Nature Mage (14 page)

After circling the outer wall a couple of times they stopped for a moment, staring at the anomalous structure. Both girls were feeling tired, and Emmy sat down on a nearby bench while Lydia leaned against the wall. After a few moments, Gaspi was stunned to see Lydia slide down the wall until she was sitting on the ground. Perspiration had broken out on her forehead and she looked unnaturally pale.

She drew the back of her hand across her forehead. “I don’t feel good,” she said, her voice strangely quiet.

“Lydia, are you ok?” Emea asked worriedly. “Taurnil - help Lydia up,” she said with a snap of command in her voice. Taurnil easily lifted Lydia to her feet, supporting her with an encircling arm.

Lydia looked like she was going to faint. “Can we get away from this building please?” she said.

“Uh, sure,” Gaspi answered, a befuddled expression on his face. “I think it’s this way back to the dormitories,” he said, and led them off in that direction.

After a few minutes, the colour had returned to her face. “I think I’m alright now,” she said. “Sorry about that.” She stepped away from Taurnil, leaving him looking disappointed.

“Don’t be sorry,” Emea said.

“I just felt sick and dizzy all of a sudden, and not myself at all,” Lydia said. “I felt really miserable, and cold.”

Gaspi was reminded uncomfortably of the way they‘d felt in the village after the attack, and, sharing a glance with Taurnil and Emea, he was pretty sure they were too. “Maybe it’s nothing,” Gaspi said with deliberate lightness. “It was probably just a funny turn.”

Lydia didn’t say anything in response, and Gaspi didn’t think she was any more convinced than he was. The disturbing event had exhausted their sense of adventure, so they returned to the dormitories.

Jonn and Roland arrived shortly after they did, and took them out to an inn near the college, where the adults spent the evening talking about their experiences since their precipitous parting several days earlier. Lydia had fully recovered from her earlier discomfort, and was joining in with the banter. Emea and Taurnil had gotten to know her on the ride to Helioport, and Gaspi could see how comfortable both his friends were with this new companion. As the night wore, on he began to see why. Although not chatty like Emea, Lydia had a warmth that shone through her mysterious demeanour. She laughed freely and was quick to affirm, and Gaspi found himself becoming quickly comfortable with the idea that their three had become a four.

He couldn’t help noticing that Taurnil listened very closely whenever she spoke, and the thought that his friend may be interested in her was enough of a reason on its own for Gaspi to accept her unconditionally. Gaspi had never known Taurnil to like a girl before, and if it wasn’t for an unusual vulnerability Gaspi detected in his friend, Gaspi would have found Taurnil’s bumbling attempts at flirting funny. He clammed-up around Lydia, and when he summed up the courage to speak to her, he was tripping up over his own words. Seeing his friend so smitten, Gaspi could only hope Lydia wouldn’t break his heart.

The night wore on pleasantly, until Jonn and Roland decided it was time for the new students to go to bed, and took them back to the college. Gaspi said goodnight to the girls, and to Taurnil who was staying with Jonn at the barracks, and made his way into the dormitory. It was well past dark now, and Gaspi quietly made his way past the sleeping humps of his fellow students to his bed. Getting changed quickly into his nightclothes, Gaspi slid into bed, and pulled the covers tight up around his chin.

Though he was very tired, sleep did not come easily, and thoughts of the coming day drifted through his mind. Tomorrow morning, he would begin to study magic. He could barely believe it. The word magic evoked enticing childhood images of mysterious incantations and beguiling powers, of bubbling cauldrons and swirling alchemical substances brewing in a haze of red smoke and cloying incense; but the magic he had experienced was more like a whirlwind tearing through his being and leaving him thoroughly scoured. Thoughts of an unknown tomorrow circled in his brain until the onset of sleep softened the boundaries of his consciousness, and fantastical images stepped lightly through his imagination, their languid progress lulling him gently into unconsciousness.

It was over half way through fourth watch, deep into the heart of the night, when thoughts grow long and the day’s memories echo silently in the darkness, when the few souls who are awake stare at winking stars and glowing moon, their minds turning ponderous thoughts over in slow hands. The guards on duty at the gate had long since dropped any pretence at alertness, leaning heavily against their upright spears, mastering a fine balance between wakefulness and sleep. But the night’s lazy progress was about to be interrupted.

At first, the guard thought he was mistaken, seeing just a phantasm of the night, a dark movement within the greater darkness. But then a strange sight resolved itself before his eyes. A creature with four legs was lolloping slowly towards the gates, cloak flapping behind it in the breeze. Its gait was cumbersome and tortured, as if it was injured, and indeed it did look to be hurt: two of its legs were not moving, dragging along the ground behind it. The guard nudged his fellow awake, who had slipped into an upright doze, pointing at the creature as it neared the pool of light.

Both guards drew their swords in readiness. “Who goes there?” the first guard shouted. The creature continued to shuffle forward, dragging its useless legs behind it, a low groan emitting from the darkness. Another guard, finishing his round up on the city wall, saw the commotion and drew a bead on the shambolic creature, holding his crossbow in readiness to shoot.

“Hold where you are!” he shouted, “or I’ll shoot!”

The creature took one last step forward, stumbling into the pool of light surrounding the gate, and collapsed. The first guard gasped and the patrollers raised his bow as two men rolled onto the floor. The illusion of a single creature had been created by one man carrying his unconscious fellow. The first guard ran over to the injured men, crouching down to asses their injuries. The conscious man had a widow’s peak and penetrating dark eyes; eyes which right now brimmed with horror and pain, and he wore a wizard’s cloak. Reaching out a grasping hand he grabbed the guard’s arm, pulling him close.

“Get…Hephistole,” he said, each word forced out with great effort, and fell to the ground, unconscious.

Chapter 11

A warm buzzing sensation ran gently up and down Gaspi’s body, lightly stimulating his recumbent muscles. A gentle humming began, separating into harmonic strands of sound, like a choir of angels whispering in his ear. Gaspi emerged from the depths of sleep, called to awareness by the beautiful sound in his ears, and as he opened his eyes the sound swelled to a warm concluding cadence, the perfect resolution of suspended harmonics. Gaspi took a deep breath and sat up, blinking at the warm light that flooded in through the windows, which Gaspi noticed now were stained glass shaded in varying golden hues, from light cornflower to a deep orange. What was it that had woken him? The echo of something beautiful lingered in his mind.

Around him, other boys were also waking. At the far end of the room, against the wall, Gaspi recognised Everand, sitting on the edge of his bed and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Gaspi couldn’t help noticing that Everand’s body was well built and athletic. He had the kind of broad, slender, but well-muscled physique that spoke of both strength and flexibility. Leaning back he let out a mighty yawn, thrusting long arms into the air, and finished off with a shake of wavy golden hair that framed what could only be called a handsome face.  Lying in the next bed along from him was a smaller, dark-featured boy, trying to ignore the room waking around him. He hid his head under the covers and buried it in the pillow. Everand let out a resounding guffaw and pulled the blankets off the other boy’s bed. “Get up, Ferast, you lazy slob!” he said.

Ferast groaned, and slowly dragged himself up to a sitting position. “Leave me alone, Rand,” he said, head in his hands. Ferast couldn’t have looked more different to Everand. His chest and shoulders were narrow, and his ribs showed slightly through pallid skin pulled tightly over a sparrow-like frame. His chin-length dark hair was lank and greasy, hanging over pointed features and black, inscrutable eyes that shone with the light of razor-sharp intelligence.

Gaspi felt suddenly self-conscious, surrounded by the group of boys who all knew each other, and yet was not comfortable making the first move after Everand’s frosty reception the previous day. As they went about their morning ablutions, trailing in and out of an adjacent bathroom, nobody spoke to Gaspi, and his agitation increased. His uniform had been delivered to his bedside the previous day, brown cloak included, and Gaspi pulled on his grey shirt and woollen trousers, which fitted well, and slipped into a pair of leather shoes that had also been left by his bed. He had also been left a small leather satchel on his bedside table, identical to one carried by the other boys. Gaspi was still being universally ignored by the time he had finished dressing, and it was tempting to say nothing about it and skulk in the background; but it just wasn’t in his nature to put up with unfair treatment, and he decided to break the deadlock.

Gaspi turned to the boy in the bed next to him, and caught his eye. “Hi, I’m Gaspi,” he said, as confidently as he could. The boy looked away quickly, making a gruff kind of non-verbal response that could not be interpreted as friendly.

Gaspi turned to face the boy in the bed opposite him. “Hi, I’m…” he started, but the boy had already turned his back. Gaspi was embarrassed. Everyone had seen him get snubbed, and no-one seemed to want to break the tension. Looking around, he saw a couple of the boys looking uncomfortable, shooting anxious glances at Everand and looking anywhere except at him.

Anger flared in Gaspi. “What’s this all about, then?” he challenged, glaring straight at Everand, who was the only boy meeting his eyes. “Picking on the new boy?”

“Just so you know your place, Nature Mage!” Everand said, his eyes hard and cold. “We don’t believe any of this rubbish. There’s not been a Nature Mage at the college in the last two hundred years, and somehow I don’t think you’re anything special,” he said, with a sneer. He walked over to Gaspi until they stood face to face, Everand the taller boy by a clear six inches. He poked Gaspi in the chest. “
If
you have any kind of talent, we’ll find out what it is. As for me, I don’t think you’ll even pass the Test, village boy.”

An astonished Gaspi stood speechless, as Everand turned away, grabbed his cloak and school bag, and stalked out of the room, the other students trailing after him. Astonishment turned to anger again in Gaspi at the injustice of the situation. Why did he always get picked on by one idiot or another? It was Jakko in Aemon’s Reach, and now this strutting peacock. What had he done to deserve it? Always quick to ignite, Gaspi’s anger boiled into a cold fury, but then an image flitted into his mind that muted his anger; an image of Jakko being carried from the village pond, frozen and half pecked to death by birds. Gaspi took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Whatever happens, he mustn’t lose control this time. Picking up his school bag and cloak, he made his way out of the dorm, and tried to catch up with the other students.

He caught sight of them passing into a large building set just off the quad, and jogged up behind them. The building turned out to be the refectory, and as Gaspi walked into the expansive room filled with long tables and low benches, he looked around to try and catch sight of Emea and Lydia. Everand and many of the boys from Gaspi’s dorm sat down together at a large table by the window, where they were quickly joined by several girls. Older boys and girls sat at other tables in smaller groups. Gaspi assumed they were students because they were also dressed in brown robes. At last, he spotted Emmy and Lydia sitting nearby, with bowls full of cereal and fruit in front of them. Gaspi used the few minutes it took him to queue up and get his breakfast to calm down. He didn't want Emea to be dragged into the conflict with the other boys, and by the time he joined them at the table his face showed nothing of the anger and frustration he was feeling.

“Hi Gaspi, sleep well?” Emea asked. Lydia smiled at him.

“Yeah, not bad. And you?” he asked.

“Not really,” Emea answered, screwing up her face. “I kept waking up and wondering where I was.” Emea chuckled at herself. “I suppose I'll get used to it in time,” she said.

“I wonder what will happen today,” Lydia said, her voice filled with calm expectation. Emea looked so nervous she could barely keep her food down. If Gaspi was honest, his own feelings were closer to Emea's than Lydia's, whose long practice at magic lent her a familiarity and comfort he couldn’t attain. They didn't have time to discuss it further, as a chime sounded brightly in the air. The three friends scrabbled to grab their belongings and followed along behind the other students, who were heading quickly out of the refectory and across the courtyard to a small, cosy-looking building Gaspi assumed was their classroom. It was built in the same style as the other buildings around the quad: formal in construction, the buildings showed their beauty in the intricate carvings and reliefs decorating the pale, creamy stone of the bricks. Ivy sprawled expansively up the walls, spreading its embracing arms around the long, multi-paned windows.

The other students were filing in through the door and into what was indeed a classroom. There was nothing overtly magical about the classroom; rows of desks faced a chalkboard, and a raised platform for the teacher’s desk. The walls were lined with rows of shelves, crammed to overflowing with well-thumbed books. A green-robed magician stood with his back to the students, scribbling energetically across the board. The students only filled two thirds of the desks, leaving Gaspi a choice of seating. Picking a spot by the window next to Emea, he slid sideways into the chair.