Nature Mage

by Duncan Pile

  Before Ferast had a chance to respond they were interrupted by the door swinging open and Emelda returning, preceded by a levitated fox, dried blood matting its rich red fur.

  “Okay Ferast,” she said briskly. “Your turn.”

  Hephistole lay in his four-poster bed, enveloped in a maroon velvet dressing gown and propped up by many pillows. He was reading late into the night, as was his custom, when a familiar chime sounded in the room, shimmering in the air around him. Hephistole spoke out loud, projecting his response magically as well as verbally.

  “Come on up, Voltan,” he said, putting his book to one side. He was busy rearranging the golden tassels of his robe when the hawk-featured Mage entered the bedchamber.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you so late, Chancellor,” Voltan said.

  “Not at all! Not at all!” Hephistole said. “This book has lost its sense of narrative anyway. A little distraction will do me some good. What brings you to my chamber at this time?” he asked, indicating a chair at his bedside with a wave of his hand.

  Voltan sat down. “You asked me to report any kind of unusual arcane activity in the surrounding villages,” he said. Hephistole nodded. “Well - there is a lot of it - and dotted all around to the north.”

  “What kind of activity?” Hephistole asked, suddenly focussed.

  Voltan frowned. “It sounds like the kind of thing we’re looking for. Local Healers and weather-watchers dying in the night, every last one of them looking like they had been terrified at the moment of death.”

  Hephistole swung his legs out of bed, and began to pace slowly. “Do they seem to be increasing?” he asked.

  “Yes, exponentially,” Voltan said. “Each night there are more attacks, and the people are starting to be afraid. The attacks are spread out in the outlying villages so news doesn’t travel too fast, but even so, people are starting to perceive a pattern.”

  “Have there been any in the city?” Hephistole asked.

  “Not a single one,” Voltan answered. Both men were quiet for a while.

  Hephistole stopped pacing. “Double the guard at night, but do it quietly. We don’t want people to notice. And let’s step up the combat training. Also, speak to Trask and find out which of his fighters we should trust the enchanted weapons to. I don’t like this, Voltan.”

  “Neither do I,” Voltan said. “But all we can do is be ready for whatever may come.”

  Chapter 26

  Gaspi, Emea and Lydia lined up with the rest of their classmates in the courtyard. Voltan had been drilling them on martial magic, teaching them about a wide array of magical attacks and defences.

  “In short,” the dark haired teacher said, “the variety of attacks you can use is limited only by the imagination and skill of the caster. I could, for instance, use the air around me as a weapon or a shield. Matthias, come here!” he said, beckoning the student out into the middle of the courtyard. The short, curly haired boy did as he was told, facing Voltan with a look of anxious determination. “See what you can do to defend yourself,” Voltan said, then swept both arms forward. The dust on the courtyard floor swirled upwards in great spirals, as Voltan’s magic sent a gust of wind surging across the distance between teacher and pupil. The strike ripped into an unprepared Matthius, sending him staggering backwards. After the gust passed he steadied himself, looking embarrassed that he didn’t defend himself in time.

  “Let’s try again,” Voltan said, “but this time, defend yourself.” Matthias looked confused. “I’ll give you a clue,” Voltan said. “I’m attacking you with air, so why not defend with air?” A look of understanding dawned on Matthias’ face, and when Voltan sent a gust of air surging at him again, he thrust both palms outwards towards his attacker. It was hard to see exactly what happened, but when Voltan’s strike reached Matthias he staggered backwards once again.

  “Better,” Voltan said. “But why didn’t it work?” he asked, looking round at the class. Lydia put her hand in the air. “Yes, Lydia?”

  “Because he tried to create a shield out of air, but that just acted as a normal shield would; it caught the wind and was blown backwards by it, like the sail of a ship.”

  “Very good,” Voltan said. “Using magic won’t help unless you also apply it intelligently. Okay, Lydia - you come and replace Matthias, and see if you can think of a way to use air to defend yourself.” Lydia swapped with Matthias, who returned, red-faced, to his classmates.

  “Are you ready?” Voltan asked. Lydia nodded, holding herself with a total absence of self-consciousness. Voltan swept his arms forward once again, and a third gust of wind swept across the courtyard. At the last second, Lydia simply held one hand up, little finger pointing towards Voltan and thumb towards herself. When the gust reached her the dust on either side of Lydia flew up from the ground, but the spot she stood in stayed calm, and even her hair didn’t flutter.

  “Excellent,” Voltan said, a rare look of genuine pleasure on his hawk-like face. “Tell us what you did,” he said.

  “I formed the air into a kind of pointed shield to divide the strike, like a snow plough.”

  “Well, class,” Voltan said. “that’s not only clever, but efficient too. Your device didn’t try and counter my strike, which would take as much energy as making one in the first place, but it diverted it, which takes much less force. Well done, Lydia.”

  Voltan was not often generous with praise, and where Gaspi knew he would be unable to hide his pleasure, Lydia simply took it in her stride and re-joined the class.

  “Okay - form up in twos, and practice both striking and defending with air,” Voltan said. Gaspi looked around to find everyone already pairing up, and no-one left for him to partner with. Emmy had already paired with Lydia, and when she saw him standing there on his own she gave him an apologetic look. Gaspi thought he could sense a bit of pity in that look too, and tried to look nonchalant, hiding any hint of vulnerability.

  “Sir,” said a familiar, oily voice from behind Gaspi. “I don’t feel so well. Do you mind if I sit this one out?”

  “No, that’s fine, Ferast,” Voltan said, “Gaspi can take your place with Everand.”

  Ferast gave Gaspi a smug smile as he passed him on the way to the benches that surrounded the courtyard. Gaspi realised Ferast was play-acting and felt a surge of anger, but he was also confused. What was Ferast up to? Gaspi had been avoiding conflict with Everand as much as possible, but why would Ferast want to throw them together like this?

  Gaspi was faced with a grinning Everand, and didn’t have time to think about it further. The only comfort he could take from the situation was that Everand’s grin looked a little forced. Gaspi knew he’d shaken the bully when he’d stood up to him on the day of the Test, and for all his bluster Everand must have noticed Gaspi’s power increasing almost every day in class as his block eroded. Part of Gaspi was glad of the chance to face him, but Emmy was so touchy about fighting that he felt hamstrung. Pleasing Emmy mattered more to him than showing this idiot up; but there was no way he was going to let Everand humiliate him either.

  “Stand about ten paces from each other,” Voltan said, as the pairs of students spread out across the open area. “Now, face each other.” Each pair faced off in readiness for combat. “Decide between yourselves who is going first, and you can begin.”

  “Do you want to...” Gaspi started to say, when Everand thrust his arms out and sent a burst of wind flying at Gaspi. Gaspi didn’t have time to defend himself, and staggered backwards as it hit him. As he staggered he caught one foot on the other, and went flopping onto his backside in the dirt. Most of the class burst out laughing, and Gaspi angrily pushed himself to his feet, glaring at a grinning Everand.

  “Idiot!” Gaspi hissed to himself. Why had he acted the gentleman? He should have known Everand would play dirty. He dusted himself off, and stepped back to his place.

  “Okay... it’s my turn”, he said flatly. Everand didn’t look exactly nervous, but Gaspi could tell he was concentrating
with every ounce of his strength. Gaspi swung his arms around in a circle, bringing them back round until his hands were almost touching. He thrust them forwards, using his magic to compress and push the air at his opponent. He put all his will into it, shoving it out with as much force as he could muster. The strike flew away from him, ripping up the dust from the ground in an impressive trail. Gaspi had deliberately contained the edges of the strike to make a harder, narrower stream. Everand tried to replicate what Lydia had done and part it around him, but Gaspi’s strike burst right through whatever Everand had tried to construct, hitting him like a punch in the stomach. The taller boy grunted loudly, span around backwards, and fell face-first to the ground.

  “Everybody stop!” Voltan shouted. The students started gathering around Gaspi and Everand, as Voltan helped the prostrate boy to his feet. Everand’s face was covered in dust, and he looked furious.

  “He cheated,” the tall boy said, spitting out a mouthful of dust as he pointed at Gaspi, hate flashing in his eyes.

  “No...he didn’t cheat,” Voltan said. “He just sent a very hard strike.” Gaspi couldn’t tell if Voltan was angry, or pleased. “How did you do it, Gaspi?” he asked. “Everand’s shield would have been pretty strong.”

  “I forced the air into a narrower strike, so it would hit harder,” Gaspi answered without embellishment, not taking his eyes off Everand, who looked ready to jump on him.

  “That was good thinking,” Voltan said, gaining a look of stupefied surprise from Everand. “A narrower stream means more force, like when you pinch a water pipe,” the teacher added.

  “But sir!” Everand said, spluttering incoherently.

  “But nothing, Everand!” Voltan said firmly. “This is the kind of thinking we want from you all. Make your attacks harder to defend against. Be creative,” he said. “Okay - back to your places. Everand take a break, and I’ll partner Gaspi,” he said.

  Once the other students had walked away, Voltan leaned in to Gaspi. “And Gaspi,” he added, “be careful how much power you use. We don’t want anyone injured now, do we?” he asked, holding Gaspi’s gaze long enough for the young magician to understand that his feelings towards Everand had not gone unnoticed.

  “No sir,” he answered, trying not to show the lingering pleasure he felt at the memory of Everand dropping like a sack of potatoes. For the rest of the lesson Voltan put Gaspi through his paces, trying different strengths and shapes of air strike. He got Gaspi several times by slipping around or under his shields, and Gaspi, forced to concentrate hard on the exercise, began to enjoy himself, any residual anger at Everand slipping away in the wake of genuine satisfaction. After another hour, Voltan dismissed them, and the students started to disperse. Gaspi joined Emmy and was walking away with her, when a blast of air caught him from behind and sent him sprawling onto his face. He sprang to his feet to find Emmy had also been hit and was sitting in the dust with a look of surprise on her face, blood trickling from one of her nostrils. Gaspi span around to find Everand standing nearby, the obvious culprit of the attack.

  “Emea, I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to hit you.” Gaspi paid no attention, his long-stored anger at the bully bubbling over into a white hot rage. He thrust a finger at the sky, and beckoned towards the clouds scudding overhead. If Everand wanted to play with breezes, he would show him how it was done. Everand looked perplexed, glancing upwards in confusion. Gaspi reached out instinctively with his senses, feeling for the powerful flow of the winds blowing far above him. It was easy to do, the thick flows of air so much stronger higher up than they were nearer the ground. Entranced by the sheer amount of energy he found, he called it to his service. He drew some of it down, gathering in enough to form a violent gale. The wind responded to the call of a Nature Mage, moving under the direction of its natural master.

  Gaspi brought the gale swirling down above him, until it beat furiously in a wide circuit of the courtyard, chasing its own tail as it circled him. Sensing the turbulence, Everand looked up - firstly in confusion, and then in fearful comprehension, as the head of the gale swooped over him with an ear-popping rush. Gaspi brought the gale round behind him once more, controlling it with wide motions of his arms, before leaping forward and thrusting both hands out at Everand. Everand held up a hand in futile denial, eyes wide with fear as the windstorm come boiling down over Gaspi’s head and along the ground towards him. It ripped up the dust in massive, roiling clouds, racing towards the helpless magician. Just before it reached him, Gaspi heard a faint cry of “No!”

  Everand was picked up and sent tumbling backwards across the yard, falling head over heels several times before Gaspi closed his hand, and Everand rolled to a stop. Everand got to his hands and knees and looked up in Gaspi’s direction, his face white with shock. Gaspi gave a flick of his hand, and one last slap of wind sent him flying onto his back once more. Releasing his held breath, Gaspi turned both hands palms upwards and the remaining trapped forces were released, dissipating into the air. Dust settled slowly back to the ground like mist, mirroring the calm that was returning to Gaspi’s thoughts.

  There was total silence in the courtyard. Everand still lay on his back, and the other students stood frozen, staring in shock at Gaspi. Gaspi slowly turned around, looking at each face until he found Emea’s. Gaspi smiled at her tentatively, hoping to get a response, but she had a look of such seriousness that his smile faltered and died. Without saying a word, Emea turned her back and walked away from the courtyard. The sound of the girl’s dormitory door closing had the effect of waking everyone from their shocked state. Gaspi heard it like a portent of doom, and the other students sprang into motion. Several of the girls hurried past Gaspi to the prostrate Everand, one of them shooting him a look of disgust as she passed. The others fearfully avoided looking him in the eyes.

  Gaspi was still looking for a friendly face when a harsh voice sent a cold shiver down his spine. “Gaspi, stay right there!” Voltan said.

  Gaspi turned around to find his intimidating mentor standing with folded arms at the edge of the courtyard. Gaspi had totally forgotten about Voltan, and with a nod and a gulp stood stock still, while the hawk-faced teacher walked over to Everand. He helped Everand to his feet, asking him a question Gaspi couldn’t quite hear, then with a sharp nod stalked back over to Gaspi. “Follow me,” he said in hard, flat tones. Gaspi picked up his things, and followed him away from the courtyard.

  Voltan led Gaspi through the campus without saying a word, rudely ignoring the magicians they passed who called out a greeting. As Gaspi followed, a sense of dread grew within him. What had he done? Would he be punished? Expelled? That last thought turned his blood cold. Several minutes later, Voltan led an almost-frantic Gaspi into the tower. When Gaspi realised which plinth Voltan was leading him to, his worry ratcheted up another notch.

  “Step on,” Voltan said brusquely. Gaspi had no choice but to obey, and almost as soon as his feet had landed Voltan spoke a command, and he was caught up in the vibrations of transportation. Gaspi was so worried that he barely paused to take notice of the uncomfortable experience, and a moment later he was standing in Hephistole’s study. The Chancellor stood waiting for them, and although he wasn’t showing the same kind of sternness as Voltan, Gaspi couldn’t see any of his usual sparkle. He indicated Gaspi should take a seat, and though he also took a chair, Voltan remained standing.

  “What’s this all about, Voltan?” Hephistole asked, obviously not yet fully familiar with the situation.

  Voltan told of Gaspi’s confrontation with Everand without embellishment, then turned to Gaspi. “There’s just no excuse for that kind of attack on a classmate,” Voltan said, anger still flashing in his dark eyes. “I can’t allow this to go unpunished.”

  Gaspi’s nervousness diminished slightly in the wake of a resurgence of his own anger. “It’s not fair!” he said. “Everand’s been having a go at me for months.”

  “Watch your tone, Gaspi,” Voltan said, and Gaspi bit bac
k a retort that he knew would land him in even deeper trouble.

  “Now, hold on a minute, Voltan,” Hephistole said reasonably. “I agree that Gaspi has gone overboard, but let’s hear him out.” He turned to Gaspi, the hint of a kindly smile on his well-lined face. “What’s behind all this?” he asked. “This is your chance to tell us your side of the story.”

  Gaspi let it all out in a flurry of angry words. “He’s picked on me from day one. He excludes me, he encourages the other students to make fun of me. He calls me names. He says I am not a Nature Mage, and calls me hedge wizard instead.” As Gaspi talked his words began to sound increasingly pathetic in his own ears. “He attacked me today, not the other way round. He threw a strike at me when the class was over and I was walking away. I just didn’t feel like putting up with it anymore.” Gaspi felt a bit better about that last reason.

  Hephistole looked at Voltan. “Have you observed any of this, Voltan?” he asked.

  “In part, yes. I have noticed some friction and, yes, Everand is often rude to Gaspi in class. It’s also true that Everand was the first to attack today. But that’s still no excuse,” he said, turning back to Gaspi. “You are by far the more powerful Mage, and you are responsible for using that power carefully.” The warrior Mage still looked angry, but the hard line of his jaw had relaxed a little.

  “You are right in saying that it is not an excuse Voltan, but it is a reason,” Hephistole said calmly. “Gaspi,” he said, addressing the young Mage again. “I remember from hearing your story the first time that your magic first erupted when defending your guardian against someone in your village. Is that right?”