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

by Duncan Pile

  Khul returned a short time later. “It’s done.”

  “Then let’s get movin’,” Baard said.

  Khul turned around and dropped to one knee.

  Baard hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to arrive at the battle riding piggy-back – no-one would ever let him live it down! – but with his friends’ lives at stake, time was of the essence. He clambered up the Kaas’ back and locked his weary arms around the ogre’s neck. Khul rose to his feet and secured Baard’s legs with his thick, muscular arms.

  Baard looked out over the army, trying to pretend that he didn’t feel ridiculous. “Move out!” he roared, and Khul lurched into motion. Baard’s weary, aching body was jostled with every massive stride, but he felt a thrill of anticipation as the army swept across the plain, moving swiftly as a storm.

  …

  Ferast watched the dJin tear into the defenders, revelling in the bloodshed and anguish. He remained hidden within his magical concealment – in the chaos of battle no-one was safe, and he would not expose himself to a stray arrow or a lucky thrust of a knife. It was unthinkable that one of Antropel’s most powerful magicians might be killed by a farmer with a rusty blade. Sestin had taken similar precautions, using the bone golem to engage in battle while his body was far from danger, protected by powerful magic. If it was good enough for Sestin, it was good enough for him.

  He watched as Helioport’s guards put up a fight. The dJin were effective, shredding through leather and even chainmail with their vicious claws. Even as he watched, a guard took a grievous wound on the thigh and fell to the ground, blood spurting from a severed artery. The dJin were on him in a heartbeat, tearing him to shreds before he could bleed out. The man’s shrieks were so piercing they rose above the din of battle, reaching Ferast’s ears. His smile broadened and he felt a rush of pleasure. His Master wasn’t liberal with praise, but even Sestin had to be pleased with him for bringing the dJin to their aid.

  Safe behind his magical veil, he watched as the dJin harried Helioport’s troops, driving them out of the college and back towards the city gates. The stragglers were swarmed by the dJin, leaping on their backs and tearing their throats out from behind. With every man that fell, Ferast’s satisfaction grew. He revelled in the orgy of death, thrumming with destructive energies. He was born for this.

  …

  Gaspi fought alongside Taurnil in the rear-guard as they retreated, killing any dJin that came within reach. They were almost at the gate now, and would soon be forced out onto the plain, where the rest of Sestin’s force awaited. Sabu fought alongside them, silver blades flashing as he cut a bloody trail through the dJin. Jaim and Jonn were embattled nearby, decimating their enemies with their deadly form of sword and sorcery. Trask and Hephistole were in the thick of it too, the drillmaster barking orders, his voice amplified by Hephistole to reach the whole force. Power flowed from the arch-mage’s fingertips, shielding a dozen nearby guards as they fended off the attackers, both human and demonic.

  A dJin flung itself at Gaspi, claws swiping at his face, but Gaspi thrust a shield in its face and flung it away without breaking stride. Taurnil was on it in a moment, shattering its skull with a single thrust of his staff. The demon’s body was engulfed in billowing blue flame, and every nearby dJin shrieked and ran away, seeking safer prey.

  They were at the gate now, driven forward by the invading army. A man in black commanded them, wielding a huge, curved scimitar and directing the enemy forces. There was no choice but to pass through the gate.

  “Hold formation, and don’t let yourselves be scattered!” Trask roared. “The enemy awaits but we are not defeated!”

  Gaspi and Taurnil remained at the rear, along with Sabu and many of their fiercest fighters, giving everything they had to hold the line while the bulk of the defenders moved through the gate. For long minutes it was all Gaspi could do to repel the attacks. He and Taurnil fought tooth and nail to hold the line, fending off blow after blow. Time became a blur, and it was all he could do to stay alive.

  Trask waited until most of the guardsmen were through before giving the order for a full retreat. Gaspi grabbed Taurnil by the arm and together they hurried through the gate, the rest of the rearguard rushing alongside them. He ran out onto the plain and stopped in his tracks. Rimulth had told him what to expect, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the waiting army. The enemy had routed them with ease, expelling them from the city, and half their troops were yet to draw a blade! Gaspi spun around, trying to get a sense of how many defenders remained. Not enough! There were perhaps a thousand in all, standing against a force many times their number. The man in black had driven them to a final place of slaughter.

  Even now, the pursuing mercenaries were spilling from the gate, fanning out and closing the circle around what was left of Helioport’s army. The dJin came next, scampering at their heels, and last to emerge was the golem, striding out onto the plain where it towered over the troops. “Attack!” it roared, and enemies threw themselves at the defenders on all sides.

  Gaspi’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t going to give up until the last breath left his body. If this was to be their last stand, he was going to take the fight to Sestin. A shared glance with Taurnil told him his friend was thinking the same thing. Taurnil gave a grim nod. His hands tightened around his staff and Gaspi started moving in the direction of the golem. A blood-curdling scream sounded from among the defenders. Gaspi spun around, seeking the source of that dreadful cry. Demon!

  Most of the demons had been destroyed, but it seemed that Sestin had left some of his minions with the second half of the army, including the mist-like, amorphous creatures Gaspi had seen before the assault began, and which even now were attacking the guards. It was clear they were a much greater danger than the dJin. The scream sounded again, issuing from the mouth of a guardsman, caught within the demon’s nebulous form. It had drifted over him and trapped him within. His eyes were bulging, his hands tearing at his hair. Horror distorted his features, stretching them beyond recognition. His whole body tensed and spasmed, his eyes rolled up until only the whites were showing, and the man collapsed to the ground.

  Gaspi hit it with a mighty force strike, but the spell passed right through it without doing any damage. Loreill stirred in his mind, reaching out with urgency. Gaspi could sense him transforming, leaving the garden and zipping across the city, causing himself immense pain in the process. The spirit was clear – he would deal with the mist demons himself.

  There he was, a blur of vivid green light flying over the wall of the city and heading straight for the demon even as it neared another defender, tendrils of mist reaching for him. The collision was monumental, Loreill’s healing energies clashing with the destructive power of the demon. Gaspi felt like he’d been swamped by a giant wave, making him reel. Defender and attacker alike stopped fighting, and the bone golem swung its head towards the detonation. Loreill’s energies flared and sizzled, a coruscation of bright green light that warred against the demon’s surging, ruinous force. Gaspi feared for Loreill, now under Sestin’s gaze, but at that moment the demon was finally vanquished, unable to bear the touch of Loreill’s healing energies.

  In the aftermath of the clash, Gaspi realised that Loreill was no longer in pain. Of course! Out on the plain, surrounded by grass and shrubbery, however trampled, Loreill was back in his element. Before Gaspi could even give the command, the earth elemental shot towards the remaining mist demon and the battlefield was rocked by another resounding concussion. The golem was moving in Loreill’s direction now, which made Gaspi’s heart clench with fear. As far as he knew, elementals were not susceptible to harm in their natural form, but this was Shirukai Sestin – a person who had delved more deeply into dark magic than any magician alive – who knew what he could do?

  Loreill, Flee! Loreill continued to assault the mist demon with everything he had. Flee! Sestin is coming! The mist demon was defeated at last; its swirling form suddenly flooded with green light a
nd dispersing into the air.

  The golem reached out a hand, glowing with a fell, nauseating light. LOREILL! It snatched at the spirit but Loreill was no longer there, shooting away from the battle and back over the city wall.

  Gaspi grabbed Taurnil’s shoulder and let out an explosive sigh of relief. Too close!

  A throat-ripping snarl brought him back to the present. Gaspi spun to find a vaerg leaping through the air, saliva dripping from its blackened, many-fanged maw. Taurnil got there first, knocking it aside with a heavy thrust of his staff. He planted a foot on its head before it could rise and crushed its skull with a hard, vertical blow. He fell back to Gaspi’s side, gore dripping from his staff as enemies closed in on all sides.

  Mercenaries were attacking Helioport’s army on every flank. Everywhere Gaspi looked, defenders were falling. At this rate, they’d all be dead within minutes! Hephistole, who stood with Trask at the heart of the remaining army, raised fiercely glowing hands and with a loud cry, cast a complex defensive spell. An opaque dome of light sprang forth, spreading out until it covered the entire group of defenders. Any mercenary it touched was thrown back as if struck by lightning, separating the remnants of Helioport’s army from the enemy. Vaergs and demons were unaffected, passing through the barrier as if it didn’t exist. It was a reprieve, allowing the defenders to deal with the remainder of Sestin’s foul summonings without having to worry about taking a sword in the back.

  Most of the demons had been vanquished by that time – the result of a focussed assault by Gaspi and his friends, who had risked their necks several times to defeat their most deadly foes. Gaspi and Taurnil had killed the great, segmented worm, along with the eyeless, razor-beaked monster that had killed so many defenders at the college gate. Lydia had made short work of the Bale-beasts and Loreill had killed the mist demons. The Imps and dJin had been killed in the main by ordinary guardsmen, fighting with enchanted weapons. All that remained of Sestin’s minions were a handful of the Imps, a few dozen dJin and the pair of giant, slug-like beasts – the last of the greater demons. Arrows and blades alike had pierced them, only to be dissolved in moments by their terrible acid. Gaspi summoned power, but before he could act, the demon was engulfed by a torrent of flame. Lydia! There she was, feet planted and head flung back, chanting loudly as fire shot from her fingertips. The dragon blazed at her side, glowing with white-hot elemental power.

  The demon was flung away by the fiery attack, acid spattering several mercenaries. The men cried out, ripping their armour off as acid seared their flesh. The slug righted itself, blackened and burned and with a steaming chunk missing from its side, but it was far from beaten. Rearing up, it launched itself at Lydia, hunching across the ground at alarming speed. Lydia began to chant once more, power building at her fingertips, but the demon was already upon her, rearing up once more. A narrow slit that had to be its mouth yawned open, revealing row upon row of razor sharp teeth. Lydia backed away but stumbled over a fallen guardsman and fell to her back, scrambling away as fast as she could.

  The fire spirit glowed hotly, ready to defend her.

  “No!” Taurnil cried and sprang into motion, sprinting towards the demon with his fiery staff held aloft.

  Gaspi beat them both to it, striking out at the rearing beast with a bolt of searing white lightning. Once again it was thrown away, acid spattering more of Sestin’s men, and once again it righted itself, smoking and steaming. Another great gash had appeared in its flesh where Gaspi’s spell had struck it.

  It lurched into motion again, rushing at Lydia once more, but she was already back on her feet, chanting loudly. With a mighty cry, she released another stream of flame, which billowed and roared around the demon’s head. Gaspi drew power again, channeling the heat in the air and forging a flame strike of his own. He focused the gathered energy and launched a sizzling bar of white-hot fire, which struck the demon’s fleshy bulk and engulfed it entirely.

  The slug reared, squealing horribly. It writhed and threw itself about, but it couldn’t escape the all-consuming blaze. Its flesh began to bubble and the squealing intensified, hurting Gaspi’s ears until mercifully, the beast dissolved in a sudden splash of acid. Gaspi released his spell and the smoke began to clear, revealing a bubbling puddle on the ground where the demon had been.

  Gaspi exchanged a glance with Lydia, who nodded grimly and moved in the direction of the other slug-like demon, which was wreaking havoc among the defenders, leaving men dreadfully burned or dead in its wake. Gaspi rushed after her, drawing power as he ran.

  “Gasp! The barrier!” Taurnil cried. Gaspi looked up to find that Hephistole’s summoned dome was under siege. The golem was bashing at it with enormous fists and every collision was stretching the protective magic to breaking point. The dome’s glow dimmed and then steadied a dozen times, evidence of the battle between the arch-mages. Gaspi glanced at Hephistole and saw that his face was grey and drawn, his forehead glistening with a sheen of sweat. It was clearly taking everything he had to hold the spell in place.

  The golem roared and struck the barrier once more. It dimmed and fluctuated, the spell almost broken. All around the perimeter, mercenaries clamoured and brandished their weapons, ready to attack the moment the barrier fell. With a triumphant below, the golem speared both hands into the dome, making the air around its wrists ripple. Giant bony claws ripped and tore at the hole, widening the rent until the magic finally gave way and the dome blinked out of existence. Hephistole collapsed and was caught by Trask, who lowered him to the ground, even as the mercenary army attacked.

  Gaspi rushed to the chancellor’s side and fell to his knees. “Is he…” he began, but then he saw a pulse flickering faintly in Hephistole’s neck.

  “Yes lad he’s alive,” Trask said. “Can you help him?”

  Gaspi shook his head. “He needs a healer. The best thing I can do right now is keep Sestin away from him.”

  “Then do it!” Trask said.

  Gaspi sprang to his feet and clasped Taurnil by the wrist. Taurnil’s strong fingers curled around his arm in response. This was it – the final battle. There was no need to say anything. He could see everything he wanted to say reflected in his best friend’s eyes.

  “The golem,” Gaspi said.

  “The golem,” Taurnil growled, nodding brusquely.

  The mercenaries’ charge shook the very ground, their battle cries filling the air, but Gaspi heard another cry too – a piercing shriek he knew so well, sounding from the skies above him. The air spirit!

  “Wait Taurn!” Gaspi said, pointing at the bone white hawk dropping from above. It circled once over his head and landed on his outstretched arm. Moments later, Rimulth appeared at his side.

  “The ogres are coming,” Rimulth said.

  “What?”

  “I went to look. We’re lost here without their help.”

  Gaspi shared a wide-eyed glance with Taurnil. Could Baard actually reach the battle in time to make a difference?

  Trask grabbed Rimulth by the shoulders. “How far?”

  “Half an hour maybe. They move fast! We just have to hold a little longer.”

  “How many?”

  “Thousands!”

  Gaspi was stunned, anxious and elated at the same time. Could they hold on long enough when so overwhelmed? It was unthinkable that Sestin might triumph when salvation was so close.

  He turned to Taurnil. “Change of plan. We stay clear of the golem and do everything we can to support the line. Anywhere it starts to weaken, we prop them up.”

  “Got it.”

  Hephistole stirred, cracking open a weary eyelid.

  “Hephistole!” Trask cried. “Did you hear that?”

  “I did,” he said, smiling wanly at Gaspi. His complexion was pale as frost. “Go! Do what you have to do.”

  Gaspi turned from the exhausted chancellor and, together with Taurnil, forced his way through the remaining defenders until he reached the front line. Even as they arrived, it threatened to give way
, the guardsmen overwhelmed by the surging mercenary forces. Taurnil sprang into the gap, limbed with power that flowed from Gaspi’s fingertips, and laid waste to the enemies around him with the sheer force of his blows. Gaspi cast spell after spell, striking out with great spears of lightning that killed dozens of men at a time. The line reformed, stronger than before and Gaspi moved on, looking for another weak spot. He and Taurnil fell into a rhythm, filling gaps in the defence and helping the guardsmen until they were in control once more.

  He wasn’t the only magician still in the fight. There were dozens of others among the defenders who, like Gaspi, were throwing strikes at the attackers and strengthening the defensive line, but despite their best efforts, Sestin’s forces were making slow but steady progress, crushing them from all sides and whittling their numbers. Gaspi ground his teeth as he fought, desperate to hold on until Baard could arrive, but it didn’t take a genius to see they were on the verge of defeat. At any moment the line might fail entirely, and Sestin’s men would run rampant among them.

  “Gasp!” Taurnil cried, pointing at another breach. Gaspi broke into a run, summoning power to his fingertips.

  Thirty-eight

  Antoine wasn’t sure exactly how it happened; only that it had. One moment he was fighting the enemy, leading his men towards certain victory, and the next he was frozen to the spot, horrified by what was happening. He remembered how he’d felt before the battle – on seeing the demons emerge from the copse, he’d understood with sudden clarity they were on the wrong side. Their ally, Shirukai Sestin, was a conscienceless tyrant, which had suddenly made perfect sense – who else would have a lieutenant like Ferast? And yet, between that moment and this, he’d fought on with an untroubled conscience, leading his men in the assault against Helioport. It was as if he’d been asleep.