Nature Mage

by Duncan Pile

  “Very good,” Voltan said. “That was a good, swift strike. Now, let’s give our new pupils a chance. Emea - how about you?”

  Emea had uncertainty written all over her, as she pushed back her chair and walked to the back of the classroom. She held her slender palm upwards, that neat little line Gaspi liked so much appearing in her forehead as she concentrated. Gaspi crossed his fingers, desperately hoping that for her own sake Emea would be able to conjure the force strike. At first nothing happened, but then Gaspi saw something swirling in her palm, a walnut-sized ball of force that flickered on the edge of existence. The small ball of power didn’t disappear when Emea raised her eyes to the shield, nor when she held her hand out in front of her, palm facing the target. She stretched out her arm, trying to push the ball forwards, but after disconnecting from her palm it span slowly forward for a couple of seconds before dissipating into the air. One of the girls started to snigger, and Emea went bright red.

  “Who’s laughing?” Voltan asked calmly, but with an edge to his voice that instantly shut the culprit up. He turned back to Emea. “Well done, Emea,” he said. “You’re much newer at this than most of this lot. Miss Emelda tells me you have a deft touch, and power will come with time. You can sit down now.” Emea bustled back to her seat, relieved to be out from under the class’s scrutiny.

  It was Lydia’s turn next, and with quiet confidence she summoned a force strike and hit the shield with it, which glowed a light orange colour in response.

  “Gaspi, your turn!” Voltan said, once Lydia had taken her seat. With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, Gaspi walked to the back of the classroom. This would be the first time he would use magic to actually do something since his block had been removed. Unlike the meditation classes, there was no time to enter an altered state, and he had to engage directly with his power without any preparation. Digging deep he sought out the inner flow of magic, finding its currents after just a few moments of inward searching. The magic felt eager, strong, hungry.

  Gaspi raised his palm upwards, drawing magic into his hand as a sphere of raw force. The magic came at his call, forming into a swirling ball of power. The sense of gathering force was intoxicating, and Gaspi was filled with a determination to do better than Ferast and Everand. He continued to summon his power, the force strike swelling in his hand beyond the size of anyone else’s. A slight wave of giddiness washed over Gaspi, and, realising he had become caught up in the moment, he stopped the flow of magic to the strike. Or at least he tried to, but it didn’t want to stop. It was like throwing a rock in a river – the water just flowed around and over the block and carried on its way. Suddenly nervous, Gaspi doubled his efforts to stop the flow, the ball of force now double the size that even Voltan had produced.

  Gaspi started to panic, terrified of letting the magic get out of his control. He tried to strangle it like a snake, cutting it off from the source, but it just squeezed through his fingers. The ball of force grew larger and larger until it was a swollen sphere of power held against his open palm. Dizziness came rushing through him in greater waves, and Gaspi felt his knees weaken, his legs in danger of buckling.

  “Gaspi, stop drawing on your power!” Voltan said sharply, stepping nearer the young Mage, but not too near. Gaspi looked at Voltan helplessly, desperate to regain control, and then he remembered the spell song Hephistole taught him. Urgently, he recalled the tune, humming it as quickly as he could. Some of his classmates gave him a puzzled look, and a few began to push their chairs backwards away from him as his still-growing ball of force churned potently against his hand.

  “Gaspi, stop!” Voltan said again, louder and more urgently. Fighting through dizziness and pushing away panic, Gaspi sang the spell song again, directing his rampant magic to flow into the notes of the song, unlocking the power Hephistole had lent it. When the last note of the short tune passed from his lips the uncontrollable flow of power was suddenly ended. Gaspi stumbled backwards into the wall, and if it wasn’t for Voltan leaping forward and catching him he would have slid down to the floor. Voltan half-carried him to his seat.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. Gaspi had not lost consciousness. He may have been on the brink of it, but he had cut off the magic in time, and was just left with a pervasive weakness. His limbs felt like they were made of lead.

  “I…I think so,” he said, in a quavering voice.

  Voltan peered intently into his eyes for a moment and nodded. “You replaced your block,” he said. It was not a question. Gaspi nodded. “Quite impressive really,” Voltan muttered, “managing to spell-sing under that pressure.” He stood up snappily.

  “Well, young Mage, I think we need to think about other ways of restricting your magic. A partial block may be an option. After class we will talk to Hephistole about it.” He turned back to the class. “Okay, that’s enough excitement for today,” he said. “I don’t want you practicing the force strike unsupervised. No martial magic is to be used outside of class. Is that understood?”

  The pupils groaned grudgingly. “Does that mean we have no homework, sir?” Matthius asked.

  “Thank you for reminding me, Matthius,” Voltan said, as several pupils groaned, glowering resentfully at the small lad. “For next class I want you to have all read the first three chapters of Soltere’s Theories of Magical Combat. There will be a test.” The class grumbled unhappily as Voltan waved them out the door. Gav smacked Matthius round the back of the head.

  “Why d’ya have to go and ask?” he asked as they left the room.

  Soon Gaspi was the only student remaining. Voltan glanced at him. “Go and have some lunch, Gaspi. You need to get some energy back. Come back here afterwards, and we’ll work on your block with Hephistole.” Gaspi said he would and left the room, where Emmy and Lydia were waiting for him. As they walked into the refectory, laughter burst out from Everand’s group, and from the looks he was getting Gaspi was pretty sure what they were laughing about.

  “Never mind him!” Emea said firmly, placing a hand on Gaspi’s arm. “Go and sit down, Gaspi. We’ll bring some food over.” Gaspi hated being seen to be weak, but he had no strength left at all, and sat down wearily at an empty table. He could hear the mockery from across the room.

  “The Nature Mage can’t even summon a force strike!” Ferast’s nasal voice evoked a flush of anger in Gaspi. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? What galled him most was that there was nothing he could do about it with his block in place. Until he learned control of his magic, they would never shut up. He was still fuming when Emmy and Lydia brought his food over. It was a vegetable soup accompanied by two thick slices of cheese and a small loaf. Grateful for the distraction he tucked in, and slowly the girls’ company calmed him down. They wanted to know what had happened in class, which he explained as well as he could.

  “I’m going to get control of this,” he said determinedly. “Voltan said something about a partial block. Maybe that will help,” he added hopefully.

  “I’m sure it will,” Lydia said, with her usual calm certainty. Conversation moved to the coming evening. Roland and the gypsies would be moving on soon now that Lydia had settled into the college, and they’d invited the three students to feast with them at the circle.

  “So…is Taurnil coming tonight?” Lydia asked. Gaspi blinked and looked up at her. Usually she was measured and sure in everything she did, but all of a sudden she had sounded…vulnerable. Emea was taking a great interest in her soup, moving it round and round in the bowl.

  “Yeah, he said he’d come over after practice with Jonn,” Gaspi responded. “We’ll all go down together.”

  “Oh…good,” Lydia said, and Gaspi could have sworn he saw a faint red tinge beneath her tanned skin. He resisted smiling to himself. He was sure that Taurnil liked Lydia, but until now hadn’t known what the mysterious girl thought about his friend. He might be wrong, but it looked like the feeling might be mutual. He certainly hoped so, for Taurn’s sake.

  After lunch they
returned to Miss Emelda’s classroom, where Emea’s mentor was waiting for them, along with Hephistole and Voltan.

  Hephistole stood up as they entered. “Ah good - here you are. With your permission, Voltan and I will be borrowing Gaspi for just a short time, but will return him to you shortly for the rest of this afternoon’s class.”

  “Of course, Chancellor, as you wish,” Emelda said, playing along with his exaggerated courtesy.

  He inclined his head in Emelda’s direction, and sketched a bow in the direction of the girls. “Ladies,” he said as he left the room, followed by Voltan and Gaspi. As it happened they didn’t have far to go, as the main classroom was free.

  “So,” Hephistole said once they were seated. “You had to replace your block during class this morning, I hear?” They sat in a kind of triangle, and Gaspi felt strangely equal, like he was being treated as a peer.

  “Yeah...I could summon my magic and make the force strike, but when I tried to stop drawing on the power I couldn’t cut it off. It just kept flowing, and the strike was getting bigger all the time. I had to use the spell song to stop it.”

  Hephistole peered at Gaspi with his head cocked slightly on one side. “Interesting...most interesting!” The Chancellor paused. “Don’t be dispirited, Gaspi,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “You did well to use the spell song.”

  Gaspi didn’t look at all encouraged. “But I still can’t control my magic!” he blurted, full of frustration. He hadn’t meant to get angry at Hephistole, but he couldn’t help it.

  “Yes, but there’s a good reason for that, Gaspi,” Hephistole responded calmly. “If you had the same magical strength as your classmates you could do it as easily, but your power is much greater, and therefore takes greater practice to control.”

  Gaspi sat up straight, his anger leeching away as Hephistole’s words sunk in. “Am I more powerful than the other students?”

  Hephistole looked at him intently, his mouth turning up at the corner in a slight smile. “Let’s put it this way. They are trying to tame a cat, and you’re trying to tame a tiger.”

  “What’s a tiger?” Gaspi asked.

  “A very big cat!” Hephistole answered.

  Voltan folded his arms. “It’s probably best not to boast about this to your classmates, though.”

  “Yes sir...I mean, I won’t,” Gaspi answered, and tried very hard not to think of Everand.

  “So!” Hephistole said ringingly, clapping his long-fingered hands together. “We need to find a way to help you tame your tiger. Voltan has suggested a partial block. This is similar to the block you’ve had in place, but it works more as a limitation, allowing only a certain amount of power to flow through at one time. This will give you time to gain strength and control the flow of magic. As you continue to use your power the block will erode, allowing more power through in increments, which you can adjust to as you get used to it. How does this sound?”

  “It sounds great,” Gaspi answered. “I was worried I’d have to stay blocked again for a while, or not be able to do any magic at all.” He paused. “Can you do it now?” he blurted, his eagerness overriding any attempt at politeness.

  Hephistole laughed. “Yes Gaspi, right now! You can still re-establish the full block using the spell song I taught you, but hopefully that won’t be necessary.” He stood up and lifted his hand, holding it over Gaspi’s head. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Gaspi answered. Hephistole’s hand rested on his head. Gaspi sat still while Hephistole stood there, unable to sense any magical activity. After a minute, Hephistole stepped back, and sat down again.

  “Is it done?” Gaspi asked.

  “Why don’t you try and see?” Hephistole said. Gaspi nodded, and closing his eyes, sent his senses inward. He was quickly able to draw near to his power, and, reaching out, he summoned it to his control. He held it for a moment, released it, and opened his eyes.

  “Yes...that works,” he said, relieved.

  “Then let’s return you to your studies with Miss Emelda,” Hephistole said. The headmaster and teacher walked with him back to the main classroom, taking their leave of Gaspi as he re-entered the room.

  “That was a good idea, Voltan,” Hephistole said with a smile, after the door had closed behind Gaspi.

  Voltan nodded. “We don’t know the limits of the boy’s power, and this will keep a control over how much he uses until he’s ready to use more.” The fierce-looking teacher fixed Hephistole with a direct gaze. “I’ll tell you this much - if he’d fired that force strike, it would have blown half the classroom away!”

  Hephistole didn’t seem phased about this at all. “Interesting,” he said as they turned to walk back through the campus. “Definitely interesting!”

  Chapter 18

  Taurnil came to meet them that night as planned, and met Gaspi outside the dormitory.

  “How’s the training going, mate?” Gaspi asked as they sat on a nearby bench, waiting for the girls.

  “All right. I won a bout today,” Taurnil said, breaking out into a big smile.

  “That’s great!” Gaspi said enthusiastically. “With the staff?”

  Taurnil let out a gruff laugh. “Yeah, with the staff. I couldn’t beat a girl with swords at the moment.”

  Gaspi laughed in return. “So how did the fight go?” he asked, hungry for the details.

  Taurnil shrugged. “Well, to be honest it was pretty straightforward. It was Bret, one of the younger guards. He’s better with the sword, but likes to fight with the staff too. He just came on a bit too strong and I floored him with a leg flip, and went straight for the kill shot. It lasted about twenty seconds.”

  “Sounds like you well and truly had his number,” Gaspi said.

  “Looks that way,” Taurnil said, smiling broadly, and then the smile slipped off his face as quickly as it had arrived, his jaw falling open foolishly as he stared goggle-eyed across the courtyard. Gaspi turned to follow Taurnil’s gaze, and saw Emmy and Lydia stepping out of their dorm. Both girls were dressed in full gypsy garb. Emea was dressed in a luscious skirt and scarf of saffron yellow, but it was Lydia who had caught his friend’s attention. She wore a billowing white shirt tucked into a flowing skirt of deep and vibrant shades of red. She wore a rich scarf over her shoulders that matched her dress, and had large, painted wooden jewellery around both wrists. The girls glowed like gold and flame in the evening light. Gaspi was entranced, and shared a look with his gobsmacked friend.

  “Close your mouth, you big lumphead!” Gaspi said to Taurnil, who looked blankly at his friend for a moment, then snapped his jaw closed as realisation hit. The two boys walked over to the girls.

  “You look lovely, Emmy,” Gaspi said, his eyes taking in her rich clothing, and the way it flowed over her like water. She flushed a little, her eyes sparkling. Gaspi kissed her on the cheek and offered her his arm.

  Without meaning for it to happen, Gaspi and Emea walked away from Taurnil and Lydia, leaving them standing alone together.

  Once Gaspi and Emea had walked away, Taurnil was suddenly very aware of himself. What could he say to make things comfortable? Gaspi was always so good at these things, but he just felt as if his tongue had turned to wood. After a pregnant pause, he broke the silence. “Nice dress,” he said clumsily.

  “Thank you, Taurnil,” Lydia said, and they started walking, falling in behind Gaspi and Emea, who were too wrapped up in each other to notice the awkward moment. Taurnil thrust his hands into his pockets, scuffing the ground with his feet.

  “So, what’s happening tonight?” he asked, more to keep the conversation going than out of genuine interest. Taurnil was surprised as Lydia enthusiastically started talking about the evening’s entertainment. His clumsy attempt at conversation seemed to be working. He’d never been comfortable with long conversations, at least not if he was expected to do much of the talking, but maybe all he had to do was ask questions and Lydia would do the rest.

  “...my Da will play his gu
itar, and we’ll all dance round the fire,” she said enthusiastically.

  “Dance?” Taurnil asked, a little too quickly.

  Lydia threw an amused glance at him. “You know, moving your feet around to music, maybe even your body too,” she said mischievously. “Don’t worry Taurnil,” she said, patting his arm. “I’ll show you how to do it.” If anything, this made Taurnil worry even more!

  They wound their way down through the town, and met Jonn at the gate to the city. He smiled warmly at them. “Ah, there you all are,” he said. “Well, come along then. Food awaits!”

  He led them through the city gates and a short distance around the outer wall, until they came across the gypsy circle; the vibrant reds, yellows and greens of lacquered wagons shone in the evening light. The sun was perhaps half an hour from setting, and in preparation for the evening’s festivities Roland had already started the fire going, its leaping flames pale in the lingering daylight. When Lydia caught sight of her da tending to the growing blaze, she let out a little noise of delight and trotted ahead of Taurnil, who didn’t know whether he ought to keep up, or just carry on walking on his own. As if sensing her approach, Roland stood up, the line of his broad shoulders framed against the light as he turned around. Grinning, he took a few long strides towards his daughter, and swept her up in his arms. He planted a kiss in her hair, lifting her clean off the ground.

  Taurnil was touched by the unselfconscious display. There was obviously a lot of love there between father and daughter. Lydia normally had a sort of knowing calm about her, but moments like this revealed her passionate side to Taurnil, who watched the greeting hungrily, imagining what it would be like to be the one Lydia ran to.