Nature Mage (15 page)

Hushed conversation and restrained giggling rose in the room as the teacher continued to write on the board, his chalk banging percussively against the hard slate. Putting his chalk down, the teacher finally turned around to face the class. He had a friendly, nondescript face, with even but unremarkable features, topped with tidily parted hair.

“Good morning, class,” he said with a warm smile, surveying them with proprietary approval. His gaze stopped on Gaspi, then moved to Emea and Lydia. “And today we have the tremendous privilege of welcoming new students of magic to our class,” he said, beaming at the three new arrivals. “Three at once, how wonderful!” he exclaimed. Uncomfortable under the class’s scrutiny, Gaspi wished the teacher would stop gushing over them and get on with the lesson, but he obviously had no intention of doing so.

“Young lady,” he said, waving a hand in Emea’s direction. “Would you be so kind as to tell us your name?”

“Emea, sir,” she answered self-consciously.

“Emea,” repeated the teacher. “That’s a lovely name. And what kind of magical talent do you bring to us?” Emea went pink with embarrassment and muttered something so quietly no-one could hear her.

“Come again? No need to be shy, now!” the teacher said cheerfully.

“I’m a Healer,” Emea repeated, just loud enough to be heard.

“A Healer. Wonderful! Emelda will be pleased,” effused the teacher. Gaspi looked around anxiously, expecting the same kind of derision from the class that he had received in the dormitory, but everyone was looking at Emea with interest. It seemed to him that Everand and several other boys were looking at her with
too
much interest. A tall, willowy girl in front of Emea directed an encouraging smile at her.

“And how did your powers first manifest?” the teacher asked.

Emea looked stricken. “Erm...they haven’t,” she answered, devastated by the admission.

The teacher looked confused. “But…ahem…well...that is most unusual. How do you know you’re a Healer if your powers haven’t showed themselves?” Haltingly, Emea explained that a Seer in her village had told her so.

The professor looked curious. “Well, we will have to do what we can to release your talent then, won’t we?” he said encouragingly. Emea looked panic-stricken. “Please don’t worry, my dear,” he implored, unable to ignore her obvious distress. “We are very skilled at releasing talent, and I’ll make sure someone starts on that with you today.” Emea nodded once, looking at the floor, and the professor kindly moved along.

“And the other young lady,” said the teacher, moving on to Lydia. “You are...?”

“Lydia,” replied the gypsy girl calmly, with the quiet confidence that added mystery to her demeanour. She also was receiving admiring stares from the boys, and Gaspi couldn’t help feeling indignant on Taurnil’s behalf, whose interest in Lydia was obvious - at least, to him.

“And where does your talent lie?” asked the teacher.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Lydia answered, “but I have the Sight.” Noticing some confused looks, she added: “I can see the future sometimes. My people call me a Seer.”

The teacher looked fascinated at this, an eyebrow rising sharply into his forehead. “A rare gift indeed,” he said, “and not one that normally comes unaccompanied by others. And who are your people, my dear?”

“I’m a gypsy,” Lydia answered proudly.

“Ah yes, of course,” the teacher said. “I should have known. A people with a long history of talent. I shall look forward to seeing your gift unfold.”

He turned his attention to Gaspi, who had been dreading this moment.

“And what about you, young sir?” he asked.

Gaspi didn’t see any way to avoid the inevitable. Faced with the flat stares of Everand and Ferast, he forced a confidence he didn’t feel. “I’m Gaspi,” he said. “I’m a Nature Mage.” Emea looked around in puzzlement as some of the boys snickered. Ferast leaned across and whispered something in Everand’s ear, who snorted with laughter, but the teacher didn’t seem to notice any of it.

“A Nature Mage!” he said quietly. “A rare gift! We are lucky indeed to have you with us. And how did your power first manifest itself?” he asked eagerly.

Gaspi knew he had to give some kind of answer, but he desperately didn’t want to expose painful memories in front of the class. “Someone I know was being attacked, and I defended them. It just kind of happened,” he finished vaguely, hoping that would be enough.

“
What
kind of happened?” the teacher asked, insensitive to Gaspi’s discomfort. Gaspi didn’t know how to answer. He paused for a few moments, trying to think of something to say that would satisfy the teacher’s curiosity, but he couldn’t come up with anything.

Gaspi’s shoulders drooped. “I took control of the birds around me and attacked them,” he said in a defeated tone. The hush in the classroom was palpable, until it was broken by Everand snorting with laughter. Several students followed his lead.

The teacher looked around in confusion, before turning his attention back to Gaspi.

“I’m sure you had a good reason,” he said, looking at Gaspi intently for a long second. “A Nature Mage, eh?” he said, evidently fascinated by the prospect of having such a student under his tutelage. Gaspi squirmed uncomfortably under the teacher’s scrutiny.

“Well, fair is fair,” he said, briskly. “I should introduce myself too. I am Professor Worrick, teacher of all things arcane, and specifically matter manipulation - though none of you are ready for that, yet. I am also the Dean of students, and responsible for your care.”

He continued to direct his attention to the three newcomers. “You must have many questions. Most of them will have to wait, but is there anything you’re burning to know before we begin our class today?”

Lydia’s hand shot in the air. “Yes, Lydia?”

“I was wondering where we fit into this class?” she asked. “I mean, how can we catch up with the other students? Shouldn’t we be in a beginner’s class, or something?”

“Ah, I see you are labouring under a misconception,” said the professor, with a smile. “None of your classmates here are experienced magicians.” Some of the students puffed themselves up defensively, feeling their prowess was being underrated. “They only embarked on their studies within the last few months. The truth is that magical ability always manifests itself around your age, a year after at the latest. All your fellow students in this class have only just started touching their talent. If anyone else arrives in the next few months, we will allow them to join the class. After that, they will have to wait until we have enough new students to start a new class. We call this the first year for simplicity’s sake, but in reality we’ll teach you as a group until you’re ready to move on to the next stage of your studies, and the class will be disbanded. That normally takes between a year and eighteen months. You’ll all be assigned special tutors according to your abilities, so you’ll find it easy to catch up with anything you’ve missed.”

Gaspi was relieved that they were not so far behind; he felt like Everand and his friends had less of an advantage over him. He inwardly determined to develop his powers as quickly as possible, so he’d be able to hold his own against the other boys if necessary.

“Any more questions?” Lydia’s hand went up again. “Yes, my dear?”

“If we all have different talents, then why do we study together? Shouldn’t we learn on our own, from someone with our talent?”

“Ah, I see,” responded the professor. “No-one has explained how this all works to you yet. Well, permit me to enlighten you. Your talent is how magic has found its first manifestation in you, but it is not the only magic you can do. Studying magic is like exploring a broad and complex landscape. There are endless varieties of power, and each is expressed uniquely through an individual, as each individual is unique! The fact that you started with healing or prophecy, or even nature magic, means that is the most natural form for arcane power to find its outlet in you, and your talent, will be most strongly expressed in that way. But you can learn something of other forms of magic. Some you’ll have success with and some will be like wrestling a bear, but no-one practices a single branch of magic on its own.”

A thoughtful look stole across Professor Worrick’s face. “There are some who seem to be able to practice almost any branch of magic, but they are few and far between, and here at the college we teach you to focus on your strengths and to learn the basics of other disciplines. Does that answer your question?”

Lydia looked a little confused, but nodded anyway. Obviously feeling he had explained the essence of magical talent, the professor began the class, which was on imbuing physical objects with magical properties.

“The most notable example of this is surrounding us at this very moment,” said Professor Worrick, at the end of a lengthy explanation of which kind of materials take an enchantment most effectively, and something of the theory of how it is done. He pirouetted slowly in a full circle with his arms turned outwards. When he was facing the class again he asked, “Does anyone know what I’m talking about?”

“The wall,” answered the girl who’d smiled at Emea earlier.

“Exactly, Temalia,” said the professor. “The wall! It is not made of naturally magical stone - there is no such thing, of course. It’s actually constructed from a mineral found not fifty miles away that takes enchantment extremely well. In the distant past we mined, shaped and enchanted it, imbuing it with the properties that make it the effective barrier it is. The enchantment shows itself in the glow, which no doubt you have noticed.”

Gaspi’s hand went up. “What exactly does it do?” he asked.

“It forms a barrier against certain forces. When a creature is driven by a destructive intent they exude a kind of energy, which we can identify if we know what to look for. Anything trying to cross that threshold exuding that energy would be resisted, and if they continued to force their way through they would be consumed.”

“Consumed?” asked Ferast, with a kind of curious intensity.

“Burned to a crisp,” said Professor Worrick lightly.

A small, curly-haired boy raised his hand. “But professor, what if one of us was really angry at someone, wouldn’t it…get us too?”

“Angry at someone in particular, are we, Matthius?” he asked, with a smile. “I’m only pulling your leg,” he said, when Matthius protested. “It’s a good question. There’s a vast difference between anger and murderous intent. All emotions cause us to emit an energy signature. Have you ever walked into a room and found it taut with tension you could cut with a knife, but nobody has spoken?” Several students grunted in assent.

“The wall is enchanted to detect and resist only the kind of murderous hate a truly evil person could feel,” Professor Worrick continued. “Even if one of you were to hate someone enough to want to harm them, you would still be conflicted in your conscience, feeling guilt and uncertainty, maybe fear, and these counter-feelings would muddle the energy signature. The only creatures that would be detected by the barrier are those who have a single, destructive thought in mind with no balancing emotional signatures. In fact, the barrier was not designed to resist human evil, which is complex in nature, but the kind of evil you find in summoned creatures such as demons, who carry nothing but darkness and know nothing of warmth or love. If the barrier ever resists you, Matthius, you would have travelled so far down the road to evil as to be irredeemable."

The professor’s explanation left a palpable silence in the room; the air seemed heavier, and the light gloomy and oppressive. Gaspi shook his head to clear it, as the professor spoke again. “I think it’s time for a demonstration.”

Indicating that the students should follow, the professor picked up something that was not much larger than Gaspi’s schoolbag from the shelf behind him. It was cylindrical and covered with a red velvet cloth. He led the students out of the room and all the way to the main gate at the entrance to the campus.

“Line up just inside the gate, if you will,” he said, indicating a spot some yards inside the arching span of glowing stone. Gaspi wondered what he could be doing, as he had a quick discussion with the gatekeeper. What was under that cloth? Professor Worrick placed the covered item on the ground just outside the wall, and walked back to stand with the class.

“This,” he announced, gesticulating in the direction of the covered object, “is a dJin,” - and with a purposeful flourish of his hand the cloth flew off what revealed itself to be a cage, landing on the ground beside it. The second the cloth was off the cage, a bundle of fury ripped into the silver bars, hissing and growling with unrelenting venom. It was hard to see what the creature was beyond an impression of blazing eyes and flashing teeth and claws. Its hard little arms banged noisily against the cage, its feet scrabbling at the floor. What was not hard to identify was a single-minded will to destroy. It was filled with hate - not a tempered, steel-edged anger, but a slavering, mindless intent to rend limb from limb - and the focus of its hate was them.

Professor Worrick kept his eyes on the cage while addressing the class. “Whatever happens, don’t move through the gate!”

Before anyone had a chance to ask any questions, a flick of his wrist released the catch on the cage door, which sprung open, and the dJin spilled out onto the ground. Not even stopping to right itself, it lurched forward into a headlong sprint, using its hands as much as its feet to gain purchase, sharp claws digging jagged furrows in the dirt. Most of the class uniformly leapt back in horror, recoiling from the ferocity of the aggressive dJin, which clearly wanted nothing more than to tear them apart. Emea grabbed Gaspi’s arm and half-hid behind him.

The dJin veered towards Professor Worrick, letting out a grating snarl that sounded like it was tearing its own throat apart. When it reached the gate and tried to pass under the arch, its frantic movements were suddenly arrested as if it was caught in thick treacle, affording the class a clear view of its form. It had a small, potato-like head, lumpy and ill-formed, with flashing little black eyes that were flitting back and forth angrily, trying to find the source of its sudden restriction. Its mouth was a narrow gash crowded with sharp, pointed brown teeth, below the slightest hint of a nose, barely a bump in its face. It was hard and hairless, rippling with chorded muscle so rigid the rough grey skin was pulled tight almost to splitting.