by Duncan Pile
Gaspi croaked as he tried to speak, forced himself into a more upright position, and tried again. “Something unexpected happened,” he said. “I was enchanting it to hit harder, and then I imagined Taurnil fighting with it, and something else happened.”
“Something else?” Voltan asked, the sharpness of worry replaced by a kind of intense focus, a professional interest.
“The staff glowed brightly. Really brightly. I could barely look at it.”
“Mmm,” Voltan murmured to himself, lifting the staff up to his eyes and turning it around, looking at it from every angle. “Well, whatever you did, this staff is now holding some kind of powerful enchantment.” He handed it back to Gaspi. “Your friend is lucky indeed to have a Nature Mage for a friend.” Sensing dismissal, Gaspi tried to push himself out of the chair, but fell back on the first attempt. “You really put everything into it, didn’t you?” Voltan asked rhetorically, as he helped Gaspi out of the chair.
“It looks that way,” Gaspi said wearily. Voltan insisted on taking him to the infirmary just to have the Healers check him over, leaving Gaspi there to rest up. Despite his exhaustion, Gaspi couldn’t help feeling pleased with himself. He was surprised he felt so drained, but also very pleased he’d done what he set out to do. The staff was almost certainly going to hit hard, but then there was the second part of the enchantment too. It would hopefully be something even better than adding force to the strike. One thing was for certain: Taurnil was going to love it!
It turned out that Gaspi had weakened himself much more than he’d expected. Five days later he was still weak as a kitten, and had to spend most of the day lying down. Since the day Voltan had moved him to the infirmary, Gaspi had only been out for meals and classes. In class, Gaspi felt like a prize idiot. Emelda had found a special chair for him that was somewhere between an armchair and a bed, and although anything was better than staring at the ceiling in the infirmary, the sniggers of the other students, and especially Ferast and Everand, occasionally provoked him to anger. Every time they started he thought about the staff he’d enchanted and how much Taurnil would love it, and sometimes that helped calm him down. When that didn’t work he thought about what Hephistole had said about being a peacemaker, and when that didn’t work he just lay there, quietly seething. After class and in the evening he’d take a brief walk to the refectory where he sat upright just long enough to get some food down, before his friends helped him back to his bed.
It could have been worse, he supposed, as he lay once more in his infirmary bed. Emmy and Lydia had practically moved into the infirmary, and Taurnil came when he could - this night was no exception. Taurnil had brought some painted squares of card from the barracks, and was teaching them a game the soldiers played when they were off duty. The aim of the game was to swap the cards dealt to you with others from the deck to make combinations of colours and shapes that were worth different numbers of points. It was a game of luck but the rules made it fairly complicated, and Gaspi found he really enjoyed it. Of course he’d much rather be kicking a football, or whacking a Koshta seed. Koshta! Gaspi hadn’t thought of it in some time, and found himself longing wistfully for a set of skates and an icy pond, and for legs that would hold him upright for more than a few minutes as well!
Taurnil interrupted his musings. “So, for the last time, Gasp, are you going to tell me how you got like this?”
“Nope,” Gaspi said with a grin. It was something Taurnil had asked him every day since the enchantment, and winding his friend up was one of the few compensations for being so incapacitated. “If you just wait till Feast-Day, it’ll all be made clear.”
Taurnil screwed his face up in thought. Gaspi didn’t think that Taurn would assume it had anything to do with his Nameday, even though it fell on this coming Feast-Day. “Why Feast-Day?” Taurnil asked. “Bah!” he said in disgust when he got no answer. “You’re not going to tell me, so why bother? I give up!”
Lydia let out a rich laugh, and smoothed the hair back from Taurnil’s forehead. “Now, now, Taurnil dearest,” she said teasingly. “Don’t be so demanding.”
Taurnil immediately lost his frustrated expression, driven to a kind of slavish distraction by Lydia’s touch. Gaspi wanted to laugh at the asinine look on his friend’s face, but he held back. He and Emea had been together longer than Taurnil and Lydia, but he still managed to look pretty stupid often enough. Emea, on the other hand, was less restrained and laughed her tinkling laugh, a sound that Gaspi adored. He caught himself staring at her and, realising he must look something like Taurnil had a moment ago, let out a barking a laugh of his own.
“What’s funny, Gasp?” Taurnil asked, his guileless face framed by freshly tousled hair.
“Dunno mate,” Gaspi answered, breaking into an extended fit of giggles. Emea started giggling too when Gaspi kept chortling to himself, and even Lydia seemed to catch the bug. It wasn’t long before they were falling about laughing for no apparent reason, until tears were streaming down Gaspi’s face. It took a while to stop, but eventually they’d calmed down to the point where a snigger would get them all going again.
Taurnil wiped the tears away from his face with the back of his hand. “Dunno what that was all about,” he said.
“Me neither,” Gaspi said, “but we should do it more often.”
Feast-Day came around, and although Gaspi was feeling a bit stronger, he wasn’t well enough to walk through the city to the barracks. They’d planned to meet Taurnil and Jonn there and spring Taurnil’s Nameday surprise on him, and knowing Gaspi couldn’t make it down in his condition, Jonn had organised for a land-dhow to come and pick them up. A land-dhow was basically a colourful wooden box on three wheels pulled by donkeys. Helioport sat in the middle of the broad flood plain of the river Helia, which meandered in huge lazy swoops across the wide-open stretch of fields that supplied the city’s many inhabitants. In history class they had learned that in ancient times Helioport used to sit right on the ocean, giving it the suffix “port,” but some catastrophic event way in the unrecorded past had caused the sea to retreat and the great city to be landlocked. The river, red with the rich clay of the plain, snaked around the outer curve of the west side of the city, and was its last remaining link to the sea that once surrounded it. Historically there would have been lots of the small sea craft known as dhows plying their trade in Helioport’s waters, but now traffic along the river was vastly reduced, and there were many more land-dhows than their seagoing cousins.
The dhow drew up outside the infirmary, its arrival announced by the loud braying of the donkey pulling it. Gaspi refused to lean on Emea, and walked himself out to the dhow unsupported, lowering himself into its waiting seat with his dignity intact. The young boy who led the donkey flashed a gap-toothed grin at Gaspi, a shining contrast to his well-tanned skin and dark curly hair.
“Huy!” he cried loudly, rapping the donkey smartly on the rear. It brayed and started forward, dragging the dhow into motion with a lurch. Lydia and Emea kept pace with it, chattering excitedly as they walked.
They passed out of the gates of the college and wound down the broad road that led them through the town to the barracks. In Aemon’s Reach no-one worked on Feast-Day or Rest-Day, but here in the city most of the shops remained open for trade, so the streets were teeming with people. Many folk stopped to stare at the unusual sight of a young man dressed in magician’s robes being drawn in a land-dhow, and Gaspi started to feel like a bit of a spectacle. Trying to ignore the scrutiny of the crowd, he peered around at the shops, until his eyes fell on a most unwelcome sight. Ferast was emerging from an apothecary, his skinny arms bundled with brown paper bags. He blinked in the bright sunlight for a moment, and then his eyes fixed on Gaspi. His mouth began to curl up in its customary sneer, but before that unpleasant expression could fully spread across his sallow face, he caught sight of Emea, and quickly brought his features under control.
Ferast shuffled over to them, careful not to drop or spill his acquisitions.
His dark eyes were for Emea alone. “Hello, Emea,” he said. “What are you doing?” he asked, without looking at either of the other two.
“Hi Ferast!” Emea said brightly. “We’re going to the barracks to visit Taurnil for his Nameday.”
“Taurnil?” Ferast responded in a puzzled voice. “Oh yes, the guard,” he added, in a tone that revealed - at least to Gaspi - that he considered such company beneath him.
“Yes, the guard!” Lydia interjected dismissively. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we need to be getting on.”
Lydia grabbed Emea by the arm and was already moving away, the dhow-driver taking his cue from her and smacking the donkey on the rump. Looking back over her shoulder, Emea called back to Ferast “See you later,” leaving the gangly boy standing bemused in the middle of the street. Gaspi watched Ferast through a gap in the boards of the dhow as they pulled away, and he saw what Emea didn’t. He saw the way Ferast’s hard black eyes narrowed hatefully on Lydia’s back; he saw him angrily flicking his lank, dark hair out of his eyes, spinning on his heel and stalking furiously up the road.
“Lydia!” Emea exclaimed in surprise. “What’s gotten into you?”
“The guard!” Lydia spat in disgust. “I’m sorry Emea but that boy is a nasty piece of work. Did you not hear how he spoke about Taurnil, as if he was nothing?” Gaspi said nothing, highly pleased that someone apart from him could see Ferast for what he was, and hoping that Emmy would listen to her friend, even if she wouldn’t listen to him.
Emea’s face was a mask of confusion. “But all he said was that Taurnil is a guard, which is true.”
“Emea...you are blind about this boy,” Lydia responded firmly. “How long has he been sharing private classes with you, or finding ways to talk to you? He didn’t even remember who Taurnil was for a moment there, as if he doesn’t matter at all. You have mentioned Taurnil, haven‘t you?”
“Of course I have,” Emea answered defensively. Her frown deepened for a moment as she stared into space, and when she next spoke it was more softly: “You might be right, but I just don’t want to give up on him unless I know for certain he‘s as nasty as everyone seems to think he is. I just know there’s a good person in there somewhere.”
Lydia and Gaspi shared a telling glance over Emea’s head. “Never mind,” Lydia said. “Let’s drop it. We don’t want anything to spoil Taurnil’s Nameday, do we?”
Emea smiled, the little wrinkle in the centre of her forehead disappearing. “Okay...let’s forget it,” she said. Gaspi didn’t think Emea would see Ferast for what he was unless he did something truly terrible, something he considered the strange boy entirely capable of if he thought he could get away with it. He just hoped that if that happened, it wouldn’t be something that would hurt Emmy.
Chapter 30
Jonn met them when they reached the barracks. He paid the dhow driver, and helped Gaspi out of the seat. Leaning on his guardian, they walked to the arena where Taurnil was practicing. Taurnil was going through a series of exercises on his own, warming up for practice; but seeing his friends enter, he stopped in surprise.
Lydia and Emea ran onto the arena floor, and engulfed him in two massive hugs.
“Happy Nameday!” they cried exuberantly. An embarrassed but pleased Taurnil let them hug him for a moment, before gently shrugging them off. Gaspi was struck by how big Taurnil was. Months of weapons practice had cut his once sturdy frame into a much more defined shape. His shoulders were enormous, and his arms thicker than Jonn’s by some way. He had continued to shoot up in size too, and was a couple of inches over six foot. He still had the benign, bumbling quality Gaspi loved about him; a sort of childlike simplicity that had nothing to do with a lack of intelligence, but reflected a man who preferred to keep everything in its rightful place. That innocence was now coupled with a kind of manly strength that made it seem robust and well-balanced. He was in every way the opposite of scheming, self-important Ferast.
Jonn helped Gaspi over to Taurnil, where he clapped his friend on the back and wished him a happy Nameday.
“Well, this is a surprise!” Taurnil said with evident pleasure.
“Trask has agreed to give you the day off,” Jonn said, “but I thought perhaps we could start the day with a demonstration of your skills with the staff,” he finished, with a small smile.
“Really?” Taurnil said, looking at his friends confusedly. “You want to watch me and Jonn spar?”
“Yes, they do,” Jonn said as his friends all responded enthusiastically. “Now, why don’t you go over to the rack, and see if you can find a decent weapon?”
Taurnil still looked a little confused, but went over to the rack, where he stopped in his tracks. Among the regular weapons was looked like a staff wrapped in brown paper, with his name written at the top. Picking it up, he turned back to his friends. “But this wasn’t here when I started,” he said.
“Someone must have snuck it in there while you were warming up, eh?” Jonn said by way of explanation. “You’d best open it...don’t you think?”
Taking the gift in both hands, Taurnil peeled off the brown paper at one end, exposing the warm golden glow of the wood and one of the metal caps. Exclaiming breathily, he ripped off the rest of the paper, until he gripped the exposed staff with eager fingers. He looked up at Jonn in disbelief. “It’s beautiful!” he said quietly. He turned it in his hands, running his fingers over the polished surface of the intricately patterned grain. “Beautiful,” he said again. Standing back from the group he span it round his body in the comfortable practice manoeuvre of a skilled fighter. “Perfectly weighted,” he murmured.
“We’ll give it a try in a minute, Taurn,” Jonn said, interrupting the young guard’s reverie, “but you need to know that this staff is not just from me. It’s from Gaspi as well.”
“Really?” Taurnil asked, looking at Gaspi questioningly.
“I, er, altered it a bit,” Gaspi said with a grin. “You know, made it more powerful.”
“You can do that?” Taurnil asked excitedly. “But what does it do?”
“Well, it’ll hit much harder than it should,” Gaspi answered. “But also something else happened that I don’t understand. It might have some hidden powers.”
Understanding dawned in Taurnil’s eyes. “Is this how you got like this?” he asked, indicating Gaspi’s weakened body with a wave of his hand.
“’Fraid so,” Gaspi answered sheepishly.
“Mate...this is an amazing present,” Taurnil said, his eyes shining with excitement and gratitude.
“Come on, then,” Jonn said. “Let’s give it a try.” And with that, he sprang from his seat, and took a staff from the weapons rack. “Just take it easy, okay? We don’t know how effective Gaspi’s spell is yet, and I don’t feel like being brained.”
Taurnil grinned. “Okay, Jonn - I’ll keep it light.”
The two men squared off. The first exchange of blows had Jonn grunting and staggering backwards. He let down his guard, and they stopped fighting. “Can you feel anything different when you hit with it, Taurn?” Jonn asked. “It’s like fighting against an ogre at this end.”
“No, it just feels like normal,” Taurnil said. “I can tell the difference in your reaction, but other than that there’s nothing different.”
“Amazing!” Jonn said. “Let’s try again.” This time he leapt in and attacked Taurnil properly, forcing the young fighter into a defensive stance. “It’s less obvious this way,” Jonn said, talking as he attacked. “It feels like I’m hitting a tree trunk, but there’s nothing coming back at me.”
Jonn span into an aggressive attack, striking hard at Taurnil’s midriff. Flicking the end of Jonn’s staff upwards in a clever defensive move, Taurnil swung back hard in return. Jonn raised his staff to defend against the blow, but as it landed his staff exploded into splinters in his hands. Taurnil only just managed to hold the strike before his staff slammed into Jonn’s chest. Jonn held the broken ends of his staff in astonishment.
> “Wow!” Taurnil said, eyeing his golden staff meaningfully.
“I think your enchantment worked, Gaspi,” Jonn said dryly.
Gaspi laughed. “You’re telling me!” he said.
“Let me have a go, Taurn,” Jonn said, holding out his hands.
“Sure,” Taurnil said, handing Jonn the staff, before retrieving another from the rack. The two men squared off once again, circling slowly, until Jonn stepped in with an attack. After several exchanges of blows, Jonn called a stop to it.
“How does it feel, Taurn?” he asked. “You don’t seem to be struggling.”
“Just like normal,” Taurnil answered, looking confused.
Jonn turned to Gaspi. “Is it possible you enchanted it so it only works for Taurnil?” he asked.
“I really don’t know,” Gaspi answered. “Professor Worrick says enchantment is unpredictable, so I guess it’s possible. I was imagining Taurn using it when I cast the enchantment.”
“That’s even better!” Taurnil said, brimming with the kind of focussed excitement he only ever showed about martial matters. “Now it can’t even be used against me if I dropped it.”
Gaspi always got the feeling that when Taurnil talked about fighting he was imagining a battle where he was defending Gaspi and Emea, a battle he truly believed would come to pass. The vision Martha had shared with them before leaving Aemon’s Reach seemed to be much more real for Taurnil than it was for Gaspi, motivating him to work extra hard at his weapons skills in preparation for the day Taurnil was so sure would come. It was a little unnerving at times, but Gaspi supposed it had to be a good thing really. If that day ever came, they’d be well protected by Taurnil, especially now he had a magical weapon.
That wasn’t the only surprise Taurnil had that day. They had lunch at the Rest, during which a boy ran in and whispered in Jonn’s ear, before running off again.
“What’s that all about?” Gaspi asked.