by Duncan Pile
“Oh?” Gaspi said. “Who else is going?”
“Jonn and I have decided to compete, for one. An older student called Jaim has chosen to enter too, fighting alongside Sabu. And then there’s Everand, who’ll be teaming up with Baard.”
Gaspi felt a cold rush in his gut. “Everand?” he repeated stupidly.
Voltan looked at him shrewdly. “I thought you had settled your differences with him.”
“We had,” Gaspi said. “It’s a long story.”
“Well you’d better get used to it, as you’ll be going to the Measure together, and I’ll expect you to support each other.” Gaspi exchanged a glance with Taurnil, who clearly felt as he did, but he knew better than to say anything more in front of Voltan. “That’s enough for today. Make sure he works hard Taurnil!” the warrior mage said with the slightest of smiles.
“You know it,” Taurnil responded earnestly, eliciting another groan from Gaspi, who didn’t think Taurnil needed further encouragement to make him practice.
…
“Why do I keep having to deal with that idiot?” Gaspi asked, frustrated. “I go out of my way to avoid being around him, just so we don’t get into a fight, and now I’ll have to put up with him at the Measure. I might even have to fight him!” Loreill gave an alarmed squeak from next to him on the bench.
“Sorry Loreill,” he said, realising he’d been stroking Loreill much too forcefully. Loreill chirruped reproachfully and settled himself back down. The blazing fire made it too warm in the snug for the elemental to wrap himself around his shoulders, so they’d settled for this alternative arrangement instead.
“I know what you mean,” Taurnil said, staring at his untouched pint. “He really wound me up while you were away.”
Gaspi was silent for a moment as he thought. “When I found out about him coming onto Emmy, I wanted to tear him apart. It was really hard to hold back, but I learned a lot of stuff from Heath and forced myself to let it go. But that doesn’t mean I want anything to do with him. The only reason we’re not at each other’s throats is because I keep a decent distance between us. If I’m forced to fight him, it could be different. Emmy definitely won’t be pleased…”
“Probably not,” Taurnil agreed. “But it is what it is. If we have to fight him, we’ll just have to beat him good and proper.”
Gaspi smiled faintly at his friend’s pragmatism. “Good plan,” he said half-heartedly. He still couldn’t shake the cold feeling in his gut. What was wrong with him at the moment? He felt uneasy about the students’ reaction to the elementals, and now he had a kind of lingering dread about the Measure. Wasn’t Lydia meant to be the seer?
“Are you up to fighting Baard?” he asked, in part to distract himself from thoughts of Everand.
“It depends,” Taurnil answered with a furrowed brow. “Baard is very strong but he relies on that way too much. You saw him fight at the tournament last year. He’s big and he hits hard, but that’s all he’s got. The man’s never even heard of tactics!”
Gaspi laughed as he remembered the way the red-bearded giant had charged two of the best swordsmen in the city without a thought for his own defence. “Good point,” he said. “I can’t imagine him getting into all the intricate stuff we’re learning with Voltan. He’ll just try and overpower you.”
“I might be able to handle that,” Taurnil said honestly. “The staff is perfect for defending against that kind of attack, but he’ll probably be fighting with Bonebreaker, so that could change things.”
“Oh yeah, right!” Gaspi said, remembering the colossal axe Baard had wielded in the battle last year. It was a fearsome thing, carrying an ancient enchantment that surrounded it in a dark aura of power and made it devastating to its wielder’s enemies. “We’ll have to check if Baard will be allowed to use it. It belongs to the city remember, and I’m not sure Heppy would loan it out.
“What about Sabu?” Gaspi asked.
Taurnil winced. “Forget it!” he said. “If we have to fight Sabu, it’ll be down to you mate. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Fair enough.”
“And we’ve got the same problem with those enchanted swords of his. We’d better practice fighting against someone like Baard, and Sabu too, for what it’s worth.”
“Tomorrow,” Gaspi said. He’d worked hard enough on combat for one day. What he really wanted to do was spend some time with Emmy. “Lydia’s with Emmy right?”
“Yeah that’s what she said,” Taurnil responded.
“Let’s finish these,” he said, indicating their pints, “and then I’m gonna go find Emmy,”
“Sure,” Taurnil said with a revealing smile. Gaspi knew that he wouldn’t object to spending a few hours with his girlfriend either.
Thirty
Gaspi glided easily over the ice, swerving around the other players as he warmed up. Midwinter was only a few days away and it was cold enough that the quad remained iced over between games. When the boys wanted to play football, they just used his enchanted device to melt the ice, but today they were playing koshta, and the full complement of players had turned out for the game. Taurnil was in goal for Everand’s team, tapping the ice with his whacker in readiness. Everand’s team was already on the ice, and most of Owein’s team were ready too with the exception of their goalie, who was still tying up his ice boots at the side of the quad.
“Wake up Gav!” Owein called, anxious to start the game.
“All right I’m coming,” Gav grumbled, pulling at the straps one last time. The thickset boy caught Gaspi’s eye and grinned. Gaspi grinned back and spun back out into the middle of the ice, where Owein was facing off against Everand. Gaspi used to handle the face off, but he’d given up that role since discovering that Everand would be competing in the Measure, figuring that it was best to avoid any kind of conflict with the arrogant boy if possible. All around them sticks were clacking against the ice, ready for the off.
When Gav was in position Gaspi counted them down: “Three, two, one, play,” he called, and Everand and Owein swung at the seed. Everand was the faster of the two, making first contact with the seed and sending it spinning across the ice. Gaspi resisted the temptation to chase it down, trusting the defence to play their part. He moved into position on the right, ready to receive the seed. He darted back in the direction of the action, watching anxiously as Everand shot at goal, but the shot was slow and Gav blocked it easily enough. Without a pause, he sent the seed skittering out in Gaspi’s direction. He’d made sure he found a spot where there wasn’t anyone between him and Gav, and the seed slid across clear space, passing several outstretched whackers with yards to spare.
He was already moving when he picked up the pass, spinning around Matthias in an elaborate move that distracted the small lad. He hadn’t actually struck the seed, which slid right through Matthias’ feet, and he picked it up on the other side of him, leaving Matthias standing uselessly in his wake.
He had no problems getting past the next defender, taking the seed with him this time as he manoeuvred around him. He cut back on himself, opening up a line to goal, and seeing Taurnil braced to block him, he feinted a strike. Taurnil twitched, lowering his whacker. He realised it was just a feint and tried to pull back from the block, but Gaspi followed up with a hard strike to the right. The seed shot forward, flying several inches above the ice, and though Taurnil reached out a gloved hand to catch it, he was out of position and the seed shot past him.
“Goal!” Owein’s team shouted, and Gaspi returned to his position on the right to a gratifying chorus of cheers. He couldn’t help grinning - there was nothing better than koshta. The next few plays were more hard fought. The lads had really improved their game in the last few months, and though he was clearly still the best player, the defenders were much better at blocking him than they used to be. Having him on their side gave Owein’s team an advantage, but the difference between the goalies kept things even. Taurnil was always hard to get past, but Gav was easier to beat, and le
t goals in much more frequently. Within fifteen minutes Gaspi and Owein had both scored for their team, but Everand had put two shots past Gav, so the score was even. Owein had hurt his wrist in the last play, so it was up to Gaspi to face off against Everand in the middle.
He glanced at the side-lines, where Emmy and Lydia were watching. Lydia didn’t like watching any kind of sport but since Taurnil was playing more often now, she made an effort to come along on the condition that Emmy had to talk to her about something other than koshta while the game lasted. Lydia was saying something to her, but it didn’t look to Gaspi like Emmy was keeping up her side of the bargain. She was clearly watching the action avidly! She had Lilly in her lap and Loreill round her shoulders, and looked pretty pleased with the arrangement. The fire spirit lay on the bench beside Lydia, its long, slender tail encircling its entire body.
The loud clack of wood on ice brought Gaspi’s attention back to the game. Everand was directly opposite him, the polished seed lying between them on the ice.
“Ready?” Everand asked, his tone flat and aggressive.
“Ready,” Gaspi said, suppressing a surge of anger.
Owein began counting down. “Three, two, one…” but he didn’t start the play. Confused, Gaspi looked up to see why he’d stopped. Owein pointed towards Emmy and Lydia, and he turned to find Professor Worrick standing next to them, beckoning at him to come over.
“Hold on,” Gaspi said to Owein, and glided over to speak to the professor, who was breathing heavily after what must have been a brisk walk through the campus.
“Sorry to interrupt Gaspi,” he said “but I need to borrow you.” His disappointment must have shown. “This can’t wait I’m afraid.”
Gaspi knew from the professor’s tone that whatever it was must be important. “Okay Sir,” he said, and glided back over to Owein. “Sorry mate,” he said. “The professor wants me. I think it’s pretty important.”
“Oh,” Owein said, sharing his disappointment. “You’d better go then I guess.”
“See you later,” Gaspi said, and glided back to where the professor waited with the girls. Professor Worrick waited as he sat down to untie his boots.
“What’s going on Sir?” Lydia asked.
“What?” Professor Worrick asked absent-mindedly, unable to keep his eyes off the elementals. He’d seen them before but never this closely, and the curious academic’s attention was riveted.
“Professor!” Lydia said more firmly.
“Oh sorry,” he said, looking back and forth between Lydia and the dragon. “Marvellous,” he muttered, and then forced himself to look away from the elemental and meet Lydia’s gaze. “Remember the young shaman I told you about weeks ago?” he asked. Lydia nodded. “Well he has arrived, and I think it’s important that you go and welcome him. All of you,” he said, looking at each of them to make sure they understood they were all included.
“What about Taurnil?” Lydia asked. “He’s not a magician but if we’re going to make friends with this shaman then he’ll be friends with Taurnil too.”
“Where is Taurnil?” Professor Worrick asked. “I thought your boyfriend was a guard.”
“He is but he plays koshta with us,” Lydia answered. “That’s him in goal.”
“Oh!” Professor Worrick said, squinting in Taurnil’s direction. “Well then, by all means, bring him along too.”
The teams had reshuffled, trying to even out the sides, but when Lydia called Taurnil off the ice the game was abandoned to the accompaniment of loud groans. Gaspi heard one of Everand’s team muttering as they walked past. He couldn’t quite make out what he said, but he was pretty sure he caught the word “unnatural.” Everand drew alongside the mutterer, conferring animatedly with him as they left the quad, and Gaspi felt certain they were talking about the spirits. He felt another surge of anger, stronger than the last. What had Loreill ever done to him? Forcing himself to remain calm, he shelved his annoyance. It was time to meet the shaman, and he deserved a friendly welcome.
Taurnil removed his ice-boots and gloves and the four of them left the quad. Professor Worrick led them back to the tower first so they could drop the elementals off. Emmy objected to being parted from Lilly, but the professor said that arriving in Helioport would be stressful enough for someone from a tribal background without introducing them to a trio of magical spirits at the same time. Emmy gave in, and they left the spirits in Lydia’s room before heading down to the college gates.
“What’s his name again?” Gaspi asked as they walked.
“Rimulth,” Professor Worrick said. They all tried it out a few times to make sure they had it right. “He’s had a terrible time of it, as Lydia’s no doubt told you, and I hope we can make him feel at home.”
“We’ll do our best,” Emmy said sweetly, earning her a warm smile from the professor.
…
When they reached the gate, Gaspi spotted them straight away - two men standing alone at the side of the road, dressed in bulky furs and leathers and bristling with weapons. One was in his twenties and the other looked to be about his own age. They had tanned skin, strong noses, and hair as black as coal. The older one stared about him fiercely, as if all he saw were enemies, and although the younger one tried to mimic him, Gaspi saw in his face the bewildered vulnerability of someone totally out of their depth. So this was Rimulth.
Professor Worrick stepped out from the group, extending a hand to the older of the two strangers. “Welcome to the College of Collective Magicks,” he said slowly and carefully, as if his speech might be difficult to understand. “I am Professor Worrick, the Dean of Students.” The older of the two tribes-folk extended his hand in response. It was an awkward movement, and obviously not one he was accustomed to, performed under tightly knotted brows.
“My name is Younger Talmo,” he responded in accented but easily understandable speech. Gaspi was relieved to hear him speak in their language. Over two centuries ago, the entire continent had been forced to learn and speak a single language, known simply as “common,” but he hadn’t thought it was safe to assume the practice had reached the tribes-people of Eagle’s Roost.
“This is Rimulth,” Younger Talmo added, indicating his young companion.
“The pleasure is mine, Rimulth” Professor Worrick said, extending his hand to the second tribesman as well. Rimulth took the offered palm more comfortably than Younger Talmo had, shaking it as Professor Worrick demonstrated. Gaspi stepped forward and shook his hand next, introducing himself with the most welcoming smile he could summon up. The others crowded in, bustling around the tribesmen, and by the time they were done, Rimulth looked noticeably less nervous, though Gaspi thought Younger Talmo still looked pretty fierce.
“Come into the office,” Professor Worrick said, indicating a small room just inside the gate, but just as they were about to enter, a piercing cry from above froze them in their tracks. Gaspi craned his neck, searching the skies for the source of the sound. A bird of prey spiralled down from the skies above them. Its tapered wings were dazzling white, its beak cruelly curved for tearing flesh, opening once again to issue that harsh, haunting cry. Younger Talmo drew a bow from over his shoulder and reached back with his free hand for an arrow.
Gaspi, Emea and Lydia reached out towards him at once, uttering sharp protestations, and the tribesman stayed his hand. Rimulth was staring up at the hawk with a befuddled expression on his face, and when it descended to within twenty feet of them, he automatically lifted his arm. The hawk let out a triumphant cry, tucked in its wings and dipped towards him. At the last moment its wings snapped open, slowing its flight. It stretched out its legs and landed safely on his outstretched arm, flapping its wings a few more times to gain balance as sharp talons closed tightly around his thick furs.
Shuffling from one talon to the other, the hawk moved up his arm until it neared his head, holding his gaze all the while with its storm-grey eyes. With his free hand, Rimulth reached out in wonder and ran a knuckle over the back of
its beak. The hawk seemed to like it, opening its beak a fraction and letting out a quiet cry.
“What’s going on?” Rimulth asked no-one in particular, his eyes wide with wonder and surprise.
“There’s no way we can answer that standing in the street,” Gaspi said with a grin.
“Let’s get you registered and we can talk about it once you’ve settled,” Professor Worrick said, ushering the tribes-folk into the office. “I’ll get the administration done and show Rimulth to his room. Gaspi, it’s the one next to yours. Will all of you stop by later and make sure he isn’t alone?”
“Of course,” he answered, stunned by what had just happened. The air spirit had finally chosen its bond-mate. Professor Worrick turned to follow the tribesmen into the office.
“Sir,” Lydia called after him, and he turned back. “Did you know?” she asked.
“I am a seer you know,” Professor Worrick answered with a wink, and went into the office.
Thirty-One
When they knocked on Rimulth’s door later that day, the young tribesman let them in, looking completely out of place in the comfortable surroundings of his room. Younger Talmo looked even less comfortable than Rimulth, a seasoned tribal warrior, perched on a delicate white chair in the middle of the room. Rimulth’s bed was littered with weapons: two longbows, two small quivers of arrows, Talmo’s sword and Rimulth’s knife. The window was wide open despite the winter chill, its frame acting as a perch for the air spirit, which eyed them all with its fierce gaze as they closed the door behind them.
Taurnil had suggested introducing them to Jonn, and they all thought that was a good idea. Jonn was a warrior too, and meeting him might help them feel more at home, so he’d arranged for them to gather in the Rest for dinner. Gaspi greeted the tribesmen, smiling in what he hoped was a disarming manner, but although Rimulth smiled in return, Younger Talmo fixed him with an unfriendly stare.