Nature's Servant (29 page)

Markus felt his jaws loosen as the magician released his hold on him, and was filled with a sudden rage.
“If you’re going to kill me, then kill me and get it done with,” he snarled.

“Oh no,” the magician said conspiratorially, leaning in towards his
face as magic gagged him once again. “You will die, but you will die slowly, and before it is done, you’ll wish you’d never been born.”

Markus looked into the eyes of insanity and knew absolute, bone-numbing terror. An opaque magical blade appeared in the magician
’s hand, gleaming in the faint light as he slowly stepped forwards. Fear consumed every other thought or feeling. If he could have done so, he would have screamed till his lungs gave out.

Gaspi stood in the centre of the clearing, facing Loreill, a water spirit, and the elusive fire and air spirits. It was time for the ceremony to begin. He stared at the fire and air spirits with undisguised curiosity. Until that moment, the fire spirit had remained within the flames of Heath’s constantly burning fire pit, and the air spirit had stayed in the skies above, soaring in the autumn breezes, but now he had the chance to see them up close for the first time.

The air spirit
’s arms and head were grey and opaque, and its eyes were the colour of a gathering storm. Its torso was a spinning vortex of wind-driven, moisture-laden cloud, flickering with bursts of lightning. The fire spirit’s body was a swirling ball of black smoke and flickering flame. Its head and arms were coal black and shiny, facetted like a gemstone with hard planes and angles, and its eyes were like smouldering coals. Like all elementals, their torsos tapered away to nothing, and they floated effortlessly above the ground.

The spirits were looking at him, their attention riveted, and he in turn was waiting for Heath to speak. The druid had his eyes closed, preparing himself in some final way for what was to come. He
’d been meditating for the past hour, stilling himself as deeply as he knew how, but now the moment had arrived. Heath opened his eyes.

“This ceremony marks the willing sacrifice of these four spirits, who’
ve chosen to embrace bodily form and serve humanity,” he said in sombre, ringing tones, and his grave manner made Gaspi wonder if he knew all there was to know about the ceremony. “Great Spirit,” Heath continued, “we ask for your blessing on what we now do, and for wisdom as each elemental chooses their form. Magic of this type requires a sacrifice, and we ask that you provide that sacrifice to assure us of your blessing.”

Gaspi waited silently for long moments, not sure what to expect, but then a rustling sound came from the far side of the clearing and a doe stepped out from among the branches. Gaspi
’s breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful. Her soft pelt was golden brown, her liquid eyes large and clear, her movement graceful as she stepped lightly across the clearing on delicate legs. She stepped up to him, her eyes heavy with acceptance. She held his gaze, and without knowing why, Gaspi’s eyes filled with tears.

“
We thank you for your sacrifice,” Heath said, his voice husky with emotion. The doe tilted her head to one side, exposing her neck, and Gaspi suddenly understood what was meant by sacrifice. He opened his mouth to protest, but Heath gave him the fiercest of looks, and he held his tongue. Surely this couldn’t be right? Heath drew a wooden bowl from within his leathers, and a stone knife from a sheath on his hip. Stepping forward, he cut the doe’s jugular in one stroke, thrusting the wooden bowl under the flow of life blood as it gushed out. The bowl filled with the precious liquid, but such was the flow that it spurted out over his arms and splashed widely around him. As its life blood drained away, the doe fell to the ground, and within moments it was dead.

Gaspi was filled with anger. What kind of ceremony was this? Why did an innocent creature have to die? But then he remembered the look of acceptance the doe had given him, and he knew the reverence druids had for all living things. Looking at Heath, he thought that he
’d never seen a person look quite as pained as the druid did in that moment. If the elementals thought it was necessary, and Heath thought it was necessary, and the doe had come willingly, who was he to question it?

Heath turned to Gaspi, dipping his fingers deeply in the bowl of blood.
“Gaspi, do you accept the doe’s sacrifice?”

“I do,” Gaspi answered, still upset but willing to trust. Heath looked at him with sombre approval.

“And do you accept the service of these four elementals?”

Gaspi looked at the four spirits. He could feel love pouring from Loreill, a love that told him to go ahead and accept what he was being offered.

“I do,” he whispered, overwhelmed with emotion. Heath withdrew his fingers out of the bowl and placed them, widespread, against Gaspi’s forehead.

“Then give yourself to them, and let the transformation begin,” he said, trailing his fingers down his
face. Gaspi could feel the trails of warm, sticky blood dripping down his cheeks even after Heath removed his hand. Repulsed, he looked at Loreill, trying to gain some comfort in the midst of what had become a frightening ceremony, but Loreill was gripped in the throes of powerful magic.

He only had the briefest moment to wonder what was happening to Loreill before that same magic ripped into him like a gale, so powerful he thought he would be consumed. It was elemental magic, fierce as a storm. Despite the tidal wave of power rushing through him, he didn
’t try to take control, knowing instinctively that to do so would be the death of him. Instead, he opened himself completely to its flow and force, yielding himself to its control.

Throwing back his head, he released a full-throated scream, somewhere between ecstasy and agony. It only lasted for a minute but it seemed to take an eternity, and then the energy fled him, the spell complete. He only had a moment to catch his breath before the magic ripped into him again. Even in midst of the soul-scouring moment, he could detect a difference in the source of the power, and realised he was acting as a channel for each elemental in turn. The thought of having to do this twice more was too much to contemplate, so he shut down all thought and abandoned himself entirely to the magic.

It happened a third time, and then a fourth, and when he was finally released from the magic’s grip, he slumped to the floor, utterly spent. All he wanted was to lay his cheek down against the cool grass. A furry muzzle nosed at him and he wrinkled his face at the ticklish invasion. He tried to push it out of the way when it kept on nudging him, seeking his attention. Why wouldn’t it let him sleep, whatever it was? When the inquisitive nose continued to bother him, he finally forced his eyes open a crack. His vision swam for a moment and came into focus on a small furry face with green, twinkling eyes and a handsome set of whiskers. He was confused, befuddled by exhaustion, but he’d recognise those eyes anywhere.

“Loreill?” he asked, and then blackness swamped his vision and he knew no more.

…

Gaspi tossed and turned in his sleep, dreaming of furry faces that wouldn’t leave him alone. They kept nudging at him so that he couldn’t get any rest.

“Leave me…alone,” he said aloud, and then his eyes flew open. He was lying on his bed.

“Loreill!” he exclaimed as memory flooded back to him. A furry face lifted itself besides his head, peering at him intently with deep green eyes. “Loreill, is that really you?” he asked. In the part of him where he could feel Loreill’s feelings, he clearly sensed the elemental’s affirmation. “I didn’t imagine it,” he whispered, reaching out a hand to feel the elemental’s soft fur.

Loreill’s bodily form was very much like a ferret. Its fur was pure white and its eyes the same deep shade of green they’d always been. They were no longer faceted as they were in spirit form, but the depth of purity and intelligence were a dead giveaway that this was no normal creature. He rubbed at Loreill’s furry head, delighted by his little, pointy ears, and Loreill rubbed his face against his hand in pleasure.

“I like it!” Gaspi exclaimed. “And I reckon you can still be my scarf,” he said. Loreill playfully scampered up his arm and wrapped his long body round his neck. Gaspi laughed as his neck was warmed by the thick, silky fur.

“This is the best thing ever!” he said. Loreill seemed to agree.

He got out of bed and went looking for Heath. He didn’t have to go far, as the druid was in his chair, carving a length of wood with his hunting knife. He noticed the fire had gone out, probably because the fire spirit didn’t need it
anymore, and the doe’s carcass had been set aside for skinning.

“You’re awake,” the druid said, placing the wood on the ground and rising to his feet. Gaspi looked around for the other spirits, but couldn’t see any.

“I see you’ve found Loreill,” Heath said, smiling at the sight of the elemental draped around his shoulders.

“Where are the other three?” Gaspi asked.

“Loreill wouldn’t leave your side while you were asleep,” Heath responded. “The other three are getting used to their new bodies.” Gaspi hadn’t given that any thought, but on reflection, he supposed it must be very odd to have a physical body for the first time.

“Do you think they mind?” he asked. Loreill didn’t seem to mind, but they had a special bond.

“I really couldn’t say,” Heath answered. “They knew what they were committing themselves to, so I wouldn’t think about it too much. More importantly, there are a few things you should know.”

“Oh?”

Heath sat down again. “Grab your chair,” he said. Gaspi did as he was told. “I haven’t explained the full implications of the spirits’ sacrifice,” the druid said. Gaspi felt a thrill of apprehension. What troubling piece of information had Heath left out?

“Elementals are basically immortal,” the druid said. “They are tied to the health of the land, and perhaps if the land sickened enough, they could die, but no druid has ever known it to happen.” Gaspi nodded, not wanting to interrupt.

“But these four spirits are now vulnerable,” Heath continued. “Being in bodily form preserves them from the discomfort of being out of their natural environment, but it also makes them susceptible to physical harm. They can be hurt or even killed.” Heath gave him a moment to take this in before continuing. “They have to eat and drink and sleep like any other creature while in bodily form too, though they’d be unlikely to starve to death. If they can find a place where their spirit form is at home, they could just transform and they’d recover quickly enough. But if someone stuck a spear into them while in bodily form, it’d kill them just like it would kill you or I.”

“Sheesh,” Gaspi said, shocked by the sacrifice the spirits had made. They were willingly risking their immortality to go back to Helioport with him. He could feel Loreill’s assurance that this was what they wanted, but that didn’t stop him struggling with the enormity of it all.

“I’m glad you don’t underestimate the sacrifice they’re making,” Heath said approvingly. “You will need to make sure each elemental gets to transform to its natural state at least once a month. Taking bodily form saves them from pain when out of their element, but they have to return to spirit form from time to time, or they will dwindle away and die.”

“But how?” Gaspi asked. “How can Loreill transform in the city, or the others? It won’t be their natural environment.”

“They only need a small area that is comfortable,” Heath reassured him. “You’ve seen how the fire spirit preserved itself from discomfort by staying in the flames of our small cook fire. All you need to do is make sure it occasionally has access to a fire. The air spirit can transform and soar up into the winds pretty much anywhere, and will be the easiest to look after. As for Loreill and the water spirit, is there a garden or river they could transform in?”

Gaspi brightened. “There’s the garden I meditate in every morning, well…most mornings. It’s got trees and grass and a small stream. And there’s the Orangery, which is full of plants, and outside the city there’s a river and fields and everything.”

“There you go,” Heath said. “Don’t worry too much. The spirits can look after themselves and they haven’t given up their immortal lifespan, so long as they don’t get hurt in bodily form. If there’s danger around, get them to switch to spirit form straight away, even if it’s uncomfortable for them. They can stand it for brief periods.”

“Can they still do elemental magic in bodily form?” Gaspi asked.

“No,” Heath said. “They are essentially magical creatures and retain some basic powers but the true strength of elemental magic can only be released in spirit form. If they need to use magic, they’ll have to transform.” Heath glanced over Gaspi’s shoulder. “If you turn around, you’ll be able to see the forms the other three spirits have chosen.”

Gaspi spun around and saw two creatures emerging from the trees, the first of which looked very much like an otter. It had light brown fur and waddled on feet that looked to be designed for paddling rather than walking. Its sparkling blue eyes were a dead giveaway - it was the water spirit. A loud flapping sound from high in the trees caused him to jump, and a pure white hawk flapped down from the branches, landing next to the water spirit. It plucked at an errant feather with its curved, cruel-looking beak, and looked at him with fierce eyes the colour of a winter storm. It could only be the air spirit.