Bronze Magic (Book 1) (36 page)

“I’m impressed, Stormaway, came a voice out of the trees on the
southern side of the road. “Unless I was expecting to be tricked, I would
be convinced by your creation... and I am considered to be one of our
best trackers.” Creaking Bough smiled at them. “Let’s go. We have to get
those remains buried and set up camp before nightfall. We estimate from
your images, Tarkyn, that the riders will be arriving at the riverside in less
than an hour, around dusk.”

hen dusk came, Tarkyn was sitting with his back against an old elm,
a little distance away from the others. He had reached out carefully
and after searching specifically for the male tawny owl, had made

Ten riders stream into the clearing behind the wolf. They are roughly
dressed, each carrying knives, axes or staffs. Most have a bow and a
quiver of arrows strapped to their saddles. They mill around, fighting
to control their excited horses as the wolf sniffs back and forth around
the clearing then sits down on his haunches, throws back his head
and howls.

One rider snarls something, obviously disliking the wolf ’s howling.
A weedy young man snaps out orders and the riders dismount and begin
to search the area. The piece of bright material and the blonde hair are
quickly found but each is discarded out of hand. The wolf, when he has
finished his tribute to his kin, responds to the young man’s call and trots
over to him. He sniffs at a piece of brown cloth that the man has tucked into
his waist. Then the wolf snuffles back and forth around the clearing again.
He finds the trail left by Tarkyn and Stormaway but after zigzagging along
it for several yards, returns to the clearing. Suddenly, the big wolf starts to
bark at the base of one of the tree, lunging at the trunk in an attempt to
jump up into the branches.
The young man exclaims in triumph then slaps his thigh in frustration
as he looks up into the empty tree. By his facial expressions and his gestures,
it is clear that he knows his quarry has escaped him but it is equally clear
that he is not looking for sorcerers or wizards.

Tarkyn walked back to join the weary woodfolk around the fire. They
seemed to be lower on energy than usual. Tarkyn sat on the ground
near the fire leaning back against a large log. He feared the image would
dispirit them even further. He was right.

A horrified silence hung over the firesite once Tarkyn had relayed the
owl’s images. Finally, Stormaway could stand it no more. “Could someone
fill me in on what is happening? I don’t pick up images, remember.”

Tarkyn dragged himself out of a reverie to answer, “Ten riders and a
wolf are in the riverside clearing, as we speak. They were not interested in
our carefully laid trail or in the evidence of travellers that was so neatly
planted. There is a young man who seems to be in charge. The wolf was
directed to seek out a particular scent, which led him to the base of the
tree that the woodfolk must have climbed to leave the clearing. These
people, whoever they are, are specifically hunting for the woodfolk.”

“How did the young man direct the wolf to look for woodfolk?” asked
the wizard.
“He has a piece of our clothing,” said Waterstone tightly.
Stormaway frowned, “I see. And is there any way you can be tracked
from there to here?”
Thunder Storm shook his head slowly. “No. Our scent will be all
around that area and where we buried the wolves but we have only just
come back down from the trees now.” He looked wearily at the wizard.
“It has been a long hard day travelling everywhere through the tree tops
but it looks like it was worth it.”
Tarkyn realised with a jolt that he hadn’t considered the effort it would
have cost them to climb up into the heights of each tree and jump down
into the next one over several miles of woodland. He thought over the
events of the day and worked out that they would all have had to travel
at least five miles, some further if they had done more than one trip with
wolf remains. No wonder they seemed dispirited. They were bone tired.
The forest guardian stood up, still pleased with how little effort it cost
him. He let his gaze travel around them all. “I know you are all very tired
but will you please stand up and come to stand on either side of me? We
can discuss these developments afterwards. You don’t need to do this,
Stormaway.”
For the first time, disgruntled glances were exchanged and some people
were clearly reluctant to comply. Tarkyn made no comment but simply
waited until they had all done as he asked.
“Now, put your hand on your neighbour’s shoulder.” Their forest
guardian placed his hands on the shoulders of the two woodfolk nearest
to him on either side. “I am now going to replenish your energy.”
A mutter of dissent and uncertainty ran through the woodfolk.
Tarkyn spoke gently but with an underlying edge to his voice. “I am
not offering this or requesting that you take it. I am requiring you to take
it.” He paused. “Now. Close your eyes. Do not resist. Allow the energy
to flow.” Tarkyn closed his own eyes and focused deep inside himself.
He drew forth his
esse
and sent out a warm wave of strength into the
exhausted wood folk. There was a communal intake of breath as the wave
of gentle power washed into them. “You may open your eyes when you
are ready.”
When the woodfolk opened their eyes, they found themselves encased
inside a warm bronze haze. Even as they gazed at it, it faded away. They
looked at each other, saw renewed vitality in the faces before them and
broke into smiles. Their forest guardian took his hands down and gestured
that they could take their seats again.
Tarkyn smiled and sent out a wave of gratitude and bonhomie as he
sat down himself. “Thank you for your cooperation. I realise it took a big
effort to stand up after your long day. I can’t thank you enough for what
you all did for me today and I wished to give you something in return.
Not only that, but as your forest guardian, I need to make sure you have
enough strength to face whatever the next few days brings us.” He looked
around at them all. There was still some residual tension among them
so he sent out a ripple of reassurance and added, “And that’s it. I may
have been a little too exuberant this afternoon but true to my word, I am
not going to keep ordering you around – at least, only occasionally. As
agreed, we will work together.”
“Tarkyn,” said Sparrow, coming up to stand in front of him to peer at
him closely, “You’re not green any more.”
“Thank heavens for that!” exclaimed Tarkyn. He smiled at Sparrow
and said in a loud voice. “Are you hungry?” She nodded. “So am I.”
He looked around the side of the little girl and addressed no one in
particular. “Without wishing to be too demanding... does anyone have
enough energy now to make some dinner? I’m starving – and I don’t
know how to cook.” He looked back at Sparrow and grinned, “And I
don’t particularly want to learn how, either.”
“That’s very lazy of you, Tarkyn,” said Sparrow severely.
The prince didn’t look one bit abashed. “I know, but equality can only
go so far, in my opinion.”
Sparrow seemed a little confused by this answer but was rescued by her
father who interceded to say dryly, “What His Highness means, is that
he has other jobs to do that other people can’t do. So it’s fair if he doesn’t
do any cooking.”
“Is that what I meant? Thank goodness you’re here to keep me
informed,” chortled Tarkyn.
Sparrow frowned repressively at him, “I think you’re just trying to get
out of it.”
The prince smiled sweetly at her, “Oh no, I’m not trying. I’m
determined. There are limits, you know. Now, haven’t you got something
better to do than stand here telling me off?”
Suddenly she smiled sunnily, and flung her arms around his neck
before plonking herself on his knee. “I think you’re being very naughty
but I’m not sure. Anyway, I’m glad you’re not mouldy any more and I’m
glad I’m not feeling as tired as I was. I was aching everywhere. We did a
lot of climbing today, you know. It stops being fun after a while.”
“Well, I hope it becomes fun again tomorrow when you’ve had a good
sleep.” He said, wrapping his arm around her.
She nodded and settled herself against his shoulder. “I expect it will
be.” She answered drowsily. In the next breath, she was asleep.
Tarkyn gazed down at her, “Oh dear. Maybe I should have given the
children a double dose. Poor little things must be exhausted. The adults
were close to exhaustion, let alone the littlies.” He looked at Waterstone,
“What is she going to do about dinner?”
Waterstone smiled down at his daughter, lying peacefully in Tarkyn’s
arms. “If she is very hungry, she will wake up. If not, she can make up for
it with a big breakfast in the morning.”
Tarkyn stroked Sparrow’s hair. After a while, he asked quietly, “What
did you decide about finding Falling Rain?”
“That you’re right. We need to find him and bring him back into
the fold. He is in the southwest beyond the mountains.” As he spoke,
Waterstone drew a map in the dirt to demonstrate what he was saying.
“We can travel parallel to the road until we reach the area where the
attacks on travellers are increasing and see what we can find out on the
way past. Then we’ll turn due south and travel over the mountains.”
“And who is back-tracking the wolves?”
The woodman glanced at Tarkyn. “We decided that those of us with
you are a bare minimum for your safety really, and ours. So, another
group, the harvesters, will track the horsemen and follow the wolves’ trail
back to its source. We’ll send in more if we need to.”
Tarkyn smiled wryly, “They’re still avoiding me, aren’t they?”
Waterstone grimaced, “Well, they’re not exactly rushing to meet up
with you, I would have to admit.”
“Autumn Leaves said woodfolk don’t all meet together very often - or
was it, don’t meet for very long?” The prince shrugged. “Anyway, how
many groups are there? In fact, how many woodfolk are there?”
Waterstone stared off into the fire. “There were about two hundred
of us at your welcoming feast. Usually we work together in groups of
somewhere between forty and eighty, depending on what we are doing.”
Tarkyn did a quick calculation. “So there must be three or four other
groups.”
The woodman kept his eyes firmly on the fire, “Mm. Yes. Something
like that.”
For the first time since Tarkyn had known him, Waterstone was
being evasive. The prince didn’t challenge him but frowned in thought
trying to work out what the woodman was avoiding telling him.
What
is most important to Waterstone?… Sparrow?
Tarkyn looked down at her
and stroked her hair again. Yes, but not relevant to this conversation.He
glanced sideways at the woodman’s profile. Usually, Waterstone caught
his eye but this time he kept his gaze steadfastly forward. Tarkyn thought
back over the conversation, word for word.
Two hundred on the first night
but somehow my calculations aren’t right and Waterstone doesn’t want to tell
me what’s wrong with them. What does he care about so much that he won’t
be straight with me?
Suddenly he knew.
“How many woodfolk were present when my father made them swear
the oath?” asked the prince slowly.
Finally, Waterstone dragged his eyes away from the fire to face him.
“About one hundred and sixty.”
“Oh no!” breathed the prince. “That means I forced forty more
woodfolk to swear the oath who had avoided it before. Blast it! I wish I
had known.” He looked at Waterstone. “Not you though. You were there
the first time, weren’t you?”
Waterstone nodded and looked morosely back into the fire.
“Where’s Stormaway?” asked Tarkyn suddenly.
The woodman glanced around the firesite and spotted the wizard on
the other side of the clearing. “Over there,” he replied shortly.
“Good.” He returned his attention to the woodman and regarded him
through narrowed eyes. “You’re struggling, aren’t you?” asked Tarkyn.
Then he shrugged, “Well, maybe you’re not. Maybe your loyalties are
totally clear to you. Maybe I’m just hoping you’re struggling.”
“Of course I’m bloody struggling,” snapped Waterstone. “I’m always
bloody struggling around you. If it’s not for one reason, it’s for another.”
“I know. I think we both agree I’m hard work.” Tarkyn seemed
completely unmoved by the woodman’s outburst. He gave a crooked
smile. “Let me put you out of your misery and save you having to betray,
or consider betraying, your fellow woodfolk. There are many more
woodfolk, aren’t there, than I have ever met?”
Waterstone let out a long breath and, after a moment, nodded.
“Does Stormaway know this?” asked the prince.
The woodman’s eyes flickered in alarm. “No.”
Now Tarkyn did become annoyed, “Oh Stars above, Waterstone, don’t
look like that! Have you learnt nothing about me in the time you’ve
known me?”
Waterstone had the grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry. Knee jerk
reaction.”
“Let us agree to keep Stormaway out of this. If I ever meet with
these other woodfolk, I’ll do it on my own terms, not his.” Tarkyn was
struggling to keep his unruly feelings in check. He glanced sideways at
Waterstone and said, “I’m sorry. Can you take Sparrow? I can’t sit here
any longer. I need some time on my own to think.”
When Sparrow had been safely transferred over into Waterstone’s arms,
Tarkyn stood up and stretched, forcing himself not to rush. “When’s this
food coming?” he asked irascibly.
“Here you are,” said Thunder Storm, appearing at just the right
moment and handing him a bowl full of rich stew.
“Wolf?”
Thunder Storm beamed, “Nothing but the best.”
Tarkyn managed to return his smile and thank him. Then he took his
stew and headed off into the quiet of the trees. Once he was beyond the
circle of firelight, the reaction set in. His mind was overwhelmed with
trying to re-think every incident and conversation and agreement in view
of this new information. He blundered through the woods, barely aware
of where he was going until he found a comfortable tree to prop himself
against that was shielded from view and surrounded by soft moss. He sat
down and concentrated on eating his meal to still his raging thoughts.
When he had finished, he leaned his head back against the trunk of the
tree, closed his eyes and began to re-assess everything.
All those times I thought they were mind talking with the group of woodfolk
I had met, they had actually been talking to many more. Every one of the
woodfolk around me, probably even Sparrow, knew that there were other
woodfolk that I hadn’t been told about. I am in the middle of a huge tacit
conspiracy against me. And what would happen if I met one of the woodfolk
not bound by the oath? These people would have all the resentment but none
of the restrictions provided by the oath. Would they kill me as an outsider to
protect the secret of their existence? Would they kill me to rescue their kindred
from the oath? Not if oathbound woodfolk were present because the threat to
the forest’s wellbeing would guarantee my protection, but probably they would
otherwise. And what difference does it make to these unknown woodfolk that
I am this forest guardian of theirs? Would that stop them from attacking me?
And what does this all mean for my relationship with the woodfolk I
thought I knew and was beginning to trust? And where does it leave my
friendship with Waterstone?
Nowhere, was his immediate reaction. After
a few minutes of further thought, he decided his immediate reaction
was correct.
How could Waterstone have been so confident about concealing
this information when I scanned his memory? Obvious, really. He knew
I wouldn’t know woodfolk well enough to notice if I saw different woodfolk
in the memories from the ones I had met. As it turned out, the issue didn’t
even arise.
And the agreement I thought I had with the woodfolk here tonight - so
much for sharing vital information. It slipped their minds, did it, that they
were discussing everything I said with a whole host of other people I knew
nothing about.
A tidal wave of anger and desolation burst forth from the sorcerer and
rolled off through the woods. Its passage was marked by ruffled feathers,
grunts of discomfort from a passing badger, and starts of fright from
various, completely innocent night creatures in the woods. As it reached
the campsite, every waking person rocked back in their seats, their eyes
widening in apprehension. But even though he was also swamped by the
wave, Stormaway alone did not understand its cause.
Twenty minutes later, unaware that his untamed feelings had once
more betrayed him, Tarkyn walked out of the woods and sat down with
an appearance of equanimity at the firesite.
“So,” he said urbanely, “As I remember it, I interrupted the discussion
we were having about the owl’s image of the hunters. I think the main
issue, as far as I can understand it, seems to centre around the fact that
somehow they seem to know that woodfolk exist and that they are
looking specifically for you. I am sure that will be concerning you. Any
ideas how that may have happened?”