by Duncan Pile
His gift! He had never explored it fully, relying instead on the superior magical strength it gave him. Sure, he’d made use of it here and there, summoning wind, stimulating growth and forging powerful strikes during combat, but had he plumbed its depths? He’d learned the rudiments of magic from the teachers at the college, and elemental magic from Heath, but there was no-one to teach him what it meant to be a Nature Mage. Was there something more he could do? Gaspi didn’t know, but one thing was for certain; if he didn’t find an extra reservoir of power, they were doomed, and the whole world with them!
Trusting to instinct, he cast his senses from his body. Up his thought rose, shooting out into the great dome of the sky. Down it plunged, through the soil and past even the most exploratory roots. His consciousness quested into the depths, past the bedrock and through vast, lightless caverns until it sunk into the fiery core of the world. Outward his senses flew, far beyond Elmera, passing over fields, villages, towns, cities, rivers, coasts, oceans and islands, soaring to every point of the compass. He was everywhere, and connected to everything. He’d never understood so clearly before that all things were one, connected, a flow of energy that manifested in a thousand, thousand forms, and yet came from the same source.
In that moment he understood the extent of his gift. He wasn’t just reaching out and sensing the vast energies flowing through the world. They were his to command!
The thought was staggering. Could he really channel such a torrent? Surely the rush of power would snuff him out in a heartbeat! Then again, what choice did he have? The flow of power from the underworld was vast – far beyond his ability to withstand, even with the elementals given to his cause. There was no other way.
With great trepidation, he reached out to the great tides of power flowing around the world and began to draw them towards him. It started gently, an inflow of energy unlike anything he’d ever felt, and quickly gathered pace. As the flow deepened, he started to feel afraid. Moment by moment the pressure built, flowing from ancient rock, turbulent skies, sea bottom, river bed, burning desert and millions upon millions of human lungs.
Falling to his knees, he cried out. It was too much. No-one could be a conduit for so much force. He tried to restrict the flow but that only made it worse. He hadn’t the power to shape or control the power coursing through him. Panicking, he strengthened his grip further and was almost overwhelmed. The walls of his mind stretched and strained, his heart racing at such a pace he thought it would give out. In some distant part of his mind he could feel Loreill trying to speak to him, but panic had him by the throat. Desperately he tried to grasp what the elemental was saying; it was a single word, repeated over and over. Yield. A door was flung open in Gaspi’s mind, letting in a wash of light. Of course! He’d already learned to yield to elemental magic; why was he now trying to control the flow of the world’s combined energies? Loreill was telling him to loose all control and become nothing more than a channel. It was the scariest thing he’d ever done, but against every self-preserving instinct he forced himself to let go and allow the energy to run wild.
And run wild it did, flooding through him with the force of a thousand rivers, but to Gaspi’s amazement he was not overwhelmed. He existed with it, alongside it. He was part of it. He was in awe, dwarfed by the forces he channelled, but he was no longer afraid. He understood at last that it was not his place to win the battle – his place was to give Nature a chance to fight back.
The torrent of power crashed against the barrier between the planes and came into contact with the dark forces that were eroding it from beneath; a spiritual collision of such catastrophic proportions it rocked the tower from the foundations up.
The energy Gaspi was channelling intensified, reacting to the threat it encountered. Healing power flowed through him with staggering force, trying to prevent a rift from opening. A roar of fury reverberated through the very walls of the tower as the Dark God fought back. Gaspi’s entire body trembled at the sound. It was like a thousand Darkmen, bellowing their hatred of all living things. The flow of healing power stuttered, and for a terrifying moment Gaspi thought it was going to fail, but then it rushed back in full force, pouring itself against the membrane. The barrier began to heal, incrementally thickening as nature’s power coursed through it. Gaspi felt a glimmer of hope. It was working!
Sestin’s chanting grew stronger as the Dark God retaliated, tearing ferociously at the membrane, which bulged outward, yielding to the pressure from below.
The world cried out, wounded, but it rallied once more, strengthening the flow that thundered through Gaspi’s being.
Sestin’s chanting rose to a shout, harsh syllables that quacked into the void. The bond-mates’ voices grew louder too, and the flow of elemental power increased. Gaspi embraced it, pouring it into the membrane.
With gritted teeth, he managed to hold on, but the scale of the conflict was beyond his comprehension. Every time he channelled more power the Dark God matched it; a ratcheting war of forces that must surely break the world in half. At any moment it felt like they would all be consumed.
As nature’s power coursed through him, Gaspi sensed the unfolding of a great catastrophe, happening somewhere in the middle of the ocean. Hundreds of miles from Antropel’s shores, the bedrock shuddered violently and a giant wave issued forth, speeding towards a waiting coast. A thousand miles to the east a mountain range quaked, sending colossal shelves of ice and snow tumbled down their slopes and burying whole towns alive.
Gaspi dug deep, searching for some extra part of himself to yield. The Dark God was in the ascendancy, and if he didn’t find some way to counter his strength, they were all doomed. He tried to diminish himself, becoming nothing more than a channel, devoid of ego, of identity, of everything except the willingness to serve. The flow of power increased, and Sestin cried out as the pressure intensified, his chanting loud and hoarse. But the dark tide was not so easily overcome, surging back against the influx of healing energy and putting immense strain on Emmy, Lydia and Rimulth, who were already channelling a riot of elemental power.
Gaspi could feel their exhaustion, the terrible strain they were under, but he could also sense their determination to hold on. The Dark God’s power beat against them, and Gaspi knew that they were all that stood between the world and utter devastation. They were nature’s last, desperate defence.
In his mind’s eye, Gaspi saw a vast rent open in the earth, swallowing a village whole. Men, women and children fell screaming into the gaping chasm and tumbled to their deaths. In Southern Antropel, liquid fire shot forth from a mountain top, pressure from beneath blowing the peak right off. Fire rained on the surrounding settlements for miles, and a dark cloud spread its greasy pall across the sky, smothering thousands of people in a thick layer of choking, black ash. In the capital city of Dernoth, men patrolled the streets with an anxious eye on the boiling skies above. Strange, dark clouds gathered and roiled, the air thick with peculiar tension, until a lightning bolt shot from the heavens and destroyed the city’s finest chapel with a mighty crack. Debris from the shattered spire cascaded to the square below, crushing dozens of scurrying citizens. Long fingers of lightning stabbed at homes and businesses, striking again and again until the entire city was ablaze.
Frantically, Gaspi searched for that extra fraction of himself to submit, making himself a more perfect conduit, but for every increment of energy he channelled, the Dark God demanded the same of Shirukai Sestin. Power met power, raging and torrential, and no quarter was given.
All of a sudden Gaspi felt a hitch in the flow of elemental magic. He glanced around fearfully, trying to see what had caused it. Distracted, he only just managed to stop himself seizing control. In the grip of nature’s power, there was no room for anything except absolute surrender. He tried to banish anxious thoughts but it was difficult, knowing that something was wrong. There it was again – a stutter that interrupted the flow of magic. He couldn’t help but glance over. The elementals were blazin
g with light, but their bond-mates looked strained to their limit. If there was a weakness, it was with one of them. The power flowing through his hands almost roped out of control, and he felt himself on the verge of being scrubbed out of existence.
He tried to calm himself but then Emmy staggered, her face pale. She was reaching the end of her strength. Gaspi’s fear turned to panic. The power he was channelling bucked and heaved like a wild beast. By some dint of extraordinary discipline, he brought his unruly thoughts under control, but not as perfectly as before.
The Dark God seized the advantage and started taking ground. His presence was drawing near, looming over them as he tore at the barrier between the planes.
Emmy was chanting wildly, trying to maintain the flow of power, but once again it fluctuated. Blanching, she pressed a splayed hand to her chest. She cried out – a cracked and desperate sound that made Gaspi’s blood run cold. She bent double, clutching her chest.
The Dark God advanced, on the verge of entering the living plane.
Suddenly, violently, Emmy straightened up, her back arching. Sweat rolled down her perfect, pale cheeks. Throwing her head back, she screamed in defiance. Pure healing power flowed from her, dazzlingly bright, frighteningly intense. It beamed into the pit, repairing some of the damage to the membrane before Emmy’s scream cut off with sudden finality. She made a strange sound, more animal than human, and collapsed to the floor, her life spent.
“Emmy!” Gaspi cried. For the briefest moment, he didn’t understand what he’d done. Loreill was screaming at him through the bond. He’d stopped chanting! The carefully interwoven cord of elemental magic had been broken. Desperately, he tried to pick it up again, but he couldn’t focus. All his thoughts were of Emmy. It couldn’t be true. She couldn’t be…
A vast surge of power scoured him, shaking him from his frozen state. He was no longer yielded to the flow of the world’s energy. It rushed against him heedlessly, a ferocious tide that cast him about like so much flotsam. He was helpless, battered by the sheer flow of power and unable to find a place of surrender. His heart was too full of loss to fight.
The Dark God roared in triumph and tore into the barrier between the planes with renewed vigour. Sestin’s chanting became a barked string of commands, each syllable forthright and imposing. The membrane between the planes gave way with a ripping sound that Gaspi felt rather than heard. A vast darkness began to rise from the pit, and even in his beleaguered state, battling for his life, Gaspi knew that all was lost.
Light blossomed around Emmy’s fallen form, intensifying by the moment. It flared and then blazed, a pillar of white fire rising from her fallen body and swelling to immensity until it was towering over the darkness in the pit. The darkness began to recede, and Gaspi found himself daring to hope. Emmy must surely be alive, to channel magic so!
The Dark God’s fury was palpable as he was pushed back. Gaspi threw himself to his knees and sought the flow of power that had almost destroyed him. This was the moment to attack; the Dark God was on the back foot, assailed by Emmy’s healing power. He needed to yield to nature’s power once more and seize the advantage. He threw his arms wide, abandoning himself entirely, and was instantly awash with an extraordinary influx of energy. It roared through him, pouring itself into the barrier between the planes, but this time it didn’t scour him. He made himself nothing, a conduit without self-interest or even identity. Broader and broader it flowed until he couldn’t see its shores. Gaspi was dwarfed by it, losing all sense of place. He could barely remember who he was. All he knew was the power of nature. The Dark God fell back, roaring, snarling, defiant, but moment by moment he was losing ground as the barrier between the planes thickened, diminishing the presence of darkness.
Sestin’s cries grew louder still; ragged, shrill snaps of sound that were thrumming with urgency.
The white light of Emmy’s power rushed out to fill the room, strengthening Gaspi as it washed over him. It was sweet, rippling about the chamber, powerful as the rising sun. Gaspi embraced it, and felt it thread itself into the weave of earth, wind, water and fire he already channelled. The barrier grew thicker under the flow of combined energies. The Dark God bellowed in defiance and rage – a sound that would surely have ripped the life from Gaspi’s body if he hadn’t been surrounded by nature’s protective forces. Sestin cried out in sudden fear, the Dark God’s power flowing through him with reckless force as Ak-Thakis made a desperate attempt to break through. The barrier thickened, growing opaque and then solidifying. The cries flowing from Sestin’s lips were inhuman, terrible to hear, but the barrier thickened once more. Sestin’s limbs began to convulse, his mouth making wide, hideous shapes as he tried to channel the power that had seized him.
Something snapped; an ending, brutal and sudden. Light blinked out, and all power ceased to flow. Gaspi fell to his knees, shattered to the point of collapse, but he couldn’t succumb to exhaustion. All his thoughts were of Emmy. He scrambled over on his hands and knees, aware of the others stirring too, and the spirits transforming in a flash of light.
Gaspi reached her prone form and stretched out a tentative hand to touch her face. She had to be alive, after channeling that extraordinary pillar of healing power. He brushed her cheek with his fingertips. Her skin was warm.
“Emmy!” he urged. “Emmy, it’s over! We won!”
She didn’t move. Her mouth was open and strangely slack. It was then that he noticed that no breath moved in her chest.
“No!” he cried, taking her by the shoulders. “You can’t be dead. You can’t be…” Tears blurred his vision as he pressed his cheek to hers. “I need you Emmy. Come back to me.”
Lydia knelt on Emmy’s other side, taking one of her hands in her own. Her face was unnaturally pale, her eyes wide with shock.
Rimulth’s hands came to rest on his shoulders. The tribesman said nothing, silently sharing his pain.
Gaspi raised his head and looked into Emmy’s beautiful brown eyes. The hazel flecks he loved so much seemed to mock him, glittering with a life of their own. He bent down and kissed her gently. He began to sob, sorrow overcoming disbelief at last. He pressed his head against her chest and wept.
A rush of feet behind him told him that Taurnil and the other warriors had entered the chamber. Baard gave a ragged cry and ran to Hephistole’s side. Sabu followed him, crouching down and pressing a hand to the chancellor’s neck.
“Emmy!” Taurnil gasped, dropping to his knees at Gaspi’s side.
“No,” Jonn whispered, sinking to the ground and stroking her hair. He lifted her head into his lap, cradling it with trembling hands. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks.
Rimulth stepped away and had a quiet word with Sabu and Baard.
Gaspi was drowning. It felt like there was nothing left in the whole world but sorrow. Emmy…gone? He could barely countenance the thought, but Emmy’s lifeless body drove the truth of it home every time he looked at her. He looked around the room, and was almost shocked to realise where they were. The pit, once swirling with mist, was empty and dark. He couldn’t see the bottom in its obscuring depths, and nor did he want to. He looked at his friends, whose devastated faces surely mirrored his own. They had won. They had stopped the Dark God from emerging into the living plane, from destroying all that was good in the world and enforcing an era of slavery and darkness. And yet there was no joy. This should be a victorious moment, but he had never felt less like celebrating. There was no happiness for him without Emmy at his side.
“Can you feel that?” Lydia said.
Confused, Gaspi glanced at her and saw that she was looking about, as if she’d heard a sound. Even more strangely, she wasn’t the only one. Rimulth was wide-eyed, his hand pressed to his chest, and even Baard was looking about with apparent curiosity. Suddenly, he felt it too; a sense of love and hope blossoming in his breast. Angrily he tried to quash it. He had no room in his heart for anything but sorrow.
It swelled and bloomed, intruding upon his grief. Ga
spi was defiant, closing himself against it, but as the feeling deepened he began to understand it didn’t come from within. The sense of love swelled to pre-eminence, but instead of driving away his sorrow, it beautified it. Lifting his head, he looked about in wonder. He knew this presence very well.
Soft, white light glimmered into being all around them, drifting in long, glowing wisps and curling around their hands. It swirled and shifted, cradling them and filling their hearts. Gaspi bowed his head, awed by a presence that was as powerful as it was gentle. There was no sense of a desire to dominate, and yet he wanted to fall on his face and worship. It was the same presence he had felt in the temple of El-Amyari. It was the sense of love he felt in his meditations, only magnified beyond measure. His previous experiences were just a shadow of this one. The white mist slowly coalesced into a rudimentary human form, neither male nor female and without facial features. Gaspi began to tremble. He wasn’t afraid, but his awe of this being went beyond conscious thought. His body was reacting to this being’s presence, humming like a stringed instrument at its maker’s touch. The figure shone so brightly he had to look away.
From somewhere deep within, Gaspi found the strength to speak. “El-Amyari,” he whispered.
There was a pause. Some have called me that. The voice was like the sound of many waters. Who do you say I am?
There could only be one answer. “You are Love.”
A sense of satisfaction emitted from the being of light. The greatest of all Names, which I accept with gladness. But we are not strangers, you and I. You have known me for years.
“You are present in my meditations,” Gaspi said.
I am always with you.
Gaspi bowed his head, comforted by Love’s presence, but nothing could soothe the profound ache in his heart. He looked into Emmy’s face and sorrow swept over him. He bent his head to her chest once more.
Would you see her restored?
Gaspi looked up, uncertain he’d understood. “Restored?”