Nature Mage (19 page)

“Nice one getting the drinks in, Taurn,” Gaspi said.

“Yes, but wasn’t that a bit risky, pretending to be a guard?” Emea asked with concern.

“I wasn’t pretending, and anyway I’m fifteen, so I could have got the beer anyway,” Taurnil said, flushing slightly at the attention, his eyes again flicking involuntarily towards Lydia.

When Taurnil didn’t say anything else, Gaspi punched him on the arm. “Well...tell us!” he said.

“Oh yeah, sorry. Jonn took me there this morning, and once they found out I was fifteen they said I could join up. I’m officially enrolled now, and start training tomorrow.”

Gaspi could see how pleased Taurnil was, even though he was trying not to show it. “That’s great, Taurn,” Gaspi said with a big grin, his excitement teasing more of a reaction from his friend, who returned the grin foolishly.

“We start with weapons training,” he said, and it was clear there was nothing that could have pleased him more. Emea leant over and gave him a big hug, which he accepted stoically, accustomed to Emea’s shows of emotion.

“Is this something you want, then, Taurnil?” Lydia asked, her penetrating gaze resting on him while he searched for an answer.

Looking directly into her eyes, he answered simply, “Yeah. I’ve got a feeling in my gut that this is what I’m meant to be doing.” Lydia nodded, accepting his answer unquestioningly, and placed a hand gently on his forearm. Flustered by Lydia’s touch, Taurnil quickly changed the subject. “Enough about me,” he said. “How was your first day at college?”

All three began talking at once; about the dJin and their first experience of trying to release their magic, which fascinated Taurnil, and they had to relive the experience several times before he was satisfied. They started talking about the football game, when Emea mentioned the behaviour of the other boys towards Gaspi. Gaspi had been hoping to avoid talking about this, but now it had been brought up Taurnil didn’t look like he was going to let it go at that.

“So who’s this Everand, then?” he asked.

“Rich boy? I dunno,” answered Gaspi sullenly. “He just seems to have taken a dislike to me, and the other boys pretty much do what he says.”

Taurnil barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know how you do it, Gasp. Everywhere you go you make an enemy with the biggest, pushiest lad.”

Gaspi laughed reluctantly, his face breaking into a roguish grin. “Must be my natural charm.”

Emea slapped his shoulder playfully, giving Gaspi an exasperated look. “Just don’t wind him up, Gaspi,” she said.

“As if I wound him up!” Gaspi retorted indignantly. “Honestly Emmy, I’ve practically bitten my lip off trying to be polite to him, but he has it in for me. So does his nasty little friend…Ferast.”

“Mmm...I must admit, there seems to be something odd about that one,” Emea conceded.

Lydia had been listening intently up to this point. “I think Everand’s jealous,” she said conclusively.

“Jealous? Of what?” Gaspi asked incredulously.

“Because you’re a Nature Mage, of course,” Lydia answered. “You’ve joined a group where he’s the top dog, and threatened him by having the most rare and powerful form of magic in all the lands.”

Taurnil nodded slowly. “It makes sense, Gaspi,” he said, his eyes lingering a bit longer than was necessary on Lydia’s serious face.

“Well, I didn’t ask for it, did I?” Gaspi said bitterly. “I mean, this supposed
gift
has nearly killed me…twice!”

“We know, Gaspi,” Emea said, placing her hand on his knee. “But try to give them time to adjust. Maybe it’ll all blow over in a week or two.” Gaspi grunted noncommittally.

“So how does football compare to Koshta then, Gasp?” Taurnil asked, changing the topic. Gaspi immediately perked up.

“Brilliant!” he enthused. “You wouldn’t think so, with that big ball bouncing all over the place and not being able to use your hands, but you get into it.” 

“Gaspi scored, you know,” Emea announced proudly.

“In your first game?” Taurnil said. “Good going, Gasp!” He sounded genuinely impressed. “Let me know when you’re playing again, and I’ll try to come and watch.”

“Sure thing, Taurn,” Gaspi responded. “Maybe you can join in. You could play in goal.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Taurnil responded. “I mean, you three are all magicians now, and I’m…well...I’m not.” He seemed suddenly shy, glancing questioningly at Lydia.

“Yeah, but you don’t need magic for football!” Gaspi asserted.

“Well, yeah...maybe,” Taurnil responded, avoiding eye contact by staring at the pint glass he was playing with. “Let’s just see how it goes.” Lydia’s gaze was fixed on Taurnil, her head cocked on one side as she scrutinised him, but she said nothing. The silence extended for several moments. Gaspi wanted to break it, but felt that somehow this was between Taurnil and Lydia.

It was Taurnil who spoke next. “There’s a guard’s tournament in a couple of months. Will you all come and watch me if I compete?”

In all his life, during which time Taurnil had always been Gaspi’s best friend, he had never asked him to watch him compete at anything. Gaspi was the competitive one, and Taurnil was always there faithfully to back him up. Gaspi felt excited at the prospect of returning the favour. “Of course mate,” he said, clapping Taurnil on the back.

“But Taurn, you’ve not even started training yet,” Emea said. “How will you compete with the other guards?”

Taurnil shrugged. “I’ll just have to get good quickly,” he said seriously, then grinned. “Besides, it won’t be dangerous. All the weapons will be padded or blunted. Will you come, Emmy?”

“I’ll come,” she said, her concern mollified. “And Lydia will too, won’t you Lydia?”

“I’d love to,” the dark-haired gypsy girl answered with her usual serious intent. Gaspi nearly laughed at Taurnil’s utter failure to hide how pleased he was.

“Well, we’d better be getting back,” Emmy said. “It’s getting late, and it’s bound to be another big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah - anything could happen, really,” Gaspi said. “Alright, let’s get going.”

Taurnil walked them back to the college and said goodnight, promising to come by the next evening if he could, and strolled off down the hill towards the barracks. When they reached the dormitories, Gaspi took his opportunity to spend a little bit of time alone with Emea.

“Want to go for a walk, Emmy?” he asked. Emea looked at Lydia, who smiled and said goodnight, giving them both a kiss on the check, and disappeared into the dormitory. Emea and Gaspi walked slowly round the courtyard. Gaspi was surprised by how suddenly awkward he felt. He was unnaturally aware of the cracks in the paving-stones, and had to resist the urge to scuff uncomfortably at the ground. Why did he all of a sudden feel unable to talk to Emmy after feeling comfortable with her all day? Being around her made him feel amazing, but sometimes it dried his mouth up too.

Emea broke the silence. “Taurnil looked happy, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Gaspi answered with relief. “He really wants to be a guard, doesn’t he?”

“I’ve never seen him so determined.” A few more seconds passed in silence, until Emea spoke again. “I’m not sure about him entering this competition though. I mean, he could get hurt. What do you think?”

Gaspi grinned. “I think you worry too much, Emmy.”

“I don’t!” she replied indignantly. “Well…okay, maybe I do, but it’s only because I care about my friends!” she added, with a little fire.

“Okay...easy now!” Gaspi said with a laugh, putting his arm around Emmy’s shoulders, turning her towards him as they stopped walking. “Sorry, Emmy I was only pulling your leg. I like that you care so much.” Emea relaxed and smiled back, her eyes deep and sparkling in the orange lamplight.

“Well, I do… I mean, I do care,” she said softly. Gaspi’s heart was thumping all of a sudden, right up in his throat, so much so he was sure Emmy could see it. His eyes took in the soft shimmer of her hair, the openness of her face, which was tantalisingly near to his own. Gaspi leaned in to kiss her, and they stood together in the lamplight for a long moment, until by some mysterious communication they both gently pulled away and broke the connection. “I’m glad we’re doing this together Gaspi,” she said, and he understood she was referring to the whole thing; the magic, the journey, their relationship, everything.

“Yeah, me too,” he said. “This would be a lot scarier on my own.” Gaspi felt a heady flow of happiness, and they walked around the quad a while longer, talking more comfortably now, and kissed once more before saying goodnight at the door to Emmy’s dorm.

As he walked across the quad back to his own quarters, Gaspi wondered whether the wondrous but disconcerting emotions he felt for Emea would ever settle down. At the moment he seemed to flip from friendship to romance several times a day, without any warning. It was exhausting. She’d been his friend much longer than she’d been his girlfriend, and in some ways he was still getting used to it. He supposed that in time it would all hang together, and life would be much simpler when that happened. He entered the dormitory and made his way through the sleeping forms of his classmates in the dark, finding his bed without tripping over, and he sat down on it as he began to undress. Lifting his arms to pull his shirt over his head, he caught the glitter of Ferast’s eyes in the near darkness, and somehow Gaspi knew he had been watching him and Emea The thought gave him the creeps. When the shirt was off his head he looked again at Ferast, whose eyes were now closed, but Gaspi couldn’t forget the dark glitter of Ferast’s invasive gaze, and as he lay down to sleep he shuddered involuntarily, and pulled the covers up over his head. It took him some time to drift off.

Chapter 14

On the other side of the campus, at the top of his tower, Hephistole was awake, and he was not alone. Standing at a window, looking out over the dim lights of the city at night, Voltan furrowed his brow in thought, drawing his dark widow’s peak even further down his forehead than normal. Hephistole was wrapped up in a mauve velvet dressing gown, and sat comfortably in a deep chair behind his guest, a glass of sherry in his hand. A fire roared in the grate next to them, and a second glass of sherry sat on the tabletop, untouched.

“What are your thoughts, Voltan?” he asked. The warrior Mage remained still for a moment.

“I think we need to mobilise our Mages,” he said. “We can’t be unprepared for whatever is coming.”

“What makes you think something is coming?” Hephistole asked,  his own brow furrowed in thought, his gaze far off.

“As I said to you this morning, Hephistole, I’ve never come across anything like the creatures I fought in the plain. They were…powerful. And the boy’s story…”

“Powerful, yes,” Hephistole added, his gaze still unfocussed. “And yet, Gaspi fought off one of them on his own.” Hephistole turned his glass slowly back and forth between his thumb and index finger as he spoke, mesmerised by the lamplight glinting off the sharp facets of finely-cut crystal.

“He’s a Nature Mage!” Voltan retorted with feeling. “And he nearly died!”

Hephistole looked up at his friend in surprise. “Forgive me, Voltan,” he said gently. “I did not mean to belittle your encounter, nor question your powers. You are one of our finest warriors. I merely meant to say that we are not without hope.” Silence lingered between the two men; the unselfconscious silence of people who have known each other a long time, and whose minds are busy with thought.

Hephistole was the one to break it. “I know he is a Nature Mage, Voltan, but he is untrained, and still he held the demon at bay. We haven’t known anyone with his particular gift in our lifetime. We don’t have any real knowledge of the boundaries of his skill, and what I’m hoping…” Hephistole looked off into the distance again, “...is that he can show us a thing or two.”

It was Voltan’s turn to look surprised. “That’s a heavy burden to place on young shoulders.”

“Which is why I won’t be placing it on him,” Hephistole answered. “Not yet, at least. I want to give Gaspi as much of a run at being an apprentice Mage as possible, and it may be years before we have to face whatever force is driving this incursion into our lands. That’s if there is anything behind it at all…” Hephistole lost his faraway expression and pushed himself up straight. “So be it,” he said decisively. “Start preparing the Mages for battle. I agree that we can’t sit here twiddling our thumbs, even if we don’t know what we’re facing. But let’s keep this quiet. Meet with the heads of each discipline and tell them everything - but only them. As far as the students need to know, we’re just focussing on martial magic for a while. It’s not the first time we’ve done that in recent years.”

Voltan looked grimly satisfied at the prospect of doing something useful, the hard lines of his mouth drawing tight with purpose. “I’ll try and get some creative ideas out of the heads of each discipline,” he said, “and see what we can come up with that might be effective against this type of demon.”

“That would be good,” Hephistole agreed. “Threat or no threat, we have to be able to combat this kind of attack.”

Voltan moved as if to leave, but hesitated, looking back at Hephistole with an uncharacteristic display of uncertainty. “Do you still think it’s got something to do with…your old acquaintance?”

Hephistole met Voltan’s gaze grimly. “Maybe, maybe not,” he said softly. “But there’s something familiar about this I can’t shake off. Either way, we need to be alert to every possibility.”

Voltan nodded. “Rest well,” he said, as he turned to leave again.

“And you, old friend,” Hephistole answered softly, seconds after Voltan stepped onto the transporter and disappeared.

Hephistole stayed up long into the night, not moving from his comfortable chair except to top up his sherry glass. His mind drifted back to a time when he had been a young pupil at the college, in the first flurry of excitement at the discovery of his own considerable powers. He had found every lesson scintillating, every piece of knowledge another key to opportunity and possibility. He had excelled in his year, advancing quickly beyond the abilities of his fellow students, and had been itching with frustration at the snail’s pace he was forced to progress at, until a particular teacher had taken an interest in him.