Bronze Magic (Book 1) (74 page)

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 behind 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.
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!
”