Nature Mage

by Duncan Pile

  “Any questions before you begin?” Emelda asked.

  “Yes,” Emea said. “How do I send my thought out? I don’t know what you mean by that.”

  “Well everyone does this differently,” Emelda said, “but I just imagine my thought is a tiny probe, a ball of light if you will, or a breath of wind, something non-physical, and then send it into the cat. It is a function of magic to do this, which is why Gaspi was unable to do it, but it requires almost no power at all. You’re not doing anything other than observing. Want to try?”

  Emea nodded, and focussed her attention inwards. She allowed a tiny point of awareness to form, barely a flicker of power, and was surprised to find she could do it. With the minimum of effort she directed that point of awareness into the cat, and immediately became aware of the living and breathing casing of flesh surrounding her probe. She moved it back and forth, sensing the difference between healthy flesh and the torn and ragged tissue of the wound. She could feel the exact point where the damage began, could feel the change of texture beneath her fingers, see the ruined ends of torn blood vessels. At some point her perception moved from a simple awareness to an almost visible perspective, as if she were inside her probe, viewing the injury from inside the cat. She could “see” the healthy and torn flesh all around her, sensing its transition in minute detail.

  “Very good Emea,” said Emelda. “That’s enough for now. Gently withdraw your awareness.” Emea released her concentration and realised she had been so immersed in the exercise she had closed her eyes. She opened them, delighted to have found the exercise so easy, and thrilled by the vivid sights and sensations she had experienced.

  “Very interesting, Emea,” said Emelda with a thoughtful look. “What were you looking at there?”

  “The wound, like you said,” Emea answered confusedly.

  “With your eyes closed?” Emelda asked.

  “Well, yes. I was looking at the tissue; where it was torn, and where it was healthy.”

  “And what was your perspective when you were looking?”

  “What do you mean?” Emmy asked.

  “I mean, where were you looking from?”

  “From inside the cat, of course,” Emmy said.

  Emelda clapped her hands. “Well, well,” she said. “That’s very clever of you. Most people can send in their thoughts to probe the flesh they are still seeing from the outside, sensing the flesh through the probe as if through touch, but not seeing it visually. It’s another thing altogether to enter the body like that. It’s not unheard of, but very sophisticated, young lady. Well done.”

  Emea went bright red with embarrassment and pleasure at Emelda’s praise. As she took her seat, she determined to ask Emelda more about what she had done at the end of the lesson. The rest of the class all had their turns at laying hands on the cat and searching out its wound, with mixed success, and no-one was able to duplicate Emea’s feat of perception.

  “I’m really pleased with how you’ve all done this morning,” she said with a genuine smile. “So pleased, in fact, that I want to take this a step further and give some of you a chance to actually heal the cat. Emea, why don’t you come first, seeing as you are the most familiar with the wound?” Emea looked suddenly unsure of herself, but made her way out to the front anyway.

  “Okay, now you’re going to do the same thing as before - but instead of looking at the quality of the tissue, I want you to sense the body’s natural healing process. It will be very subtle, and very slow, but there should be a kind of growth you can pick up on if you can be still enough to sense it. Can you try and do that?” Emea nodded, determined, and placed her hand on the cat before closing her eyes. Emelda looked on with approval.

  “Now, send in your senses,” she instructed. Emea closed her eyes, letting her awareness form once again into a tiny probe of consciousness, and sent it into the warm casing of the cat’s body. “Okay, good,” Emelda said, softly. “Now, listen very carefully with all your senses, until you can sense the body’s healing process.”

  This was harder to do, and for several moments all Emea could hear was the rushing of the cat’s blood and the deep bellows of the lungs; but slowly she became aware of a gentle movement beneath that. It wasn’t a physical movement, nor did it make a sound, but it was more of a direction, a gentle pressure towards mending, towards the knitting together of bones and flesh, towards health. It was like an intricate weaving, and had the kind of patient, timeless quality she would expect a tree to have in its slow growth towards the light, and it infused every cell of the cat’s body. Emmy felt she was sensing health itself, the very opposite of decay, and allowed herself to get in sync with its living force.

  “Can you sense it yet, Emea?” Emelda asked.

  “Yes, I can,” said Emea.

  “Good,” said Emelda gently, not wishing to disturb Emmy’s concentration. “Now comes the interesting part. I want you to draw on your power and release it in a tiny, steady outflow, directed not into the flesh but into the healing force of the body itself, encouraging it to speed up. Don’t force it or use too much power or the body will probably not respond. You are just to massage it, tease it, show it what you want it to do as you release your power. This takes a steady hand. You can begin whenever you’re ready.”

  Emea tried to tune in to her spirit, into the core of her being, but found herself unable to summon anything that could be described as power. She used the meditative technique Emelda had showed them the day before, and for a moment was sure she could sense what she was looking for; an alluring, spinning core of healing light. Sensing she was close to her power, Emea tried to grab it and release it into the cat’s body, but it was like grabbing at air, and the nearness evaporated into nothing.

  Emea opened her eyes in frustration. “I can’t!” she said angrily.

  “Don’t worry, don’t worry!” Emelda said comfortingly. “I would have been amazed if you had been able to do this on your second day of using magic. It was a good try. How about you, Ferast?” she asked, turning to the dark-featured boy, who came forward eagerly, his fingers clenching and unclenching involuntarily in anticipation of using his powers.

  “Now put your hand on the cat…oh!” Emelda stopped in her tracks, as Ferast was already touching the cat, his face twisted into a mask of feverish concentration, not waiting for Emelda to instruct him. His eyes narrowed so tightly they were almost shut as he bent his thought on the cat. For a few moments nothing happened, and then a girl sitting at the front of the room gasped as the cat’s wound began to close. Flesh filled out the gash, the raw tissue replaced with healthy muscle, until the skin stretched itself out over the wound and was knitted together, leaving no mark at all, as if the animal had never been injured.

  “Very good, Ferast,” Emelda said, as he stepped back, looking excitedly at the place where the wound had been. “But next time, wait for me to instruct you.” He looked up at Emelda and gave the briefest of nods, and walked back to his desk, his eyes gleaming. Emelda watched him all the way back to his seat.

  “Right, class,” she said. “Well done today. We’ve made real progress. Next time we’ll have a purely practical class, and see how many more of you can turn theory into real healing.” And with that, she dismissed them.

  Gaspi stayed in his seat, deliberately taking a long time to pack away his things so that he could catch Emelda, and ask about removing his block. He waited until the last of the students had left the room before approaching her.

  She looked up as he drew near. “Yes Gaspi, how can I help you?” she asked, placing her things to one side and giving him her full attention.

  “It’s about my block, Miss,” Gaspi said a bit nervously. He really wanted to start using his magic, and if Emelda said no he’d have no choice but to wait. “I meditated this morning before class and want to be able to touch my power.”

  Emelda looked at him thoughtfully. “What makes you think you’re ready, Gaspi?” she asked.

  Gaspi thought for a
moment. “I don’t know,” he said honestly, “but I’d rather face this now, and I can’t see how waiting will help. The meditation is really easy for me, and it makes me feel amazing.”

  “And that is exactly what you have to be careful of, Gaspi,” Emelda responded. “Magic is very addictive - and yes, it can make you feel wonderful, or powerful, or both. How easy did you find leaving your meditation this morning?”

  “I had to make myself do it, but it wasn’t too hard,” he answered.

  Emelda wrinkled her brow in thought. “Letting go of magic is much harder than letting go of the peace you feel while meditating.” She paused for another long, thoughtful moment. “Ok, I’ll talk to Hephistole. He’s the one who put your block in place, and no-one can undo his work but him. If he is happy to do so then we’ll arrange something. How does that sound?”

  “Great!” Gaspi responded eagerly, unable to hide his excitement.

  “Don’t get your hopes up, Gaspi,” Emelda said. “He may not think you’re ready.” Gaspi nodded, not discouraged. He felt sure that Hephistole would let him try. Full of excitement, he made his way to the refectory, where he found Emmy and Lydia tucking into a spicy lentil stew. Helping himself to a portion, he joined them.

  “How come you’re sitting on your own?” he asked.

  The girls looked at each other. “Everand asked us to join him and his friends,” Emea said carefully, “but we didn’t think you’d want to sit with him, so we came over here.”

  Gaspi looked pained. “But I don’t want you two to miss out on making friends just because I’m having some problems.”

  “Gaspi, we don’t want to be friends with him if he’s such a pompous idiot,” Emea said heatedly, two little pinpricks of pink blossoming in her cheeks “If he wants to be friends with us, he can make an effort with you.”

  Gaspi felt gratified, but was still unhappy. “Thanks, Emmy. But still, why can’t you hang out with the girls?”

  “Have you seen the way they follow him around?” Emea asked. “It’s like whatever he says goes...so until he accepts you, we’re not going to be friends with any of them.”

  “It’s a bit different in the dormitory though,” Lydia said. “They’re friendly enough in there. It’s just when we’re all together that there’s a problem. I think it will blow over, Gaspi.”

  “I just don’t want you to miss out, that’s all,” Gaspi said.

  Emmy put her hand over his. “Don’t worry about us, Gaspi. We’re fine, and you matter far more to us than all of this lot together.”

  Gaspi smiled gratefully at both of them. “Thanks,” he said. Over lunch he told them about Emelda’s promise to ask Hephistole if he would consider removing Gaspi’s block.

  “That’s great, Gaspi,” Emea said. “Do you think he will do it?”

  “I hope so,” Gaspi said. “I can’t see any point in waiting.”

  “I don’t think you should get too excited, though,” Lydia said, “just in case he wants you to wait.”

  “That’s what Miss Emelda said,” Gaspi said with a touch of irritation, “but I’m not very good at being patient.”

  Emea laughed. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” she said.

  Chapter 16

  After lunch, they went back to the cushion-filled classroom to practice releasing their power. Gaspi entered first, and his heart leaped into his throat when he saw that Emelda was not alone. Hephistole sat next to her, his charismatic face breaking into a dazzling smile as Gaspi entered the room.

  “Ah, there you are,” Emelda said. “There’s been a slight change of plan today.” She waved the two girls towards the seats. “Lydia, Emea, we’ll stay here and carry on practicing meditation. Gaspi, you’ll be working with Hephistole,” she said, with a knowing smile.

  Hephistole popped up out of his chair. “Come along then, Gaspi,” he said enthusiastically. “No time like the present!” He strode out of the room. Gaspi swung his backpack over his shoulder, swapping hopeful looks with Emea as he left.

  Hephistole’s long-legged stride set a fast pace for Gaspi, who had to do a little hop every few steps to keep up. Gaspi thought about all the reasons he would give to persuade Hephistole to let him touch his power, running through them in his head over and over so he wouldn’t forget any of them when the time came. Gaspi’s mind was so busy he didn’t notice any of the fascinating scenery he was passing, until they reached the enormous tower at the centre of the campus. Hephistole led them through the cavernous space of the atrium, pausing briefly to say hello to the magician behind the enormous reception desk, before weaving through the bustle of colourfully robed magicians and brown-robed students; traffic that streamed from or to the line of glowing transporter plinths, where magicians were appearing and disappearing with a word.

  Hephistole led Gaspi to the last of the plinths. “Step on!” he said. “Yes, that’s right. Now stand still, arms at your side. This may feel a bit strange, but it’ll be over quickly.” Gripping Gaspi’s shoulder with his hand he enunciated “Observatory!” Gaspi’s awareness was instantly swamped by an overwhelming vibration, a kind of high-pitched buzzing that ran through his whole being. His vision disappeared entirely, replaced by blank, grey, nothingness, and for a heartbeat he felt pulled in all directions, thoroughly disoriented. Gaspi was relieved when everything snapped back together and he found himself standing on a plinth in Hephistole’s large study at the very top of the tower. He knew he was at the top of the tower as massive, curving windows showed him an impressive view over the college and city, and beyond the walls into wide open wilderness. In the distance craggy mountain peaks rose from the plain, their edges softened by a light haze, and cushioned by feathery wisps of white-spun cloud stretching across the pale sky.

  Hephistole caught Gaspi staring in wonder at the scene. “Best seat in the house, eh, Gaspi?” Gaspi wasn’t sure which house he meant, and just nodded in response. Hephistole waved him towards a well-cushioned seat facing the glorious view. “How about a drink?”

  “Yes please,” Gaspi responded politely, minding his manners. Hephistole went to a recess in the wall and peered thoughtfully at a row of small, glazed pots, ranging in colour from deep red to a vivid blue.

  “This one, I think,” he said decisively, picking a burnt-orange container and bringing it to an enormous desk set in front of the window, where he took a large pinch of tiny, dried leaves from the jar and placed them in a small mesh bag. The bag had a drawstring that Hephistole tightened and tied off in a knot. He held his hand over an ornate pot with a curving spout, and Gaspi felt that tingling sensation behind his navel that told him magic was being worked. Seconds later, steam was piping from the spout. Hephistole took the lid off the teapot and placed the small bag of dried leaves in it, before placing the lid back on.

  “Have you ever had tea before, Gaspi?” he asked conversationally. Gaspi said he hadn’t. In the mountains you could only buy tea from travelling peddlers who came through in the summer, and so for large portions of the year they didn’t have any. Even when they had it the adults kept it for themselves, as it was a rare and expensive commodity.

  A warm, spicy smell was emanating from the teapot, making Gaspi’s mouth water. It smelt a bit like the wine they drank at the Midwinter Festival in Aemon’s Reach, and Gaspi felt suddenly homesick. The terracotta city of Helioport couldn’t be more different from his mountain home, and his eyes inadvertently slipped to the horizon, where massive peaks loomed in the distance. Even those peaks looked different though – hard and rocky. The mountains he had grown up in were cloaked in deep fir forests, and for at least half the year were softened by thick blankets of snow. Gaspi’s mountains were places of adventure, of secret dens and rampant wildlife.

  Hephistole’s voice brought him back to the present. “So, how are you settling in at the college, Gaspi?”

  “Fine, thanks,” Gaspi replied, unwilling to voice his troubles with Everand to Hephistole. “It’s all still a bit new.”

  “Ah
yes, the heady excitement of your first taste of magic,” Hephistole responded, interpreting Gaspi’s comment as positive. “Anything you like in particular?”

  “The meditation is great,” Gaspi enthused, warming to the topic. “Miss Emelda showed us how to connect with our spirits,” he said, his face glowing with excitement.

  “Do you find it easy to do?” Hephistole asked.

  “Yes, very easy,” Gaspi answered. “I was up early this morning before dawn, practicing. It was incredible! I can’t believe I never knew about this before.”

  Hephistole smiled warmly. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he said, with the genuine pleasure of an enthusiast whose hobby has been taken up by another. “And now you want to try some magic,” he added.

  The list of reasons for letting him try and use his power was still running through Gaspi’s head and poured readily from his lips. “Yes, I would. Miss Emelda says I am good at meditation, and this morning I was able to stop easily, even when it felt amazing. I knew I could come back to it anytime, and Emelda, I mean Miss Emelda, she said that was what I needed to learn – to let go. I can’t see any point in waiting. And besides, I don’t want to get behind Emea and Lydia, and the other students are already ahead of me anyway and I need to catch up.” Gaspi looked at Hephistole intently, out of breath and out of reasons.

  Hephistole rubbed his chin and looked at Gaspi thoughtfully. “Well, I can see you’re passionate; but I need to caution you, Gaspi. You must be careful, where magic is concerned. If you don’t learn how to use it with the utmost caution, you will endanger yourself and those around you – especially with a gift like yours.” Gaspi nodded, trying not to look impatient, but Hephistole was not fooled. “I know you’re champing at the bit, but please take me seriously.” Hephistole’s face was unusually grave. “Just last year a young Mage tried to channel too much power too fast. One student was seriously injured and the boy himself will probably never be able to use magic again. He burnt himself out Gaspi, and destroyed his ability to channel power.”