Nature's Master (The Nature Mage Series Book 4)

by Duncan Pile

  Nature’s Master

  Book 4 of the

  Nature Mage Series

  Duncan Pile

  Published in 2016 by Duncan Pile

  Copyright © Duncan Pile 2016

  First Edition

  The author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Dedication

  For Levi, who I couldn’t love more if he were my own son.

  Foreword and Acknowledgements

  Writing an epic fantasy series has long been a dream of mine; one of those accomplishments I simply have to get under my belt before shuffling off this mortal coil, and now, after nine years hard work, it’s done. I am as delighted as I am exhausted.

  As always there are people to thank. In no particular order, I’d like to express my gratitude to several good folk: the inestimable John Jarrold, my agent, whose affirmation and support has finally convinced me I’m in the right business; to James Ledsham for his extraordinary artwork; to David Tod, for his friendship and open-hearted love of the series (I covet the next release of the Tod Report); to Jon Prince, Jenny Stapleton, David Shorto and Claudio Franco, my test readers, who critique my writing and always offer suggestions that make it to the final manuscript; to Ian Sharpley, who helped me understand Antoine, and lastly to my darling Chanel who offers me nothing but encouragement.

  That’s enough from me. Enjoy Nature’s Master!

  Prologue

  Chloe lived less than a dozen miles from Helioport’s walls, but it might as well have been a hundred. She’d left the city a long time ago, and was happy with the life she knew in Caleb’s Brook. She kept a modest smallholding – raising pigs and chickens – and cultivated a small field of crops for market. It was a good life; a little lonely perhaps, but being self-sufficient brought her a great deal of satisfaction.

  A knock sounded at the door. Chloe frowned; she’d already started preparing for bed. Her hair was tied back, her face scrubbed, and she was just scribbling a note in her calendar, reminding her to pick up fresh seed for the chickens on the morrow.

  There was only one person who’d brave the rain and the cold to see her so late in the evening. Sighing, she pulled her robe tight and cinched the sash around her waist. Her modesty assured, she shuffled across the floorboards in her house shoes, opened the door a crack and peered out.

  “Brought you some wood for the fire, Chloe,” a deep voice said. As expected, it was Belom, her untiring suitor.

  “Come in,” she said, trying to keep the weariness from her voice. She was tired and wanted to sleep, but it wouldn’t do to turn Belom away when he’d clearly been labouring on her behalf. Belom stepped over the threshold. He was a large man; big enough to make anyone think twice, with gruff, dark features. A thatch of black whiskers covered his chin, and his hands were huge and strong. Contrary to his appearance, Chloe knew Belom to be a gentle man, using those hands to cradle and protect rather than to crush and destroy.

  Beyond a doubt, Belom was in love with her. He’d declared his interest at the Midwinter Feast and, though she’d turned him away, had remained solicitous ever since. He’d never asked her again but often stopped by to visit, and she knew he would do anything for her. Only last week he’d brought her a gift – a delicate carving of a squirrel, small enough to sit in the palm of her hand – and on cold nights like this he brought her firewood, though not usually so late at night.

  She closed the door behind him and rubbed her hands together to combat the chill that had seeped into the room. “You’re too good to me,” she said, and found that she meant it.

  Belom stacked the logs by her waning fire and fed several of them to the flames. Once the blaze was burning merrily, he stood up and turned to leave. Suddenly, Chloe didn’t want him to go. She’d been alone for so long.

  She’d been in love once and then painfully abandoned. She’d waited for years, hoping every day that her lover might return to her, but each lonely night had broken her heart a little more, and she’d never found the strength to give it to another man. In Helioport she’d been thought of as a beauty – something she had once considered a blessing – but it had become a curse to her in her lovelessness. She resented the many overtures, the untiring hopefuls pursuing her when all she wanted was to be left alone.

  Moving to the country had been her solution. The men of Caleb’s Brook were mostly old or married, so she was rarely troubled for her beauty. Here, she could be anonymous at last, living among people who didn’t even know she was a magician. The villagers respected her desire for privacy and left her to her own devices, with the exception of Belom, whose feelings for her were plain.

  If she were honest with herself, his feelings weren’t entirely unreciprocated. She wouldn’t say she loved him exactly, but over the past year she’d come to rely on his stalwart presence. His gentleness made her feel safe, and his obvious care for her made her feel wanted. Somewhere in the passage of time a flame had kindled within her and, though it was yet dim, it was real nonetheless. Instinctively, she reached out and took hold of his forearm, assured by its corded strength.

  “Chloe?” Belom said, his dark eyes fixing on her own. She heard the desire in his voice - not the desire of a man looking to bed a woman, but the desire of a man who longed to love and protect her.

  Another knock sounded at the door and she almost jumped out of her skin. No-one other than Belom visited at this time. Perhaps one of the villagers was in trouble, or perhaps it was trouble itself, come to her door. She caught Belom’s eye and raised a finger to her lips.

  “What do you want?” she called. “It’s too late for visitors.”

  “Chloe?” a male voice asked.

  A shiver ran up her spine. “Who is it?”

  “Chloe, open the door,” the voice responded, muffled through the wood but strangely familiar. Indicating to Belom that he should stay where he was, she eased the latch and opened it a crack. Someone stood there, but it was impossible to identify who it was in the darkness. She swung the door wider, trusting that Belom would defend her if it came to it. The stranger was cloaked from head to toe, his face hidden in the shadow of his hood.

  “What’s your business here?” she asked, trying to sound firm, but unable to control the nervous quaver in her voice. Who was this man, and how did he know her name?

  Slowly the stranger raised his hands. Long, tapered fingers pulled back the cloth and revealed a face that Chloe had never thought she’d see again.

  “Shirukai,” she whispered, and fainted dead away.

  …

  The large man leapt forward to catch her but Shirukai got there first. Lifting her in his arms, he shot the stranger a hard look and walked wordlessly to the bed. Laying her down, he placed a hand on her brow.

  “Let me help you,” the other man said, shuffling purposefully forward with a wary expression on his face.

  “There’s no need,” Shirukai snapped. Whoever this man was, he wanted him gone.

  The large man stopped in his tracks, tension evident in his stance. Shirukai needed Chloe to wake up before things got out of control. Light blossomed beneath his hand as he drew power and channelled it into her, accompanied by a whisper of reassurance about his presence.

  The stranger gasped. “What are you doing?”

>   “Helping her,” Shirukai said. Belom took a decisive step forwards, and it might have turned ugly right there and then if Chloe hadn’t opened her eyes.

  …

  “Chloe,” Belom said. “Are you alright?”

  Chloe’s eyes ranged from Belom to Shirukai and back again. It looked like Belom was about to push Shirukai aside. “Yes Belom, I’m fine.” She slowly sat up, refusing Shirukai’s help, and addressed the man she had come to know and care for; the man she had been about to kiss. “Belom, I know this is hard to understand, but I need to speak to Shirukai alone.”

  The dark-featured man hesitated.

  “I am safe with him, I promise.”

  “I’ll do as you ask,” he said, but there was a stiffness in his voice that saddened her. She didn’t want to hurt the gentle man who cared for her so solicitously, but this was Shirukai, the love of her life. She had lost her best years waiting for him, her heart yearning and then withering until she could barely remember what it meant to be happy. At long last, she had a chance to ask him the questions that had tormented her for years.

  “Thank you Belom. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Without a word, Belom left the cottage, closing the door behind him.

  “Shirukai,” Chloe breathed.

  “Who is he?” Shirukai asked, glancing at the closed door. His face was hard, his eyes flinty.

  Chloe hesitated, feeling suddenly uneasy. “Belom is a friend. A good friend.”

  “I’m sorry, it is not mine to ask,” Shirukai said.

  “I don’t want to talk about Belom,” Chloe said, looking intently into his eyes. “Where have you been all these years?”

  It was Shirukai’s turn to hesitate, his expression pained. “I’ll tell you everything, but only if you promise to listen without interruption. I’ve never breathed a word of this to anyone, and it won’t be easy.”

  “I can do that.”

  Shirukai took a deep breath and started talking.

  …

  “I can’t believe they did this to you,” Chloe said, taking his hands in her own. Her gaze sharpened perceptively, and suddenly Shirukai was afraid of what she might see. He said he’d tell her everything, and a part of him longed to do so, but he didn’t dare. He’d thought it might be like lancing a boil – painful but ultimately providing relief – but now that he came to it, he couldn’t bring himself to unveil his most dreadful secret. How could he tell her he’d murdered women and children under the Dark God’s influence? How could he tell her that Ak-Thakis still lurked in the shadowy corners of his mind? He barely slept anymore. His dreams didn’t belong to him; they were the Dark God’s tool. He couldn’t risk telling Chloe any of this, because if she knew she would never see him the same way again. How could she? The Shirukai who’d set off on his travels had been bright and optimistic, and the one who’d returned was haunted and lost. He couldn’t risk her turning from him, because if he lost her he may as well give up and offer himself to the Dark God. There had been many a night on the road when he’d clung to her like a lifeline, murmuring her name until the Dark God’s presence receded. His last, desperate hope was that she would take him back, and that her love would serve as a talisman, shielding him from darkness and keeping Ak-Thakis at bay.

  “Years were stolen from me,” he said. “In all my fever dreams, the only thing they couldn’t pervert was my memory of you. I told myself that if I ever got away, I’d find you. I knew you’d probably be married, but at the very least I owed you an explanation.” He paused, afraid to voice the question he was dying to ask. He’d been gone for four long years; no-one could be expected to wait that long.

  Chloe looked at him in inscrutable silence, heightening his anxiety. “I never married,” she said at last. Shirukai breathed a sigh of relief. “But that doesn’t mean you and I…”

  “You mean you’re seeing someone? Is it Belom?”

  She shook her head emphatically. “I’m not seeing anyone, and I told you, Belom is just a friend. Perhaps given time I could have grown to love him.”

  The first thing Shirukai felt was a surge of jealousy so ugly it made his temples pulse, but then he realised what she’d said – “I could have grown to love him.”

  “Does that mean you could love me instead?”

  “I don’t know Kai,” she said, but the thrill of hearing his old pet on her lips gave him hope. “It’s like you’re back from the dead. I can’t just pick up where we left off.”

  “Then maybe I can visit you? I could come by every day!”

  Chloe smiled. She was as beautiful as he remembered; maybe more so. “Once or twice a week will do to start with.”

  “I can live with that,” he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face – the first he’d given in years.

  “Oh Kai,” Chloe said, her reserve crumbling. She reached out and touched his cheek with trembling fingers. “I missed you so much…”

  One

  Emmy sat in the middle of the infirmary bed, arms clasped tightly around her knees. She rocked endlessly back and forth, fending off the relentless entanglement of despair that reached up from some deep, dark place and tried to drag her down.

  A healer came in, followed by Hephistole. The chancellor was carrying a large silver tray, on which sat a steaming teapot and a single matching cup. “Emmy, my dear,” he said, placing it on her bedside table. He sat on the bed and took her hands in his own. “How are you feeling?”

  Emmy struggled to respond. She could tell from the way his inquisitive eyes searched her own that he was deeply concerned, but somehow that failed to touch her. She felt distant from him, from everyone in fact, as if they were behind a wall of impenetrable glass. Their voices were muted, their care for her muffled. In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to speak and just shook her head numbly. She was weary of feeling like this. It was as if some crucial part of her had been destroyed during the battle in the temple; the part that made her smile, and laugh, and feel good. Even Gaspi felt like a shadowy figure on the periphery of her awareness. They’d only been back a couple of days, but he’d been by her side as much as he possibly could, holding her hand or just keeping her company. In some distant part of her mind she knew that he was being caring, but in the vacuum where her emotions had once lived, that meant very little to her.

  “I want you to drink this,” Hephistole said, indicating the pot of tea. “I know you’re feeling lost right now, but this will help you find your way back.”

  Emmy nodded listlessly. She didn’t understand what he was saying, but it was easier to go along than to resist.

  “Let’s have some right now,” he said, pouring her a cup and pressing it carefully into her hands. Dimly, she noticed it was dark in colour and smelled of something spicy. “Drink up!”

  Obediently, she raised the cup to her lips and took a sip. It was hot and bitter on her tongue but she swallowed it anyway, feeling it dribble thickly down her throat.

  “Keep going, all of it.” She did as she was told, tipping the cup back until the last dregs were gone. “Well done,” Hephistole said, standing up and kissing the crown of her head. “Irvine, please take special care of her. This harm came to her while performing a great service – one that has helped us all.”

  “Yes Chancellor,” the healer responded. “I’ll keep an eye on her personally.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be back tomorrow with more tea. Until then, please continue to give her the normal restoratives.”

  “Of course.”

  “Emea, I have to go,” Hephistole said. “Try and get some rest and I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

  Emmy stared at him blankly, unsure if he was expecting a response. Finally she gave a brief nod, and he turned and walked away. Drowsiness stole over her and, with the sticky residue of the tea on her lips, she closed her eyes and drifted into oblivion.

  …

  Emmy felt a little better when she awoke. Sunlight was beaming through the window, lighting up a thousand floating dust motes
, which swirled through the air in lazy patterns. Emmy felt the faintest glimmer of pleasure and a tiny smile played on her lips.

  “You’re awake,” Gaspi said, entering the room. He hurried to her bedside and kissed her warmly. “How are you feeling?”

  She met his gaze and held it for a moment. “Better,” she said. It was the first word she’d spoken in days.

  “Healer!” Gaspi called, rising to his feet. “Emmy, you spoke! Are you recovering?”

  Footsteps sounded from the corridor and the chief healer entered the room. “You called?”

  “Emmy just spoke,” Gaspi said. “She said she’s feeling better!”

  “Alright young man, calm down,” the chief healer said. He lifted Emmy’s chin with a gentle hand, looking carefully into her eyes. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I’m actually here,” Emmy said.

  “Hephistole and his teas,” the healer said with an incredulous shake of his head. “Tell me, on a scale of one to ten, one being terrible and ten being how you usually feel, where would you place yourself?”

  Emmy thought about it for a moment. She’d definitely turned a corner, but she still felt bruised inside. Instead of numbness she was keenly aware of her fragility. “Call it a three.”

  “Three is good,” the chief healer said. “Hephistole will bring more tea later today, so hopefully you’ll be in even better shape by tomorrow.” He clasped Gaspi’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you two alone,” he said, and left the room.

  “I was so worried,” Gaspi said, taking her hands and kissing her once more.

  Emmy smiled at him wearily, appreciative of his care but not strong enough to return his affections. “There’s still a long way to go, but it’s a start.”