Nature's Servant

by Duncan Pile

  The large warrior spun around and ran at Jonn again, swinging his heavy sword as he approached. A broadsword was typically used by big, strong fighters who thought they could power through any defence, but Jonn was a seasoned warrior, capable of outmanoeuvring any fighter who relied on strength alone. As the large warrior attacked, Voltan summoned power into both hands and split his spell-casting into two streams. With his left hand he hurled strikes at Remstracht. Even using only half his strength, they were still enough to keep the white-robed magician on the defensive while he channelled the remainder of his power directly into Jonn. It ran through him like a flood, his swords glowing as the powerful enchantments they were imbued with came to life. Gaspi knew that Voltan had enchanted Jonn’s swords to hit hard harder than they ordinarily would and to be unbreakable, but it seemed that there was a third layer of enchantment that he hadn’t known about.

  Jonn knocked the broadsword aside and leapt in to attack, testing the large warrior with feints and jabs. The warrior was good enough to tell the difference between his feints and his genuine attacks, but when he blocked them he struggled with the strength of the blows, as if each of Jonn’s blades landed as heavily as his own massive broadsword. Gaspi assumed that the third layer of enchantment enhanced the power of each blow even further when power was channelled through them, making Jonn’s attacks formidably strong.

  Jonn was mercilessly smashing the big warrior around, which radically changed the pace of the battle. Gaspi didn’t think the white-bearded warrior could last long under the onslaught, and true enough, pieces of his armour ripped and flew off as he sought to defend himself. The decisive moment came when one of Jonn’s blades sheared right through the enormous broadsword and the large warrior threw up his hands in surrender. Seeing that the match was all but lost, Remstracht also started to lift his hands.

  “WAIT!” Voltan shouted, dismissing Jonn and facing off against the other magician, giving him a chance to compete. Remstracht would have to surrender the match after this bout, as his warrior had no serviceable weapon left and his armour was completely shredded, but Voltan wanted to give him a chance to stand and fight on even terms.

  Remstracht nodded respectfully and summoned power, mirrored by the warrior mage. Remstracht attacked first, forming a white, misty globe and spinning it at Voltan’s head - another spell Gaspi couldn’t identify. Voltan didn’t summon a shield. He just lifted his hands and caught the strike, holding it in the air for long moments, his forearms tensed as if he was wrestling with it. Gaspi wondered why Remstracht didn’t attack again as Voltan struggled with the white substance, but he just stood there as if frozen. Moments later the substance began to compact between Voltan’s hands, shrinking in on itself until it was a tiny ball of white light, before disappearing altogether. When Voltan’s palms met, squashing the white substance out of existence, there was a sharp detonation, like two giant hands clapping, and Remstracht staggered as if struck, barely able to keep his feet. With a flick of his hands, Voltan lifted sand from the arena floor and pelted Remstracht with it, before summoning power to his fists and running at the other magician. The power surrounded each of his hands like a sheath, and Gaspi knew immediately what he was doing. He was using his hands as magical weapons, just as he had against Everand back at the college.

  The warrior mage ripped the curtain of sand aside and attacked, breaking through Remstracht’s shield like it was nothing and beating him with the edges of his flattened hands. The magician reacted as if he’d been kicked by a horse, staggering under each blow. Voltan delivered a volley of blows to his chest and punched him in the gut. The white-robed magician doubled over and Voltan slammed a palm up into his face. The bearded magician’s head snapped up, his body flying backwards, and he landed spread-eagled on his back in the sand.

  “WINNER: VOLTAN!” the mayor announced when Remstracht didn’t move, and the crowd celebrated what was a truly magnificent display of sword and sorcery.

  “Voltan is a force of nature!” Taurnil said.

  “Tell me about it,” Gaspi responded. The warrior mage had outclassed Remstracht on every level. He was the more powerful magician, his tactics were better, and he worked more closely with his warrior. On top of that, he was deadly with his fists as well as with magic.

  “I can’t see them coming back for another bout,” Taurnil said.

  “Me neither,” Gaspi answered. “They don’t even have a weapon!”

  Sure enough, when the healers brought Remstracht around he conceded the match straight away and the crowd roared once again in appreciation of Voltan’s skill. Taurnil was chuckling to himself as Remstracht was led away from the arena floor.

  “What’s so funny?” Gaspi asked.

  “Remstracht probably thought Voltan was doing him a favour when he let him carry on. I bet he doesn’t think that anymore!”

  Gaspi laughed. “No, I guess not!”

  Fifty-Two

  As the next few matches passed, Gaspi strategised with Taurnil, feeling the immediacy of his own involvement in the Measure drawing nearer. His nerves ratcheted up notch by notch as teams were called, and he started to wish the mayor would just call his name and be done with it. Despite his mounting anticipation, when his name was finally called he wasn’t at all prepared for it, and sprang out of his chair as if it had suddenly sprouted spikes.

  Feeling sick with nerves, he smoothed down his robes and forced himself to put one foot in front of the other as he and Taurnil crossed the sand. The crowd’s roar swelled out of all proportion, booming in his ears as the prospect of seeing a Nature Mage in action stirred up a visceral lust for magical violence. Nervousness threatened to make his knees buckle, and in a desperate attempt to retain control of the situation, he forcibly reminded himself of why they were here - to learn the art of combat so they could defend themselves against Shirukai Sestin. Suitably sobered by the thought, he managed to tune out the noise of the crowd and focus on the task at hand. Glancing at Taurnil, he realised that his friend had never lost sight of this. Taurnil might want to win, but it wasn’t because of the crowd, or to prove a point. He just wanted to test his mettle against other warriors and come out victorious. He wanted to make sure he was up to the task of being Gaspi’s protector.

  He shook off the remainder of his nerves as best he could, and clapped Taurnil on the shoulder. “Okay Taurn, let’s do this,” he said.

  Taurnil smiled tightly, his expression as serious as a stone. “Remember what Voltan said. We fight as a team.”

  “As a team,” Gaspi repeated.

  Their opponent was one of the few magicians present who hailed from beyond the continent of Antropel. He was called Sthycass, one of the infamous spider-people of the Skelkan Swamps. Gaspi had heard tales about them in the college; stories which painted them as a primitive people steeped in a dark, pagan religion which revolved around the use of exotic poisons for both pain and pleasure. He certainly looked the part, pale-skinned and thin, draped in a murky, green-coloured robe and bald as a snake. His cheekbones were heavy and prominent, his muddy brown eyes narrowed to slits as he watched Gaspi approach. Taurnil only had eyes for the warrior, whose dread appearance was enough to make anyone blanch. He was extremely tall, several inches taller than Taurnil, and he was so emaciated he looked like the living dead. His joints protruded like ugly, swollen lumps, and the knobbly bones of his skull warped the shape of his bald, shiny scalp. He carried a wicked looking trident in one hand and a round, scaly shield in the other. He was armoured in the same, strange scaly material, which flexed and stretched as he moved. The spider-warrior’s lips pulled back in what might have been a smile as he met Taurnil’s gaze, revealing rows of teeth that had been filed to sharp points. Gaspi recoiled at the sight, and a gleam appeared in the spider-mage’s murky eyes as he observed his discomfort.

  “TAKE YOUR PLACES,” the mayor shouted, and Gaspi moved with Taurnil to one of the enchanted circles of light.

  “Sheesh,” Gaspi said. The Skelkans were terrify
ing.

  “I know,” Taurnil muttered. “But they’re just an opponent like any other. Stay focussed.”

  “Okay,” Gaspi said, trying to shrug off his discomfort. His perception sharpened as he waited for the mayor to start the bout. Taurnil’s gloves creaked as his hands shifted fractionally on his staff.

  “BEGIN!” the mayor shouted, and the passage of time slowed to a crawl.

  Gaspi shifted behind Taurnil, his feet scuffing noisily across the sand. The spider-people adopted the same formation, and the two teams started to circle, side-stepping around each other with slow, even steps. Gaspi summoned arcane energy to his fingertips, feeling the thrill of magic’s power as it coursed through him. He didn’t summon too much, matching the energy held by his opponent. The spider-mage was powerful in comparison to most of the magicians who’d competed so far, and Gaspi could sense enchantment around his clothing, or maybe inside his clothing too. This was not going to be a straightforward fight, and caution was called for.

  The spider-warrior took a sudden stride forward and lanced out with his trident. He was wickedly fast, the triple blades of his weapon ripping through the air with frightening speed, scoring Taurnil’s chest. Taurnil hadn’t been prepared for the sheer range the tall fighter had with his long limbs and even longer weapon, and staggered backwards at the impact. The crowd gasped, but a glance told Gaspi that the enchantments on Taurnil’s armour had held, and it was undamaged. The spider-mage took advantage of the distraction, pulling a dirk from within his robe and throwing it at him with a sharp flick of his wrist. It sped right towards his face, but Gaspi summoned a hasty shield and knocked it aside, his heart thumping with adrenaline. He drew power around him like a cloak, ready to shield against another attack, physical or magical. He tried to push what had almost happened out of his mind. If he hadn’t stopped that dirk…

  Taurnil re-entered the fray, staff spinning wildly as he sprang at the spider-warrior. The tall fighter kept his balance as he shuffled backwards, and Taurnil pressed his advantage. The spider-warrior watched him carefully as he retreated, and then, choosing his moment, thrust his trident into the ground and, using it like a pole, swung around it and launched a kick at Taurnil’s head. The spider-warrior’s long legs thrust out, his foot shearing through the air, a metal blade embedded in the toe of the boot flashing in the sun. Gaspi froze, filled with horror as he watched the razor-sharp blade slicing towards his best friend’s face.

  It was too late to stop Taurnil, whose momentum was carrying him directly into the path of the spider-warrior’s bladed boot, but then his spinning staff connected with the haft of the trident, and in a crucial test of strength, it was Gaspi’s enchantment that won out and the other weapon snapped in two. The spider-warrior tumbling to the floor, his deadly kick missing Taurnil altogether. Taurnil kicked him violently in the ribs, several of them snapping loudly under his heavy boot.

  The spider-mage flung a red, sizzling bolt at Gaspi, but he heard it coming, a blazing streak of power that made the air hiss, and put all his energy into forming a sturdy force shield. He caught the strike in time, its energies dissipating against the strength of his defence, and Gaspi threw his shield over the spider-mage, pinning it to the ground and holding him in place. His enemy, for that was surely what he was, struck out at the shield, trying to break Gaspi’s hold on him, but to no avail.

  To the side of him, the spider warrior scrambled awkwardly to his feet, clutching his ribs, but Taurnil didn’t give him a reprieve, nor even the chance to surrender. He thrust the butt of his staff into the spider-warrior’s gut and punched him in the face with a tightly clenched fist. The spider-warrior spun to the side and Taurnil stamped hard on the outside of his knee, snapping the joint with a sickening pop. The warrior cried out in agony, falling to his knees, but Taurnil didn’t back off. His battle rage was fuelled by pure fury, anger that radiated palpably from his clenched jaw and blazing eyes, and with vengeful intent he thrust the butt of his staff into the spider-warrior’s face, smashing his nose and cheekbones to pieces. Blood spattered as the spider-warrior’s head snapped back, his eyes rolling up into his head as he collapsed, unconscious.

  Taurnil paced over to the trapped spider-mage in a cold fury, his staff raised threateningly. He held it over the magician’s head, the muscles in his enormous forearms bunching as he prepared to thrust downwards.

  “Yield,” he said coldly, but the spider-mage just stared back at him hatefully.

  Gaspi could feel the trapped magician summoning power and stepped in to finish the bout off, summoning the largest force strike he could muster. A ball of power three times the size of the spider-mage’s head swirled potently against his open palm, the devastating energies of his spell ready to use against the prone magician if he didn’t release his power.

  “He said yield,” Gaspi hissed, and the magician let go of the energies he had summoned.

  Gaspi lifted the shield holding him in place, but he didn’t let it dissipate, ready to slam it back in place if the spider-mage showed any sign of making more trouble. The spider-mage slowly lifted his hands in surrender, his eyes full of black hatred.

  “WINNER; GASPI!” the mayor shouted, and the arena, which had been taut with tension as the deadly battle took place, broke into a riotous roar that almost made Gaspi cover his ears. Ignoring the commotion, he retreated with Taurnil to a distance, where they held a hurried conference.

  “He was trying to kill me,” Taurnil said in earnest, fury evident in every word.

  “I know,” Gaspi said angrily. “Sthycass tried to put one of my eyes out.”

  “Sheesh,” Taurnil exclaimed. “If the enchantment on that trident had been as strong as the one on my staff, that kick would have landed. Did you see the blade in his boot?”

  “Yep,” Gaspi said. “We’ve got to finish this off fast. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I agree,” Taurnil said firmly. “Don’t hold back Gasp. Just finish it!”

  “Okay,” Gaspi said, thinking through how to do that. He still wasn’t willing to strike them with lightning, or do anything else that would kill them outright, but he would just use all of his strength right from the outset. “Warrior first or magician?” he asked.

  “Warrior,” Taurnil said. “Take him out of action and we can go for the mage together.”

  Gaspi wasn’t sure that was the right way round, but he didn’t want to leave Taurnil exposed to the vicious fighter any longer than he had to. “Okay Taurn,” he said. While they’d been talking, the healers had come on and taken care of the warrior’s injuries and the mayor was ready for them to fight again.

  “TAKE YOUR PLACES!” he shouted, and they moved back into the enchanted circles of light. The spider-warrior had abandoned his broken trident and had drawn two curved scimitars from within his clothing. They weren’t big but they were wickedly sharp, gleaming with the green tint of whatever enchantment they contained.

  “BEGIN!”

  Gaspi didn’t hesitate. He drew power and formed a densely packed force strike. Taking aim, he cast it at the warrior, but the tall fighter was already moving, sidestepping with surprising speed, and the strike missed. The spider-mage had also summoned power, a globe of swirling, off-green light that made Gaspi feel sick when he looked at it. He broke into a panic, desperate to interrupt the unknown spell before it was cast. Reaching within his robes, he pulled out one of his knives and flicked it at the spider-mage’s unprotected torso. The blade flew true but he was too late. The spider-mage released the strike just in time, and to Gaspi’s horror, his target was Taurnil. The knife flipped end over end and plunged into the magician’s shoulder, but Gaspi only had eyes for the strike. It rushed through the air, its putrescent light intensifying, and even though time seemed to slow down, there was nothing he could do to stop it colliding with Taurnil’s chest. He watched in horror as his best friend collapsed to the ground, retching violently, his staff abandoned besides him.

  Distantly, he was aware of someone yelling, the
sound growing louder by the moment. Glancing up, he saw the spider-warrior bearing down on him, swords swinging to cut him down. Aware that the spider-mage was summoning more power, Gaspi knew he had to remove the warrior from the fight straight away. Without even thinking about how he did it, he reached under the approaching warrior and spun him away as simply as if he were flipping a coin. The crowd gasped as the tall warrior flew high into the air, spinning end over end before crashing head first into the ground. Gaspi rounded on the spider-mage, drawing up a shield as he did so. All he cared about was finishing the fight so he could see to Taurnil, who was writhing on the ground, groaning in such transparent agony that it tore him apart to hear it.

  The spider-mage was holding a pitch black globe of power, and with a look that told him his shield wasn’t going to be of any use, he flicked it from the end of his fingers. Gaspi’s eyes widened as the strike swelled in his vision. There was no time to get out of the way, and the look in the spider-mage’s eyes filled him with mortal fear. Somehow he just knew that if the strike landed, he was going to die. From the periphery of his vision, he saw four blurs of colour speed out from the crowd: one green, one blue, one storm-grey and one black. The elementals! Lilly’s blue light, the shining embodiment of a water spirit, was out front, and she sped directly at the strike itself. She collided with it just feet from him, absorbing its dark mass into her own glimmering form. Loreill shot straight into Gaspi’s body, protecting him from within, and the other two spirits sped towards the spider-mage himself. The spider-mage roared with fury, casting soul-strikes at the approaching elementals, but they passed harmlessly through the spirits’ non-corporeal bodies.

  “STOP!” the mayor shouted, running into the fray with his enchanted staff held aloft. A soul-strike sizzled by, only inches from his face, and he thought better of it. He turned and ran away from the battle as fast as he could, his colourful hat tumbling to the ground behind him.