Bronze Magic (Book 1) (67 page)

“Now!” he breathed.
They stood up and walked casually onto the road behind the group to
join the stragglers. An old woman’s eyes widened briefly as she suddenly
found herself no longer at the rear. But life had been hard and she wasn’t
really interested in anything other than reaching camp and getting some
food and rest. So she gave a faint shrug and kept putting one foot in front
of the other.
Stormaway and Danton matched their pace and posture to those
around them, hunching their shoulders and treading slowly and heavily.
They didn’t speak because they had nothing safe to say. Forty minutes
later, they were approaching the encampment. Strangely, the guards at
the entrance paid very little heed to anyone.
Danton frowned and whispered, “This lot wouldn’t last long at the
palace. Why do they even bother having guards if they don’t even make a
cursory check on people coming in?”
A chilling thought struck Stormaway. “Maybe they are more careful
about people going out?”
The two men looked at each other. “There is no one going out,”
whispered Danton.
As they watched, they realised this wasn’t strictly true. From time to
time, a small group of armed soldiers would leave, heading back down
the path to the main road through the forest.
The wizard and the sorcerer found themselves ushered to a place
around a campfire. Helpful guards provided them with food and drink.
When they were sated, soldiers showed them to a large tent where they
could bed down in a corner when they were ready. Beyond that, they
were left to their own devices.
“Do you know any of these people?” asked Danton.
The wizard shook his head. “Not so far. But I have a wide network.
There must be someone here I know.”
Danton frowned. “I think I may have seen one or two of the soldiers
before, but I don’t know them personally. I could have seen them
anywhere.”
“Let’s start moving around,” suggested Stormaway. “We have to find
out the feeding arrangement for the wolves. We only have tonight.
Tomorrow we must get it right.”
“It’s a short time line,” said Danton, bowing slightly to an officer as
they sauntered past. “I would have preferred more time but the woodfolk
are anxious about their friends and I suppose the danger of discovery
increases the longer we stay here.”
Stormaway shrugged. “We are in no danger of discovery. We both have
every right to be travelling wherever we please.”
“It would help if we knew why it might be that we have come to the
encampment.”
The wizard looked thoughtful. “True. Let’s find the stake, the woodfolk
tent and the wolves first. Once we have done our planning, we can settle
ourselves in around a campfire and listen to a few conversations.”
They
wandered
around
the
inside
of
the
perimeter
of
the
encampment, trying to work out which tent housed the woodfolk. It
took twenty minutes to circumnavigate. Thanks to Tarkyn’s complete
and utter lack of directional sense, they had no real idea where the
tent was. However, they guessed that it might be on the east because
they knew Running Feet’s vision would have lead Tarkyn’s mind from
that direction.
The wolves and horses were a lot easier to find. The wolves were
unhappy with their lot and several of them paced restlessly up and down
the few feet of travel their chains would allow them. When Stormaway
and Danton approached them, they snarled and howled, dragging at
their chains in an effort to attack. Several people looked over to see what
was causing the disturbance. Although the horses were roped well away
on the other side of the camp, the wolves’ snarling caused several horses
to whinny, tossing their heads and rolling their eyes in fear.
“We’ll give those wolves a wide berth then,” said Danton firmly. He
added quietly, “I wonder if they can smell woodfolk on us?”
“Possibly,” mused the wizard. “Anyway, we don’t need to get near
them. We just need to find their food source.”
Suddenly, they found their way blocked by a sturdy, armed guard.
He was dressed in a cobbled together uniform that was a mixture from
several regiments. He wore no helmet and his bald head shone in the
afternoon sun. What was left of his hair was grey and shoulder length. He
glared at them from under dark, bushy eyebrows and demanded, “What
do you two think you’re playing at, getting so close to those wolves?
They’re dangerous, you know. Look at that! You’ve disturbed the horses.”
He leant forward and peered closely at them, “Have I seen you before?
You don’t look familiar.”
Danton’s heart was thumping in his chest but he replied with a
semblance of calm, spiced with just a dash of uncertainty, “I beg your
pardon, sir, if we have upset anyone. We have only just arrived and were
simply having a look around.”
The guard straightened up in response to Danton’s well-bred accent.
“That explains it then, my lord.” He gave a kindly smile, “Took your
finery, did they? You must be feeling a little shaken up still. Don’t worry.
We’re a friendly enough bunch here. You’ll soon get to know us all. My
name’s Torgan.” He looked Danton up and down, to which Danton took
silent exception. Sergeant Torgan smiled disarmingly. “You seem to be in
pretty good shape, sir. You might be ready to join a regiment quite soon.”
He glanced at Stormaway. “Your friend here could take a bit longer.” He
frowned, “Perhaps he has other skills we can use instead. He doesn’t look
like much of a fighter.”
Stormaway managed to cower down and appear even more pathetic
than before, “I am a tailor, sir,” he whined, “Though my eyesight is not
as good as it used to be. But I can still sew if someone else threads the
needle.”
The guard gave him a hearty, condescending pat on the back, “Good
on you, old man. I’m sure there’ll be plenty for you to do.” He tipped his
fingers to his forehead in a friendly salute, “I’d better go. I expect I’ll see
you around.”
As soon as he was out of earshot, Danton turned to Stormaway
incredulously. “Tailor? Where did that come from?”
The wizard shrugged and gave a small self-deprecating smile, “I don’t
know why it is, but people never think of a tailor as a threat. It’s a very
useful disguise.”
“And can you sew?” demanded Danton.
Stormaway snorted, “Of course I can. I don’t do things by halves, you
know. I’ve been in this game for many long years.”
“Well, if you’ve been in this game for so long, what do you make of
all this?”
The wizard looked around and shook his head. “I don’t know for sure
but I would say they are recruiting people for something.”
Danton’s eyes widened, “Not for hunting woodfolk, I hope.”
“I don’t know. Could be. Could be for something else. We’ll keep our
eyes and ears open and see what we can find out.”
Not surprisingly, Stormaway and Danton eventually located the
imprisoned woodfolk’s tent quite close to the wolves. There was no other
tent with a chain issuing under the side panel attached to a metal stake in
the ground. A large black crow was perched on the top of the tent pole.
It flew off as they approached and settled further away in an overhanging
branch.
Once they had identified the tent, they wandered around the vicinity,
looking casually for guards or magical wards. Stormaway looked around
surreptitiously and muttered under his breath, “Wards, Rayavalka!” and
thrust three fingers outwards.
Immediately, pale splashes of green flickered in a dozen different places
across the encampment. One of them flickered across the entrance to the
woodfolk’s tent, but there were none around the sides.
Moments later, Stormaway snapped his fingers back into his palm and
the green lights flicked out.
“Mmm. Interesting, “said Stormaway. “A ward to stop people going
in by mistake, or out of idle curiosity, but no real expectation of a rescue
attempt.”
Danton shrugged. “I can only imagine they have underestimated
the woodfolk. Maybe Golden Toad and his family are playing dumb.
Whoever has them trapped might think of them as wild animals if they
don’t speak – and wild animals wouldn’t rescue their kin.”
Stormaway frowned in disapproval. “Woodfolk are nothing like wild
animals. Mind you, without Tarkyn’s help, they wouldn’t have known
Golden Toad and his family were even missing, let alone where they
were.” Stormaway looked towards the nearest perimeter. “Okay. Let’s see
how many guards there are, and where.”
They scanned the perimeter nearest the woodfolk’s tent.
“Six that I can see,” reported Danton.
“I wonder when they change the guard?”
“It’s usually every four hours,” replied the ex-palace guardsman. “We’ll
need the woodfolk to strike soon after the change so that they can be well
away before the next watch discovers the unconscious guards.”
A small huddle of travellers wandered past them, obviously
reconnoitring their new surroundings. As Danton sauntered over to them
to strike up a conversation, they bowed in response to his unconscious
air of command. He frowned and threw a wry glance at Stormaway
before nodding his head in acknowledgement. He offered a few desultory
remarks and when they were more at ease, asked, “New here too, are
you?” He nodded at the woodfolk’s tent. “What do you suppose is in
there with that chain going under the wall like that?”
A young girl curtsied and answered with wide-eyed nervousness, “Sir,
I believe there is an injured wolf in there, sir.” She curtsied again, her
chestnut hair falling down over her shoulder.
Danton smiled disarmingly, “Really? I’m glad I asked. I wouldn’t want
to go in there by mistake and get myself mauled.”
“No sir, you wouldn’t,” said a tall gangly youth, clearly her brother and
clearly anxious to get a word in with this lordly acquaintance. “Only the
wolves’ keeper goes in there, we understand.” He hesitated, “Will you be
taking over one of the regiments, sir?”
Danton cast a quick measuring glance at the other members of their
group. “I have only just arrived and do not yet know my intentions.”
“My Da and uncle and me… We all plan to fight the brigands.” The
young man glanced earnestly at an older man standing just behind him.
“Don’t we, Da?”
“Yes lad, we do.”
A short stocky man, presumably the uncle, joined in. “It’s got to be
stopped, you know. You can’t have the kingdom’s road rife with thugs. If
the king won’t attend to it, we’ll have to do it ourselves.”
Danton raised his eyebrows, “Do you doubt the king, sir?
For a moment, the man gobbled at him, his mouth opening and
shutting soundlessly like a landed fish.
“Do not fear,” said Danton with a slight smile. “I am not the king’s
agent. I am merely interested in the progress of popular opinion, since I
have been out of touch for a few weeks.”
The uncle scratched his head, “Oh well, in that case…” He leaned in a
little closer. “It’s not that we are disloyal to the king. It’s just that he is so
busy chasing his evil brother... ”
Danton frowned, “Who? Prince Jarand?”
The man snorted. “No, not Prince Jarand. He is fighting to support
us against the raiders. Prince Tarkyn. He’s the evil bastard who destroyed
half of Tormadell, and killed off all the Royal Guard and hundreds of
innocent bystanders.”
Danton’s eyes grew round not, as they thought, at the enormity
of the crimes, but at the enormity of the rumours, which had grown
considerably since he last heard them.
The father nodded sagely. “Well you might boggle, my lord. No
wonder the king has his hands full. The countryside is shouting for the
Prince Tarkyn’s blood but the king, very nobly, wants to give his brother
a fair trial. Personally, I’d be happy to see the murdering bastard torn limb
from limb, but the king has his standards.” He shrugged. “Still, that’s why
we look up to the Royal Family.” He sucked his breath in sympathetically
and shook his head. “What a shame for them to have such a black sheep
among them.”
It was taking Danton considerable effort to regain the use of his vocal
chords, “Harumph. Yes. Quite embarrassing for them.” Feeling that he
could not stomach any more of this, Danton turned to the young lady
and summoned a smile for her, “And what do you intend to do while the
men of your family fight brigands?”
She gave a shy smile in return, “My little sister and I will stay here
in the camp and see what we can do to help. Perhaps we will see you
around the campsite from time to time.” Then she blushed furiously
while her father scowled at her. “I beg your pardon. I did not mean to
sound forward. I only meant…”
Danton glanced reassuringly at the father and broadened his smile, “I
understand what you meant. I am sure we will all see each other again if
we remain billeted within the encampment. After all, it is not so very big,
is it?” He sketched a small bow for her. “It would be a pleasure to run into
you again… all of you,” he added hastily.
“Excuse me, my lord,” he heard a caustic voice say behind him, “but I
believe duty calls.”
Danton swung around to find Stormaway’s eyes boring into him. He
frowned before swinging back to say ruefully, “I am afraid he is right.
Until next time.”
“I see you do not have the same natural difficulties with dissemblance
that your liege displays.”
Danton gave a short laugh. “No. Not at all, as you just saw. So it’s just
as well, isn’t it, that Tarkyn’s morals keep me in check?”
“I have no problem with a natural dissembler. I am one myself.
It doesn’t have to be in an unworthy cause.” Stormaway regarded the
sorcerer curiously, “But if I weren’t here to report back to him, what then?
And what of your behaviour when you were on your own, searching
for him?”
Danton frowned in annoyance. “I don’t dissemble with the prince,”
he said shortly. “I know what he wants and as far as I am able, I deliver
it. Always.”
As they talked, they had walked around the area surrounding the
wolves looking for the source of the wolves’ dinner. By mutual, unspoken
agreement, they wandered further afield towards the smells of cooking
food.