Nature Mage (9 page)
In an instant, Gaspi’s awareness stretched beyond the boundaries of his own body, and flowed out into his environment. He could feel the brittle grass cracking under the onslaught of the ice, the wood of the wagons constricting and creaking, the waning heat of the fire as it battled to stay ablaze, and the thumping hearts of terrified individuals writhing on the ground. And in the midst of all this was a swirling black hole, sucking all energy into its gaping maw. Gaspi could sense the flow of life-force draining from every living entity in the clearing into that endless sucking vacuum.
Without knowing how he did it, Gaspi whispered in his mind to the flame of the campfire, willing it to burn more brightly, to battle the leeching cold that almost put it out. And burn it did; not merely burn, but blaze! It soared and leaped towards the sky, roaring in defiance against the invader.
The dark creature moved hurriedly back from the fire, its head swivelling angrily, looking for the source of resistance. But Gaspi was already advancing, hands upturned, a look of furious intensity etched across his face. He lifted his hands, and the fire shot upwards in great spears of flame. The creature took its black gaze off Gaspi, and for the first time showed some hesitancy, as trails of fire curved upwards and out over its head in five thick streams. It lifted its own hands towards the advancing flame and for a moment it slowed in its flight, but Gaspi thrust out his arms aggressively, the firelight shining in his eyes, and the five trails of fire shot down to the ground, enclosing the creature in a great burning cage of light. Gaspi pushed the blazing bars inwards, pressing them against the creature’s dark bulk.
The creature lifted its head, glaring at Gaspi with utter hatred and black intention, and released an unearthly howl, like a gale roaring through a canyon; a sound that turned Gaspi’s bones to water and ripped at his sanity. Gaspi could sense the wood fuelling his cage of flame was nearly spent, and dizziness began to assail him. That dreadful sound shook him in ways he didn’t know a person could be shaken, and just when he thought he couldn’t sustain the effort any longer the creature howled one last time, its eyes boring hatefully into Gaspi, and then folded into itself and disappeared.
As warmth returned to the clearing Gaspi pitched forward into darkness, his mind swallowed up by shock and exhaustion. The fuel for Gaspi’s cage of flame was utterly spent; the charred logs collapsed, sending a cloud of the finest grey ash billowing into the air.
Emea, Jonn, Lydia and Taurnil ran to Gaspi the second he fell to the ground, faces white with their own shock, and full of fear for him. Jonn was especially worried, as Gaspi had not just fallen into a comatose state as he’d done after his magic burst free from his control the first time, but he was moaning and writhing on the ground - his face screwed up so tight the skin around his eyes had turned white, and his hands clenching and unclenching over and over.
Knowing how close Gaspi came to dying when he had attacked Brock and Jakko with his magic, Jonn was not willing to wait around and see what happened. “We need to get him to Helioport as soon as possible!”
“Wait until morning, Jonn, and we’ll carry him with us in one of our wagons. My wife can look after him while we travel,” Roland said, white faced and trembling, his voice unsteady. He reached a hand out to touch Jonn’s shoulder.
Jonn shook Roland’s hand off. Recognising his rudeness, he explained, “Sorry Roland, but we can’t wait. Gaspi could die if we don’t get him some help right now. I know we don’t know each other, but can you give me a horse? I will carry him with me, and ride to Helioport without stopping.”
Roland accepted his apology with a nod of his head. “Of course, Jonn, what’s mine is yours. And before you ask, I’ll bring Emea and Taurnil along with us and will find you at the college when we arrive.”
“Thank you, Roland,” Jonn said. “I can’t tell you what this means.” His eyes communicated sincerity and relief. “Now, I must be off”.
Roland muttered something to one of the young gypsy men, who left the ring immediately and came back leading a large, coal-black horse. “Ramoa will carry you best. He’s strong and pretty fast, and won’t tire out quickly.” Jonn vaulted into the saddle and reached out to take Gaspi from Roland, placing him in front of him on the saddle and holding him in place with his arms.
Roland’s wife, Miriam, came running with a small bundle she’d fetched from one of the wagons, and pressed it into Jonn’s hands. “Here’s some hard cheese and a small loaf to keep you going,” she said, her round face flushed and grave.
“Thanks, Miriam,” Jonn said, pushing the bundle into a pocket, and turned to Roland. “Find me at the College of Collective Magicks!”
He turned his gaze to Emea and Taurnil, who stood together looking lost and afraid.
“Look after her, Taurnil,” he said; and with that, he kicked his heels into Ramoa’s flanks, and sped off into the night.
Chapter 7
It was a long night for Jonn, racing Ramoa as fast as he dared along the Great South Road. Where the wagons gathered thickly by the roadside, enough light spilt onto the road to make his path clear, the surface of which was kept in good repair by regular patrols sent out from Helioport, but when the wagons grew sparse and the only light was from the half-moon and stars above he had to slow to a canter, to avoid any potholes or straying from the road.
He didn’t allow himself to contemplate what might happen to Gaspi, but became a man focussed on one task only – to get to Helioport. No other thought entered his mind, his eyes riveted to the road to spy out safe passage, his thoughts all of speed and urgency. His breathing flowed in and out with the galloping rhythm of the horse’s pounding feet, the two becoming one in their onward plight through the dark.
The diffuse glow of dawn meant nothing more than light on his path to Jonn, and the chance to draw nearer to Helioport, but he knew he could not continue to race Ramoa this way without killing him. He would have done that if Ramoa would die at the gates of Helioport, but there was still most of a day’s ride before them, and necessity spoke strongly enough to force Jonn to stop and rest the horse for a while and eat something himself. He ate with one arm wrapped around Gaspi, pulling his unresponsive body into his own, unwilling to let go of him for a moment. Soon he was back on the horse, and driving for Helioport again.
They passed waggoners rising early with the dawn, who peered at them curiously after they’d blazed past. People shouted after them, telling him to slow down, or just making fun, but Jonn ignored them all. As the road began to fill up he was forced to ride on the very right hand side of the thoroughfare, where lone horsemen were expected to pass the slow-moving wagons. But even there Jonn had to weave his way through the mass of travellers, until his pace became frustratingly slow, and he began to become desperate. What if he couldn’t get Gaspi to Helioport in time? What if he...? Ruthlessly shutting down his thoughts, Jonn pressed on as best he could.
Sometime about midday he came across a mounted patrol. As he raced past them the patrol leader called out to him to stop, but Jonn didn’t even turn his head. The patrol immediately went in pursuit of the fleeing stranger, driving their horses at a gallop, and quickly gaining on the overburdened and exhausted horse Jonn was riding. As they overtook and surrounded him, Jonn knew he had no further choice, and pulled on Ramoa’s reigns till he stopped.
Hand on the hilt of his sword, the patrol leader warily approached Jonn. “What’s the hurry, stranger?” he asked, keeping several feet between him and Jonn.
“Captain, it’s my son. He’s dying. Please let me go on,” Jonn pleaded, hands already gripping Ramoa’s reigns again.
“Hold on!” the patrol leader commanded. “Dying of what?”
“He has magical talent, but is untrained,” Jonn answered. “We were attacked on the road, and he has drained himself so dry defending us he is barely clinging onto life. I must get him to the College of Collective Magicks straight away. Every second counts here, sergeant.”
The patrol leader’s face lost its sternness. “I have no reason not to believe your story, friend, but if you go another mile on that horse you’ll kill it.” He was eyeing Ramoa with a keen eye, noting the sweaty froth smeared thickly along his flanks. He made a quick decision. “I will go with you, help clear the road, and get you through the gates fast. Helioport is still four hours ride away.”
He turned to a swarthy guard among his crew. “Jim, you’re in charge. Continue as planned, and report to me when you return tomorrow night.” Jim nodded. “And bring this horse with you. We’ll take Alberich’s instead.” He waved at a speechless Jonn, asking him to get off Ramoa, which he did after a second’s hesitation, carefully sliding Gaspi down after him and holding him protectively. One of the patrol climbed off his own horse, handing the reigns to Jonn with some reluctance, and eyeing Ramoa doubtfully. Ramoa hadn’t moved during the whole exchange and soon his heaving flanks began to slow their huffing and puffing, and he began to chew on the grass.
When Jonn had mounted his new horse, and had Gaspi secure before him, the patrol leader wasted no time in bidding his patrol farewell, and led the way along the road to Helioport at a strong pace. Every time the road was blocked by meandering travellers he would shout in warning and clear the way forward as quickly as possible, and the two horses continued their journey with barely a pause for the next few hours.
Jonn did not communicate a single word to the patrol leader, but kept his attention on the road and on Gaspi, who had ceased moving several hours ago, and was in the same comatose state Jonn had seen him in earlier that year. He was deathly still, the jostle of the horse’s movements doing nothing more than cause his limbs to flop around, lifeless as a puppet.
Late in the afternoon, Jonn caught his first sight of Helioport. His thoughts were all of Gaspi and the unusual appearance of the city went unnoticed. On any other day he would have stopped to stare at the flowing contours of low domes and spires; all shaped from the same rich terracotta-coloured stone, organic and sinuous, feminine as a city could be, with barely a straight line in sight.
As they approached the gates, the patrol leader, who had taken just a moment on the ride to tell Jonn his name was Erik, hailed the cluster of guards surrounding the main gate, pulling up just long enough to let them know what was happening.
In moments they were ushered into the city, and in the cool of the wall’s shadow they slowed their horses to a canter, the clack of eight hooves on hard stone echoing in the enclosed space. Erik led him on a broad street that swung anti-clockwise around the inner edge of the wall, and then gradually curved in towards the centre of the city, rising steadily towards the densest cluster of minarets, set on a rise above the rest of the city – the College of Collective Magicks.
Erik and Jonn, who continued to carry the unmoving Gaspi in his protective arms, cantered along the road’s inward curve towards the heart of the city, passing curious onlookers and city dwellers of every type, until they reined in their mounts at the gate of the college itself. The college was surrounded by an enclosing wall of creamy, polished stone, much paler than the reddish stone of the city itself. The gateway was a graceful arc of this stone, spanning the entryway and meeting over the travellers’ heads. These walls were not made for physical protection, but marked the boundary in exquisite contours, emanating a diffuse glow that announced the presence of magic.
Two booths sat like bookends at either end of the encircling wall, shaped from the same pale stone without any apparent seam or join, and in each booth a red-robed man sat at his ease. Even in his hurried state Jonn noticed there weren’t any actual gates between the two booths, but only the broad span of pale stone arching over their heads, leaving an open entryway wide enough for two carts to pass through side by side. And no armed guards stood at attention at the gateway, either.
A small group of what must have been students in brown robes flowed through the gate, nodding respectfully to the two red-robed men in the booths. Pressing through the traffic, Jonn rode up to the right booth, where the gentleman had stood up and was peering intently at Gaspi’s comatose form.
“Please help my son!” Jonn pleaded, all restraint abandoned in the presence of hope.
The gatekeeper’s eyes widened with urgency. “What happened to him?” he asked hurriedly, bustling out from behind the booth and coming to look more closely at Gaspi.
“He exhausted himself with magic,” Jonn said, his voice cracking under the strain.
“Magic? Say no more.” And with that, the gatekeeper rang a tiny silver bell hanging from his waist. Jonn didn’t think anyone inside the college could possibly hear such a gentle tinkling sound, and was about to object when two brown-robed students came rushing out of the gate. “Take him to the infirmary immediately,” commanded the gatekeeper, “and tell them it’s burnout. Quickly, now!”
One of the students waved his hand in a precise motion, and Jonn was stunned when Gaspi’s body lifted out of his arms and floated to the student’s side, hovering off the ground as if he was lying on an invisible bed. Jonn tried to follow the two students as they took Gaspi through the gates, but the gatekeeper would not let him through. He held his hand out in front of Jonn.
“There’s nothing you can do now, good sir,” he said kindly, “but you can go to the guest suites and rest while we tend to your son.” He must have seen the reluctance on Jonn’s face. “He really is in the best of hands,” he added gently. “Please…” His compassion got through to Jonn, who nodded once in agreement. The gatekeeper rang another bell that hung in the booth, summoning another student to lead Jonn to the guest suites.
Before departing Jonn turned to Erik. “I can’t thank you enough, Erik,” he said. “If you’ve saved him, I owe you my life.”
Erik smiled, and gripped Jonn by the shoulder. “Let’s just hope he’ll be okay.” Jonn nodded. “I’ll be at the barracks by the city gates,” Erik said. “When you find out how he is and have some time, let me know, okay?” he added, before turning to lead the horses away.