Bronze Magic (Book 1) (30 page)

Unfortunately, woodfolk are very attuned to anything related to plants
and the forest. Added to that, the novelty of the prince’s presence meant
that at any one time, several people were likely to be idly watching him
while they chatted among themselves. Sparrow and Tarkyn gradually
became aware that everyone had fallen silent. Many eyes were out of
focus as the embargo on mind talking was forgotten.
Nearby, Waterstone was staying determinedly in focus, clearly resisting
a battering of silent questions. On the pretext of bringing Tarkyn another
drink, he leaned over and whispered in the prince’s ear, “The game is up,
my friend. How do you want to play it?”
Tarkyn’s mouth quirked. “Since it is now inevitable, I think I’ll just
go for the grandiose,” he whispered back. “Anything else will seem
apologetic.” He sent Sparrow a request for a bigger, green stick. In less
than a minute, she returned with a stick about the length of his arm.
Tarkyn thanked her and held it upright between his hands.
He drew a deep breath and focused his will briefly on the stick before
addressing the woodfolk. He allowed his voice a degree of severity. “It
does not seem that agreements made with you endure for long. Already
you are excluding me from your present conversation which, unless I am
much mistaken, closely concerns me.”
Around the firesite, woodfolk eyes snapped back into focus and they
looked uneasily at each other, aware that they had transgressed. Then, as
one, their green eyes became fixed on the new shoots that were curling
forth out of the stick that Tarkyn held. The silence lengthened.
“I didn’t say you had to stop talking all together,” observed the prince
dryly, firmly suppressing a smile. “Who among you would like to tell me
what you were saying? Perhaps you would like to ask me a question?”
Waterstone’s mouth twitched in appreciation but he held his peace
and turned away to help Sparrow pack up ready for bed.
Finally Thunder Storm’s voice rumbled into life. “My lord, would you
mind explaining how you became aware of the impending wolf attack?”
“Did Autumn Leaves or Waterstone not tell you?”
Thunder Storm shook his head. “No, my lord. We assumed that you
had been levitating yourself for some reason and just happened to see
them.” He paused, “But now, that explanation has been called into
question.”
The prince glanced in turn at Autumn Leaves and Waterstone. “I
appreciate their discretion. However, it would now be my pleasure share
the source of my knowledge with you. If you all make sure you are seated,
I will show you.” The sorcerer waited until they were ready, then asked
them to close their eyes. Tarkyn centred himself then sent them the
image from the eagle’s eyes of the wolves running through the forest as
it wheeled below them. He took them right through to where he was
looking up from the ground at the eagle flapping slowly away through
the trees above his prostrate form.
There was a mass expulsion of breath. Tarkyn steeled himself. All
around him, eyes opened and woodfolk gazed at him in wonder. In his
hands, the stick had become a flourishing young sapling.
Ignoring the woodfolk’s reaction, Tarkyn spoke to Thunder Storm,
“Where are your children? Are they still up? And Breaking Twigs?”
“Yes my lord. They are all playing over near the trees.”
“Could you send for them please?” He turned to Waterstone, “And
Sparrow.”
Once the children were arrayed before him, the sorcerer said, “Before
you go to bed, I have a very special job for you. Can you four take this
sapling and choose somewhere to plant it to commemorate the coming of
a guardian of the forest?” He ignored the mass intake of breath that this
elicited and kept his eyes firmly on the children who nodded solemnly.
“Each of you has to have an equal share in the task. Is that clear?” He
handed the sapling to the quiet Rain on Water and nodded dismissal to
them.
Inevitably the moment came when Tarkyn had to raise his eyes to
meet the awed gazes of the woodfolk gathered before him. “Could I just
ask,” he said diffidently, “that you don’t treat me as more of stranger than
you already do?” His voice gained assurance. “You all knew I had strong
magical powers before this. Can we just keep it in perspective and think
of the mind linking and the tree healing as another couple of powers to
add to the rest that you already know about?”
Suddenly everyone was smiling and shaking their heads. They swarmed
forward and surrounded Tarkyn, patting him on the back, angling to get
close to him and pressing wine and food into his hands. Flowers that
seemed to have appeared out of nowhere were festooned over him and
he was surrounded by a symphony of excited forest voices. The reticent
prince blinked and, after a brief flicker of panic, succumbed to the
kindness and enthusiasm of the woodfolk, a surprised smile dawning
slowly on his face.
Among the general hubbub, the prince was finally able to make out
Autumn Leaves’ voice. “Don’t you realise, Tarkyn? The guardian of the
forest is no stranger to us. You have been here a hundred times before.
You just don’t remember. But we do.”
Long into the night the festivities raged. Everyone sang, danced
and retold all the old tales of the guardian of the forest. The people on
lookout were rotated so that everyone could join in. No one remembered
to put the children to bed and they gradually fell asleep in little heaps at
various points around the fire. Everyone congratulated themselves that
they were the ones who had stood by Tarkyn and were now the chosen
few to have first met the new guardian of the forest. Stormaway looked
on benevolently and drank solidly.
All evening, the prince was plied with wine and carried along on the
wave of the woodfolk’s excitement. As the dawn crept slowly across the
sky, Tarkyn weaved his way ponderously up to his shelter and collapsed
inside, watched from afar by Waterstone.

he following day dawned grey and chilly. A sharp wind blew through
the trees and twitched at leaves that were beginning to change to
shades of autumn.

When Tarkyn finally emerged nursing a sore head, the air of celebration
had completely evaporated, but the acceptance of him had not. He was
greeted by friendly, relaxed nods from those woodfolk who were still
clustered around the breakfast fire. Someone thrust a bowl of porridge
and a cup of warm tea into his hands as he sat down with his back against
a tree.

Summer Rain looked over at him, “Would you like something for
your head?” she asked sympathetically.
Tarkyn squinted at her and nodded. “Ow. That hurt. Yes please.
Probably a double dose of whatever you were going to give me.”
Thunder Storm and Waterstone walked into the clearing, deep in
discussion. They helped themselves to cups of tea and sat down near
Tarkyn.
Waterstone studied the prince’s grey face. “How’s the head?” he asked.
Tarkyn rolled his eyes at him. “Not good, but at least this time I’m not
being beaten around the head by bounty hunters on top of the hangover.”
When the woodman smiled, he demanded, “And why are you looking so
disgustingly healthy?”
Waterstone shrugged, “I had things to look after; lookout duty, Sparrow,
you. I couldn’t afford to get too drunk. I’m glad you did, though. It was
about time you let yourself go.”The woodman laughed as he saw the
classic doubts of the morning after the night before chase across Tarkyn’s
face. “No. Don’t worry. You didn’t make a fool of yourself.”
Summer Rain handed him a cup of some murky green herbal
concoction. Tarkyn sniffed it suspiciously and screwed up his nose at it.
“Can I gulp it down or do I have to endure it slowly?”
“It’s not as bad as it smells, but you can take it how you like. Fast or
slow. The quicker it’s in your blood stream the quicker it will work. As
long as you don’t drink it so fast that you can’t keep it down.”
“Thanks.” He took a deep breath and slugged it down in one draught.
For a few seconds, he turned greenish and it was touch and go whether
it would stay down, but then he let out a long breath and the colour
returned to his cheeks. “We’re a tough lot, we guardians, you know,” he
chortled.
“I think you’re still drunk,” said Waterstone dryly.
“No, I’m not,” said Tarkyn indignantly. He waved his cup of tea. “Well,
actually I might be, but I don’t think so. I’m just relieved everyone’s not
goggling at me as you and Stormaway did yesterday.” He gave a postconcoction shudder. “Strange, isn’t it? You two struggled more than
anyone else did, coming to terms with me being a forest guardian.”
“Not so strange.” Waterstone gave a little smile. “It is harder for those
who know you well to accept that you are something as amazing as a
forest guardian... But now, if you’re feeling up to it, we need to address
the second aspect of the advent of the guardian of the forest.”
Tarkyn looked at the three serious faces surrounding him and
immediately sobered up. “We have to figure out what is threatening
us, don’t we?” he said, unaware that he had used ‘us’ instead of ‘you’.
It was not lost on the woodfolk, however. “Where do the wolves fit in?
Anywhere?”
Thunder Storm shook his head. “We don’t know. It seems likely that
they are part of it in some way since their attack is so unusual, but we
don’t know.”
“What about the other woodfolk? Have they noticed anything
unusual?” Waterstone and Thunder Storm glanced at each other uneasily,
but Tarkyn forestalled them, “Don’t look so guilty. I’m assuming you’re
gathering information. As long as you share it with me when it matters,
that is what we agreed.”
Thunder Storm rumbled, “They report an increased number of attacks
on people travelling through the forest but other than that, nothing.”
“Attacks on travellers do not affect us, do they?” asked the prince.
“Not directly,” replied Summer Rain. “Although groups of stranded
and injured people are inconvenient when we have to skirt around them.”
No overdose of the milk of human kindness running through those veins,
thought the prince.
“And we have to be very wary of the marauders,” added Waterstone,
“especially as they are sorcerers with powers we don’t possess.”
“Hmm. So where do these wolves come from?” asked Tarkyn.
“From the western pine forests near the foothills of the Ridgeback
Mountains,” rumbled Thunder Storm. “Interestingly, not far from the
greatest concentration of attacks on travellers.”
Tarkyn looked around the group. “So what happens now? Does anyone
else have any other ideas about the source of this danger?”
A protracted mind conference, punctuated by conscientious liaison
with the prince, yielded no new suggestions.
Between updates, Tarkyn used the time to ponder the cause of the
wolves’ attack. He thought back over his eagle’s view of the wolves.
Eventually he offered the observation, “The second lot of wolves were
following someone or something’s trail, you know.”
When the woodfolk looked sceptical, he showed them the image again.
Waterstone frowned. “He’s right. They are definitely following the trail
of something. What? What else has been through near here that they
might be interested in?”
“The first two wolves,” answered Tarkyn slowly.
The three woodfolk stared at him.
“Can anyone control wolves?” he asked. “Can they send them out
searching? Or even just in a particular direction?”
“I don’t know,” answered Thunder Storm, “but if you could control
the lead wolf, you could control a pack.”
The prince frowned in thought. “Stormaway may know about this.
Where is that lazy wizard?” He pictured Stormaway then sent out a wave of
impatient summoning, making it strong so that the wizard would pick it up.
A few minutes later, the grumbling wizard wandered into the clearing
and sketched a half hearted bow. “Stars Above, Your Highness. Can’t a
man get a little sleep?” He shook his head then looked up in surprise.
“My headache’s gone.” His face broke into a smile. “Well done, young
guardian. Your peremptory message has cleared my hangover.”
Tarkyn flicked a smile at the healer. “Watch out, Summer Rain. I
might be taking over your job, if you’re not careful.”
“I think you are meant for more important tasks, my lord,” replied the
woodwoman dispassionately.
Oh stars! When will I remember that she doesn’t have a sense of humour?
Tarkyn met Waterstone’s eyes and grimaced. The woodman’s eyes lit with
amusement but he turned quickly to address the wizard before Summer
Rain noticed, “Stormaway. Are there people who can control wolves?”
The wizard huffed. “Don’t worry about me. I can snap straight from
a deep sleep to full alert. I’ll get my own breakfast when I’ve finished
answering your questions.”
The prince laughed, “Stormaway, I’m sorry we are being so brutal with
you. Could someone get a cup of tea and some food for him while we
interrogate him, please?”
The wizard glowered at him. “Don’t think you can charm me, young
man. I will answer your questions when I’m good and ready”
A sudden heavy gust of wind blew dust and leaves across the clearing.
The smile faded on the prince’s face. “I think not. We are not prepared to
wait on your convenience.” The blow of anger that hit the wizard’s mind
sent him staggering, as the prince’s voice continued calmly, “We must act
with all speed to find out what threat is facing us.”
Thunder Storm caught the wizard as he toppled sideways. “Are you all
right?” he rumbled in some concern.
Stormaway gave a short nod and allowed Thunder Storm to help him
to a seat on a nearby log. He sent a fulminating stare in Tarkyn’s direction
as he struggled to deal with the incongruence between the prince’s
transmitted ire and his dispassionate voice. Realising that no one else was
aware of the extent of Tarkyn’s displeasure, he said hurriedly, “Probably
just the after-effects of the wine.” He took a deep breath to steady himself,
accepted a cup of tea and addressed himself to answering Waterstone. “In
answer to your question, yes. Of course people can control wolves. Not
many do. They generally prefer domestic breeds of dog but wolves, if
taken young enough, can be trained up. I suppose older wolves could be
trained but I doubt that they would stay willingly. They would have to be
forcibly confined when not under direct command.”
“If someone has trained these wolves, what are they hoping to achieve?
What command would send them deep into the forest away from their
own territory?” pondered Thunder Storm as he sat down next to the wizard.
“They would have to be searching for something,” said Tarkyn.
“There are two possibilities that would concern us; if they are looking
for woodfolk or for me. The second is much more likely since we know
a lot of people are hunting me and no-one even knows woodfolk exist,
do they?”
Waterstone leaned forward, suddenly intense. “When the first wolves
did not return, the second wave of wolves must have been sent to find the
first pair of wolves….And now the second lot of wolves will not return.”
The five of them exchange glances. “And if someone is sending wolves,
that person will know that something or someone in the woods is killing
their wolves and will follow the wolves’ trail to us,” said Summer Rain,
voicing the thought in everyone’s minds.
An urgent image of packing up and fleeing swept through the
woodfolk’s minds.
“Sorry,” said Tarkyn shortly, concentrating on a little ladybird
running across his hand to hide his embarrassment. He raised his
head and smiled ruefully. “I’m not trying to issue orders. That was my
reaction, not my decree. It is up to all of us together to decide what we
should do.”
Stormaway glanced at him, correctly surmising the cause of his
apology. “How long do we have?” he asked.
Thunder Storm calculated, “The first wolves arrived here three nights
ago. The second wave arrived late yesterday morning... That means it
takes 36 hours for whoever it is to realise the wolves aren’t returning, to
dispatch more and for them to travel the distance. He scratched his head
thoughtfully, “I’d say we have 12 hours at the outside before the next lot
arrives.”
“We need to mind conference,” said Waterstone shortly. “I’ll get back
to you two soon.”
The three woodfolk went out of focus, leaving Tarkyn sitting with a
resentful wizard.
“You were pretty harsh with me back there, Sire,” Stormaway protested.
The prince raised his eyebrows. “I will not have you gainsaying me,
particularly in front of other people. Unlike the woodfolk, you have little
respect for your oath to me or for the welfare of the forest. I am not going
to risk the forest’s welfare to indulge your whims. So the lines need to be
drawn. You may think that I do not demand enough respect from the
woodfolk, but none of them has ever refused a request nor spoken to me
as you just did. Therefore I have not needed to impose my will.” With
the slight exception of Waterstone when he was upset, he added wryly
to himself.
The wizard didn’t say anything further but was obviously still
disgruntled. Tarkyn picked up a green stick and focused on it for a
minute. When the green shoots began to curl out from it, he handed it
to the wizard.
“There,” he said, with a gentle smile “Peace offering.”
Stormaway accepted it reluctantly. “You’d do the same again though,
wouldn’t you, Sire?”
The prince looked quizzically at the wizard, “Yes, but I hope it won’t
come up again... Stormaway, I value your counsel and your stiff, oldfashioned ideas. In some ways it gives me an anchor to hold me as I am
swept along by new circumstances. But I told you when we first met that
I would not be dictated to by anyone and that holds for you as much as
for anyone.” He watched the wizard appraisingly and after a moment,
added, “Don’t go away.”
Stormaway looked at Tarkyn in some surprise. “How did you know I
was thinking of it?”
“Because you have operated alone for years now. You seem to come
and go at will, with no ties to anyone. So, I would imagine that if things
became uncomfortable for you, the simplest thing would be for you to
leave.”
The wizard scowled, “And will you forbid me to leave, or force me to
stay?”
“No, but I will ask you to stay. And I will ask you to come to me if
you are thinking of leaving, to see if we can sort things out so you can
stay.” The prince stood up awkwardly, still not fully recovered from his
fall through the branches of the oak, and took his cup over to the fire to
refill it from the large kettle that was hanging there. He looked over his
shoulder and asked, “Would you like a refill?”
This drew a grudging smile from the wizard. He accepted the offer as
the conciliatory gesture it was.
Tarkyn filled both cups, handed one to the wizard and sat back down.
“Stormaway, do you realise I have had almost no formal training in using
my powers?”
The wizard, in the middle of taking a sip of hot tea, choked. After
several slaps on the back, his coughing subsided enough for him to
exclaim, “What? You, a prince of the realm, uneducated in the ways of
magic? That is scandalous!”
“For years, everyone talked about organising a tutor for me but noone actually took the time from scandal-mongering to do it.” The prince
watched the horror reflected on Stormaway’s face with some amusement.
“I learnt everything I know by playing with my brothers and friends or
by watching other people. Sometimes I went to the library myself and
browsed through books on magic, but that’s about it.”
“Your Highness! I had no idea.” The wizard looked at Tarkyn in some
awe. “Then that was an amazing feat, winning that tournament.”
Tarkyn shrugged deprecatingly, “Thank you again, but tournament
magic is reasonably straight forward. Actually, attempting the
resummoning spell was much harder.” He leaned forward. “But
Stormaway, do you see why I want you to stay? I would love to learn
from you. I need to learn from you to protect myself and to protect the
woodfolk. You have so much knowledge that none of us has.”
“Hmm. I don’t suppose I could make it a condition of my staying that
you don’t hit me with another of those waves of anger, could I?”
The prince shook his head regretfully. “I’m sure we can agree not to
ride roughshod over each other. If you treat me with respect, I will do the
same for you. But I’m afraid there are times, unlike this morning when it
was controlled, that my anger bursts forth unexpectedly and I could not
guarantee you any immunity from that.”