Nature Mage

by Duncan Pile

  “That’ll be fine. Cheerio then,” Hephistole answered, pouring himself another cup of tea as Gaspi stepped onto the transporter and disappeared.

  Gaspi found Emmy and Lydia in the refectory, talking animatedly over a cup of hot cocoa. When she saw Gaspi, Emea sprang up from the bench and hurried over to him. She gripped his arm insistently. “Did you pass?” she asked.

  Instinctively, Gaspi decided to play a little of the game Hephistole had played with him. “The thing is, Emmy,” he said after a few seconds of dramatic pause. He rubbed the back of his head with his hand, staring down at the floor. “The thing is…” he started again, still staring at the floor. He glanced up and saw Emmy’s face cloud with worry, and couldn’t keep the game up any longer. “The thing is that I passed!” he said, a broad grin splitting his face from ear to ear.

  “Gaspi!” Emea said indignantly. “That’s not nice!” Then she was hugging him tightly. “That means all three of us are through!” she said happily, pulling back to kiss him on the cheek.

  He grinned back at her. “Yes it does! Come on, let’s join Lydia,” he said. The three friends sat at the table, exchanging stories for the better part of the next two hours.

  Lydia had performed solidly in all three tests, but Emea’s experience had even more ups and downs than Gaspi’s. She had to try three times to summon a strong enough force strike to break through the shield. In the Test of Control she’d lost her concentration just as Gaspi had, but in the darkness had actually fallen off the path, only to find herself back at the start. At that point she’d really thought she’d failed, but she’d summoned another globe and got through to the final room. Hephistole had told her that in the Test of Precision she’d excelled way beyond the ordinary. She’d identified the broken part of the tool in seconds, put out every green flame on the fire table without extinguishing any others, and identified and healed the injury at the same time at table three. They’d had to replace Emea’s newly healthy cat with the bird before Gaspi reached the third room.

  Gaspi laughed out loud at that part. “Heppy said we had different strengths and would be good for each other. Sounds about right to me. I was pretty hopeless in the Test of Precision,” he said wryly, pulling a face.

  “I’m not sure how I fit into that,” Lydia said quietly. They both looked at her in surprise. “My strengths are only strengths one of you already has,” she continued. If Gaspi didn’t know better, he would have sworn Lydia was being a little insecure. Was that a flush he could detect in her cheeks?

  “That’s not true,” Emea answered quickly. “I bet your light didn’t waver for a second in the Test of Control.”

  “Well...no, it didn’t,” Lydia answered honestly. “It was obvious, really. I mean, that falling off the path wouldn’t harm you. I just walked slowly, and made it round.”

  Emea laughed. “Exactly! You’re good at pretty much everything, but your real strength is the way you see things. You’re so level-headed and…what’s that term…self-possessed. You know who you are and what you’re doing. Gaspi and I can both be a bit…unreliable.”

  Lydia looked at them both for a moment before answering. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. A couple of flakes like you need someone reliable like me around to keep you grounded,” she said, smiling wickedly.

  Emea reached over and tugged on a lock of Lydia’s hair. “Flake!” she said, with false indignation. “That’s a fine thing to call your friends.” Lydia’s smile broadened.

  “So, let me see if I got this right,” Gaspi said. “Emea’s inconsistent, I’m clumsy, and you’re boringly good at everything. Glad we got that sorted out.” All three of them laughed.

  They shared their good news with Taurnil and Jonn that evening over an ale in the Rest. Sitting there, looking around at his companions, Gaspi couldn’t help feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the beer suffusing him; spreading out in radiating waves from his belly right out to the tips of his fingers and toes and the crown of his head. Taurnil was fast becoming a great fighter, and had found something special with Lydia. Emea and he were sharing an amazing journey into magic, and she had a gift so incredible it amazed him. Jonn was clearly happy as a guard, and had done well in the tournament. It was as if destiny had picked them up by the scruff of the neck and dumped them down somewhere far better than they could ever have hoped. There had been times on the journey with robbers and magical attacks, or even more recent times like when Taurnil was mortally injured, when it looked like things had gone horribly wrong; but right there, right at that point, it looked like everything was going to work out all right.

  Chapter 25

  After the Test, time seemed to speed up for the three trainee magicians. The weeks and even months fled by as they explored their expanding skills, and discovered whole realms of new knowledge. Emea had taken a liking to enchanting, and seemed to be trying to put a little bit of magic into every ordinary thing she got her hands on. Gaspi was woken up one morning by a gently fluttering butterfly made entirely of paper resting on his nose. It lifted off as he awoke, hovered over him for a second and then fell apart as the enchantment lifted, leaving three pieces of paper on his chest that said separately I, Love, and You.

  Lydia was thoroughly enjoying her tutorials with Professor Worrick. Prophecy wasn’t something you could make happen just because you happened to be studying it, so they filled most of their time exploring the broad array of magical disciplines the professor knew about and was willing to teach. Lydia had embraced the idea that she was “good at pretty much everything,” and was keen to learn everything she could. Her passion for magical learning rivalled Taurnil’s for martial skill and, aided by Professor Worrick’s own scholarly curiosity, she was fast becoming the most knowledgeable student in their class.

  Gaspi was encouraged by every little increment in power as his block continued to erode. His spells were becoming increasingly effective, and in class he was beginning to outshine even the more powerful students, at least when it came to sheer strength. Like Emea he’d taken to enchanting, but he was more interested in creating useful objects than paper butterflies. In the last week he’d made a pair of glasses that let him see in the dark, and a compass that pointed to wherever Emmy was instead of north.

  He’d also discovered a love of all things botanical. Hephistole had told him that the plants from his meditation garden had been transported from Boranavia, a far flung land, part of a distant continent that was the homeland of one of the many long-term residents of the sprawling campus. The Mage in question, an expert in neuromancy, loved the foliage of his homeland so much he’d had some examples shipped here, and used his magic to sustain and nurture the garden he’d planted. Gaspi discovered in the course of his studies that many plants had natural properties that were useful for magical purposes, and that some plants, if magically enhanced, could become something very special indeed.

  It was his love of meditation that drew him to botany. Hephistole’s teas were grown and harvested in a large greenhouse in the campus, and having visited there several times, and seeing the steamy rows of foreign plants growing under the expansive glass roof, Gaspi was fast becoming fascinated by both the possibilities and the process of magical botany.

  Conversely, his mentoring sessions with Voltan had not turned out to be as exciting as he hoped. Voltan was a warrior at heart, and although this branch of magic interested Gaspi, he found himself more passionate about enchanting and with growing things than with all things martial. Their mentoring sessions often entailed lengthy examinations of tactics from great magical battles of the past, and Gaspi struggled to find this very interesting. He just wanted to do things with his magic, not theorise endlessly. Voltan wouldn’t teach him any martial skills out of fairness to the other students, as he said it was going to come up in class, and so his sessions with the naturally serious Voltan had not turned out to be his favourite part of the week.

  Autumn inevitably turned into winter, but not as the Aemon’s Reachers knew it
. There were no heavy snows and no icy ponds. An occasional dusting of light snow feathered the ground in the morning - but it was always gone by midday - and on the days when the sun shone uninhibited in the watery blue skies, the shafts of winter sunlight were still strong enough to beam through the tall classroom windows, warming the necks of drowsy students, and sending them to sleep. The rare glimpses of snow made Gaspi miss the mountains. He longed for a good game of Koshta. There were a few ponds in the campus that were big enough to hold a match on, but midwinter came and went and the water still hadn’t frozen over. Disappointed, Gaspi had to make do with football, which was never interrupted by something as inconsequential as weather.

  “Gaspi!” Owein yelled as he sent the football soaring over the head of an opposing player, right down into Gaspi’s path as he sprinted towards goal. Gaspi could see the leather ball turning in its flight, spinning over and over as he leapt up and forwards, trying to smack it hard with his forehead. He’d learned from previous attempts that you had to get it just right or it really hurt, so he put his full effort into it, stretching out as far as he could to make a good contact. As the ball neared his face he drew his head back and thrust it forwards. The ball made contact with a loud slap, but even though he hit it pretty squarely Gaspi could feel it sliding off the centre of his forehead, angling off to the right. It bounced once, heading to the right hand side of the makeshift goal. The goalkeeper leapt towards the ball, stretching his whole body out in a desperate attempt to reach it, but he landed short with a thump, sending clouds of dust flying into the air around him. Gaspi landed from his leap, hungrily eyeing the ball as it rolled forwards; but to his disappointment it was just a little too far to the right, and bounced over the pile of coats marking the edge of the goal. The cheers of his team mates fell into a collective groan as they saw the ball miss.

  Gaspi jogged back to the centre of the courtyard, past a smug Everand who called after him “Better luck next time, hedge wizard.” Gaspi bridled at the insult, reminded once more that it was the weasely Ferast who’d invented that particular piece of nastiness. He tried to push his annoyance aside, and was determined not to let it show. There would be a time and a place to show Ferast up for what he was.

  The hardest thing about it was that Emmy shared private classes with him and Emelda, as they both had a primary healing gift, and Emmy insisted on seeing the best in him. Normally that was one of the things Gaspi liked best about Emmy, but in this case it was driving him mad. He increasingly suspected that Ferast was the driving force behind Everand’s bullying behaviour. He was always whispering in his ear and throwing little manipulative suggestions into every conversation. He was a snake in the grass, but every time he mentioned it to Emmy she got annoyed and said he was just misunderstood, and was hiding behind a more popular boy. As far as Gaspi was concerned, Ferast had pulled the wool right over her eyes; but trying to remove it only made Gaspi look bad.

  That didn’t mean he had any more liking for Everand, who continued to taunt him at every opportunity, though after Gaspi had threatened him on the day of the Test he always made sure he had plenty of friends with him when baiting him. Gaspi was struggling to contain his anger at Everand. He wasn’t by nature a violent person, but years of bullying had worn away any tolerance he may once have had for such things, and his emotions rose right to the surface every time he was mistreated. He had grown physically over the last half year, and with his magic to back him up he didn’t feel like running away anymore like he used to do with Jakko. It had been over three months since the Test and Gaspi’s block had thinned to the point where he wasn’t sure how much more there was to go before he was able to use his full power. Right now, he was itching for a confrontation.

  Gaspi stopped and walked up to Everand, holding his gaze without flinching. “Want to try saying that without your friends around Everand?” Gaspi asked quietly, so only the large boy could hear. That said, he held the bully’s gaze for a few more seconds, then turned away and carried on jogging back towards the middle of the pitch.

  “Yeah...keep running!” Everand said bravely. Gaspi considered making something of it there and then, but saw Emea and Lydia watching from the sidelines, and swallowed his pride. Everand would have to wait, but not for long.

  Emea opened her eyes and took her hands off the now-sleeping deer’s side, a beatific smile lighting her pretty face.

  “Very good, Emea,” Emelda said quietly, almost reverently. In the months she’d spent learning from Emelda, Emea had come to understand just how much her mentor loved healing. It was some sort of spiritual experience for her, and every time they saved a life she was transfigured for a short while, filled with a quiet joy. At those times Emea could see the beautiful woman she must once have been, before ill-health and weight masked her femininity. It was an irony that someone so generous and gifted in healing found it impossible to receive the same for herself. She had hinted at this difficulty once or twice, but Emmy didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask her about it directly, in case she was being invasive.

  Emelda’s eyes flicked to her other pupil. “Were you watching that, Ferast?” she asked. Ferast’s gaze had been glued to Emea’s face, but at Emelda’s question he quickly looked back to the animal in front of them, a slight flush of embarrassment - or anger - colouring his pale visage.

  None of that showed in his voice, however, which was controlled and unctuous. “Yes, of course. That was impressive to watch, Emea.” Emea smiled warmly at him. Ferast was a more than capable Healer and was particularly precise with his magical interventions, though he lacked some of Emea’s instinctive talent for the discipline.

  “Yes, it was impressive,” Emelda said thoughtfully, “though for me the word wonderful feels more appropriate.” She looked at both her pupils. “It will be your turn in a moment, Ferast. But first, let me ask; how did you find that, Emea?”

  Emea’s brow furrowed as she thought. “It was easy enough,” she said, “but I still have to think really hard and control the flow of magic carefully. Whatever I do, it’s never like it was in the arena when Taurnil was hurt. That was just…effortless.”

  “Well, Emmy, I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again,” Emelda said. “That was verging on a miracle, and you’d be best to lower your expectations for now. You’d barely had any training, and most Healers would never be able to attempt such a grievous wound even after years of practice. But you have a profound gift, and you feel deeply, and somehow your care for your friend enabled you to tap into that gift more deeply than you should have been able to. It was simply amazing, Emea.” Emea let her memory drift back to that event, amazed once again by the way she had been caught up in the moment. It was as if some agency had taken charge and used her gift for her.

  “But you can’t rely on that,” Emelda continued. “What if you have to heal someone you don’t love as much, or if it simply doesn’t all fall into place next time? No - you need to practice, like everybody else.”

  Emea nodded. “I know what you mean. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand what happened that day, but I’m glad it did.”

  Emelda smiled. “Okay, Ferast,” she said. “I’m going to go see what other creatures we have in need of your help. I’ll be back shortly. Can you two entertain yourselves?” They both nodded, and Emelda left the room.

  Ferast scraped his chair round so he was facing Emea. “That was beautiful to watch,” he said, leaning forward intently as he sought her attention.

  “Oh, thank you,” Emea said, with a slight flush of embarrassment.

  “You have a special touch,” Ferast continued, seemingly unaware of the discomfort he was causing her. “The way you wove the flesh back together…” he said, sliding his fingers between each other in demonstration, his eyes never leaving Emea’s face.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Emea said, her flush deepening. “I’ve seen you do the same thing many times. You’re a very good Healer, Ferast,” she insisted, caught between discomfort and the desire to aff
irm this strange and lonely boy.

  Ferast sat up a little straighter, flicking the greasy flop of hair from his eyes with a toss of his head. “I know I am,” he said. “But you’re the only one who can understand.”

  “Because I’m a Healer?” Emea asked uncertainly, not feeling entirely comfortable, but not entirely sure why.

  “Yes, that’s it,” Ferast said after a pause, his attention back on Emea after his brief moment of preening. “You know, I’ve often thought we should spend more time together,” he continued. “So we can practice, I mean,” he added smoothly.

  “Erm...yes, maybe,” she answered noncommittally, not wanting to either offend Ferast or commit to anything. “I get quite busy though,” she added, knowing instinctively she shouldn’t just leave it hanging. “I have my other studies – and, of course, there’s Lydia and Gaspi.” Ferast made a barely audible sound of displeasure. “What is it, Ferast?” Emea asked. “Do you have a problem with Gaspi?”

  Ferast turned his head away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he looked out through the window. He continued to look away while speaking: “I don’t want to speak out of turn, but Gaspi is always looking at me as though he hates me,” he said, swinging back round to face Emea. “As if he’d like to hurt me.”

  “Gaspi doesn’t hate you!” Emea insisted, but without absolute conviction, as she knew that at the very least Gaspi really did dislike Ferast. “I certainly don’t think he wants to hurt you,” she continued, much more sure of herself this time. Gaspi felt strongly about things, but he wasn’t violent. “I know he and Everand sometimes clash, but they are both physical boys and they get competitive,” she said, trying to justify the one aspect of Gaspi’s behaviour she didn’t like.

  “Rand feels the same way as I do about Gaspi,” Ferast said.

  “That’s not really fair,” Emea said in Gaspi’s defence. “Everand usually starts it, and tries to wind Gaspi up. I can’t say I like it though,” she said, more quietly. “Why do boys have to fight?” she asked with a sigh. She returned her attention to Ferast. “But there’s nothing to worry about, Ferast. You don’t treat Gaspi like Everand does, and I’m sure he’d never do anything to you.”