Bronze Magic (Book 1) (51 page)

Once the woodfolk had redeployed themselves less obtrusively, Tarkyn
closed his eyes and focused within himself to find his essence. Then he
reached out through the palm of his right hand to connect with the inner
strength of the great oak. When he could feel himself blending with the
oak, he transferred his focus to his left hand and sent a trickle of power
into Stormaway.
“Right,” he said, “I’m ready. I can give you as much power as you need
now. Just let me know.”
Tarkyn felt Stormaway’s shoulder move slightly as the wizard nodded.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, Tarkyn found his mind joined with the
wizard’s. He could see the storm through the wizard’s eyes; sense the
swirling clouds high above them and feel their source somewhere
several miles beyond the stream. The sorcerer followed the wizard as
he explored the extent and texture of the turbulence. It soon became
clear that the clouds of the storm were slowly rotating in a clockwise
direction around a distant focal point.
For the first time, Stormaway spoke. “It is easier to work with a force
than against it. We will augment the clockwise rotation and add in a
vertical component. That will have the added advantage of disguising
our interference for longer. By the time the storm-maker realises what is
happening, he or she will be unable to counteract it.”
“That sounds simple enough,” said Tarkyn.
“There is nothing simple about working with weather,” replied
Stormaway repressively. “Follow my lead.”
“Am I going to use my power separately or direct it all through you?”
“Through me, to start with. Once I tune in to the movement of the
storm and begin to add my force to the wind, you can break off and use
your power to force the clouds upwards.”
Even as he spoke, a vast green column of light thrust upwards through
the boughs of the tree. As it cleared the roof of the forest, the column
bent before the force of the wind just as a slender sapling would. Then the
wizard directed more power into it so that instead of being pushed before
the wind, the green column streamed forth, spreading out across the sky
and driving the clouds before it.
There was a long delay before the effects of Stormaway’s efforts
translated themselves around the full circle of the storm. Tarkyn could
feel the strength of the great oak pouring through him as the wizard’s
magic demanded more power. Then, slowly the wind increased in velocity
until, after a time, it was howling through the trees.
“Now,” yelled Stormaway above the roar of the storm. “Break off and
drive your own power upward.”
As the sorcerer removed his hand from the wizard’s shoulder, his
eyes flew open, glowing like lanterns in the dim light. He thrust his
arm skywards and bronze light arced upward into the sky. As it hit the
clouds, it spread into a glowing wall. The clouds began to build up
behind it.
“Not straight up,” yelled the wizard, “Angle it.”
The sorcerer did not reply but the top of the bronze wall swung away
from the wind. Immediately, the bank of clouds rolled up its incline.
“Higher. You have to take it higher as the cloud lifts,” shouted
Stormaway.
A few minutes later the wizard yelled, “I’m going to join my power
to yours. We have to keep increasing the height of the wall. Keep yours
steady until I take over. Then bring your hand back onto my shoulder
and we’ll combine forces again.”
Stormaway’s green magic contracted and swung back up until it was
running parallel with Tarkyn’s bronze wall of power.
“Ready? Now keep your eyes open, focussed on your power. Let your
eyes take over from your hand.”
In answer, bronze light seemed to stream from both the sorcerer’s
upstretched hand and his glowing amber eyes.
“Keep it steady,” shouted Stormaway. “Hold your focus. Now, bring
down your arm and put your hand back on my shoulder.”
As soon as Tarkyn’s hand touched the wizard’s shoulder, the two walls
of light slammed together and a wave of power rippled up from the
ground to disappear into the roiling clouds above.
A short time later, Tarkyn realised he wasn’t being buffeted by the wind
any more. But overhead, he could still see the branches being thrashed
about and he could still hear the wind’s howl. As he watched, the lower
of branches of the oak quietened and gradually level after level of the tree
stilled. The wind still shrieked above the tree line but all around him, the
forest was quiet. As the clouds rose, the rain began to ease.
“We’ve done it,” murmured Stormaway quietly. “It will be self
perpetuating from now on. The clouds are spiralling upwards.- Now, let
your power go slowly. Then I’ll release mine. If you can just keep your
hand on my shoulder for a little longer, it might save me from collapsing
with fatigue.”
As Tarkyn drew in his bronze wall and redirected the flow of energy into
the wizard, he rocked slightly on his feet as the force changed directions.
His eyes stung and he was beginning to feel sick from the constant flow
of power using him as a conduit from the oak to the wizard.
A few minutes later, the forest guardian asked in a tight voice,
“Enough? I can’t manage much more. I think I’m going to throw up. It
feels as though I have a river running through me.”
“Yes. Thank you Tarkyn. That’s enough. Don’t make yourself sick.”
“Too late, I’m afraid.” He doubled over and heaved.
“Ooh dear,” remarked Autumn Leaves, appearing out of nowhere,
“you’ve gone green again.”
“I feel green.”
“That was great,” enthused Ancient Oak, “Absolutely unbelievable.”
Tarkyn looked sideways at him from his doubled up position. “It
doesn’t feel great, I can tell you.”
Stormaway slapped him on the back. “Don’t worry, young man. The
feeling will pass. You did a fine job.”
The sorcerer finally straightened up, wiping his mouth on his bandage.
He was a distinctive shade of pale moss green and it was hard to tell what
his own pallor would be underneath it
Lapping Water looked him over thoughtfully. She spoke softly. “My
lord, I don’t mean to be rude, but why don’t you give back some of the
power to the oak? Then you might get rid of some of the green.”
Tarkyn looked askance at her, thinking that being a forest guardian
wasn’t very good for one’s image. He ran his hand through his sodden
hair. “I don’t know that I could stand it, just at the moment.”
Stormaway gave him another gentle pat. “I think you’ll find that if the
power is only going out of you and not in at the same time, you won’t
feel that queasiness.”
Tarkyn looked at each of them in turn, then resolutely placed his hand
back on the oak’s trunk. “All right. Tell me when my colour goes back to
normal.” He took a deep breath and focused on sending some of his life
force back into the oak.
“Stop!” came a chorus of voices.
Tarkyn opened his eyes and grinned. “Thanks.” He inspected himself.
He looked healthier, although he knew his legs were still a little shaky
and his stomach was right on the edge.“I feel a bit better now. Probably
just as well I did that. Last time I went green, I had an over-abundance of
energy, as I recall, and came on rather too strongly.” He laughed. “I think
if I came on any stronger at the moment with the folk back there, we’d
have a mass rebellion.”
“They would be an ungrateful pack of bastards if they did that,”
responded Rainstorm hotly.
“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Tarkyn. “I think it is Stormaway they have
to thank more than me.” He turned to the wizard and said seriously,
“And I thank you too, Stormaway. That was truly amazing. You have so
much knowledge that I lack. And it is your skill, not mine that has saved
the woodfolk from this crisis.”
“I have had a few more years to accrue it, you know, young man,” he
responded gruffly. Nevertheless, Stormaway was clearly gratified by the
prince’s acknowledgement.
Looking around at the group of bedraggled but happy woodfolk,
Tarkyn said, “And thank you to all of you too, for coming out in this
terrible weather. I hope it was worth it.”
“Best compensation I’ve ever had for doing lookout duty,” said Ancient
Oak, endorsed with great enthusiastism by those behind him.
“I think this will go a long way towards dissolving some of that
resentment, Your Highness,” said Running Feet.
“Perhaps.” Tarkyn smiled wryly at the others. “Having just discovered
that no one outside the home guard has heard much about our
recent activities, I realise I still have their terrible first impressions of me
to overcome.”
“I thought you said you didn’t care what people thought of you,” said
Ancient Oak.
Tarkyn glanced sideways at him. “To be honest, I may have been a
bit angry when I said that. It’s probably more that I can’t afford to care
too much.”
He was distracted by sounds of shouting and cheering that grew louder
as they rounded the last clump of trees. As they reached the edge of the
clearing, the prince and his small entourage were greeted by the sight
of all the woodfolk, young and old, completely soaked like themselves,
waving and smiling at them as they walked towards them.
Tarkyn gave a puzzled frown. “What’s going on?”
“How could you ask? The best sound and light show we’ve seen in
years, possibly ever,” beamed Raging Water. “We weren’t going to let a
little thing like torrential rain put us off.”
“Tarkyn and Stormaway, on behalf of everyone, I thank you,” said Sun
Shower, smiling. She walked forward and patted the sorcerer on the back.
“I’m sorry I called you an upstart, young Tarkyn. I could see that remark
smarted. And even in the face of our antagonism, you have still fought
to support us.”
“And you, you old rogue,” said Raging Water bracingly to Stormaway.
“You might be a stubborn old bastard, but your orchestration of that
attack on the storm was magnificent.”
“But how did you all know what was happening?” asked Tarkyn.
Waterstone and Sparrow walked out of the trees from behind the
prince. The woodman grinned at him. “Running Feet and I knew everyone
would be interested in seeing some magic. So we made sure they all knew.
We’ve been sending them images of what you and Stormaway were doing
on the ground to explain what they were seeing in the sky.” He smiled
down at Sparrow. “And there was no way Sparrow was going to let me sit
in the nice dry shelter when all this excitement was happening out here.”
“We’ve been watching with Autumn Leaves and Running Feet,” said
Sparrow, with a big smile.
“Oh, have you now?” The prince looked around in a bit of a daze. He
shook his wet hair and sent spray over all those stranding near him. He
gave a vague grin. “Sorry about that. I don’t suppose anyone has been
able to light a fire in all this wet?” he asked hopefully.
“No one’s tried yet but we’ll have one going in no time. Then everyone
can dry out,” replied Falling Branch. He looked at the wizard, “Perhaps
you could give us a hand with one of those spells you mentioned?”
Stormaway nodded. “I think our young forest guardian here replenished
my strength quite sufficiently for that. Lead the way.”
ith the assistance of the wizard’s magic, a cheery, warm fire had been
lit and the ground around it had been dried out. Woodfolk were all
master bushcraftsmen and could have lit the fire quite easily even
in the damp conditions, but they couldn’t have dried out the ground.
Besides which, they were all keen to see a bit more magic. As an added
precaution, Stormaway placed some sort of glamour on the wood smoke
so that it could not be seen against the late afternoon sky. All around the
clearing, various items of clothing and bedding were hanging on every
available twig or branch to dry out.
Stormaway, by nature solitary, found himself the centre of a constant
ring of admirers. However, not being one to miss an opportunity, he sat
back and made use of the attention so that consequently, many deals for
delivery of woodland produce were struck by the end of the evening.
Tarkyn, in a similar position, was failing dismally in his attempts to
keep a low profile. Given a choice, he would rather have been on the road
far away from this uncertain crowd, leaving them to sort out the details of
how to carry out the edicts he had made as their forest guardian. Despite
the energy from the oak, he was feeling hammered by the volume of
power that had run through his body. His eyes were still bloodshot and
smarting and he decided that he wouldn’t use them again for transmitting
power unless there was no other choice.
When everyone was settled, Summer Rain approached him bearing
a new bandage. “My lord, I notice you used your bandage as a hand
kerchief when you were ill. So I thought you might like a new one. I’ve
brought one for you too, Waterstone, since yours must be sodden.”
Tarkyn smiled at her. “Thank you. That would probably improve the
aroma around here.”
“Quite possibly,” she replied, betraying not a glimmer of humour.
As she unwrapped the old bandage, she leaned forward to inspect the
long shallow knife wound. She frowned and ran her fingers gently along
it. Tarkyn looked over her shoulder and met Lapping Water’s eyes. He
grimaced and grinned, knowing what was coming.
“My lord. Your arm has already healed.”
Tarkyn eyebrows shot together and he looked down at his arm. That
had not been what he had expected or wanted to hear.
“But,” continued Summer Rain, “you have a slightly raised, bright
green scar all the way along it. Very unusual. Possibly the swelling will go
down over time but I’m not sure what we’re dealing with here, with the
green. Perhaps the oak’s healing power has seeped into the tissue of your
arm. Most interesting.”
Lapping Water moved forward to peer over the healer’s shoulder. “Very
nice, Sire. Better than you would have expected, in fact,” she said with a
cryptic smile.
“Yes, it is rather dashing, isn’t it?” remarked Tarkyn, holding his arm
out to admire the scar.
Summer Rain moved on to Waterstone with her offering of bandages.
Waterstone put up his hand. “No thanks. It will dry in time. I’ll just
leave it.”