by Duncan Pile
Panic gripped her then, filling her body with nervous tension, causing her to twitch uncontrollably. Tears rolled freely down her face.
“Sit still!” Vosul hissed. She tried to control her shaking limbs without success, waiting in dread for the moment the two men decided they’d had enough beer. They drank the first bottle and ordered a second, drinking it slowly as customers came in and out, walking within an arm’s reach of her. But she didn’t reach out. She didn’t cry for help or even make a noise. She just sat there, panic filling her with raw adrenaline; her heart felt like it was trying to beat itself out of her chest. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she tried to stand up, but the taller man’s hand clamped onto her arm like a vice, holding her in place.
“Vosul told you to sit still,” he said menacingly.
“I can’t,” she wailed, tears soaking her face and dripping down over her robe. Fear had taken control of her body, making it spasm uncontrollably. She couldn’t have kept still if her life depended on it. She tried to pull away from him, but his grip on her arm was too strong.
“Time to go,” Vosul said, standing up and forcibly dragging her along with him. The taller man followed behind, a hand gripping her elbow. The moment they exited the tavern, they grabbed her roughly and pushed her down a dark alley. She fell to the slimy ground and was hauled painfully to her feet by her hair. They forced her round the corner of the alley and pushed her against the wall, ripping open her clothes. She would have screamed till her voice gave out if Vosul hadn’t forced a filthy gag into her mouth. She was helpless, and in her heart the last faint glimmer of light she’d kept alive went out. She may as well be dead.
But then the unthinkable happened - a man stepped out from round the corner of the alley, not by accident and not to join in. He’d come to rescue her. It was there in that dank alley, when all hope was lost, that she met Jonn, and he gave it back to her.
…
Adela’s tale moved Jonn profoundly. He wasn’t the kind of person to give his affections too quickly, or to many people, but when he did let someone in, his feelings always ran very deep. Hearing her story did two things for him; the first was to put his own troubles in perspective. Whatever the reason for the darkness that seemed to swamp him sometimes, it was nothing compared to the genuine tragedy that had utterly destroyed Adela’s life. The second thing was that it gave him a deep-seated desire to look after her. He wasn’t thinking with his loins, or trying to make her his own, but he knew that where it was in his power to do so, he was going to make sure that she was protected from harm. If she’d let him, he’d do it for the rest of his life.
What he didn’t know was that she needed him as much as he needed her. Her experiences had destroyed her trust in men and much of her belief in the goodness of humankind, but in him she saw that hope reborn. It was just a glimmer, a tiny flickering flame of promise, but it was something to hold onto. If she clung to the man who’d risked his life to save hers, then maybe, just maybe, she could recover some of that belief.
Their relationship was a complicated one, their deep, exploratory conversations bringing great joy at times, and awakening fears at others. He never touched her and always treated her with the greatest respect, but despite his care, she sometimes tensed in fear and ordered him to leave, only to apologise the next day when he returned.
She didn’t leave the little room once in that entire time, fearful of stepping outside, and when she learned that Jonn had to go away to fight in the Measure, she was stricken with panic. He had calmed her down, assuring her that he would be back in just a few days, and so when he left her room for the last time, she was able to say goodbye and wish him good luck without getting upset, and he was able to leave her without feeling too much guilt. She was still afraid of being without him even for those few days, but she was comforted by the thought that when he returned, they would pick things up where they left off.
Section Four
Forty-Six
Gaspi was far too excited to lie in bed any longer. It was the day they were leaving for the Measure! He sprang out of bed, waking a recumbent Loreill, who chittered in protest and roused himself with a gigantic yawn and long stretches of his paws. Gaspi gave himself the most cursory of washes and threw some clothes on. Unwilling to let his friends sleep in when he was buzzing with so much energy, he bounded out of his room and went to wake Emmy. Loreill followed in his wake. He knocked loudly on her door, greeted by faint mutterings from within. He knocked again, bouncing on the balls of his feet with impatience. When she opened it, she was dressed only in her nightgown, wispy strands of uncombed hair obscuring her face.
“Is it time to get up already?” she asked, rubbing her eyes with clumsy palms. Loreill ran around her feet and darted inside the room to greet Lilly.
“Yup!” Gaspi said cheerfully, kissing her on the cheek. “Come on, get dressed Emmy!”
“Okay hold on,” she murmured, retreating back into her room and closing the door behind her.
Minutes later she emerged fully dressed, her face scrubbed and her hair pulled back into a bun. “Come in,” she said, swinging the door open wide. He entered and sat down on her bed as she pulled back the curtains to reveal only the first faint hint of dawn.
“Gaspi!” she admonished. “It’s not even daytime yet!”
He grinned sheepishly. “I know, but I couldn’t sleep.”
“I could!”
“Not anymore,” he answered.
“Bah!” she said and then broke into a tinkling laugh. “You’re incorrigible!”
“Yes I am,” he answered. “Whatever that means.”
“It means you’re a pain,” she said, but he knew she wasn’t angry.
“Let’s wake Lydia and make her cook us breakfast!” he said.
“Not a chance!” she responded. “I have to put up with you - I’m your girlfriend, but I’m not letting you bother Lydia!”
“Okay,” he said with a grin. “What should we talk about?”
“Dear God!” she muttered and fell back on her bed.
…
At a more reasonable hour they went over to Lydia’s room, where they were joined by Rimulth and Taurnil, and the five of them shared breakfast. All the elementals were there except for the air spirit, which preferred to avoid being indoors unless it absolutely had to. Rimulth said that it would join them in Hephistole’s office when they were ready to transport to Arkright.
Gaspi wolfed his food down so fast and in such a state of distraction that he couldn’t even remember what he’d eaten once the plates were clear. They washed up and, at the turning of the watch, made their way down to the Atrium, where they joined Jonn, Everand, Baard, Jaim and Sabu. Gaspi thought that Jonn looked strangely distracted. He barely even acknowledged his greeting, and kept looking back through the Atrium’s entrance, as if he expected to see someone walk in.
Jonn wasn’t the only person who seemed out of sorts. Everand stood apart from the group, as if he wasn’t with them at all. Gaspi watched him surreptitiously, trying to decide whether or not to approach him. He’d thought that after Everand’s apology, the proud boy might be more comfortable around him, but his shoulders were stiff, and he was diligently avoiding everyone’s gaze. Gaspi supposed it shouldn’t be a surprise. Everand had salved his conscience by apologising for calling the elementals demons, but he had other reasons to feel unwelcome in the group. No doubt, he felt awkward around Emmy, who had rejected his advances. And then there was Voltan - the warrior mage had taught him a humiliating lesson in front of half the college!
Gaspi had given Rimulth’s words about Everand a lot of thought. The tribesman had a way of making simple statements that turned Gaspi’s assumptions on their head, and he’d certainly done that where Everand was concerned. After considering things carefully, Gaspi had reluctantly come to the conclusion that perhaps Everand didn’t think he’d done anything wrong by making a play for Emmy. If that was the case, there was no point holding out for an apology. Ga
spi didn’t see Everand as any kind of threat anymore, certainly not when it came to Emmy’s affections, so there wasn’t really any need to keep him at arm’s length either. Gaspi sighed in resignation. He didn’t have to like Everand, but the proud boy looked lost and out of place, and Gaspi didn’t like to see anyone feeling like that. His conscience pricked, Gaspi resolved to be the one to try and bridge the gap. Before he could do anything about it, however, Voltan arrived, and the opportunity passed. Without further ado, the warrior mage led them to the twelfth transporter and magicked them up to the Observatory.
Hephistole greeted them as they arrived, dressed in bright red robes edged in a broad band of silver thread.
“Come in, come in!” he said, ushering them into the room. As they moved away from the plinth, a loud tapping noise sounded from the window, and Hephistole bustled over to swing it open and let the air spirit in. It swooped across the room, flapping noisily as it landed on Rimulth’s outstretched arm and sidestepped up to his shoulder. Hephistole closed the window and walked back over to the group, looking at them with proprietary eyes.
“All here?” he asked.
“All here,” Voltan answered.
Hephistole took a deep breath, let out a huge sigh of satisfaction and spread his arms wide.
“Look what we have here,” he said, beaming proudly at them. “I hope you will afford me the honour of giving a short speech.” He looked at them enquiringly, and when no-one objected he carried on.
“The time has come for you to compete in the Measure. It is an ancient tournament, highly esteemed and attended by important members of the magical community from around the continent and beyond. I couldn’t be prouder to have you each of you represent the college.” He looked from face to face, and Gaspi could have sworn he lingered on Everand the longest. Gaspi breathed a quiet sigh of relief, heartened at the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one concerned about the isolation Everand might be experiencing. Heppy was going out of his was to make sure the proud boy knew he was included in that last statement.
“I should probably say something about doing your best and fighting with honour, and all of that is important. But hang it all! I’d like to see a team from the college come back the winner! So how about it? Go and make names for yourselves!”
Taurnil barked a surprised laugh and stood rigidly to attention the way he would for Drillmaster Trask. He thunked the bottom of his staff against the floor. “Yes Sir!” he enunciated loudly. Jonn had seemed distracted until that moment, but Hephistole’s exhortation seemed to have snapped him back into the present, and he grinned from ear to ear. Even Everand seemed to have lost some of his frostiness, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Well, that’s quite enough from me,” Heppy continued more briskly. “It’s time for you to be off. Over to you Voltan.” He handed Voltan a fragment of a simple-looking amulet, which Gaspi assumed must be the transporter device Hephistole had enchanted. As he understood it, there were four parts to it - one to get them to Arkright, one in Arkright to receive them, one in case Hephistole needed to send a messenger to them, and one that would stay with him so they could transport back home again.
Voltan held the device up for them to look at. “If for some reason I’m not in a position to activate this, any magician can do so in my place. It works in a similar way to the plinths in the Atrium. The enchantment lies in the object but it requires someone of magical ability to activate it. Simply hold the amulet, feed a tiny thread of power into it, and say “Return to Helioport.” I thought we should keep it simple, but use a long enough phrase that no-one will set it off by mistake! Does everyone understand?” he asked, receiving a chorus of assent from the magicians.
“Good luck everyone,” Hephistole said roundly. “Voltan, if you will.”
“Form a circle,” the warrior mage said, taking his place in the group. “Link arms!” He watched carefully to make sure they were all in position. Gaspi had Emmy on his left and Taurnil on his right. Loreill was wrapped around his shoulders and Lilly was lying across Emmy’s feet. Looking around the circle, he saw that the air spirit was still perched on Rimulth’s shoulder, and the fire spirit had draped itself over Lydia’s feet in imitation of Lilly.
“Okay, hold tight,” he said. As he counted down he locked eyes with Hephistole, who regarded him with something that looked like sympathy. He only had a moment to wonder why that might be before Voltan started the countdown.
“Three, two, one…Transport to Arkright!”
Gaspi felt like his body had ceased to function. None of his previous experiences of transportation had come anywhere close to this! It was far, far worse than the time he’d transported back from Heath’s home with Hephistole. He felt like his head was behind his belly button and between his legs all at the same time. A great sense of disorientation swept through him, making him feel sick to his stomach, and it seemed to go on forever. If he could have yelled out he would have done, but nothing worked as it should. He was locked into place with no choice but to endure. His head was filled with a deafening buzzing, the bones of his skull and jaw rattling uncontrollably in its grip. He felt like he was going to implode!
Suddenly it was over and he found himself standing in the middle of a muddy field. Pulling his arms away from Emmy and Taurnil, he fell to his knees and noisily threw up. Loreill instantly transformed into spirit form and zipped away across the field. From the corner of his eye he saw two other bolts of light - one blue and the other white - do the same, except the white bolt of light shot directly upwards. That could only be Lilly and the air spirit. His head continued to spin wildly as he dug his fingers into the cool grass, desperate to gain some measure of control over himself.
Slowly the dizziness subsided and he pushed himself up into a sitting position, looking around at the others. They were in varying states of disarray. Some, including Jonn and Rimulth, lay flat on their backs, gulping in the fresh air. Taurnil had his head in his hands and was moaning softly, and Emmy was actually crying. The only exception was Voltan, who had remained standing, though he was white as a sheet and was swallowing noisily. Next to him stood a grossly overweight man robed entirely in black, clutching another part of Hephistole’s enchanted amulet.
“Why didn’t you warn us?” Gaspi croaked.
“What would it have served?” Voltan asked. “It’s over now, and you didn’t spend the last few weeks worrying about it.”
“Did you know?” Jonn asked, struggling back to his feet.
“We had to practice to make sure it worked,” Voltan said with a grimace. “For what it’s worth, it gets easier each time you do it.” Gaspi looked again at the warrior mage’s damp, pallid skin and decided that it couldn’t get much easier. No wonder Hephistole had looked at him the way he did before he activated the transporter!
It was then that he noticed the fire spirit, lying in a bedraggled heap next to Lydia. The other elementals could transform into spirit form to escape their torment, but the fire spirit couldn’t do so without the presence of flame unless it wanted to substitute one form of discomfort for another.
“This is Stragos,” Voltan said, introducing the stranger to the group.
“Stragos, are you attached to that tree?” Gaspi asked, interrupting the introductions to point at a stunted yew growing in the lee of a giant boulder.
“Er, not particularly,” Stragos answered, frowning in confusion at Gaspi’s odd question. “Why do you…” he started to ask, but finished his sentence with an unmanly yelp as Gaspi drew on the energies in the air around him and shot a beam of pure fire across the intervening distance. The tree went up in a great conflagration as soon as the bolt struck it, the flames reaching thirty feet into the air. The fire spirit lifted its head, and in a flash of light transformed into spirit form. It shot across the field and straight into the blaze, where it could heal itself in the comfort of its natural environment.
“Well I never!” Stragos said, but he sounded curious rather than angry.
> “Thank you Gaspi,” Lydia said, smiling at him gratefully.
“No problem,” he said, and turned back to Stragos. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I had to take care of the fire spirit right away.”
“No need to apologise my boy!” the fat man said, eyeing him with a professional eye. “So you must be the Nature Mage.”
“All in good time,” Voltan interrupted. “Let’s get inside first.”
“Of course,” Stragos said, his voice smooth and unctuous. “Welcome to my humble abode.” He swept an arm outwards in a grand gesture to encompass an expansive bungalow sitting on its own at the edge of a forest that stretched away behind it for as far as the eye could see.
Gaspi took a second look at the man Heppy had entrusted part of the enchanted amulet to. A carefully manicured goatee beard framed an overly sensual mouth, and his bald, shiny pate tapered to a point like a highly polished egg.
“Come on then, we don’t have all day!” Voltan said, and the group got to their feet, accompanied by an assortment of groans. He led the way across the muddy ground of the field, and Taurnil fell in next to Gaspi.
“That was awesome!” he said. “Shame we can’t do that in the Measure!”
“It’s only a shame if you don’t mind killing people,” Gaspi answered sarcastically.
“Oh yeah,” Taurnil said, but Gaspi could tell he was still thinking about it. He watched Stragos as they walked, amused by the overweight man’s attempts to avoid getting his shoes wet. He was dancing from one patch of grass to the next with surprising grace.
“Do you live here on your own?” Emmy asked the enormous man politely.
“Yes my dear, but this is only my country retreat,” he answered between leaps. “I’ve got a place in Arkright, right in the heart of things!” he said proudly. “But every magician needs peace and quiet to study, so I keep this home too.”