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

by Duncan Pile

  Hephistole opened his mouth to speak but Gaspi rushed on, anticipating the chancellor’s objection. “I know! All the spirits need to be present when I finally face Sestin, and that means Emmy has to be there too, but not before it’s absolutely necessary. If you gave us a pair of enchanted amulets, she could stay in the infirmary during the battle, and transport to my side when the time comes.”

  Hephistole paused, thinking it through, and then broke into a broad smile – the first Gaspi has seen from him in days. “Of course! I have to tell you, this is a weight off my mind. A battlefield is no place for a healer.”

  “Then you’ll give us the amulets?”

  “Of course!”

  Gaspi felt an enormous rush of relief. “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you,” Hephistole said. “I should have thought of this ages ago. But what of Rimulth and Lydia? They could do the same.”

  It was Gaspi’s turn to hesitate. What would Taurnil think, knowing that he chose to keep Emmy out of danger but failed to do the same for Lydia? “It’s different,” he said at last. “Rimulth and Lydia have made their choice and I think they’re right. Both of them wield tremendous offensive powers through the spirits and could make a real difference in the battle.”

  Hephistole nodded thoughtfully. “It goes against the grain to expose a single student to danger, but we live in extraordinary times. So be it. The three of you will fight at each other’s sides during the battle, along with Taurnil, I assume?”

  Gaspi laughed. “You think he’d be anywhere else? There isn’t a force in Antropel that could keep him away.”

  “I expect you’re right,” Hephistole said.

  Gaspi reached within his robe and withdrew a dusty clay sphere, which he offered to Hephistole. “Reckon you can make use of this?”

  Hephistole took it in his long, slender fingers. “Isn’t that one of your spell-traps?”

  “Yup,” Gaspi said.

  Hephistole’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “What does it do?”

  “This one turns the ground into a swamp.”

  “This one?” Hephistole said. “You mean there are more?”

  “Twenty in total, carrying four different enchantments – some like the one you’re holding and others that cause roots to ensnare the enemy’s feet. The third type summons a lightning strike and the fourth super-heats any metal in its vicinity.”

  “My goodness!” Hephistole said. “But how have you managed this? These are sophisticated enchantments, and you’re already busy from dawn till dusk.”

  “I’ve had trouble sleeping recently,” Gaspi said with a shrug. “Figured I’d make the most of the time.”

  Hephistole frowned. “Gaspi, you of all people need to be rested before the battle.”

  “I know,” Gaspi said. “Honestly, don’t worry. I’ll get some rest tonight.”

  “I have your word?”

  “I promise.”

  “Alright then,” Hephistole said, mollified. He peered intently at the sphere in his hand. “I must say, this is a most welcome surprise. These could be very useful indeed.”

  “Only if you use them before battle is joined. The magic can’t distinguish friend from foe, which means you have to cast it before the armies are all mixed up. We don’t want to hurt out own troops.”

  “Absolutely. So we fling them from the walls when the enemy’s attacking?” Hephistole said.

  “Exactly. On the first charge.”

  “Not the first,” Hephistole said with a shake of his head. “We need to give the pits a chance to work. Trask says they’ll lose dozens of men to the spikes – anywhere up to a couple of hundred.”

  “After the pits have collapsed then, while they’re milling around trying to sort themselves out.”

  “That should work. You’ll need to be up on the wall to cast them.”

  Gaspi shook his head. “I want to be ready to fight in case something nasty rears its head. Besides, you should spread them out, all the way along the wall. They’ll do much more damage that way.”

  “So who will cast them? Other magicians?”

  “Anyone. The enchantment is triggered when the casing shatters, so we can put these in the hands of ordinary guards and they’ll be just as effective.”

  “Then I suggest you entrust them to Tobias,” Hephistole said. “He’ll know best how to deploy them.”

  “I’ll find him later today,” Gaspi said.

  “Excellent work Gaspi. This could make a real difference.”

  “I hope so.”

  They fell silent for a moment before Gaspi spoke again. “I wish we could plan the rest of the battle – you know, after the pits are full and all the traps have been thrown.” He felt confident about the first engagement, but beyond that there was little they could control.

  “We’re all subject to the same uncertainties,” Hephistole said. “A battle is a living, blood-soaked thing, impossible to hold to a course of our choosing.”

  “I’m dreading it,” Gaspi admitted.

  “Me too,” Hephistole said. “Me too.”

  …

  Gaspi bent over his broth, spooning it into his mouth without saying a word. The others ate in silence too, including Taurnil, whose customary grunts of pleasure were noticeably absent. Emmy stared out of the window, her eyes unfocussed.

  It was more than a little strange, eating in peace and quiet, knowing all the while that their enemies would soon be upon them, their hearts full of violence. If worse came to worst, murderous foes would stream through the streets, perhaps ransack this very room, determined to steal the breath from their bodies.

  The disparity between now and then was impossible to come to terms with. From time to time, when his mind wandered, Gaspi momentarily forgot about the upcoming battle before being jolted back to reality, when fear would rise to the surface once more.

  A palpable hush hung over the streets of Helioport, as if the whole city was holding its breath. Guards rushed about on a thousand last-minute errands, speaking in urgent undertones and only when necessary. The peculiar contrast of frantic activity and strained silence put Gaspi on edge, and looking around, he saw the same tension in his friends’ taut expressions. It felt like a misplaced word, a dropped object or even a careless whisper could bring calamity down on all of their heads.

  Tomorrow would be worse. Hephistole expected Ferast’s army to arrive on the plain, and had called a halt to all but the most crucial preparations. Robbed of their distractions, the people of Helioport would wait, poised on a knife-edge of anticipation.

  Gaspi swallowed another mouthful of broth, but didn’t even taste it. The waiting had become unbearable. Crazy though it was to wish for battle, part of him wanted it to begin, because then at least he could take a hand in its course. It was pointless to dwell on it, but he couldn’t seem to think of anything else.

  Twenty-eight

  “Four days?” Hephistole said to a breathless Rimulth, who has sprinted from his room the moment he transported. The chancellor grasped him by the shoulders. “Are you sure?”

  “Based on what Trask said about how fast an army could travel, yes.”

  “Any chance you could be erring on the side of caution?” Hephistole asked.

  Rimulth shook his head. “It could be longer. The terrain looked pretty rough.”

  Hephistole released him and slumped heavily into a chair. “They won’t make it in time,” he said. “I had not dared to hope Baard would arrive before the battle, but to miss it by so slender a margin…” He sounded weary, and why shouldn’t he, hearing that their best hope was no hope at all?

  “I’m sorry,” Rimulth said, feeling guilty for raising and dashing the chancellor’s hopes in a single moment.

  “Please Rimulth, no apologies,” Hephistole said with a weak smile. “I don’t know what we’d have done without you this last couple of weeks. This is just very hard to accept. Baard will arrive in time to discover a pile of fresh corpses, though whether ours or the enemies’ is
yet to be decided.”

  Rimulth didn’t dispute the point.

  “What can you tell me of Ferast’s army?” Hephistole asked. “You must have seen it when crossing the plain.”

  “It’s hard to miss,” Rimulth said with a grimace. “They are sheltering behind a line of hills that stretch from the western edge of the floodplain.”

  “The Argent Hills,” Hephistole said. “Old mining territory, half a day’s march from the walls. They will be with us by tomorrow.”

  “Chancellor…” Rimulth began tentatively.

  “Go ahead,” Hephistole said.

  “How long can we hold them off for? If we make the battle last a few days, Baard might yet reach us.”

  Hephistole regarded him with something close to sympathy. “Trust me Rimulth, we will do everything we can to hold them off, but Helioport’s wall wasn’t built with defence in mind, or at least not in any serious way. It’s more of a boundary than a battlement. I won’t lie to you – Tobias believes the battle will be over in a single day.”

  “Oh…I see,” Rimulth said as the wind left his sails.

  Hephistole smiled at him. “You’ve done all you can, Rimulth. Go have some food, spend time with your friends. I don’t think you’ll need to go scouting again.”

  Rimulth nodded and took his leave, transporting down to the Atrium and then up to the Warren. He went to his room and lay on his bed, clutching the enchanted amulet. It was infuriating to think of Baard being so close and yet unable to help them. There had to be something he could do! As he lay there, an idea begun to form in his mind. It was highly dangerous, putting both his own life and that of the air spirit at risk, but he couldn’t let it go. Rising from his bed, he left the room in a hurry. He needed to talk to Gaspi.

  …

  “Come in,” Gaspi’s voice called, and Rimulth opened the door and walked in. Gaspi was sitting on the edge of the bed and Emea was standing nearby, her hair in disarray as if she’d just been lying down. Rimulth felt a twinge of guilt, knowing he’d interrupted what might be their last private moment before the battle. Still, this was important.

  “Hi Rimulth,” Emmy said, giving him a hug.

  “What’s going on mate?” Gaspi asked. “You look pretty stirred-up.”

  “I found Baard.”

  Gaspi sprang to his feet. “The ogres are here? You’re kidding!”

  “Not quite,” Rimulth said. “Ferast’s army will arrive tomorrow, and the ogres are still four or five days away. Hephistole says they won’t get here in time.”

  Emmy looked at him shrewdly. “But you don’t agree.”

  “I’m not sure, but it’s got to be worth a try. Who knows how fast ogres can move if they want to?”

  “What do you have in mind?” Gaspi asked.

  “I want to send the air spirit out with the amulet. It can land once it reaches the army and I’ll transport, just like I’ve been doing for the last couple of weeks. I’ll talk to Baard and see what he thinks.”

  “Sounds like a good idea to me. Why do you look so worried?” Gaspi said.

  “I’d be putting the air spirit in danger. Last time we flew over a bunch of ogres they thought it was lunch, remember? And what if it lands in the midst of them and they tear it apart before I can transport?”

  “Fair point,” Gaspi said.

  “Why not land a distance away and walk in alone?” Emmy asked.

  “There’s no time, and besides, who’s to say what the ogres will do to me unless Baard is there to control them? Most of them won’t know I’m his friend, and some might not care if they did.”

  “So you mean to find Baard, fly straight in and transport right in front of him?” Gaspi said.

  “Pretty much,” Rimulth said. “What do you think?”

  Gaspi sat down and held a hand out to Loreill, who was huddled with Lilly in the corner. The earth elemental separated himself and scampered over. He climbed Gaspi’s robe and settled in his lap.

  “What do you think, Loreill?” Gaspi murmured, and fell silent for long moments, looking preoccupied. After a while he looked up. “They’re okay with it Rimulth, if we think it’s for the best…”

  “And do we? Do you? I mean, we all know the elementals are here for a reason. They need to be present when we face Sestin.”

  Gaspi frowned. “It’s a risk. If the quest to Pell taught us anything, it’s that the spirits are central to our battle against Sestin. I wouldn’t want to face him without them.”

  “So you’re saying I shouldn’t do it?” Rimulth said, crestfallen. He was convinced this was the right thing to do.

  “I’m saying we can’t do it lightly. It might be that Baard and his ogres will play a crucial role too, and without them, all might be lost. I guess it comes down to instinct. What do you reckon Emmy?”

  Emmy had been watching Rimulth closely the entire time. “I think this is Rimulth’s choice,” she said at last.

  “Good call,” Gaspi said. “Rimulth, what do you want to do?”

  Rimulth didn’t hesitate. “I leave right away.”

  Gaspi clasped his shoulder. “Be safe.”

  …

  Rimulth tied the amulet around the air spirit’s neck and carried it to his open window. “Fly swiftly,” he said and the hawk took off, speeding away from him like an arrow. It dwindled to a tiny speck and disappeared into the clouds, which boiled low and heavy over the city that cold, wintry evening. Rimulth closed the window and moved to the bed. He lay down, plumping his pillow and wriggling until he found a comfortable position. He’d learned the hard way that long hours away from his body could leave him stiff and in pain if he didn’t arrange himself properly beforehand. He closed his eyes and reached out to the spirit’s consciousness – something that, after months of practice, came as naturally as taking hold of a friend’s hand. He touched the elemental’s otherworldly mind and willed himself to see through its eyes. In a heartbeat he was there; a thousand feet in the air, the land stretching vividly below him.

  Rimulth smiled to himself, revelling in the thrill of flight. He reached out to the spirit, embodying it as fully as he knew how. He could feel the exhilarating rush of the wind, parting around its streamlined body and coursing through its feathers. The spirit welcomed him, taking pleasure in his closeness.

  The spirit flew high, far beyond the range of any bow, but Rimulth had never felt so exposed as they crossed the closest of the Argent Hills and Ferast’s army filled his sight – a swarm of armoured men settling down for the night, cook fires springing up across the plain.

  Fearful that Ferast might be able to detect his presence, Rimulth urged the air spirit to fly higher still. Elemental magic worked differently to traditional magic – an alternative stream, with a signature all of its own – but Rimulth didn’t like leaving anything to chance. They left the army behind and sped across the plain, heading for the hills that bordered its northern edge; the first foothills of a mountain range that rose to scrape the sky in the distance. Rimulth had scouted the area only hours previously, and had come across the ogres some distance into the hills. Baard needed to have made significant progress since then, if he and his army of ogres were going to have any chance of coming to Helioport’s aid.

  The terrain below was rocky, strewn with boulder falls and gullies, with barely a trail in sight. An army of men would get bogged down there for weeks, but he held to hope that an army of ogres would find the passage easier.

  It was dark when he came across the first of Baard’s troops. The ground was dotted with campfires, but it was hard to make out much else through the trees. He urged the air spirit to swoop lower, trusting the darkness to protect them from archers. The ogres were mostly asleep, their enormous forms stretched out across the ground without any semblance of order – a haphazard gathering of brutes that filled the hills for a goodly distance.

  Rimulth had hoped to find a command tent, but the ogres slept without shelter, which made finding Baard that much harder. He turned his attention
to the largest clusters of troops, looking for a smaller form among the hulking silhouettes of sleeping Kaas and Urzaaks, which in itself was a strange thought. In any gathering of men Baard was a giant, but among the ogres he was a runt.

  The moon was high when he found what he was looking for – a group of ogres sleeping in protective formation around a smaller figure. Four Kaas stood sentry, each holding a gigantic spear. Rimulth felt an enormous rush of relief. There, he urged the air spirit, which swooped down and circled above the sleepers. Rimulth’s heart was in his mouth – the timing would have to be perfect. He saw that there was room enough to land at Baard’s side. Now! The spirit flew down on silent wings and landed with outstretched talons.

  A deep voice growled an unintelligible query from beyond the perimeter. Anxiously, Rimulth cast his sight back into his body and rushed to his feet before his vision had even resolved itself. He grabbed the amulet and barked the word of command.

  The magic of transportation snatched him up, gripping him for long, dizzying moments before dropping him at the air spirit’s side. “Fly!” he said, sending it flapping away into the trees, and fell to his knees beside the sleeping warrior.

  “Baard!” he cried, shaking the giant’s shoulders. Grunts of alarm sounded from Baard’s fellow sleepers, and in moments a host of angry ogres were lumbering to their feet.

  “BAARD!” he bellowed, shaking him even harder, and the red-bearded man woke at last, squinting at him blearily.

  Huge hands gripped Rimulth’s arms as Baard’s eyes came into focus. Rimulth was hauled to his feet and someone grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking his head to one side. A huge knife, large as a sword, was held to his exposed throat.

  “Who’s that?” Baard said in a sleep-befuddled voice.

  “Baard, it’s me, Rimulth!” The knife-wielder tightened his grip. Belatedly, Rimulth remembered that he was a magician. He reached within, trying to summon power, but it was too late. The knife wielder’s arm tensed, ready to slit his throat.

  “Wait,” Baard said. The arm froze, quivering. Baard rose to his feet and peered into Rimulth’s face, his eyes widening in recognition. “Let ’im go. He’s a friend.” The arm released him and Rimulth fell to his knees, his limbs shaking. His hands sunk into the freezing mulch beneath him.