Nature Mage (34 page)

“Well, I could feel a kind of energy flowing through the other parts, but the last bit felt kind of dead,” Gaspi answered.

“That’s a good way of putting it,” Hephistole said thoughtfully. “It shows you are sensitive to magical energy, which can only be a good thing. What about the fire table?”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Gaspi answered. “I tried to shape my magic into a form where I could squeeze the green flame out, like it was my thumb and finger, but I never managed to put it out without hitting some others. I think the best I did was to get the green one and two more along with it.”

Hephistole rubbed his chin with his hand. “There are lots of ways to put out the flame, but your solution is not inelegant,” he said. He paused for a moment before continuing. “You are right that you could have done better. Emea, for instance, singled the green flame out on the first try - but you were far from terrible.” Gaspi looked a bit crestfallen. “Now, come on Gaspi!” Hephistole said cheerfully. “You can’t be good at everything, and precision can be improved over time.”

Gaspi smiled wryly at his own pride. “Fair enough,” he said. He didn’t wait for Hephistole to ask him about the third table. “I don’t have a clue how I did with the bird. Did I get it right?”

Hephistole grinned at him. “Not even close!” he said emphatically, letting out that single bark of a laugh that always made Gaspi jump.

“Oh!” Gaspi said, a bit discouraged.

“No, no, we’ll have none of that!” Hephistole said brightly, his good cheer seemingly unquenchable. “The bird had a broken ribcage. But you did well enough on the first two tables to just about pass the Test of Precision. And even if you’d failed it, we’d consider how well you did on the other tests and how much potential you have before making any decisions. The Test is designed not only to query your basic magical ability but to reveal strengths and weaknesses. And yours are obvious. You have a lot of power, which is only going to get stronger as your block erodes. Your concentration is decent but could be strengthened, and in terms of precision you are fine with magical energy, but not so sensitive to living matter. You could also learn a bit more finesse; but all of that will come with time.”

Gaspi still wasn’t sure whether to feel encouraged or discouraged, and Hephistole must have read it in his expression. He leaned in closer, his animated, enigmatic face grabbing every last bit of Gaspi’s attention. “Gaspi, my boy,” he said in an engaging whisper, “you are going to be a great magician. You have tremendous ability and determination, and you have good friends to learn with, whose strengths and weaknesses differ from your own, so you will be good for each other. You’ve done very well today, Gaspi. Take it from an old hand like me. When you hit that force shield, I’m sure my hair stood on end!” Hephistole held Gaspi’s gaze with a beady eye for a few seconds, and sat back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “Well done, young Mage! Now - go and celebrate with your friends!”

Gaspi felt much better, gratified by Hephistole’s sincerity. “Thanks, Heppy,” he said, feeling pleased with himself on the whole. He couldn’t wait to see Emmy, and almost bounced out of the chair. “This way?” he asked, indicating the plinth.

“That’ll be fine. Cheerio then,” Hephistole answered, pouring himself another cup of tea as Gaspi stepped onto the transporter and disappeared.

Gaspi found Emmy and Lydia in the refectory, talking animatedly over a cup of hot cocoa. When she saw Gaspi, Emea sprang up from the bench and hurried over to him. She gripped his arm insistently. “Did you pass?” she asked.

Instinctively, Gaspi decided to play a little of the game Hephistole had played with him. “The thing is, Emmy,” he said after a few seconds of dramatic pause. He rubbed the back of his head with his hand, staring down at the floor. “The thing is…” he started again, still staring at the floor. He glanced up and saw Emmy’s face cloud with worry, and couldn’t keep the game up any longer.  “The thing is that I passed!” he said, a broad grin splitting his face from ear to ear.

“Gaspi!” Emea said indignantly. “That’s not nice!” Then she was hugging him tightly. “That means all three of us are through!” she said happily, pulling back to kiss him on the cheek.

He grinned back at her. “Yes it does! Come on, let’s join Lydia,” he said.  The three friends sat at the table, exchanging stories for the better part of the next two hours.

Lydia had performed solidly in all three tests, but Emea’s experience had even more ups and downs than Gaspi’s. She had to try three times to summon a strong enough force strike to break through the shield. In the Test of Control she’d lost her concentration just as Gaspi had, but in the darkness had actually fallen off the path, only to find herself back at the start. At that point she’d really thought she’d failed, but she’d summoned another globe and got through to the final room. Hephistole had told her that in the Test of Precision she’d excelled way beyond the ordinary. She’d identified the broken part of the tool in seconds, put out every green flame on the fire table without extinguishing any others, and identified and healed the injury at the same time at table three. They’d had to replace Emea’s newly healthy cat with the bird before Gaspi reached the third room.

Gaspi laughed out loud at that part. “Heppy said we had different strengths and would be good for each other. Sounds about right to me. I was pretty hopeless in the Test of Precision,” he said wryly, pulling a face.

“I’m not sure how I fit into that,” Lydia said quietly. They both looked at her in surprise. “My strengths are only strengths one of you already has,” she continued. If Gaspi didn’t know better, he would have sworn Lydia was being a little insecure. Was that a flush he could detect in her cheeks?

“That’s not true,” Emea answered quickly. “I bet your light didn’t waver for a second in the Test of Control.”

“Well...no, it didn’t,” Lydia answered honestly. “It was obvious, really. I mean, that falling off the path wouldn’t harm you. I just walked slowly, and made it round.”

Emea laughed. “Exactly! You’re good at pretty much everything, but your real strength is the way you see things. You’re so level-headed and…what’s that term…self-possessed. You know who you are and what you’re doing. Gaspi and I can both be a bit…unreliable.”

Lydia looked at them both for a moment before answering. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. A couple of flakes like you need someone reliable like me around to keep you grounded,” she said, smiling wickedly.

Emea reached over and tugged on a lock of Lydia’s hair. “Flake!” she said, with false indignation. “That’s a fine thing to call your friends.” Lydia’s smile broadened.

“So, let me see if I got this right,” Gaspi said. “Emea’s inconsistent, I’m clumsy, and you’re boringly good at everything. Glad we got that sorted out.” All three of them laughed.

They shared their good news with Taurnil and Jonn that evening over an ale in the Rest. Sitting there, looking around at his companions, Gaspi couldn’t help feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the beer suffusing him; spreading out in radiating waves from his belly right out to the tips of his fingers and toes and the crown of his head. Taurnil was fast becoming a great fighter, and had found something special with Lydia. Emea and he were sharing an amazing journey into magic, and she had a gift so incredible it amazed him. Jonn was clearly happy as a guard, and had done well in the tournament. It was as if destiny had picked them up by the scruff of the neck and dumped them down somewhere far better than they could ever have hoped. There had been times on the journey with robbers and magical attacks, or even more recent times like when Taurnil was mortally injured, when it looked like things had gone horribly wrong; but right there, right at that point, it looked like everything was going to work out all right.

Chapter 25

After the Test, time seemed to speed up for the three trainee magicians. The weeks and even months fled by as they explored their expanding skills, and discovered whole realms of new knowledge. Emea had taken a liking to enchanting, and seemed to be trying to put a little bit of magic into every ordinary thing she got her hands on. Gaspi was woken up one morning by a gently fluttering butterfly made entirely of paper resting on his nose. It lifted off as he awoke, hovered over him for a second and then fell apart as the enchantment lifted, leaving three pieces of paper on his chest that said separately
I
,
Love
, and
You.

Lydia was thoroughly enjoying her tutorials with Professor Worrick. Prophecy wasn’t something you could make happen just because you happened to be studying it, so they filled most of their time exploring the broad array of magical disciplines the professor knew about and was willing to teach. Lydia had embraced the idea that she was “good at pretty much everything,” and was keen to learn everything she could. Her passion for magical learning rivalled Taurnil’s for martial skill and, aided by Professor Worrick’s own scholarly curiosity, she was fast becoming the most knowledgeable student in their class.

Gaspi was encouraged by every little increment in power as his block continued to erode. His spells were becoming increasingly effective, and in class he was beginning to outshine even the more powerful students, at least when it came to sheer strength. Like Emea he’d taken to enchanting, but he was more interested in creating useful objects than paper butterflies. In the last week he’d made a pair of glasses that let him see in the dark, and a compass that pointed to wherever Emmy was instead of north.

He’d also discovered a love of all things botanical. Hephistole had told him that the plants from his meditation garden had been transported from Boranavia, a far flung land, part of a distant continent that was the homeland of one of the many long-term residents of the sprawling campus. The Mage in question, an expert in neuromancy, loved the foliage of his homeland so much he’d had some examples shipped here, and used his magic to sustain and nurture the garden he’d planted. Gaspi discovered in the course of his studies that many plants had natural properties that were useful for magical purposes, and that some plants, if magically enhanced, could become something very special indeed.

It was his love of meditation that drew him to botany. Hephistole’s teas were grown and harvested in a large greenhouse in the campus, and having visited there several times, and seeing the steamy rows of foreign plants growing under the expansive glass roof, Gaspi was fast becoming fascinated by both the possibilities and the process of magical botany.

Conversely, his mentoring sessions with Voltan had not turned out to be as exciting as he hoped. Voltan was a warrior at heart, and although this branch of magic interested Gaspi, he found himself more passionate about enchanting and with growing things than with all things martial. Their mentoring sessions often entailed lengthy examinations of tactics from great magical battles of the past, and Gaspi struggled to find this very interesting. He just wanted to do things with his magic, not theorise endlessly. Voltan wouldn’t teach him any martial skills out of fairness to the other students, as he said it was going to come up in class, and so his sessions with the naturally serious Voltan had not turned out to be his favourite part of the week.

Autumn inevitably turned into winter, but not as the Aemon’s Reachers knew it. There were no heavy snows and no icy ponds. An occasional dusting of light snow feathered the ground in the morning - but it was always gone by midday - and on the days when the sun shone uninhibited in the watery blue skies, the shafts of winter sunlight were still strong enough to beam through the tall classroom windows, warming the necks of drowsy students, and sending them to sleep. The rare glimpses of snow made Gaspi miss the mountains. He longed for a good game of Koshta. There were a few ponds in the campus that were big enough to hold a match on, but midwinter came and went and the water still hadn’t frozen over. Disappointed, Gaspi had to make do with football, which was never interrupted by something as inconsequential as weather. 

“Gaspi!” Owein yelled as he sent the football soaring over the head of an opposing player, right down into Gaspi’s path as he sprinted towards goal. Gaspi could see the leather ball turning in its flight, spinning over and over as he leapt up and forwards, trying to smack it hard with his forehead. He’d learned from previous attempts that you had to get it just right or it really hurt, so he put his full effort into it, stretching out as far as he could to make a good contact. As the ball neared his face he drew his head back and thrust it forwards. The ball made contact with a loud slap, but even though he hit it pretty squarely Gaspi could feel it sliding off the centre of his forehead, angling off to the right. It bounced once, heading to the right hand side of the makeshift goal. The goalkeeper leapt towards the ball, stretching his whole body out in a desperate attempt to reach it, but he landed short with a thump, sending clouds of dust flying into the air around him. Gaspi landed from his leap, hungrily eyeing the ball as it rolled forwards; but to his disappointment it was just a little too far to the right, and bounced over the pile of coats marking the edge of the goal. The cheers of his team mates fell into a collective groan as they saw the ball miss.

Gaspi jogged back to the centre of the courtyard, past a smug Everand who called after him “Better luck next time, hedge wizard.” Gaspi bridled at the insult, reminded once more that it was the weasely Ferast who’d invented that particular piece of nastiness. He tried to push his annoyance aside, and was determined not to let it show. There would be a time and a place to show Ferast up for what he was.

The hardest thing about it was that Emmy shared private classes with him and Emelda, as they both had a primary healing gift, and Emmy insisted on seeing the best in him. Normally that was one of the things Gaspi liked best about Emmy, but in this case it was driving him mad. He increasingly suspected that Ferast was the driving force behind Everand’s bullying behaviour. He was always whispering in his ear and throwing little manipulative suggestions into every conversation. He was a snake in the grass, but every time he mentioned it to Emmy she got annoyed and said he was just misunderstood, and was hiding behind a more popular boy. As far as Gaspi was concerned, Ferast had pulled the wool right over her eyes; but trying to remove it only made Gaspi look bad.