Bronze Magic (Book 1) (8 page)

“If no one had attacked me, nothing would have happened. But one
guard threw a bolt of magic at me and my shield reflected it straight
back at him. Next thing I knew, every guard in the room was sending
beams of power and arrows at me and coming at me with swords. They
were all reflected back, knocking out guards and ricocheting around
the walls.”
Tarkyn rubbed his hands up and over his face and down his hair, to
hold his head with linked hands at the nape of his neck. He sighed, “I
don’t know how many died that night. My brothers didn’t die. They left
me to my fate. I saw them later in the palace. But many guards were
killed or wounded.”
“So how did you escape?”
“As the building collapsed and the guards were running for their
lives, I finally recovered my senses enough to use a re-summoning spell
on my surcoat that took me to the tailor’s out in the town. And then,
while everyone’s attention was still on the Great Hall, I went back to the
palace and collected enough valuables to sustain me, at least for the
foreseeable future.”
Seeing the speculative gleam in the wizard’s eyes, Tarkyn added hastily,
“No. I’m not carrying them all with me, if that’s what you’re wondering.
The wizard smiled disarmingly. “Just trying to gauge your level of
competence, Sire.”
Tarkyn grunted in self-deprecation, “It was not my competence. In fact,
I heeded the advice of a thief, and went to some lengths to hide them.”
Stormaway blinked. “Not where he could find them, I hope?”
Tarkyn sent him a look of pure derision. Stormaway assumed he had
received the look for stating the obvious, but in fact it was because he had
cast aspersions on a thief whose honour Tarkyn trusted.
Stormaway hastily changed the subject, “And what about your friends?
Did they help you?”
“I didn’t ask them,” replied the prince shortly. “I didn’t want to
compromise anyone else’s safety. One life in tatters seemed plenty for one
day without dragging my friends down with me.”
“Not to mention the guards,” added the wizard dryly.
“I did have some particular friends among the guards but none of
them was there that day. So I wasn’t talking about them”
“Obviously.”
Tarkyn stopped short and stared at the wizard.
“You really don’t think much of me, do you?”
“On the contrary, Your Highness. I think more of you than I
expected to.”
“Stars Above! The rumours must be bad then”
“They are.” Stormaway looked at him sympathetically, “But it’s obvious
to me now that none of this was your fault. You were just the fall guy.”
The prince stared at him. “What? Weren’t you listening? I caused the
death of all those guards and the destruction of the Great Hall. Something
went wrong with my shield.”
“I wondered if you would see that,” said the wizard mildly.
“Oh, you condescending, old hedge-dweller!” exclaimed Tarkyn,
outraged. He stood up abruptly and shook out his cloak. “I find,” he
said icily, staring down at the wizard, “that I am no longer interested
in gaining your trust. You hold me in such low regard that it would
be pointless. Believe what you choose. There is no good version.
But don’t bother telling me what you decide, because I am no longer
interested.”
So saying, Tarkyn pulled his cloak around him and turned to stalk off
into the night.
He found his way blocked by a slight, green-eyed man with light
brown hair, dressed in a brown jerkin, loose-fitting leggings and
soft leather boots. Tarkyn turned and realised that he was surrounded by
similar figures. They looked harmless enough, but he wasn’t silly enough
to believe appearances. A trap, after all, he thought bitterly. Why did I
trust a complete stranger when I can’t even trust my own brothers?
Fighting panic, he took a breath to slow his heart rate then flicked
up his shield, hoping that calming himself first would make his shield
absorbent, not reflective.
A deep voice rang out from behind him. “Woodfolk of the forest, you
are right to appear before him. He has passed my final test.”
Tarkyn took a moment to recognise the wizard’s voice. He spun on
his heel and beheld Stormaway exuding power, resplendent in emerald
robes, brown hair smoothly spilling over his shoulders. As the prince
watched, Stormaway raised his staff. But before he could bring it down,
the sounds of the forest seemed to swell into a frenzied cacophony.
Tarkyn looked up into the trees in confusion. He could hear the sounds
of wind blowing through the trees, water gushing over rocks, leaves and
rain falling, thunder rumbling and a myriad of other sounds that should
have accompanied the sight of a storm surging through the forest. But
none of the trees moved.
Slowly, Stormaway lowered his staff and nodded his head. He did not
look pleased as he addressed the people standing around them, “If I am
right, the spell’s binding will begin to take effect over the next twenty four
hours. At moonrise tomorrow night, I will seal it beyond return unless
you give me good reason not to. You have until then. But remember; only
I can make the final decision.”
“What is going on? What test, what spell are you talking about? And
who are these people?” Tarkyn asked wildly.
With an effort, Stormaway brought his attention back to the prince’s
confusion. “I thank you for taking care with your shield, Sire.” He waved
his arm in invitation. “Why don’t you come back and sit by the fire so
that we can discuss this further?”
“I would know your intentions first. There is some sorcery here that
I do not understand. And are you planning to turn me in, despite your
assurances? You have me surrounded,” said Tarkyn stiffly, “so is your
request an invitation or an order?”
Hand on heart, Stormaway bowed low, “I would not presume to issue
an order to you, Your Highness. You are free to leave if you choose. I am
hoping your curiosity will get the better of you.”
“Hmph.” After careful consideration, the prince returned to resume
his seat at the fire, while the people surrounding him remained watching
him, faces impassive.
“This is very unnerving,” Tarkyn muttered to himself.
“These people are the woodfolk, Sire. Although unknown to the
sorcerers of Eskuzor, they inhabit these forests. And they have been here
all evening. It’s just that you can see them now.”
“That’s even more unnerving. They could have attacked me at any
time. I’ve been completely unshielded.”
The wizard gave a low chuckle. “Now you know how high the stakes
were, when you told your story.”
Tarkyn mouth tightened. He took in a deep breath and composed
himself, as he thought back over what he had said.
“Don’t worry, Sire. You have acquitted yourself well.” The wizard. At
his request, a couple of the woodfolk brought them goblets containing
an oaky silver birch wine.
Tarkyn gazed in bemusement at the goblet in his hand. After a
moment, he sniffed it surreptitiously before trying it. His brow cleared
as he said, “This is an excellent wine. I’m sure I’ve tasted similar before.”
“The woodfolk supply wine to many great houses in the country,
including your own.”
Tarkyn looked up from the wine and asked, “And what was this final
test of yours? That I accepted responsibility for the deaths?”
“No, although that was one of them. The final test was that you held to
the truth of your tale, when you no longer cared for my good opinion.”
The prince frowned as he considered this.
Stormaway leaned forward, “You do understand, don’t you? I had to
be sure you weren’t lying to gain my trust.”
Tarkyn scowled, “Oh I understand, all right. I’ve been played like a
fish on a line from the start. You couldn’t lie straight in bed.”
“I do apologise, Your Highness. However, I have found that being
devious provides a much more accurate estimate of character than
straightforward questions and answers.” The wizard sipped his wine and
looked at Tarkyn over the rim of the goblet. “And now, at least to my
satisfaction, I have established your integrity.”
Tarkyn looked at him long and hard. Then in a sudden movement,
he clicked his fingers and the shield winked out of existence. “It seems
I am in your debt. I thank you for giving me the chance to explain
myself to you. I hope I will not disappoint you in the future.”
He waved his hand to indicate that he was also talking to the woodfolk,
only to find he was waving at empty space. They had disappeared. Tarkyn
scanned the woods around him then turned back to the wizard.
“Where have they gone?” he demanded in hushed tones. “Or are they
still here and I just can’t see them?”
The wizard was chuckling quietly. “I think waving your arm around on
such a short acquaintance and with such a dire reputation as yours may
have pushed the friendship a bit far at this stage.”
“Oh lord! I’d better not drink any more wine then, if people are going
to run for cover every time I gesture.”
Stormaway did not try to reassure him, “I think it would be wise to be
careful. They have no reason to love you... And anyone branded a rogue
sorcerer is bound to be feared.”
“What!” Tarkyn was stunned. “Is that what they are saying? A rogue
sorcerer?”
“I’m afraid so, young man.”
Panic flared in the young prince’s eyes. “But I’m not a madman. I
defied the king but the rest... the rest just happened.”
“So it would seem – but the evidence against you is quite damning.
You fled, leaving a pile of corpses behind you. The popular belief is
that you went berserk in the Great Hall and lashed out at everyone
in sight.”
The colour drained from Tarkyn’s face. “No! No. I thought the truth
was bad enough... It’s bad enough being branded a traitor. But a rogue
sorcerer!” He dropped his eyes to the fire and said in quiet despair, “They
will proclaim it across the kingdom, you know. I will be hunted down
like a rabid dog.” After a few moments, he frowned, “Why didn’t you kill
me as soon as you knew who I was?”
Stormaway picked up a branch and stirred the fire. “Ah. I thought you
might ask that.”
“And the answer?”
“Well, to be perfectly honest with you....” began the wizard.
“No, Stormaway. Please,” said Tarkyn wearily. “Don’t lie.”
The wizard scowled at the prince and said sharply, “I don’t think,
young man, that you are in a position to take your welcome for granted.
A little civility would be appreciated.”
Oh ho. So now the claws are out. “In case you hadn’t notice, Stormaway,
I said, ‘Please.’ Frankly, I am too confused and too overloaded to cope
with any more of your games tonight. ”
“You are too smart by half, my young buck,” snapped the wizard. “I
think you should consider your position very carefully. If I send you away
from here, what chance will you have of survival?”
The prince lifted his head from his contemplation of the fire and raised
supercilious eyebrows. “I would say that depends very much on whether
you choose to kill me, once my back is turned. Other than that, I am
prepared to take my chances. At least I now know what I’m up against.
And I can assure you that I have no intention of becoming a slave to your
every whim to buy myself safety.”
The wizard grunted. “Stinking Tamadils! So stinking arrogant! You’re
no better than the rest of them, that’s obvious.”
“You’re no shrinking violet yourself,” retorted the prince and then
added for good measure, “except when you’re prevaricating!”
They locked gazes for so long that it became a battle of the wills.
Finally Tarkyn said quietly, “Stormaway, I find your behaviour towards
me offensive. You may have the right to be master of your hearth and
forest. But you do not have, nor ever will have, the right to be my master.”
The young prince drew his cloak around him and rose to tower over the
wizard, sending bizarre shadows dancing up into the trees. “You will treat
me with respect, or not at all.”
Then he strode off into the dark, leaving Stormaway to contemplate
his words.
The wizard’s eyes narrowed in appreciation, “He’s his father’s son, that
one.” As the minutes ticked by and Tarkyn did not return, Stormaway
started muttering to himself. “Oh well done! You wait for years to see
him and then you antagonise him. Brilliant! Your age is really serving
you well. Now you’ve got him up on his high horse –and let’s face it
– it’s all because you didn’t like him rumbling your tactics. He’s pretty
sharp. You’re going to have to do better than this, if you don’t want to
lose him.”
A resounding crash made the wizard jump as a branch landed on the
fire, thrown from behind him. Stormaway swung around to find Tarkyn
standing behind him, casually leaning against a tree, arms and legs
crossed and looking as though he had been there all evening. Even more
disconcertingly, he was grinning.
“Come on then. Out with it! Why don’t you want to lose me?”
Mindful of the prince’s stricture, the old wizard began to scramble to
his feet but was waved to stay where he was. Reassured, Stormaway said
grumpily, “Blast you, Your Highness! You shouldn’t eavesdrop on a man’s
conversation.”
The grin broadened. “I agree. I apologise. Still, the question remains...
given that I did overhear you...Why don’t you want to lose me?”
The wizard looked distinctly flustered. “To be perfectly honest with
you....” he began. In response to the prince’s delicately raised eyebrow, he
re-iterated firmly, “To be perfectly honest with you, Sire, it’s complicated
and will take a bit of telling...and to be perfectly honest,” Stormaway
continued with a challenge in his eye, “I would rather tell you when you
have a better gauge of my calibre.”
“I see,” said Tarkyn slowly, “At least, I don’t see but I will accept
that you don’t want to tell me yet. Frustrating, but at least honest.” He
grinned, “And at least someone doesn’t want to lose me. That has to be
an improvement.”
arkyn woke to a cold grey dawn. The fire had long since died and
the cold was seeping up through his cloak. He could feel a sharp
stone digging into his thigh. He reached out and felt under his cloak
to remove it. Feeling stiff and poorly rested, he hunched his shoulders
against the cold and tried in vain to go back to sleep.