Bronze Magic (Book 1) (19 page)

Stormaway swept his arm around in a semicircle. “These woods are
not as benign as you may think. Many people lose their way and die
from cold or lack of food in the depths of the forest. In some parts of the
forest, there are savage wolves and dark creatures of the night that attack
without warning. Besides these, there are refugees from justice.”
“Not unlike myself,” quipped the prince.
“Very unlike yourself,” returned the wizard repressively, “Renegades
who, as I was going to say, skulk in the woods and prey on unwary
travellers.”
“Oh dear,” said Tarkyn, rolling his eyes. “Yet another bunch of
reprehensible sorcerers that have helped to form the woodfolk’s less than
favourable impression of us.”
Stormaway frowned. “What about the travellers? Most of them would
be perfectly well-behaved sorcerers.”
The prince shrugged. “True enough. Maybe the woodfolk have only
seen them using magic to defend themselves against the renegades you
spoke of.”
“That doesn’t make them bad,” protested the wizard.
The sorcerer shook his head smiling. “I know it doesn’t. It’s just
that Waterstone was shocked that magic could be used for something
productive. So it made me think about how sorcerers appeared from the
woodfolk’s point of view.” In answer to the wizard’s raised, interrogative
eyebrow, he answered, “Generally, not very well at all. Waterstone thought
that magic was just used as a weapon. No one realised that sorcerers’
magic could be used for anything else.” Tarkyn grimaced, “It’s been quite
salutary, becoming aware of the woodfolk’s impressions of us.”
The wizard frowned. “I can’t help deploring a lack of respect for your
person that seems to have developed in my absence.”
The prince raised his eyebrows with a hint of disdain. “Are you
implying that respect and honesty are mutually exclusive?”
“You will not intimidate me that easily, young man,” chuckled the old
wizard. “It depends very much on how the honesty is delivered, wouldn’t
you agree?”
Tarkyn nodded shortly, thinking back to what he had said to Ancient
Oak. “It was said courteously, Stormaway. We just became aware that we
had different impressions of sorcerers.”
Stormaway shook his head dolefully. “I should not have left you so
long alone and vulnerable with these woodfolk.”
“Why not?” demanded the prince, “There is the oath to protect me
and they have looked after me well.”
“Ah, Your Highness,” The old wizard shook his head sagely, “You don’t
realise how people can take advantage of you. When you are alone and
injured, as you have been, your emotions are rawer and your need for
support is so much higher.” He smiled condescendingly. “You know so
little of the intricacies of personal influence within circles of power.”
The prince stared at him. “What utter rot! I have spent the whole
nineteen years of my life living and breathing those intricacies. You
haven’t even been at court for the last eleven years!” But despite his
protests, Tarkyn could feel the seed of doubt implanted by Stormaway’s
words beginning to fester as he remembered that he was, in fact, not
particularly good at discerning duplicity.
As dusk fell, the woodfolk reappeared to set the fire and gather together
food for the evening’s meal. The camaraderie that had developed over the
last three days had been replaced by formal courtesy. Although he noted
it, Tarkyn did not try to rekindle the earlier congeniality. He could see
that the woodfolk had backed off as his father’s faithful retainer assumed
his place at the prince’s side. Tarkyn suspected that the wary woodfolk
would watch his interchanges with the wizard and take their time to
gauge where they fitted into the new regime that Stormaway had brought
back with him.
Waterstone was uncharacteristically quiet all evening and excused
himself early, on the pretext of putting Sparrow to bed. However, unlike
other evenings, he did not return.
While the woodfolk listened or talked amongst themselves, Stormaway
spent the evening enquiring after various people he had known and
encouraging the prince to tell him about his recent life at court. Now,
as the prince talked about his companions and their exploits, he found
himself re-evaluating every chance remark and gesture his friends and
acquaintances had made. “Why am I being so hard on my old friends?”
he wondered. “I wasn’t betrayed by them. None of them even had the
chance to choose whether or not to support me.”
Then Stormaway’s voice broke in on his ruminations. “I am not just
asking these questions for my own entertainment, Your Highness. It
helps all of us,” Here he swept his arm around the gathering, “to know
something of your associates if we are to serve and protect you.”He paused
and prodded at the fire with a stick, clearly uncertain how to continue.
As he stared into the flames, he said awkwardly, “So. There is something
I think you should know”.
A stillness settled on the clearing.
“Yes?” Tarkyn’s voice seemed unnaturally loud.
Stormaway flicked a glance at him before seeking the refuge of staring
into the flames. “The two bounty hunters who kept out of sight were
your friends, Andoran and Sargon.” The wizard cleared his throat. “I
noticed you mentioned them a few times. They seem to have been regular
companions of yours from what you were saying.”
The young prince felt as though he had been punched in the stomach.
All his doubts clicked into place as he realised that some part of him
must have recognised his unseen captors. There was an awkward silence
while Tarkyn mustered his thoughts and resources to say, “They were
not among my closest friends but you’re right. I did spend quite a bit
of time with them, one way and another. I defeated both of them in the
tournament. They always did like any excuse for an adventure. I knew
there were times when they were thoughtless pranksters but I never knew
they were cruel.” He could not keep the bitterness out of his voice, “No
doubt they thought it might be a good bit of sport. At the same time
they could gain favour with one or both of my brothers since they have
now lost their route of influence through me. In fact they were probably
very angry that my exile had ruined the value of their carefully nurtured
friendship with me.” Tarkyn turned bleak eyes towards the wizard who
was still gazing studiously into the fire. “You see, Stormaway, this is not
the first time that apparent friendships have winked out of existence
when these so-called friends have realised that they would not get the
influence they craved, through me.” Tarkyn managed to raise a half smile
as he hauled himself to his feet. “Anyway, the good thing about it is that it
keeps me from having too high an opinion of myself. With all that power
I wield, it would never do to be blindly arrogant as well, would it?... And
now, if you’ll excuse me, I will take a short walk to ease my stiffness before
retiring.”
Tarkyn walked away from the gentle light of the fire into the gloom
of the forest, heading down to the river. He did not choose to use his
sorcery to give himself light and so had to pause every few yards to allow
his eyes to adjust. He heard a spate of talking break out soon after he
left. From what he could tell, the woodfolk were reproaching the wizard
and Stormaway was having to defend himself. In the darkness, despite
himself, Tarkyn smiled.
When he reached the river, the moon had just cleared the top of the
trees and had turned the river into a ribbon of silver. His whole being felt
jarred by the betrayal of his erstwhile friends and their brutal treatment
of him. More than this, Tarkyn’s faith in his own perceptions had once
more been undermined.
He sat on a rock at the river’s edge and let the peace of the forest
wash over him. After a while, he became aware of an otter working its
way busily upstream, ducking into side pockets and sliding up and over
small rocks. When it noticed Tarkyn, it did a double take then flicked
out of sight under the far bank. A few minutes later its head gingerly reemerged and it watched Tarkyn for several seconds before disappearing
again. After several repeats of this performance, it glided slowly across
the river and emerged right beside Tarkyn to shake itself off at his feet.
Tarkyn smiled but other than that, did not dare move a muscle.
He remembered the mind linking and worked on sending out waves
of friendship. The otter stared up at him and Tarkyn realised he was
receiving curiosity, wariness and a dawning hint of trust.
Am I just reading this from its body language or is this animal actually
sending me messages? wondered the prince.
This uncertainty was rewarded by a clear wave of irritation and a view
of the river from where the otter was standing. Tarkyn raised his eyebrows
in amusement, and sent ruefulness and an invitation, which the otter
accepted by scuttling up the rock to sit next to him. The sorcerer visualised
a tentative image of patting, and received consent. So he reached out
slowly and started to stroke the otter in slow gentle movements. The otter
was cold and wet under his hand and not particularly enjoyable to stroke
but the wonder of being able to pat a wild otter more than made up for it.
Suddenly the otter flicked back into the water. Almost simultaneously,
Tarkyn heard the thrum of a bowstring and saw an arrow streak past his
face. Even as he threw up a shield and dived for cover, he heard a dull
thwack and a strangled snarl as the arrow found its mark. Gasping in
pain from his abused ribs, he emerged to find himself face to face with a
huge black wolf, its teeth bared and its dulling, yellow eyes staring into
his. Waterstone was calmly removing the arrow that stuck out of its neck.
Fear made the prince angry. “Why didn’t you warn me?” he demanded.
Waterstone shrugged. “Didn’t want to warn the wolf.”
“Couldn’t have that, could we?” returned Tarkyn sarcastically. “And
you didn’t feel the need to kill it before it sprang at me?”
Waterstone grinned, “Not really. Anyway, I’m not even sure it was
springing at you. I got a clearer shot at it, once it came out from the trees.
If I’d told you it was coming, the wolf would have known it was being
watched”
“Hmph.”Tarkyn digested this, not sure how keen he was on being
used as bait. He flicked out his shield and ran a hand over his head. “I’m
sorry. I’m just a bit shaken. Thank you for saving me.”
A certain dryness in the look the woodsman sent him reminded the
prince that Waterstone had no choice but to protect him. Tarkyn smiled
ruefully and said, “Nothing’s easy, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” replied Waterstone shortly, “And I hope you know that
I did not kill that wolf because of the oath.”
Tarkyn smiled, “Well, obviously not. You were just protecting the
otter, weren’t you?”
Waterstone shook his head and smothered a smile as he walked down
the few steps to the river. As the woodman crouched at the water’s edge,
rinsing his arrow tip, Tarkyn suddenly became aware of an unnatural
stillness around them and received an image from a viewpoint within the
overhanging branches. A dark shape, slinking low and dangerous, was
closing in on Waterstone from the other side.
“Stay down,” ordered Tarkyn sharply. As the wolf emerged from the
trees, the sorcerer yelled, “
Fierspa!
” and threw a blast of power at it. The
wolf recoiled howling in shock and pain, but regrouped and sprang at the
crouching woodman, who had whirled to face it, knife in hand. Another
wild streak of fire slammed it to the ground and this time it didn’t move.
Waterstone sprang to his feet, knife at the ready and stood staring down
at the smoking wolf.“Stars above!That was careless. The lookouts spotted
the first wolf coming this way but I assumed it was alone.” He shook his
head, “It is unusual to see this type of timber wolf so far east. Usually
they are either sole travellers or in packs. Not this time, apparently. The
lookouts must have missed this one while they were watching the other.”
The sorcerer frowned. “I thought I was warned by a lookout. Isn’t
there one up in the overhanging trees over there?” he asked, pointing to
the patch of forest the wolf had come from. Just then, a large tawny owl
took off from the trees in that area and swooped down over him before
heading off across the river to hunt. The sorcerer picked up a wave of
approval as it flew past.
Waterstone turned puzzled eyes on the prince. “There are no lookouts
this close to us. What warned you?”
“Maybe the silence. Maybe I caught a flash of its eye.” Tarkyn wondered
about the owl but didn’t feel sure enough to mention it. He shrugged.
“Maybe I saw a shadow moving. I don’t know.”
The woodman considered him silently for several moments. “I guess
it’s my turn to thank you,” he said quietly. “I might have to revise my
opinion of sorcerers. You’re definitely becoming an asset. Thank you.”
“A pleasure.” Tarkyn smiled as he walked over to join Waterstone in
looking down at the singed carcass. “That wolf took a lot of stopping,
though. That power blast would have knocked most men or beasts
unconscious with a direct hit like that. Are there likely to be any more?”
“I would hope not, but I think we’ll put on extra lookouts until
morning.” Waterstone’s eyes lost focus as he relayed this message. When
the woodman’s eyes cleared, he returned to the river’s edge and crouched
down again, arrow in hand.
“So what brings you down here?” the prince asked. “I thought you
were going to bed.”
Waterstone looked at Tarkyn over his shoulder before calmly returning
his attention to cleaning his arrow. “I did go back to be with Sparrow for
a while and I decided to stay there. I didn’t want the wizard focusing on
me as a potential rival for your attention. He needs a bit of time to piss
on his tree.”
“Me being the tree, I presume?”