Bronze Magic (Book 1) (23 page)

“I didn’t even know until now that he had been exiled. They don’t tell
me their business any more than they need to.”
“And would you have told them, if you knew?”
Stormaway thought carefully. “On balance, I think, yes. I can’t see that
it would have damaged your cause if they had known that.”
“In actual fact, it would have meant one less pocket of resistance for
me to overcome.”
“They’re a funny lot. It was entirely up to them what they did about it.
Why do they direct their resentment towards you?”
“Not all of them agreed with exiling him and those that disagreed were
making some headway with overturning the decision until I turned up.”
Stormaway smiled cheerfully. “So it’s good we had this little chat isn’t
it? Because now you have a good reason for overriding the exile, haven’t
you? I presume you want to, judging by that flood of emotion I received.”
“I do, but I don’t want to enforce my will on them.”
“Your Highness!”Stormaway scowled at him. “I thought I detected
some flaws in your attitude. You are their liege lord. They do as you say.
No questions asked. That’s the end of it. What’s the point of the oath if
you don’t use it?”
Tarkyn looked at him out of the corner of his eye and let out a long
sigh.
Well, that’s one side of the argument,
he thought. His reaction to
Stormaway’s stance gave him some hope, though. He was relieved to realise
that, although he liked to have the power, he didn’t necessarily like to use it.
Maybe I deserve Waterstone’s faith in me after all.
He let his faithful retainer
know none of this, but simply asked, “I wonder how one overturns a
decision when there is no court to inform that you are doing it.”
“Obvious. You simply inform the exile that he may come back.”
“What? And let him walk back into a disapproving society? That would
be no life for him. I have to sort it out with the rest of the woodfolk
first.” Tarkyn thought for a few moments. “I’ll start by discussing it with
Summer Rain”
The prince sent out an image of Summer Rain, with a feeling of
uncertainty attached, into the trees generally and hoped that someone
would pick it up and pass it on. In a surprisingly short amount of time,
Summer Rain came running.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, panting as she caught her breath.
“Oh dear,” said Tarkyn, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you. I’m
fine. I just wanted to talk to you about something.”
The healer scowled at him.
“Please sit down,” he invited urbanely, “Have you met Stormaway
Treemaster? Of course you have. You would have worked together to
heal the sick when my father came here, wouldn’t you?” Tarkyn realised
he has babbling and promptly stopped himself.
“You wanted to speak to me about something?”
“Yes,” replied Tarkyn more slowly. “And if I could just ask you ahead
of time not to relay any of this conversation? That might save any
unpleasantness later on. I will be able to tell if you do and I really do not
like people sharing my conversations without my permission.”
Summer Rain’s eyes narrowed. “I see. Not that I had planned to do so.”
“No, perhaps not but I know it is natural for you to share information
while for me, it is not.”
“I’ll remember that, Your Highness.”
“Thank you. Now, if you remember, I said I would consider Falling
Rain’s plight.” The prince considered her gravely. “I don’t think you
set much store by that at the time, but I don’t usually make hollow
undertakings.” He glanced sideways at the wizard. “It has now come to
my attention that mind power was used on Falling Rain to discover the
location of the woodfolk. Were you aware of this?”
Summer Rain shook her head emphatically. “No... So it was not his
choice to betray us. This information changes everything.”
“I thought it might. Given that I now have new grounds for overturning
an old decision, I am quite prepared to do so. Consequently, I need to
know how to go about it. I can’t just order Falling Rain back if everyone
is still shunning him.”
“I can send out a message explaining the new information. I think….”
Tarkyn interrupted gently, “I don’t mean to cast aspersions on you but
would this information be better coming from a more disinterested party
- perhaps someone who had been opposed to your brother’s return?”
The healer’s eyes flashed but she took a moment to think about it
before nodding reluctantly. “Why don’t you just send it?”
The sorcerer shook his head regretfully. “Can’t send words, I’m
afraid. I’m happy to have the message sent in my name, but I need an
intermediary.”
“What about Waterstone?”
Tarkyn boggled. “Waterstone! I thought he would have been on your
side. No wonder he left the discussion. We’d have had a war in my shelter.”
“No, Your Highness,” Summer Rain replied without a vestige of
humour, “I would have considered your need for quiet and drawn him
outside. He has always believed that betrayal for whatever reason deserved
exile, at the very least. He has always been very firm about the old rules.”
Tarkyn absorbed this new information into his view of the woodman.
Then he remembered Waterstone’s present situation and said, “I think
you’ll find Waterstone is unavailable for the time being. Who else can
you think of?”
“Thunder Storm?”
“Agreed. Could you ask him to come here please?” While they were
waiting for Thunder Storm’s arrival, Tarkyn asked, “How will we inform
Falling Rain? How far away is he? Could a mind message reach him from
here?”
Summer Rain shook her head, “And even if it could, I’m not sure that
he’d agree to come back. He may need some persuasion. No one has seen
him for years. Last sighting of him was way down in the south west.”
“I see. And who would go to tell him?”
“I don’t know yet. We will work it out amongst ourselves.”
Restless after his recuperation, Tarkyn came to a sudden decision. “I
shall go.”
Immediately, the wizard cut in. “You cannot go without a retinue. It
would be improper.”
“I came to the forest without a retinue, Stormaway.” The prince
reminded him gently.
Summer Rain’s joined forces with the wizard. “You can’t go on your
own. Without us, the wolf would have killed you yesterday. The bounty
hunters would have carried you off.”
“And I wouldn’t have three broken ribs,” quipped Tarkyn.
I don’t learn,
do I?
he thought, as she stared at him stonily. After a moment, he said
more seriously, “I had no intention of going alone. I have very limited
experience of woodcraft, hunting, cooking, navigating or possible
dangers. Even if I wanted to, I know I couldn’t go alone. But it would
give me a chance to see some of the woodlands and to help to redress the
wrong done to Falling Rain.” He grimaced. “The biggest problem I can
see is that you might find it harder to recruit woodfolk who would be
willing to fetch Falling Rain, if they know they will have me with them.”
Summer Rain looked at him for a long time. “Have we been so hard
on you?”
“Not everyone, and not all the time. But I know most woodfolk resent
me,” remembering Waterstone’s memory, he added, “and consider me
a liability.”
For the first time, Summer Rain smiled. “Not completely. I think a
travelling party might appreciate the talents of a sorcerer on their side. I
don’t know that you’re ready to travel yet, though.”
“How long?”
Summer Rain shrugged, “You are pretty tired again today. Aren’t you?”
“But I just spent four days lifting branches.” He saw her about to
protest and cut in, “And in answer to your next question. No, I wasn’t
just sitting around and yes, it does tire me even if it’s only magic. You
don’t do physical magic, so you don’t understand.”
“If that’s the case, you shouldn’t have done so much then.”
Tarkyn smiled, “No pleasing you, is there? No, I probably shouldn’t
have. But we only had a short time to repair the trees before they would
have been too dried out. So, better to work too hard for four days and
recover on the fifth, don’t you think?”
The healer nodded reluctantly. “I think you will need another few days
or you will just hold everyone up. Then you would be a liability. We
don’t want you overstraining yourself trying to keep up. But we will need
time to assemble supplies and equipment, so you may be well enough by
then, anyway. If not, we will wait. After twelve years, another week will
not matter.” He remembered this was not what she had said to him a few
days ago but saw no point in mentioning it. She smiled at him. “And
thank you.”
By the time Thunder Storm arrived, it was almost dinnertime. A huge
pot of stew hung over the fire, its tantalisingly smell wafting over the
clearing. Thunder Storm filled two bowls and handed one to the Tarkyn
as he sat down next to him.
The prince blew on the hot food and ate a few mouthfuls. “This is good
stew, a bit gamey perhaps but plenty of herbs...Hmm, very tasty indeed.”
“Thank you, Sire,” Thunder Storm took a mouthful himself, “Ah yes.
You need the herbs. It takes a fine chef to cook a good wolf stew. Taste’s
too strong for roasting.”
Tarkyn choked. “Did you say wolf? Not the wolves we killed yesterday?”
“Of course.” Thunder Storm rumbled happily. “You have to cook it
quickly so that it doesn’t go off.
This answer was so eminently sensible that Tarkyn was left with
nothing to say. He peered into his bowl, steeled himself and kept eating.
“Mind you, there’s a lot of meat on two wolves. We should have plenty
of stew for the next few days, at least. And not only that,” continued the
woodman, blithely unaware of the prince’s heroism, “I think the pelt of
the wolf Waterstone shot down will be large enough to make you a good
thick cloak for winter.”
“Marvellous,” said the prince with as much enthusiasm as he could
muster, as he thought of the finely tailored cloaks he had left hanging in
his wardrobe at the palace.
“However,” rumbled Thunder Storm with a disapproving frown, “Your
fireworks didn’t do much for the quality of the other pelt. Probably worth
bearing in mind next time, Your Highness.” he added kindly, giving the
prince’s knee an avuncular pat.
The prince nearly choked again and cast a weather eye in Stormaway’s
direction to see whether he had noticed Thunder Cloud’s over-familiarity.
Luckily, the wizard was intent on listening in on someone’s conversation,
a common activity for him, Tarkyn suspected. “I’ll try to do better next
time,” he managed, smothering a laugh.
Thunder Storm beamed at him and asked why the prince had wanted
to see him. When Tarkyn explained, he was relieved to find that once
Thunder Storm had expressed his shock and dismay, he was quite
happy to send out a message on the prince’s behalf even though he had
previously been an advocate for Falling Rain’s continued exile. Almost at
once, Tarkyn was rocked backwards by a wave of outrage followed by a
deluge of relief and rejoicing.
The prince grinned. “Did you feel that? I think my first decree, or
whatever you call it, has met with approval.”
Thunder Storm smiled. “No. I didn’t feel anything but my mind is
jammed up with excited messages coming from everywhere. People are
so pleased to hear that Falling Rain did not willingly betray us after all.
Glad for him that he can come home, and glad for all woodfolk that the
pact we have amongst ourselves is still intact.”
arly the next morning, Tarkyn slipped down to the river before
anyone, and in particular Stormaway, could accost him. He loved
the river’s tranquillity and the way its moods changed at different
times of the day and night. But more than this, he wanted to try to
develop his mind links with the otter again, if it reappeared.
He sat quietly in the sun for a while and tried to send out waves of
invitation into the river. As he gazed down into the water, he suddenly
realised he was staring at a huge golden fish that was looking expectantly
up at him.
This is getting a bit silly,
he thought.
What do I say to a fish?
He
produced a picture of the otter and a feeling of uncertainty. He received a
frisson of fear followed by an image of the otter far downstream heading
the other way. Then he received a view of the river directly below him,
with an understanding of all the safe holes, feeding areas and smaller
fish accompanied by a sense of pride. Somehow, the prince realised from
the vision coupled with the fish’s size that he was communing with the
old man of the river, so to speak. In return, the prince sent a picture of
himself in the surrounding trees with woodfolk in the background, also
with a sense of pride. The huge fish rose slowly to the surface and watched
him for a few minutes before turning and swimming slowly down into
the shadows.
I must say, conversation tends to be laboured without words, no
matter whom you’re talking to,
he thought.
Tarkyn lay on his back and focused his will on trying to tune in to
any feelings or images around him. Slowly he became aware that he was
being watched and opened his eyes to find himself being scrutinised by
the heron he had seen on his first morning in the forest. The sorcerer
radiated calm and sat up slowly while the heron watched patiently.
Tarkyn received a clear impression that he was wasting time moving
slowly and that the heron was quite disdainful of any danger he might
represent. Slightly riled, the sorcerer sent the bird an image of a fireball
blasting towards him, but the heron merely tilted his head disbelievingly.
Having had his bluff called, Tarkyn shrugged and grinned. The heron
looked him sternly in the eyes then flapped his wings slowly and
took off. At first, Tarkyn was disappointed but suddenly realised he
was seeing trees gliding past and below as the heron gained height.
Soon, the sorcerer was viewing the forest from above the treetops as the
bird glided in ever-increasing circles higher in the sky. With a sense of
wonder, Tarkyn realised that the domain of his forest spread as far as
the eye could see in every direction but one, which he presumed was
the north eastern approach from which he had entered. In the distance
to the southwest, he could see wooded mountains soaring above jagged
cliffs that rose from the forests below. He could see the changes in
foliage from one area to another and thought he could pick out the
route he had been forced to take by the bounty hunters, which had
ended in a large stand of pines to the north northwest. Then the river
came back into view as a shining, snaking line partly covered by trees.
As he watched, the river drew closer and closer until he was streaking
headfirst towards it. At the last minute he saw a fish just below the
surface before the image was lost in a blur of white water.