Nature Mage (43 page)

Gaspi strode across the pitch to stand beside Everand, who looked an inch away from pouncing on his former ally. Emea held out her arm, stopping both boys in their tracks.

“Ferast,” she said in clear tones. “Even were I not with Gaspi, I would never want to be with you. You are nasty and self-obsessed and arrogant, and I don’t want to be friends with you ever again.”

Ferast visibly blanched, his already pale face whitening to a ghostlike pallor. Pain wrote expressively across his face for a moment; pain and disbelief. Dragging his eyes away from Emea, he looked towards Everand. “Rand?” he said, plaintively.

“I’m done with you Ferast,” Everand said coldly. “I’d take you apart, but you’re not worth it.”

Ferast looked as if he would fold in on himself and implode. With one last, agonised look at Emea, he turned and fled the courtyard, disappearing into a gap between buildings with a ragged cry.

A shocked silence reigned in the courtyard, rendering everyone motionless. Gaspi could have sworn nobody was even breathing. It was Everand who broke the silence.

“Sheesh!” The large boy let out an explosion of breath. He and Gaspi eyed each other with a remnant of the combative, suspicious air they had allowed to develop between them. And then, surprisingly, Everand let his shoulders drop, all the stiffness draining from his face.

“Gaspi, this isn’t easy for me, but I need to apologise to you,” he said. Gaspi was so taken aback, all he could do was goggle at Everand. The handsome boy pushed on. “I know I’ve been an ass to you, and I can’t blame all of that on Ferast, but he hasn’t helped things, and he was always stirring me up against you. I can see that now.”

Gaspi still hadn’t recovered from the surprise of hearing those words from Everand’s mouth, and just nodded stupidly.

“I’m not expecting us to be friends or anything,” Everand said, looking uncomfortable, but determined to finish. “But I think it’s time to call a truce. Stop all this fighting. What do you think?”

Everand extended a hand, holding Gaspi’s gaze as well as he could. For a second Gaspi didn’t respond, totally unprepared for this sudden turnaround. Realising he was leaving Everand hanging, he pushed past his surprise, and seized the moment. If Everand was man enough to apologise, he was not going to let the moment pass. Gaspi grabbed Everand’s hand, pumping it enthusiastically. A grin split Gaspi’s face from ear to ear. Their classmates behind them broke into a loud cheer, which made Everand look a bit sheepish, and Gaspi burst out laughing. 

“Thanks, Everand,” he said, when the cheering stopped. “A truce it is! And I’m sorry for my part in keeping this going as long as it has.”

Now it was Everand’s turn to look surprised. “You really don’t need to apologise!” he objected. “I called you a hedge wizard and made fun of you from the day you arrived. I only shut up because you beat me so badly in martial magic!”

“That’s true; but every time you had a go at me, I responded,” Gaspi said. “I’ve got a short fuse, and Emmy’s always telling me I need to control it better.”

“Ha!” Everand laughed loudly, and then his expression clouded over. “I’d never have thought it of Ferast, though. What a…”

“Toe-rag?” Gaspi supplied helpfully.

“Yep, that just about sums it up,” Everand said, shrugging off his momentary introspection. He glanced over his shoulder. “So, fancy a game of football?”

“You know it,” Gaspi said. “Just hold on one second.” He stepped over to Emea, whose eyes were red and who was trying hard to subdue a sniffle. “Are you okay, Emmy?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said in a wavering voice. “I’m just so happy you two have made up,” she said, then burst into tears.

Gaspi laughed, and gave her a big hug. “Go on then, go play,” she said, more in an effort to escape everyone’s scrutiny than anything else.

Gaspi kissed her on the top of the head, and walked onto the pitch with Everand. “She gets emotional,” he said, with a conspiratorial smirk.

“So I see,” Everand responded, in a matter-of-fact manner. The two boys split off to opposite sides of the pitch, both burning to win the game. Friendship was one thing, but football was something else altogether.

Chapter 32

Voltan surveyed the scene before him with deep concern. Yet another demonic attack had been reported, but this one by villagers from a settlement only three miles from the walls of Helioport. He’d set out early that morning to investigate, and had taken the unusual step of bringing Emea, Lydia and Gaspi with him. Gaspi had suggested they bring Taurnil along with his magical staff, in case any of the creatures attacked again, and Voltan had called in a favour with Drillmaster Trask and had Taurnil released from duty.

The villagers were clearly terrified, speaking over each other as they tried to tell the magicians what had happened. Voltan had quickly brought order to the chaos, and had them speak one at a time until he had captured all the details. The victim had been the village Healer, and the sheet thrown over the body couldn’t erase the memory of a terror-blasted face, frozen in death to gruesomely capture the moment her mind was broken beyond repair. Neither could it hide the twisted limbs petrified in a final agony so violent it left limbs and torso in a shape no living person could emulate.

The various garbled reports of the villagers agreed on a few things about the creature that killed their Healer: it was blacker than sin, colder than ice, and scared them all half to death.

“So, what do you think?” Voltan asked Gaspi and his friends. “Does this sound like the creature that attacked you?”

“Pretty much,” Gaspi answered. “Big and cold and nasty.”

“But what about the monkey?” Emea asked.

“The monkey?” Voltan asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Oh yes; I remember now. The monkey acted as some kind of sentinel.”

“The demon wouldn’t need a sentinel in this case,” Lydia said bleakly. “The monkey had seen me doing a reading, or it wouldn’t have known I had magical ability, but there’s no secret that this poor woman was a Healer. It’s on a sign outside her house!” she finished, pointing at the etching of two cupped hands carved on a plaque that swung gently above the Healer’s front door.

“Yes, that might explain it,” Voltan said, deep in thought. “Well...it seems that evil has finally come knocking on our own door,” he said, decisively. “The time for speculation has passed. It is time to act.”

“Act in what way?” Taurnil asked.

“We need to open our gates to all comers, and prepare to fight. This incursion has been moving in our direction for months now, and we would be foolish to wait any longer to prepare for it.” Taurnil’s hands curled tightly around his staff, his face settling into hard, determined lines.

“But my Ma is still in Helioport! Emea said worriedly. “And Taurnil’s folks too.” The visitors from Aemon’s Reach had been in Helioport for six weeks now, and had been planning to stay for another two or three before starting the long journey back home.

“She won’t be forced to stay, Emea,“ Voltan said. “But it may be advisable,” he added. Emea didn’t look comforted.

“Time to go!” Voltan said, and led the young magicians and their protector back to the city.

Voltan and Gaspi sat in Hephistole’s study, sipping on cups of what the Chancellor called his ’thinking tea.’ Within hours of Voltan’s return from the trip to the village, Hephistole had sent out the guards with official requests for all villagers within twenty miles to move into the city. Some had resisted, but Hephistole was not leaving anything to chance, and had ordered the guards to do everything they could to persuade them, short of using force. Within a day the wagons had started rolling in, and the lower city had become a kind of shanty town of tents and wagons. Some of the immigrants were complaining about the situation, but no-one could remember Hephistole ever issuing such an invitation before, and most were sensible enough to keep an open mind. Not a few were treating it as an adventure, getting drunk in the taverns each night and having parties around the tents long into the night.

“I think we need to control the drunkenness,” Voltan was saying. “We don’t want a city full of hungover peasants when it comes to a fight.”

“I can ask the innkeepers to keep a close eye on people drinking too much, and the guards to be extra vigilant, but I don’t want to start locking people up for having fun,” Hephistole said. “It’s a fractious enough situation already, without starting a riot of our own.”

Voltan harrumphed in annoyance. The Chancellor turned his piercing eyes on Gaspi. “The reason I’ve invited you here today, Gaspi, is to pick your brains.”

“My brains?” Gaspi asked, not sure he had anything to offer these two clever, experienced Mages.

“You and Voltan here are the only ones who have faced one of these creatures. So, I wanted to gather your thoughts about the best ways to combat them.”

“You fought them, sir?” Gaspi asked Voltan.

“Yes I did, and only just lived to tell the tale. My companion did not,” Voltan responded.

“How did you beat it?” Gaspi asked.

The heavy crags in Voltan’s serious face seemed to deepen into even sharper relief as he furrowed his brow. “I tried all kind of strikes and defences, but at best it just held the creature at bay. It nearly took me then, and in the end I had to use the power of a very precious artefact I carry to destroy it.” He reached a long-fingered hand into his breast pocket, and pulled out a small oval of silver metal. It had previously acted as a surround for a picture or symbol, but whatever had been contained within its frame was twisted and blackened beyond recognition. He caught and held Gaspi’s gaze meaningfully. “I don’t have another one,” he said.

“Can’t we just get more of those?” Gaspi asked, and Voltan let out a bitter laugh.

“More of those?” he asked. “This is a very rare object, picked up on my travels in the most dangerous of circumstances. No...we can’t get more of those,” he said.

Gaspi felt he was on precarious ground, but carried on nonetheless. “But what about the source of that power? If none of your defences really worked but the power of the artefact worked, why can’t we…tap in to that source? What kind of magic is it?”

Voltan was about to respond, when Hephistole held up his hand. “That is good thinking, Gaspi, and perhaps in the future we can look into that, but suffice it to say that this particular source of power is not available to us right here, right now. We will have to make do with what we have.” Hephistole waited for that to sink in. “In that light, what effective weapons do you think we could use against the creatures that threaten us?” Hephistole asked, his probing, sea-green gaze lingering on Gaspi as he waited for an answer.

“Well, I used fire, but that is the something I can do because I’m a Nature Mage,” Gaspi said. “I’m not sure what use that will be to anyone else.”

“We’ve been thinking about that,” Hephistole said. “The other students, and even the teachers, won’t be able to manipulate fire as you do, but if we set barrels of tar around the city, and light them in the event of an attack, any magician should be able to manipulate the tar and use it in whatever way they see fit.”

“Oh yeah,” Gaspi said. “That should work.”

“And if we’re unfortunate enough to be under attack, perhaps you could take it on yourself to reignite the barrels if they are put out by magical means?” Hephistole said.

“Sure thing,” Gaspi said. “But are you letting the students fight?”

“The older students will all be fighting. Most of the first years won’t, as you won’t be strong enough to make a difference, but several of you will be given the choice. That is, if you want to, Gaspi,” Hephistole said carefully.

“Of course I want to fight!” Gaspi said fiercely.

“We thought so,” Hephistole responded, “but it’s never good to assume. So - what else do you think might work against them, Gaspi?” Hephistole asked. “I know you only fought one of them, but did you perhaps get an instinct for what kind of creature it was - what its strengths and weaknesses were?”

Gaspi thought back to the battle he’d won against the demon at the gypsy camp. On the one hand it seemed an age ago that he had faced the monster; but on the other, it felt like it was just yesterday. He remembered the hungry, draining creature and its mind-splitting howl. He remembered how it froze everything around it, sucking out life and warmth from every source. Most of all, he remembered the numbing fear that drove him into the hidden recesses of his own soul. But nothing about the memory gave him much of a clue about how to beat these creatures.

“Sorry, I just can’t think of anything,” Gaspi answered. “I suppose when it attacked me before, I chose the right way to fight it. I think that’s as far as my instinct goes. I don’t think a force strike would do much against it.” 

“No, a force strike doesn’t do much at all,” Voltan said grimly. “Force, earth, and air strikes are for creatures with physical bodies. These demons have some kind of form, but it is made more of energy than matter. The small part of them that is physical responds to regular strikes, but all you can really do is slow them down that way. Physically attacking them won’t do much more, and would probably be a very bad idea.”

Gaspi had a flash of insight. “What about the wall?” he asked, remembering the way the dJin had burned itself to death trying to pass it.

“Yes; there’s always the wall,” Voltan said. “We are going to try and bring as many of the city folk as possible behind it in the next two days. If it came to it, and the lower city was lost, the demons will have to try and pass it, and some will die in the attempt.”

“Some? Why not all?” Gaspi asked. The effects of the wall on demonic creatures seemed pretty clear.

“The wall was enchanted a long time ago,” Hephistole said. “The secret of that particular enchantment has been lost, but what does seem to be true is that it doesn’t draw its power from an outside force. Whatever enchantment was laid on it was done by some very powerful Mages, and they gave of their own power to do so. Do you understand what this means?” Hephistole asked, his piercing eyes looking steadily into Gaspi‘s own. Gaspi was reminded of a bird of prey, and at the same time was made aware of the fierce intelligence behind those eyes.