Read Bronze Magic (Book 1) Online

Authors: Jenny Ealey

Bronze Magic (Book 1) (16 page)

BOOK: Bronze Magic (Book 1)
6.55Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“But, my lord,” insisted Thunder Storm, “how could you give him
permission to assault you?”
The prince looked at him steadily for a few moments, deciding whether
to answer. Finally, he said, “Once Waterstone knew his daughter was safe,
he was never going to attack me. I gave him permission, both to appease
the sorcery of the oath and to give Waterstone an even playing field.”
The prince shrugged and smiled wryly. “If he does come back seeking
vengeance, I will just have to accept it.”
“I think that’s very generous of you, Your Highness. I would almost
say courageous, given you have your arm in a sling. But I gather, since
you won that Harvester tournament, that you must be a skilled fighter.”
Tarkyn narrowed his eyes, finding Thunder Storm’s remarks
sychophantic.“Thank you. And now I think I need to rest.”
Mostly from
you,
Tarkyn added to himself.
It was several hours before Waterstone reappeared. He eyed the prince
and sat down next to him. His face was pale and there were signs of strain
around his eyes.
“How is Sparrow?” asked Tarkyn with some restraint.
“She is well,” replied Waterstone shortly.
Silence ensued. Waterstone cleared his throat a couple of times but
said nothing. Then they spoke simultaneously.
“Waterstone...”
“Your Highness...”
Tarkyn nodded to the woodman. “You first.”
Waterstone cleared his throat again. “Autumn Leaves told me that you
defended me against Thunder Storm.”
“Thunder Storm is a sanctimonious, old bore. He questioned my
judgement and I was not pleased.”
Waterstone glanced at the prince, taking in this disdainful side of him.
After a moment, he asked, “How would you react if I questioned your
judgement?”
The prince raised his eyebrows. “You are not a prosy old bore. So I
would listen.” He shrugged, coming down off his high horse. “I mightn’t
agree with you, but I would listen. And in fairness, I did listen to Thunder
Storm. I just didn’t like the way he spoke. He did have a point though.
You did endanger the forests and your people.”
Suddenly, Waterstone’s eyes glistened with tears. “I know I did. You
should see the damage out there. At least one grand old oak tree has
fallen and many trees have been damaged. Birds’ nests on the ground….”
Waterstone cleared his throat again. “And although you stood up
for me, I actually think my behaviour was reprehensible, regardless of
the oath.”
“Do you?” The prince’s amber eyes considered him, giving him time
to squirm. “I suppose it depends on how you look at it. From the point
of view of court etiquette, it was almost a hanging offence. In fact, in my
brother’s court, I doubt that I could have saved you.” He paused to let
this sink in. “From the point of view of a father protecting his daughter,
it was perhaps a little aggressive but understandable – and at least you
haven’t hit me yet.” Suddenly, Tarkyn twinkled at the woodman. “But
the offer still stands.” Before the woodman could respond, he became
serious again, “To be honest, I feel I almost deserve it. I’m afraid my
reaction to seeing my brothers sent a huge jolt of emotion through the
mind link and Sparrow caught the worst of it.” The prince ran his hand
through his long black hair. “Waterstone, you have no idea! I was so
frightened that I might have killed her. She just collapsed. Then when
she opened her eyes and looked up at me, she started crying. I held her
and did the best I could, one-handed, but it was ages before she went
to sleep. I am so sorry, Waterstone. I would never do anything to hurt
her intentionally.”
The woodman waved his hand dismissively. “I know. Of course you
wouldn’t. I knew at the time.”
“But you were crazy with fear for Sparrow.”
Waterstone nodded shortly.
The sorcerer gave the woodman a little smile. “I’m sorry about the
spells. I do not generally resort to magic to impose my will, but I couldn’t
make you listen and the forest was suffering.”
Waterstone glanced at him then looked away. “Hmph. I didn’t leave
you much choice. Anyway, it’s a great leveller to be reminded from time
to time how powerful you are.”
The sorcerer grimaced. “Actually, I think we both need to know more
about each other’s magic. For a start, had you people understood my
magic better, I wouldn’t be carrying so many injuries and had I had time
to learn about your mind linking properly, I may not have endangered
Sparrow as I did.”
Tarkyn saw Waterstone hesitate and added quickly, “Not today but
soon. Tonight you need to go home to Sparrow.”
he next morning, Sparrow and Waterstone came in together with
the prince’s breakfast.
“Good morning, you two. Are you better now, Sparrow?”
“Morning, Tarkyn. Yes, I’m better. Are you?”
Before he could answer, Waterstone’s voice cut in sharply. “I beg your
pardon, young lady. What did you just say?”
Sparrow thought back and repeated faithfully, “Morning Tarkyn. Yes,
I’m better. Are you?”
“Sparrow, you do not call a prince just by his first name,” scolded her
father
“But I did yesterday and you didn’t say anything.”
“Hmph. I may not have noticed at the time, but I’m noticing now.”
The prince in question coughed apologetically, “My fault, I’m afraid. I
introduced myself to Sparrow as Tarkyn”
“I see,” said Waterstone, although he was clearly at a loss about what
to do next.
The prince smiled, seeing his dilemma. “You may also call me Tarkyn,
if you would like to. Maybe not on formal occasions, but the rest of the
time. It seems a bit pointless to keep using titles so far from court.”
Waterstone frowned. “I’ll think about it. I might forget who you are,
if I stop using your title.”
“I doubt it, especially after yesterday. Besides, I stand out like a sore
thumb amongst you woodfolk. I can’t see you ever forgetting who I am.”
Sparrow, who was waiting impatiently for this conversation to end,
asked her question again. “So, are you better?”
“Sorry, young one. I guess I’m getting better but I still have my arm
strapped up...”
Sparrow waved a dismissive hand. “Not that better. You know - feel better.”
Tarkyn flicked a discomforted glance at Waterstone then looked back
at Sparrow in some confusion. Sparrow frowned at him reprovingly. “You
should feel better. I cried all your tears for you.”
Light dawned. “Oh no, Sparrow. Oh, Stars above! You should never have
had to deal with that.” Tarkyn shot an apprehensive look at Waterstone to
find the woodman watching silently, his mouth set in a grim line.
Sparrow shrugged and smiled, “Maybe it was easier for me. I’m still
young.”
Tarkyn thought about the enormity of his reaction to seeing his
brothers. “No, Sparrow. It is not the job of a child to bear an adult’s
burden for them.” Despite that, he realised that the big knot in his
stomach had nearly disappeared. “But you know, I think you’re right. I
do feel better, as in feel better.”
“And I feel better because when I was crying for you, I started crying
for me.”
“You did? Why?”
“Because I lost my mum.”
Tarkyn glanced up over Sparrow’s head and briefly met Waterstone’s
eyes before returning his attention to Sparrow. “That is sad. I bet you miss
her.” When Sparrow nodded, the prince added, “I lost my dad too, you
know, when I was your age.”
“And now you’ve lost your brothers and your mum and everyone else
and that’s why you were sad.”
“Hmm. Yes.” Tarkyn sent a wry grimace in the woodman’s direction.
“Neatly put, Sparrow.”
The little girl hopped up and sat on the bed with her feet dangling over
the edge. Once she was settled, Tarkyn put his arm around her. Sparrow
smiled sunnily, “See Dad. Tarkyn and I are friends.”
Waterstone ruffled her hair. “You don’t know what an achievement
that is, young Sparrow.”
After a while, it became apparent that Tarkyn had no hands left
with which to eat his breakfast. So Sparrow was shooed off to play and
Waterstone waited with him until he had finished.
There was an air of constraint around the woodman and his previous
confident style in his dealings with the prince was conspicuously
absent. He did not use the prince’s title but neither did he call him by
name. “I think your strapping is coming off today,” he said neutrally.
“Once you have both arms free, we can get you into a new set of
clothes. Your own clothes were badly torn by your fall through the
oak tree.”
Even as he finished speaking, an older woodwoman entered the shelter.
She nodded her head and said in a soft shushing voice, “Good morning,
Your Highness. It is pleasing to see that you are looking better. It was
uncertain for a while whether you would recover at all and whether you
would have your wits, if you did. I don’t know if you remember me, I am
Summer Rain.”
Tarkyn smiled and inclined his head, “I believe you gave me a tonic on
the first night. Am I right in assuming that you are the healer?”
“I do have some knowledge in that area,” came the cool response.
“I thank you for your care. I believe I do have my wits, at least as
much as I ever did, although Waterstone may be a better person to attest
to that.” When Waterstone merely smiled perfunctorily, Tarkyn gave a
mental shrug.
“How are your ribs, my lord?”
“Very sore, especially if I laugh.”
The healer delicately raised her eyebrows. “I would not advise laughing
for the time being, if you wish to avoid pain.”
Tarkyn glanced at Waterstone who did not show any reaction. Tarkyn
felt his good humour evaporating. The healer seemed to have no sense
of humour and Waterstone had become distant. For some reason, the
woodfolk seemed to be closing ranks against him. Inevitably, Tarkyn
became more aloof in response. He did not reply but waited for the next
question.
“And how does your shoulder feel?” asked the soft emotionless voice.
“It is painful if jolted but quite comfortable if it is still,” he replied
briefly.
“Your shoulder has had over two weeks tightly strapped in place. I
believe it will be safe to take the strapping off now.” The woodwoman,
with Waterstone’s assistance, removed the prince’s shirt and then the
strapping. The woodman’s eyes widened, when he saw the extent of the
bruising that was revealed. Even after two weeks of healing, Tarkyn’s
back and shoulders were almost totally covered with dark blue almost
black bruising, a greenish tinge around the edges where the bruise was
beginning to fade.
“Wolves’ teeth!” exclaimed Waterstone, his voice, for the first time
betraying some feeling. “You’re a mess. That walk to the river must have
been agonising.”
“Agonising might be too strong a word but it was difficult,” replied
Tarkyn coolly.
“However,” interrupted the healer, “a little exercise will be helpful in
reducing stiffness.” She lifted his arm and moved it gently through its
range of movement. “How is that?”
Tarkyn flexed it carefully and grimaced, but said, “It is a great relief to
be able to move it.”
“As long as you are careful, it should be all right now.” Summer Rain
picked up the bandaging and prepared to leave.
“Thank you for all you have done to help me,” said Tarkyn with a smile.
In return, he received a curt nod and no eye contact. His smile faded
and his face became stony. Tarkyn struggled to contain a wave of anger
that washed through him at her discourtesy. “Summer Rain, although I
will make some allowances for your natural resentment of me, I will not
brook deliberate rudeness. Do I make myself clear?”
The healer nodded and looked up reluctantly at him, her face set. “Yes,
my lord. Your pardon, my lord.”
He took a steadying breath and asked, “Is something amiss, that you
did not reply?”
“Yes, my lord. There has been something amiss for more than a decade.”
“Has this oath affected you so badly?” asked Tarkyn.
“No, my lord. Not until your recent arrival. But because the king
found us and forced us to foreswear our independence, my brother
was exiled.”
“And your brother is…?”
“Falling Rain.”
“Oh, I see,” said Tarkyn slowly as he thought back over Tree Wind’s
memories. “But surely his self-betrayal was inadvertent? Didn’t he become
so ill that he was found after falling from a tree?”
“That is so, but he should have refused to answer questions. Instead
he chose to betray our existence to the king and then show him how to
find us.”
“And the most fundamental tenet of woodfolk is that we remain
hidden from the outside world,” put in Waterstone. “Our way of life and
our safety depends on it.”
Tarkyn began to feel he was fighting a rear guard action for this
woodman he had never met. “But as I understand it, had he not brought
help, many woodfolk would have died.” He looked at Summer Rain.
“You’re a healer. In your opinion, how many would have died if help had
not arrived?”
“My lord, the sickness was virulent. More than half of the woodfolk
were ill by the time the king and the wizard arrived. As it was, many
people died. Without aid, our numbers would have been decimated. We
may even have been wiped out completely.”
Tarkyn frowned, “So how could such actions be condemned?”
The healer shrugged, “The woodfolk decided that Falling Rain had
betrayed the sacred trust of his people and that, regardless of his reasons,
should be banished.”
Tarkyn whistled under his breath. “For pity’s sake! That is a harsh
judgement, when one could equally argue that he should be regarded as
the saviour of his people”
“Yes, my lord. It was very harsh. Yet a people’s saviour does not lead
them into subjugation.”
“Death or submission. That was the choice presented by my father.”
The prince ran his fingers through his hair. “Stars above! Your poor
brother. What a choice!”
“In the end, it was all of us who made that choice,” Waterstone pointed
out. “Falling Rain’s crime was making our existence known to the king.”
“I see.”The prince thought for a moment. “And am I right in saying
that this choice has not affected your lifestyle in the intervening years?”
“Yes, that is true.” answered Summer Rain. “Except in the abstract, of
course – in our view of ourselves and in knowing that one day, our debt
would be called in.”

BOOK: Bronze Magic (Book 1)
6.55Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

DevilsHeart by Laura Glenn
B009RYSCAU EBOK by Bagwell, Gillian
Game On by Nancy Warren
Pirates of the Outrigger Rift by Gary Jonas, Bill D. Allen
31 Days of Autumn by Fallowfield, C.J.
Bodies and Sole by Hilary MacLeod
Love Not a Rebel by Heather Graham