Bronze Magic (Book 1) (73 page)

Rainstorm laughed and launched himself at Tarkyn. Tarkyn went flying
over backwards and sank beneath the water. There were a few moments
of quiet while Rainstorm caught his breath and waited for Tarkyn to reemerge so that he could push him under again. The moments stretched
beyond a minute and still Tarkyn didn’t reappear. Suddenly Rainstorm’s
stomach turned over and he began to feel frantically around in the muddy
water.
“Looking for something?” asked a voice behind him.
Rainstorm swung around to find Tarkyn watching him, a huge smile
on his face.
“That’s it. You will die,” roared Rainstorm and threw himself at
the prince. Tarkyn sidestepped neatly and threw Rainstorm into the
water before dumping himself down into it again. They both came up
spluttering and laughing and, by unspoken agreement, stopped fighting
and sat side by side up to their necks in water in the deep golden light of
late afternoon.
After a while, Tarkyn glanced at Rainstorm, “Do you know, there’s a
large owl about two trees along over there watching us. I’m not sure that she
approves of our antics. She’s worried about me drowning.” He smiled and
nodded further along the river. “There’s an otter downstream there a bit.
She’s not happy with us because we’ve churned up the water. But over there
behind those bushes is a sneaky little fox that has been using us as a sound
screen to close in on a dim, hapless rabbit who hasn’t even noticed us.”
“Is that right?” Rainstorm let his senses roam through the gathering
shadows of early evening but in the end shook his head. “For all my years
of woodland training, I can’t tell any of that.” He turned his head to look
at the prince. “Of course, you could be making it up.”
“I could be.”
Rainstorm dipped the back of his head into the water, “But of course
you’re not because you couldn’t lie to save yourself.” He lifted his dripping
head back up. “You know, prince, you are very lucky to have those gifts
and we’re lucky to have you. Even if we can’t do it ourselves, you can
show us the world through the eyes of an eagle or a heron. It will be
generations before anyone gets that chance again.”
He let himself sink right under the water again. As he came back up he
spat away the excess water and added, “Don’t worry about the oath. I’m
over it. I think you more or less deserve it anyway - as our forest guardian.
Maybe not so much as prince, but that’s a hierarchy thing, isn’t it?And we
don’t do hierarchies.”
“Thanks Rainstorm. I think you’re the first person who’s said that to
me. Even the best of them, like Waterstone, only endures the oath at
best.” Tarkyn dunked the back of his head in the water and watched his
long hair floating around him. “I’m not looking forward to the forestals
finding out about it, I can tell you.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you. If they see that I can deal with it, they’ll
know anybody can.” In a gush of water, Rainstorm stood up and waded
to the bank. He looked back over his shoulder, “Come on. We’d better
get back.”
They sloughed off all the excess water they could and stood there
dripping, their wet clothes clinging to them.
“Ugh. That feels horrible,” said Rainstorm as a gentle night breeze
plastered his wet clothes against his skin, “I think we need a fire in a
hurry. I’m not putting my boots back on until my feet are dry.”
They trod gingerly back up the track in the dark and emerged, still
dripping, into the firelight of the clearing.
“Hello, all,” said Rainstorm jauntily as he headed for the fire, ignoring
the raised eyebrows.
Tarkyn followed more quietly and squatted down at the fire, his
hands held out in front of him to warm them. When the silence didn’t
dissipate, he looked around and asked, “So, what do you think about
the horses then?”
Autumn Leaves appeared out of the gloom with two towels, distributed
them without a word and sat down next to the prince.
“Thanks,” said Tarkyn as he towelled dry his hair. “So what do you
think?”
“I think the idea is good in principle. But how confident are you that
you can control these horses?” asked Autumn Leaves. “As far as I know,
you’ve only guided individual animals before.”
Tarkyn concentrated on putting his socks and boots back on. “True.
Even with the rats, I made the request of one who then enlisted help.
And that’s all I’ll do this time. If I can guide the lead mare, she will guide
the others.”
“I see,” said Autumn Leaves slowly. “Fair enough. And what about
afterwards? We send them off into the distance to be recaptured or not
as they choose?”
Tarkyn nodded, “Something like that. That’s the other good thing
about it. The encampment guards won’t be able to scour the forest on
horseback looking for us. And you people will be miles faster than them
on foot if we need to get further away.”
“You realise Golden Toad and his family will be frightened of getting
up on a big horse, especially hindered by chains.”
Tarkyn stared at him for a moment. “Yes. I expect they will. But frankly,
that is the least of our worries…or theirs. Don’t pussyfoot around their
feelings. Throw them up there, tie them on and get them out of there as
fast as you can. If they threaten to make too much noise, gag them. If
they complain about it later, you can blame me. It’s not just their welfare
at stake. It is the welfare of all of us. We can’t afford half measures.”
“You’re very forceful, all of a sudden.”
“Needs must in times of war.” Tarkyn gave a quick smile. “For once,
we are discussing something I know about. I know how to be ruthless in
combat situations, much more than you do, I suspect. I’ve trained in it all
my life.” He reiterated his instructions, then asked, “Can you do that?”
Autumn Leaves smiled, “Yes, I can do that though I mightn’t have, if
you hadn’t mentioned it.”
Tarkyn looked across at Waterstone, “And Danton?”
“We discussed Danton. Like you, we’re not sure but if there is any
doubt, we’ll grab him. We can’t afford to risk him telling the sorcerers
about us.”
“Maybe we should never have sent him in the first place,” mused
Tree Wind, “On reflection, it seems dreadfully naïve of us to have sent a
sorcerer who has only known us for a couple of days back into the midst
of his own kind. How could we expect his loyalty to us to override his
loyalty to them?”
“We didn’t,” said Tarkyn. “I expected his commitment to justice and
his loyalty to me to overcome his prejudices. I just hope I’m right.”
ust as the last of the sun’s ray disappeared behind the trees, Danton
sauntered into the food tent and asked in a loud voice, “Could I ask
who cooked that marvellous meal we had last night?”
Several voices clamoured to be heard.
Danton waved a hand. “One at a time, please.”
“My lord, we all had our part to play.”
“Oh really? A joint effort?” The lordly blonde sorcerer raised his
eyebrows. “But was there not some culinary genius behind it all,
coordinating your efforts?”
A scruffy, middle-aged woman wiped her hands on her apron and
drawled, “That would be me.”
“Well, congratulations, ma’am, on a fine effort, especially in this
makeshift kitchen.” Danton kept a casual eye on the back wall of the
tent, which lifted quietly from the bottom as he spoke. “And what marvel
are you preparing for this evening, I wonder?”
A sprinkling of pink and white powders flowed under the flap of
canvas and swirled above the bucket of meaty off cuts.
“We’re having venison pie, sir.” The head cook bobbed a curtsy.
“Are we indeed? Well, I look forward to it.” The powders swirled gently
down into the bucket and out of sight. “Still, I mustn’t keep you. Good
afternoon.” Danton gave them all a charming smile and departed.
As he walked away, the wizard fell in beside him “Phase one completed.
Now, let’s see about filling Sargon and Andoran’s water barrel.”
Danton found a bucket and filled it at the small stream that ran through
the encampment. He met Stormaway at the bounty hunters’ tent. They
glanced around them and when they were sure they were unobserved, the
wizard instructed Danton, “Right, pour in enough to almost fill it. Leave
about an inch at the top.”
As soon as this had been done, Stormaway produced a small phial
filled with a thick dark liquid. He poured it slowly into the barrel, being
careful not to get any of it on his hands or on the outside of the barrel.
He stood back and smiled in satisfaction. “Good! Phase two completed.
One of our longer term surprises is now in place.”
Danton raised an eyebrow.
“A nasty but mild concoction of larkspur, stinkweed and chilli
suspended in oil,” explained Stormaway. “The oil will float on the top
of the water so, as they draw the water from the bottom, they will drink
this barrelful of water free of its effects. However, as the water level drops,
the tainted oil will seep into the wood of the barrel and affect the next
barrel full of water. If we are really lucky and they don’t work out what is
happening, it may also affect the barrelful of water after that.” The wizard
gave a satisfied smile. “That would give them a good eight to ten days
worth of very unpleasant symptoms.”
“Go on then. What are the symptoms?”
“The larkspur will cause severe nausea, perhaps a little vomiting
and some truly embarrassing muscle twitches. Hopefully, I have the
dose right and they will escape paralysis and death. The chilli will burn
their mouths and lips and the stinkweed will cause vision distortions
and delirium and they will find it difficult to put a sensible sentence
together. So that should add nicely to their difficulties.” Stormaway
gave the barrel a friendly pat and looked around briefly before slipping
inside the tent. “I’ve only put a dash of stinkweed into the mix. We
wouldn’t want them so delirious that they missed the misery of the
other symptoms, now would we? Of course, the severity of their
reactions will depend very much on how thirsty they are. Still, I have
erred on the side of caution. We don’t want their suffering cut short by
death, do we?”
“You’re a dangerous man, aren’t you?” mused Danton, raising his
eyebrows.
“All men are dangerous in their own ways.”
Danton followed the wizard inside Sargon and Andoran’s tent.
“Almost, I begin to feel sorry for them.”
“Oh, we haven’t even started yet,” Stormaway drew out a small bag
filled with dried leaves finely crushed into a light green powder. “Have
you brought the gloves? You don’t want to get this on your hands.”
When Danton was ready, the wizard sprinkled a fine film of green
dust across the bounty hunters’ bedding and over their clothes. He paid
particular attention to their undergarments. “Okay, Danton, rub the
powder into the material until it can’t be seen.”
Suddenly there was the sound of footsteps in the gravel outside. They
froze. The footsteps stopped for a moment then continued on past.
Sorcerer’s eyes met wizard’s and the two breathed a sigh of relief. Danton
quickly finished rubbing in the powder while Stormaway stood guard at
the entrance to the tent
“Well done Danton. Phase three completed. Now, I think I’d better
doctor the wine somewhere else. I don’t think I can stand the tension
of being in here much longer.” The wizard poked his head outside and
said, “Come on. Bring a bottle of wine with you and let’s go back to
our own tent.
Once back inside their own tent away from prying eyes, Danton
produced the bottle of wine and watched with interest as Stormaway
prised the cork out and added a few pinches of a dark brown powder to
the wine before resealing it. He gave it a good shake, then handed it back
to Danton.
“There. Phase four completed. You can take it along with you tonight
when you go to visit them. Try not to drink any yourself, although it
won’t kill you if you can’t avoid it.”
Danton held the bottle up to the light and studied it. “And what will
happen to me if I do?”
The wizard gave a wicked smile, “You will become disoriented and
start seeing things. Not particularly pleasant even if you’re expecting it
although I’ve heard some people actually seek these experiences. However,
if you don’t know it’s going to happen, it is frightening in the extreme.
You think you are losing your mind.”
“And the green powder?”
“Poison ivy and stinging nettle. I would have just left it at poison
ivy. On its own, it causes severe itching and irritation, often leading to
delightful infections if scratched. But sadly, not everyone is affected by it.
So to make sure of their misery, I’ve added the nettles. Very satisfactory,
don’t you think?”
Danton laughed. “Very satisfactory indeed. I only hope Tarkyn
watches at least some of their effects.”
“So do I!” Stormaway heaved a sigh, “Right! Onto phase five. So we’re
going to take a chance and loosen the stake while the wolves are being fed?”
Danton nodded. “It’s as good a distraction as any. Even if Tarkyn made
the horses bolt, someone could still look around and see us. So let’s get it
over and done with.”
“Are you clear on what you have to do? I won’t have time to give you
instructions.”
“I’m clear. Let’s go.”
They emerged from the tent just as the wizard’s ex-apprentice reached
the wolves with the bucket of meat scraps. The wolves yanked on their
chains and howled, teeth bared, trying to reach the meat. Danton and
Stormaway walked unhurriedly and quietly behind the wolves’ keeper
until they stood outside the imprisoned woodfolk’s tent, on either side
of the metal stake. Checking that all eyes were on the wolves, they each
sent a small but intense streak of magic circling the ground around the
stake. Stormaway’s green twanged as it touched the turquoise stream of
Danton’s magic. Their eyes widened in alarm but only they had heard it
above the din of the wolves.
They maintained their magic streams for another long minute, on
tenterhooks that someone would look around.
“Enough,” said Stormaway in an urgent undertone.