Bronze Magic (Book 1) (54 page)

The prince’s eyes narrowed as he contemplated the group against him,
“Once I have completed this task, I wish to speak alone to the group
who chose the encampment, before any of you leaves. Either tonight or
tomorrow morning, depending on how long we take. That, also, is not
a request.” He looked around until he spotted Running Feet, standing
next to Thunder Storm. “Now if you will excuse us, Running Feet and I
have work to do.”
The prince turned on his heel and strode out into the darkness, with
Running Feet hard on his heels. Once they were well away from the
firesite, the moonlight took over and they found themselves walking
through a monochromatic vista of towering trees, dark, hunched bushes
and soft grasses.
Tarkyn let out a long breath. “Skies above, they’re hard work.” He
glanced at the woodman beside him, “Thank you for your support
today and this evening.” He gave a fleeting smile. “Funny thing is,
I actually agreed with the people who were against me. That’s why I
couldn’t make the decision. I couldn’t let down all the people who were
supporting me. I would have made it if I really had to, but frankly, it
doesn’t matter much, one way or the other. So I was quite happy to
leave it to chance.”
Running Feet’s eyebrows twitched together. “So all those people are
going to get into trouble for making the right decision?”
“I will certainly be speaking to all those people who made the right
decision for the wrong reasons,” replied the prince dryly. “Whether they
get into trouble, as you put it, remains to be seen.”
“And the others?”
Tarkyn smiled. “You mean, those who made the wrong decision for
the wrong reasons? Since they are not filtering everything I say through
a haze of resentment, they will have already understood the error of their
ways. At least, I hope so.”
“Where are we going?” asked Running Feet.
Tarkyn shrugged, “I don’t know. Somewhere outside. Anywhere really,
where we won’t be disturbed.”
Running Feet stopped and looked around. He pointed to a shadowy
space within a large stand of oaks. “That do?”
For a moment, a sense of unease rippled through Tarkyn. “Can you
contact the lookouts? Check that everything is all right?”
Running Feet stared at him. “I can’t hurt you, you know. I swore the
oath.”
Tarkyn frowned distractedly. “What? I’m not worried about that. It
would be pointless for me to ask you to check with the lookouts, if I were.”
The woodman conceded the point and went briefly out of focus. “All
where they should be and nothing to report.”
“How well would they pick up a threat that was already inside the
perimeter?”
“The threat would have to get past them to get inside the perimeter in
the first place,” Running Feet pointed out.
Tarkyn still looked uneasy. “Twice already, I have known of dangers
getting past the lookouts. The first time was a wolf that slipped through
while they were watching its mate. The second was when I made it into
here.” He shrugged. “Maybe I just had a cold shiver, I don’t know. You’ll
just have to be extra vigilant while I’m concentrating.”
When they had settled themselves comfortably against the trunks of
two trees, Tarkyn asked, “Can you recall the encampment?” Remembering
Waterstone, he asked, “Will you allow me to share your memory of it?
Feel free to edit it as you wish.”
Running Feet interrupted, “Did Waterstone really let you have free
rein with his memory?”
The prince stared at him, “Who told you that?”
“Waterstone did, of course. It had to be him, Autumn Leaves or
Thunder Storm. No-one else knows.”
The prince frowned, “So why did he tell you?”
Running Feet grimaced reminiscently. “I think it was just part of a
fairly long-winded warning-off process that he has subjected me to for
most of the day in one subtle way or another.”
“I see,” said Tarkyn. A slow smile dawned as he worked out the
inferences. “Yes, he did give me free rein with his memory for some
considerable time. Not one of my finest hours. I overused it. Autumn
Leaves was very angry with me.” He paused and glanced at Running Feet,
“But do not fear. It was always within Waterstone’s control, not mine, if
you’re wondering. I just took too much advantage of his good nature. –
So, are we going to do this or not? You can describe the encampment in
detail instead, if you would prefer.”
The woodman shook his head. “No. That would be too laborious. If
you can receive images, it’s much better this way.” He leaned forward so
that his face was close to Tarkyn’s. “Okay. Look into my eyes.”
We are carefully upwind of the camp. We can hear wolves howling from
time to time. There are scores of tall men. Some women. Many men are
armed. They are wearing better clothes than the others who look like the
travellers we see on the roads through the woods. There are scores of horses
roped up inside the encampment. Some are wearing saddles, ready to leave.
They have guards posted around the perimeter at intervals of fifty yards. All
the guards are carrying weapons of some description. There are tents in the
middle of the enclosure. Some men sleep in them. Many sleep under tatty
pieces of canvas outside. A weedy young man walks around past the horses to
check the chained wolves
.
“That’s the man I saw at the river with the wolf and the riders,”
exclaimed Tarkyn. “Sorry. Go on.”
Running Feet shrugged. “There’s not much more than that really. I
didn’t see any sign of woodfolk.”
Tarkyn frowned, “If they are there, they will be inside one of those
tents where we can’t see them. What animal can I use?” pondered the
sorcerer.
“You could start with one of the horses or even a wolf. You would
think they would let the woodfolk out sometimes, if they’re in there.”
“The trouble is that I can’t talk to them. I can only send and receive
images. It needs to stay in the present tense, if you see what I mean.”
Running Feet thought for a minute. “Maybe a mouse? Or a rat?”
Tarkyn laughed. “The mind boggles. But why not? I’ve used a swallow
before and it’s not much bigger than a mouse.” He settled himself more
comfortably against the tree. “Ready? Now I am going to have to send
my mind searching for a particular little individual. So I need to know
where I am going.” He looked suddenly at the woodman and grinned.
“You realise I haven’t done this before? Autumn Leaves said you can use
people’s memories as maps. So can you do me a quick repeat of your trip
between the encampment and here? I’ll just have to reverse it.”
Running Feet’s eyes widened. “That’s a pretty tall order. Not for me,
for you. To remember a long route like that backwards when you haven’t
even travelled it yourself.”
Tarkyn grimaced. “Yes it is, isn’t it? Maybe you can take me through it
once. Then, as I go back over it, give me verbal prompts to remind what
should be coming next.”
“I know,” said the woodman enthusiastically. “I have a better idea.
Why don’t I just take you slowly backwards over the route in the first
place? It won’t be hard for me to visualise retracing our steps.”
“Much better. With any luck I can be actually sending my mind out
along the route in time with your image. Don’t take it too fast.” Tarkyn
closed his eyes, then realised and opened them again. “Stars. I’ll have to
do this with my eyes open if I’m looking at a memory, won’t I?”
Running Feet considered, “No. I don’t think so. It actually might be
easier if I transmit the images to you so that I can change the order of
them first.”
“Good. That will suit me better too,” Tarkyn closed his eyes again.
“Let’s go.”
Slowly with the help of Running Feet’s images, Tarkyn let his mind
move slowly out from where he sat into the forest, up over a series
of wooded hills, around an open space of heather and gorse, around
a huge spread of brambles, through a steep narrow valley and finally
into a more open area of woodland. As his mind approached the
encampment, he focused low to the ground, looking for the mind
patterns of little animals. He could feel the air buzzing with chatter
but he couldn’t home in on any one mind.
Maybe it’s too far away,
he
thought. Just as he was beginning to tire, he found himself viewing
the forest floor from only inches above as he scurried from bush to
bush, looking for seeds and scraps. Gently, the forest guardian inserted
a picture of the encampment, then the tents in the middle of it, with a
sense of query.
He found his nose quivering with the smell of men, horses and wolves.
He shuddered with fear but then began to scurry nervously from one bit
of shelter to the next, towards the source of the smells. It took a long while
to cross the open ground outside on tiny little legs, especially stopping
every few seconds to sniff the air and quiver. Finally, he reached the edge
of the encampment and ducked down behind someone’s discarded shoe
to look about. After a quick detour to sample some horse’s dung, the little
mouse scuttled into the nearest tent.
Tarkyn resisted a strong desire to spit out the mouse’s snack.
There was no one in there but there were some tasty crumbs of mouldy
bread and cheese in the corner. The mouse had another quick nibble before
moving on. Suddenly he heard voices approaching. He flattened himself
out and pushed his way under the back wall of the tent. A crunchy little
black beetle was quickly dispatched before he squeezed himself through a
small hole in the wall of the next tent. There were gigantic people in here.
He scuttled into a corner to hide behind a pile of clothing. After a while,
when he had gauged where everyone was, he peeped out around a piece
of light brown cloth to see what was happening. Three people were sitting
against the opposite wall. Two adults and a child. All three had light
brown hair and green eyes. They looked frightened and dishevelled. The
little mouse nipped out and snuck around into the tiny space between
them and the tent wall. A long metal chain looped around the waist of
each of them and disappeared under the tent wall. The mouse followed
it out and found the end of the chain attached to a large metal stake that
had been hammered into the ground. Then all thought of the people
inside the tent vanished as the mouse saw another lovely pile of horse
dung close by.
The forest guardian thanked it hurriedly and disconnected. He opened
his eyes to find Running Feet staring into his face with some concern.
“Are you okay? You look very pasty.”
Tarkyn twisted and spat on the ground. “It is probably just that the
horse dung and beetle I’ve just eaten don’t agree with me,” he answered d.
“Ooh yuk,” exclaimed the woodman. “That’s a bit above and beyond,
isn’t it?”
Tarkyn wiped his mouth. “It certainly is. But what could I do? I had
to go along for the ride, when the mouse was being so brave and helpful.”
“So, did you find out anything?”
The forest guardian became instantly serious. “Yes. We have a big
problem. They have three woodfolk chained up inside the second tent
along from the forest edge.”
Running Feet went white. “Oh, no. That is our worst nightmare
realised. The outside world finding out about us.”
Tarkyn raised an eyebrow. “Not to mention the suffering of the
imprisoned woodfolk”
The woodman waved a dismissive hand. “That goes without saying.”
“So I see.” Tarkyn stood up. “Come on, then. Back we go and tell the
others.”
Just as they emerged from the shadow of the trees, the sorcerer paused
and looked back. He said nothing but shook his head as if to clear it.
“Lookouts report no unusual sightings. They will redouble their
vigilance.”
“Thanks Running Feet. I wasn’t going to ask again but I did want to
know.”
“What should I do first?” mused Tarkyn. “Talk to the harvesters and
gatherers or show everyone the mouse’s image?”
“Are you asking me?” said Running Feet, unsure whether the prince
was talking to him or to himself.
“You can give me your opinion, if you like.”
“I think you should show the image first,” responded the woodman.
“Then they will understand the urgency of the situation.”
Tarkyn smiled. “I agree. It’s vital those poor people are rescued as
quickly as possible. And if I don’t have time to talk to the harvesters and
gatherers alone tonight, I can talk to them tomorrow.”
When they re-entered the firelight, a hush fell on the crowd. Running
Feet, unused to being at the centre of attention, made his way quickly to
sit down near Thunder Storm again. The guardian of the forest was left
standing alone at the edge of the firelight.
“Rather than tell you what we have discovered, I will simply transmit
the images I received from a small, very brave, helpful…mouse.”
There was a smattering of laughter around the firesite. Tarkyn smiled
in response. “Running Feet and I chose a mouse because we needed a
creature small enough to be unobtrusive that could get inside the tents
at the encampment. There were some disadvantages to this choice, as
you will find out.” He looked around. “I will be kinder this time and
make sure everyone is seated. Are Ancient Elm and Dry Berry still here?
Comfortable? Good.”
The forest guardian found himself a log to sit on and transmitted the
images from the mouse. Although he smiled hard, Tarkyn managed to
keep up the flow of images amid the cries of disgust, when the mouse
indulged in its various snacks. But when the sequence was complete, he
opened his eyes to a sea of white, stricken faces. The silence was deafening.
After a few moments’ hesitation, the prince decided to say nothing at all.
Everything he needed to say, had already been said. He stood up quietly
and wandered back out into the gloom.

arkyn found somewhere relatively dry to sit where he let his mind
wander up among the trees until he found an owl. It was not the
tawny owl that he had met before. This one was a huge eagle owl.

Tarkyn sent a query about the uneasiness he had felt earlier when he had
been there with Running Feet. In answer, the owl took off and winged
through the surrounding trees searching for the source of the feeling. As
one with the owl, Tarkyn could see the forest passing below. He flew over
a herd of grazing deer, and startled rabbits back into their burrows. He
watched a fox jump out of its skin as he swooped low over it. Tarkyn
realised with a jolt that the eagle owl had a sense of humour. It flew
tirelessly through the forest searching. Finally, a black shadow detached
itself from beneath the overhang of a large beech. The eagle owl landed on
a nearby branch and shook out its feathers, its eyes never leaving its quarry
below. The sorcerer strained his eyes to make out what he was seeing. The
black shape moved furtively into the shelter of another beech tree.