved an encompassing
hand. “How can I live with this?”
Tarkyn remembered his father saying that breaking the oath would
destroy the woodfolk’s souls. The sorcerer glanced at the distressed
woodman and without thinking about it, sent waves of understanding
and strength to him, as he said, “Waterstone, you do not bear all the
blame for this. We both did something wrong but more than either of
us, my father let loose a great evil when he created this sorcerous oath in
the first place. If he had to impose an oath, it should have been an oath
of honour. He showed no respect for the integrity of woodfolk when he
bound your compliance to the welfare of the forest.” He looked at the
woodman. “Can we walk down to the river? I can’t stand up for long.”
Waterstone nodded and they set off slowly, Tarkyn using the staff for
support as his back and legs muscles complained. He still found the walk
difficult but was able to make the distance without a break or assistance.
He lowered himself down against the rocks with a sigh of satisfaction.
Waterstone did not sit down but paced around tidying up debris or
gazing up into damaged trees. Finally, he sat on a rock opposite Tarkyn
and ran his hands through his light brown hair. He gazed at the river for
a few minutes then took a deep breath and swung his eyes around to face
the patiently waiting young sorcerer.
“Tarkyn, I don’t know whether I can do this.”
Tarkyn could feel his heart beating slow and hard. He knew what was
coming and thought it ironic that Waterstone had finally used his name.
“Go on,” he said.
“When you were unconscious, when you were ill and isolated, I didn’t
understand the complications of ...I don’t know... spending time around
you.” The woodman picked up a couple of pebbles and started tossing
them up and down, just as he had when they had been beside the river two
days earlier. He took his eyes off the prince to focus on the pebbles.“There
are so many things that are difficult...I don’t know where to start. There’s
your enormous magical power that seems to become erratic when your
emotions get the better of you. You have absolute dominion over the
future of the woodfolk if you want it and I can already see the vultures
gathering already, waiting to use your influence. I don’t know how to act
to keep neutral. I don’t know how to be a friend and not have opinions.
And if I have opinions, you’ll start thinking I’m trying to use you…. and
I’ll be drafted into one camp or the other and people will try to make
me influence you. But if I don’t have opinions, who am I? And on top
of all that, there’s the stinking oath. I don’t blame you for it, but now I
know how destructive it is, how can I risk being unrestrained around
you. When does anger start a windstorm?” He dropped the pebbles and
shook his head. He looked back up at the prince. “It’s all so hard,” he
finished disconsolately.
Tarkyn gave Waterstone a rueful smile. “I know it’s hard being around
me. I have to do it all the time, but at least I’m used to it. I do understand
and I’m sorry you have had to go through all this when you have done so
much to help me. If you cannot cope with me and all that goes with me,
I will miss your company but I will understand.”
Waterstone stood up and started to pace up and down in some
agitation. Finally, he came to stand in front of the prince and glowered
down at him. “The trouble with you is that you’re too bloody noble. If
you were less understanding, I might be able to walk away and leave you
to your fate but I can’t. Anyway, I don’t want to. I just don’t know how
to deal with it all.”
Such a wave of relief came flooding into Waterstone’s mind that he
blinked. “And that’s another thing,” said the woodman, half crossly and
half laughing, “You work out how to use mind links and then develop your
own weird style. We use images and words. You use images and feelings.
Do you realise you’re flooding me with your relief at the moment?”
Tarkyn managed to look guilty and embarrassed all at once. “You’re
right, aren’t you? My emotions do run riot at times, don’t they?”
“Yes, they do. And when they do, things tend to go haywire. You’re an
absolute disaster area, all things considered.”
Tarkyn shrugged, “That’s how I got into this mess in the first place.”
He realised what he had just said and added quickly, “Not that I mean
to imply that….”
Waterstone interrupted him with a half smile, “Don’t even try to get
out of that one. You’ll just tie yourself in knots and won’t convince me you
didn’t mean it anyway.” He sat down on the ground next to Tarkyn and
became serious again. “You will have to help me, Tarkyn. I’m not used
to people pulling at me and judging my every move and questioning my
motives.” He looked around at the prince. “I know you can’t completely
trust me and, having seen just a little of what goes on around you, I can
understand why, much better than I did two days ago. But maybe you
could tell me when I do or say something that arouses your suspicion, so
we can sort it out.”
Tarkyn grimaced, “I am hard work, aren’t I? Thank you for sticking
with me. If I have any doubts, I will talk to you about them. I have been
honest with you so far, haven’t I?”
“Blindingly.”
“But you are also badly upset about the forest, aren’t you?” When
Waterstone nodded, Tarkyn continued, “I know the forest has a different,
deeper meaning to you and that it is hurting you to see what has
happened to it. But if my welfare is tied to that of the woodlands, then
your support of me is supporting the woodland. So please don’t let this
one mistake eat away at you. Just help me to make sure it doesn’t keep
happening as woodfolk test me out.” The sorcerer looked around the
nearby trees and pointed at some of the half torn off branches. “Perhaps
we can repair some of these trees. In the palace nursery, they used to
graft branches onto other trees by tying them until the tree grew strongly
enough around the joint to hold the branch without support. Can’t we
do that for some of these trees?”
The woodman looked perplexed. “I can’t hold a branch and tie it at the
same time while dangling out of the tree. And there wouldn’t be room for
two of us to reach one branch at the same time, even if you were strong
enough to climb up.”
Tarkyn gave a self-satisfied smile. “You forget. I’m a sorcerer. Watch.”
He pointed one of his fingers at a branch and incanted, “
Liefka.
” The
branch lifted up into its original position on the tree. “Now, all you have
to do is get up there with something to bind it.”
Waterstone’s eyes lit up. “Well, isn’t that amazing?! I never thought of
sorcery being used to do something good!”
Tarkyn let the branch back down and stared at him. “What do you
think? That all sorcerers go around using their power to hurt people?” He
frowned. “And if you think sorcerers are so evil, what on earth are you
doing spending any time with me at all?”
The woodman was nonplussed. “Well, I don’t know. I suppose I
thought sorcerers only used their powers for attack or defence. I’ve only
ever been near five sorcerers, you, your father and those three bounty
hunters - and I’ve heard about your brothers of course.”
“And it didn’t occur to you that we might not be typical sorcerers - two
kings, two princes and three vicious bounty hunters?”
Waterstone raised his eyebrow. “No. Not really. Though, when you
put it like that….”
“So, I suppose you thought I was the best of a bad lot.”
Waterstone gave an embarrassed smile. “Something like that. To be honest,
I thought you were quite remarkable when you didn’t hurt anyone even
though you were under attack and then only used your powers for defence -
well - except for that flashy display when you thought we were keeping you
in the forest, but even that was pretty harmless.” He flashed Tarkyn a cheeky
grin. “Just another example of your emotions running riot.”
Tarkyn raised his eyebrows, “That was you, wasn’t it? I’ve just
remembered. You were the person trying to tell me that it was the forest
not the woodfolk that was stopping me from translocating.”
The woodman smiled and nodded. “For all the good it did us.”
“Oh dear,” grimaced the prince. “You and I are not very good at
listening to each other when we’re angry, are we?” He thought through
what Waterstone had said, “So all any of you knows of sorcerers is my
family and those bounty hunters throwing our weight around. I have a
lot of bad impressions to overcome, haven’t I?” He looked at Waterstone
thoughtfully, “Just to set the record straight, sorcerers are just ordinary
people with varying degrees of magic. Some are good. Some are bad.
Most are a mixture of both. Just like woodfolk, I would imagine. Most
sorcerers use their powers to ply their trade, whatever that is; gardener,
groom, craftsman, cook…”
“And what useful, helpful things does a prince do with his magic, as a
general rule?”
The prince started to reply, but hesitated. Then he came up with
another idea but again stopped himself before he spoke. Finally, he said
with a wry grin, “Actually, not a lot, but it doesn’t mean I can’t start now.
So let’s get on with fixing these trees.”
“Yes, if we are to have any successes, we must start soon. Many will
already be too far gone to repair.” Waterstone’s eyes went out of focus for
a couple of seconds. Tarkyn did not say anything but Waterstone could
see he was waiting for an explanation. “I’m recruiting help. You probably
didn’t pick it up because it was mainly words.”
Shortly afterwards, Autumn Leaves, Thunder Storm and three other
woodfolk arrived. Right behind them, Sparrow came running up,
carrying twine and bandages.
A woodwoman with a soft sighing voice said, “Good morning, Your
Highness. I am Grass Wind.”
“I am Cracking Branch,” said another woodwoman with a sharp
staccato voice.
“And I am Rustling Leaves,” said a woodman in a voice similar to
Autumn Leaves but harsher.
The prince did not rise, but inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I
am pleased to meet you all.”
Instead of instructions being issued, there was an intense silence
followed by the woodfolk glancing sceptically at the prince. Nevertheless
they then fanned out to inspect nearby trees and to climb into the
branches of those that had broken boughs that could be saved.
“Ready, Your Highness,” instructed Waterstone cheerfully. “Let’s see
this magic of yours. Start with mine. As soon as I have it partly secured,
you can move onto the next one.”
The sorcerer nodded, waited until the woodman was ready in the tree,
held out a finger and incanted, “L
iefka!
” A shaft of bronze power raised
the bough into position.
“It won’t burn if I touch that beam, will it?” queried Waterstone
suddenly.
“Don’t you think I would have told you if there was any danger?”
“You might have assumed I’d know.”
“No. After the acorn episode, I wouldn’t assume anything about your
knowledge of my magic. Don’t worry; I will remember to tell you if there
is anything that might harm you….Now, can we get on with it?”
Waterstone grinned and immediately set to work with the twine.
After a while, Tarkyn worked out that once he had one branch held
in place with a steady shaft of power, he could transfer his focus and
use his other hand to create a second shaft of magic to raise another
branch. He was not used to performing two spells at once and he
found that it required intense concentration. Once a broken branch
was bound in place, Sparrow would tap him on whichever hand was
supporting that branch and he would know to transfer his power
and attention to a new location. When all the trees in a thirty yard
radius of Tarkyn had been repaired as well as possible, everyone took a
break while the sorcerer hauled himself up and moved to a new
position. Once he had seated himself in a new location, the process
started again.