Nature's Servant (73 page)

“Taurn, turn around,” Gaspi whispered urgently. “Behind you!”

Taurnil spun around and saw what Gaspi was talking about. There was a space where the sand was whipping up against something and falling back; a space that was about the size and shape of a man hunched over, protecting himself from the sand.

“When I say go, attack him,” Gaspi whispered.

“Got it,” Taurnil said, dropping into a half-crouch, ready to attack.

Gaspi watched Shylor struggle with the spells he was trying to maintain. He was strong, and very skilled, but he was trying to keep his warrior invisible while sustaining a separate illusion of him at his side, and now he was maintaining a strong physical shield as well. It was taking everything he had to hold all of that together, and Gaspi didn’t think he would be able to add extra layer of spell-work to the mix. He summoned a heavy force strike and raised his hand.

“NOW!” he yelled, flinging the strike and releasing the energies in the air at the same time. Taurnil sprinted towards the sand-coated outline of the invisible warrior as the strike streaked towards Shylor. Shylor’s eyes widened as he saw it. Given no choice, he dropped his illusions and drew up a shield. The crouching warrior instantly became visible and lifted his head just in time to take the toe of Taurnil’s boot on his chin. Shylor’s shield just about held up against Gaspi’s strike, but he wasn’t ready for the second strike following in its wake, which slammed into his chest and threw him to the ground, twitching violently as rampant energies coursed through his defenceless body.

“WINNER, GASPI!” the mayor announced, and the crowd roared in appreciation. It was the first time any of them would have seen the unique powers of a Nature Mage at work, and they knew something special when they saw it.

“Good stuff Gasp,” Taurnil said as the healers ran on to attend to Shylor and his warrior, both of whom were still unconscious.

“Thanks,” Gaspi said, grinning. He felt a rush of satisfaction at outsmarting his intelligent opponent. “I’ve got a plan for the final bout.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“It’s simple enough. Shylor can’t let this become a straight up fight. He’s strong but he knows that’ll make no difference against me, so he’s got to rely on cunning. I reckon he’ll have to use illusion again. He’ll try and be even smarter about it this time, but what he doesn’t know is that I can actually see through the illusion.”

“Really? How?” Taurnil asked, frowning. Gaspi knew he didn’t have too long to explain. Shylor was already on his feet and the healers were working on his warrior.

“No time. Just fall into formation as usual and leave the warrior to me,” he surmised.

“That works,” Taurnil said as Shylor’s warrior brushed sand off his armour and re-joined his partner.

“TAKE YOUR PLACES!” the mayor shouted, and both teams moved into the enchanted circles of light. Gaspi watched his opponents as they readied themselves and felt a surge of anticipation. It was time to close the trap.

“BEGIN!”

Shylor spread his arms wide and both he and his warrior disappeared. Gaspi drew a shield around both him and Taurnil that would stop magical attacks, and layered another on top to stop any physical assault. Just as the second layer was complete, a throwing knife smashed against it and fell to the floor. If it had got through it would have pierced him right in the gut. Grateful that his instincts were good, he reached out with his senses and found that Shylor had gone to the right while his warrior was circling to the left.

He drew on the energies captured in the daylight. Dim and diffuse it may be, but when focussed, the power contained in any kind of light was extraordinary. He wasn’t going to set anyone on fire of course, but he wanted Shylor to be distracted. Harnessing the captured energies, he heated the sand around the magician for several yards in every direction. Shylor didn’t notice at first, stealthily edging towards his target, but then he started to hop on the spot as the hot sand started to melt his shoes and scald him.

Confident that Shylor was sufficiently distracted, Gaspi drew up a force strike and flung it at the invisible warrior. It smashed into him and he was flung across the sand, becoming visible before he even hit the floor. Finally understanding that his illusions were of no use, Shylor let them go and broke into a run, trying to escape the burning sand.

“Your turn,” Gaspi said to Taurnil, who grinned and started towards the fleeing magician. Suddenly Gaspi felt exhausted, the irresistible lure of sleep pulling his eyelids closed and numbing his senses. He felt his knees start to buckle and wondered distantly where he was, and then all of a sudden his mind cleared and his senses returned. He was kneeling in the sand of the arena, and the crowd was cheering raucously on every side.

“WINNER, GASPI”

Surging to his feet, he looked up to find Taurnil striding triumphantly towards him, a wild grin splitting his face. Shylor lay unconscious on the ground behind him.

“Why were you kneeling? Taurnil asked when he reached him.

“Shylor tried to put me to sleep I think, but you must have got there first,” Gaspi answered.

“He was running away from me, muttering to himself. I wondered what he was up to,” Taurnil said.

“How did you beat him?” Gaspi asked.

“Threw the staff at his feet and tripped him up. He was still muttering when I punched him out.”

“Ha! After all that sword and sorcery practice it comes down to a punch in the face.”

Taurnil shrugged. “If it works it works,” he said as they walked back to their seats. Everand clapped him on the shoulder as they sat down.

“Well done Gasp,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Thanks mate,” Gaspi responded, turning around to smile at the whole group. Emmy slid forwards and kissed him on the cheek, and Voltan gave him a stern congratulatory nod.

Gaspi struggled to concentrate on the next few matches. He kept running over the last fight in his mind, lingering on the key moments where victory was won. He knew he should be concentrating on the battles unfolding on the sand, but it was proving difficult to do so. His attention was finally re-captured when Ferast was called in the fifth match, and suddenly he had no difficulty concentrating at all. He watched the scrawny boy like a hawk, looking for any signs of dark and dangerous magic, but he seemed to be sticking to the rules. His strikes were much harder than Gaspi would have expected from him, but they were straightforward combat strikes, and though the he won easily, he hadn’t used any tactics Gaspi could complain about.

Everand was called in the eighth match, fighting against a heavy-set magician from Namert called Isdar. Gaspi had been impressed by Isdar’s magical strength the previous day, though he’d finished off the battle with what he considered unnecessary brutality, bludgeoning his opponent with an unrelenting barrage of heavy strikes when it looked like he was already too beat up to surrender. By the time the sand had settled, there had been no doubt that Isdar had won not only the bout but also the match, as his opponent was too badly injured to continue. Overall, Gaspi thought that Everand might be holding the advantage. Isdar’s warrior was slight of build, fast with his hands and feet, which was an effective fighting style against many opponents, but not against the man-mountain that was Baard.

When the fight began, it turned out that he was right. Isdar’s slightly-built warrior attacked Baard with impressive speed, getting inside the range of his enormous axe and delivered a knee to his midriff, but Baard just grinned and pushed him away. Even a beautifully executed flying kick to the giant’s chin only given him momentary pause. He stopped to test out his jaw, wiggling it from side to side, before picking up the smaller warrior by the neck and groin and throwing him across the sand.

Everand was slightly less powerful than Isdar, and was forced into a slow retreat, his shields holding but not by much. Gaspi could see the strain in his face as he sought to find a way to break the pattern, but Isdar kept him pinned down through superior strength. Gaspi found himself rooting for Everand, willing him to dig deep and find some hidden reserve of power. At that moment, Baard put the smaller warrior out of action with a blow to the head, and spun round to support his partner. He lifted his two-handed axe above his head and ran at Isdar with a mighty bellow.

Gaspi watched Baard charge, red hair and beard flying wildly behind him, and could only feel sorry for the heavy-set magician. To his credit, Isdar didn’t surrender. He split his summoning into both hands, formed a pair of strikes and threw them at his opponents. One of them stopped Baard dead in his tracks, knocking him onto his rump, but the other was too weak to bother Everand. The handsome boy scooped the weak strike out of the air and flung it back at him, amplifying it with the full strength of his own powers. Because the original strike was summoned by Isdar, Everand could capture and use that energy at no cost to himself, and by adding his own strength to the return strike, he made something more powerful than he could have summoned on his own.

Isdar pulled up a shield, but the sheer strength of the strike was too much for it, and it collapsed on impact. Isdar was flung backwards, and before he could do anything about it, Everand had thrown a net of power over him, and with Baard also rising back to his feet, Isdar did the only thing he could and surrendered.

Gaspi was amazed at how much Everand had learned in the last few weeks. How in the world had he learned how to catch someone else’s strike? He could only assume that after Voltan’s humiliating lesson, he must have worked hard to improve his skills.

Everand was clearly exultant after winning the first bout, grinning like an excited child, but Baard was an experienced enough fighter to keep his head about him. Gaspi watched him speak sobering words to his partner, after which the tall boy restrained himself and adopted a suitably serious expression.

The second bout was abrupt and conclusive. Isdar had obviously worked out that the key to winning the match was to take Baard out of the equation, and threw his initial strikes at the giant, but Everand and Baard had planned for this change of tactic. As soon as the fight began, Baard barrelled through Isdar’s warrior as if he wasn’t even there and chased the magician down, his enchanted armour and weaponry fuelled by a steady flow of power from Everand. The enchantments in Baard’s armour were such that he was surrounded by Everand’s strongest shield, which absorbed the strikes Isdar flung at him. When he reached the magician he smacked him with the flat of his blade and knocked him out cold. After being announced as the winner, Everand left the arena with a grin of pure elation, accompanied by Baard, whose enthusiastic clap on the back almost knocked the young magician off his feet.

Gaspi cheered loudly along with the rest of the crowd. Everand and Baard really did make an excellent team, and as far as he could tell, stood a genuine chance of winning the tournament. If he and Taurnil faced them, he could easily overpower Everand’s magical strength but how would Taurnil handle Baard? If Baard beat Taurnil, would Gaspi be able to deal with both of them at once?

“Nice one Rand,” Gaspi said as he and Baard sat down next to him.

“Thanks,” he said with a grin.

Jonn clapped Baard on the back. “You’re a beast,” he said, which Baard took as a compliment.

The last few matches in the third round were all of a high standard, but even among the skilled teams, Gaspi thought that Brukasi and the warrior woman who fought alongside him were the most impressive. Despite the obvious skills of their opponents, they won their match conclusively, and as he watched the warrior woman brandish her force-whip, he reflected that beating them would take every last bit of his skill and power. Not only was Brukasi a powerful magic user, but they were skilled and inventive, and that weapon was truly formidable.

The mayor announced the end of the third round and there was a short break before the fourth began. Only sixteen teams remained, including Gaspi and Taurnil, and Everand and Baard. During the break, Gaspi considered the increasingly likelihood that he would face Ferast on the arena floor. Most of the matches would be difficult now, but instinctively he felt that fighting against Ferast and Bork would be the hardest of the lot, even harder than Brukasi and the warrior woman. As well as having to contend with Ferast’s newly acquired magical strength, there was the added nastiness of his malevolent attitude towards both him and Everand. Maybe they’d get lucky and someone else would knock him out, and then neither of them would have to deal with him!

The fourth round began, and Ferast was called to fight after only two matches. As the bird-thin boy fought, Gaspi watched him intently for any sign of dark magic, but as in the previous round, there was no evidence of foul play, and Ferast defeated his opponents through advanced neuromancy and impressive magical strength. He had clearly perfected the art of disappearing, and used it to his advantage to win the first bout. In the second bout, he dispensed with trickery and simply overpowered his opponent with sheer strength. Bork fought savagely in both bouts, dealing blows that, if not blocked, may well have taken the other warrior’s life. 

Everand was called to fight in the third match, and though he and Baard were harder pressed this time, they won through by a combination of good tactics and Baard’s total lack of a self-preserving instinct. He was quite happy to take grievous wounds if it won them the match! Brukasi and the warrior woman won their match, and then it was Gaspi and Taurnil’s turn.