by Duncan Pile
Long have I watched over her, delighting in her selfless service, and now she has given her life, freely and without hesitation, so that others may live. It was the power of her sacrifice that defeated the Ak-Thakis in the end, but this does not have to be her end. If you wish it, I will restore her to life.
Gaspi looked at the others in astonishment. “Is it possible?”
All things are possible for those who believe.
Gaspi experienced a wave of doubt. Did he believe? He wanted to with everything within him, but it felt like it was beyond him. “I want to believe.”
It is enough that I believe. So I ask you again; would you have her restored?
Gaspi was flooded with bright hope. “I would! Please, bring her back to me.”
First you must understand; if I bring her back it will mark her forever. She will always be mine.
Gaspi didn’t even stop to process that. “Fine.”
You will only have her for a season. She will give you children and you will know great joy, but the day will come when I will call her to my service. It is not a cruelty – her heart will yearn to serve me, even in the years of your happiness. In the end, you must let her go. Can you accept that?
He could have Emmy back? They could have years together and raise a family? There was nothing to think about. “I can and I will.”
A profound acknowledgement shimmered in the air. Love’s presence intensified, so beautiful Gaspi could barely breathe. Around him, his friends’ cheeks were wet with tears. The figure of light lost its form and flowed smoothly over to Emmy, where it surrounded her in a shining cocoon, pulsating and brightening by the moment. Gaspi was forced to shield his eyes.
A great sense of holiness filled the chamber, rising like thick mist. In that moment Gaspi sensed something of Love’s true greatness – vast as an ocean, more permanent than the mountains – and felt himself to be very small; a mere speck in comparison to this incomprehensible being. Slowly, the light began to fade, and with it the sense of Love’s nearness. He lowered his hand and looked at Emmy, who lay as she had before, her body unmoving. The cocoon of light was sinking into her layer by layer, faded by increments as Emmy’s body absorbed it. Gaspi held his breath, his heart brimming with hope and yet he barely dared to believe. The glow diminished until Emmy was limbed in the faintest skin of light, as faint as a flickering flame. It lingered, a barely perceptible glimmer, until at last it blinked out.
Emmy opened her eyes.
Gaspi cried out as her lungs filled with air. He snatched her up in an embrace, sobbing with relief and gratitude. He clung to her, despite her protestations, feeling the wonderful rise and fall of her chest.
Around him a great clamour broke out, cries of amazement filling the air. Emmy said his name, trying to prise herself loose, but he held on, unwilling to let her go.
“Gaspi!” she said, for what must have been the dozenth time. Slowly he released her and lifted his head, smiling at her through tear-blurred vision. He helped her sit up.
“What happened?” she said, looking around with wide eyes. “The Dark God?”
“Defeated,” he said, and for the first time began to understand that it was finally over.
“How?” she asked.
A groaning sound issued from behind the altar. “Sestin!” Gaspi hissed, rushing to his feet and striding over to the fallen arch-mage. He drew power, ready to finish him, but came to a stop when he saw the renegade’s face. Emmy gasped. Sestin’s eyes were blackened and melted, dribbling in jelly-like runnels down his face. His face was ravaged, his body broken. The breath rattled in his chest as his mouth opened and closed. He was trying to say something. Gaspi crouched to hear it, desperate for any word of explanation. “Why did you do this, Sestin?” he demanded. “Tell me, dammit, while you still have the chance.”
If Sestin heard him, he didn’t show it. He was insensible, lost in a sea of pain. The renegade’s mouth opened once more, his cracked and bleeding lips forming a single word. Gaspi leaned in. “Chloe,” Sestin breathed, and with that his head toppled to the side and was still.
“Chloe?” Gaspi said, incredulous. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing that matters,” Sabu muttered. The blade-master had joined them, his face lined with sorrow. “Hephistole is dead.”
Gaspi’s knees threatened to give way and he grabbed onto Emmy for support. He had felt it the moment the chancellor had collapsed; no-one should have been able survive the Dark God’s presence, but this was Hephistole they were talking about. He always had some trick up his sleeve; a spell he’d invented, some secret reserve of power no-one else knew about or an artefact with extraordinary properties. Emmy was crying, clinging to him as tightly as he clung to her. Gaspi took her hand and crossed the floor to join Baard, who knelt in silent vigil before the body, which didn’t have a mark on it. Hephistole’s wide, unstaring eyes were the only indicator that his spirit had fled.
“El-Amyari…Love…come back!” Gaspi begged, but there was no burgeoning sense of Presence. “Please!”
Emmy’s hand tightened around his. “It’s no good,” she said. “Hephistole’s gone.”
“Why should he be gone?” Gaspi said. “If Love could raise you from the dead then why not him, and Voltan too?”
“I don’t know why it’s different Gaspi. It just is,” she said between quiet sobs. “I was meant to come back. Can’t you feel it?”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” he snapped.
“Gaspi, I’m hurting too,” she murmured.
Gaspi felt immediately ashamed of himself. “I’m so sorry Emmy,” he said, drawing her into a hug. “It’s just that…”
“You loved him,” Emmy said.
“It’s more than that. He was at the heart of all of this, guiding us, leading us. Think of all the kindness he showed to each of us. Think of all the people he saved in the battle. Can you imagine Helioport without him?”
“No,” Emmy whispered. “I can’t.”
The others gathered around, each lost in private grief.
Tears flowed down Gaspi’s cheeks as he took in the lines of the chancellor’s clever face. There he lay, the fisherman’s boy who had become a magician, who in turn had become the chancellor of the world’s most venerable magical institution. He was the most vital, magnetic man Gaspi had ever known. His energy had been a wonder to behold, making it almost impossible to believe he was dead. They stood there for long minutes until Sabu broke the silence. “There is much to be said, but we shouldn’t linger here. There will be time to mourn when we’re back in Helioport. Let’s gather our fallen and be gone.”
Gaspi’s gaze fell on Voltan’s shattered form, hanging only yards away. He swallowed thickly, choked by sadness. They had lost so much. Hephistole, Voltan, Talmo; he couldn’t take it in. Sabu walked over to his Voltan’s corpse. “Baard, Jonn, help me get him down.”
“I’ll go and get Talmo,” Rimulth said, his voice heavy with sorrow.
“I’ll help,” Taurnil said, and the two of them left the chamber.
Gaspi slipped an arm around Emmy, who clung tightly to him, her face buried in his robes. They stood there in shocked silence until Taurnil and Rimulth returned, bringing Talmo’s body with them. Ever so gently, Rimulth lowered it to the floor alongside Hephistole and Voltan; the warrior mage’s corpse had been lifted from the harness and wrapped in Sabu’s cloak.
“How are we going to get back?” Baard said.
Of course! Hephistole had transported them from the college, and Gaspi’s amulet was paired to the one Emmy wore around her neck.
Rimulth reached within his robes and retrieved an amulet, which he slipped around the air spirit’s neck. “The spirit will fly ahead of us, and we will transport to it when it reaches Helioport.”
Gaspi nodded. It was the only way. “Fly swiftly,” he said.
Forty-six
Over the course of the next few weeks, the scale of their victory gradually hit home. It didn’t diminish Gaspi’s
sorrow at the loss of his friends, or the devastation that had laid waste to the great city of Helioport, taking the lives of thousands of its citizens, but it was impossible to remain insensible to the enormity of their triumph. They had faced the Dark God and won. Gaspi thought often of those crucial moments, when the power of nature had flooded through him; vast incalculable energies that he had channelled and somehow managed to survive. This had been the great calling he had been chosen to fulfill; the destiny of a Nature Mage.
The elementals had been right, holding to their belief for long centuries until Gaspi’s time had finally come. They had allied themselves with him, guiding him with their wisdom, steering him through many troubles until events pushed him into that final, fateful confrontation where everything had been at stake. If they had failed, the Dark God would have emerged triumphant in the living plane and subjugated men to his service. All that was good in the world would have been sullied and destroyed and eventually the light of hope would falter and fail altogether. But they had thwarted him, and now husbands and wives, sons and daughters, friends and lovers could live out their lives in innocence and freedom. They would never know the fate that was almost theirs, or the people who had suffered and died to protect them, but that didn’t matter to Gaspi. They had won, and the world was safe. It was impossible not to feel good about that, even though his heart continued to ache whenever he thought of those he had lost. Hephistole’s death had affected him deeply, and the shock and sorrow he felt remained an open wound after returning to Helioport.
On hearing of his demise, the magicians of the College of Collective Magicks had been devastated. Professor Worrick, who was named Chancellor on their return, had declared a fortnight of mourning during the funeral preparations. Black-robed magicians went about their business, shrouded in impenetrable sadness.
It was the funeral itself that helped Gaspi begin to heal. As person after person rose to their feet and spoke of Hephistole’s friendship, Gaspi had understood how many lives the chancellor had touched. The abundant words of remembrance painted a picture of a man who was intelligent, wise and powerful, but most of all they revealed Hephistole’s humanity, his kindness and even his flaws, spoken of with great fondness. The chancellor had been a wonderful human being, and though his death was a terrible tragedy, his had been a life worth living.
After the funeral, Gaspi made a conscious effort to put sorrow behind him, knowing that Hephistole wouldn’t want him to wallow in endless sadness. As Emmy reminded him often, there was was much to look forward to. Jonn and Adela were getting married – an event that was a great source of joy for Gaspi. For as long as he could remember, he had dreamed of Jonn finding love once more, and along with it, contentment. Ever since Emmy’s dramatic intervention, Adela had been freed from fear and loved Jonn with all her heart. She was passionate and expressive, and Gaspi took particular delight in seeing his guardian’s joy and frequent bewilderment. It seemed that after all his suffering, Jonn had been rewarded at last.
Rimulth’s departure from Helioport had been a cause for both sadness and celebration. The tribesman felt he had learned enough during his time in Helioport to return to Eagle’s Roost and restore the indigenous shamanic traditions of his homeland. Though sorrowful at the parting, Gaspi was happy for his friend. This had always been Rimulth’s purpose in coming to Helioport. He would return to Eagle’s Roost without Talmo, but he carried the tale of the warrior’s part in their great victory. He would spread it far and wide and Talmo would be remembered with honour.
The task of rebuilding Helioport was a colossal one. Its walls were scarred and pitted, its houses burned and sullied. Death lay in every alleyway, but the citizens set about their task bravely, carrying away bodies, clearing endless mounds of rubble, sweeping the streets and washing the walls. They worked in sombre silence, mourning the loss of friends and loved ones who had given their lives to save the city. The guards had been decimated in the battle, losing two thirds of the garrison, but Trask had already begun recruiting and Gaspi was confident that with the drillmaster at the helm, Helioport’s military force would be rebuilt in good time. The city’s residents had suffered terribly, but they understood the reason for their loss. Professor Worrick had ordered that the full story of the victory in Elmera be told in taverns across the city, and its citizens, though devastated, buried their dead with their heads held high and set about rebuilding their great city with determination.
Taurnil had been promoted to sergeant and spent his days serving the people of Helioport. At the end of each long day he’d return to Lydia in their gypsy wagon outside the city walls. It was a modest home but they were content, wanting nothing more than they already had. Gaspi was happy for them and especially for his best friend, who had become all that he ever wanted to be and more – a deadly fighter, a husband and now a leader of men.
Emmy had taken her place in the infirmary within a day of returning from ruined Elmera. She worked tirelessly, performing extraordinary healings that soon had people talking about her. Rumour had it that something had happened to her during the final battle against the Dark God – something that had changed and empowered her – but Emmy held her silence on the matter. Even so, the stories about her continued to circulate, and soon people were whispering her name in awe. Some said that a gentle light surrounded her as she walked the corridors of the infirmary, tending to the needs of the wounded. Gaspi had never seen it himself, but after all that had happened in the presence of Love, he was willing to believe it was true.
It was the one thing he avoided contemplating. He understood that Emmy had been marked in some way, changed forever by Love’s intervention. How could a person rise from the dead and not be touched in some extraordinary way? In the still of the night, Love’s words often came back to him.
You will only have her for a season. She will give you children and you will know great joy, but the day will come when I will call her to my service. It is not a cruelty – her heart will yearn to serve me, even in the years of your happiness. In the end, you must let her go.
One day, Emmy’s calling would manifest and he would have to let her go – already he could sense something other about her. What happened in the ruins had marked her, made her something greater than she was before, but she was still his Emmy, and that unknown future may be decades away. It did no good to dwell on what might be, or on things that were beyond his power to change, and he resolved instead to live in the moment, enjoying every day he got to spend with her. When the time was right – perhaps when Helioport’s restoration was complete – he would marry her and they would raise children together. Whatever the future held, he was determined that they would look back on the next few years together and see them as the happiest and most fulfilled of their lives.
…
Jonn watched as the handful of guests gathered, happy that the wedding would be a simple affair. It was to take place in a small clearing on the edge of the great forest, a couple of miles from Helioport’s walls. They could have married in the city but Helioport was still in ruins, and Jonn didn’t want any reminders of violence or death on their wedding day.
Neither did he want a crowd. Every guardsman in the garrison would have come if they could, but Jonn only wanted a few close friends in attendance. Adela felt the same way. At Gaspi’s suggestion, Heath had been asked to officiate, and in a rare departure from his well-established life of solitude, the druid had left his home and travelled to Helioport to officiate, on the condition that the wedding was to take place outside. A man-made dwelling, even a country chapel, was no place for a druidic ceremony.
Jonn was still helping out with the restoration of the city, but as a volunteer and not as a guard. He had quit his post weeks ago and was a member of Helioport’s militia no more. It felt right. Being a guard had helped him through some tough times, given him something to live for even, but now he had a higher purpose – to love and look after Adela. She wanted to grow crops and keep livestock, and Jonn had a feeling
it would suit him. He was looking forward to sinking his hands into the soil.
Logs had been set out around the clearing, and the guests were busy seating themselves. Jonn took a long look at those who’d gathered and smiled to himself. Here they were – the people he loved, gathered in one place. Taurnil and Lydia sat together, holding hands and talking quietly. Sabu sat with Baard, the slender swordsman smirking as the giant tried to find a comfortable position for his enormous frame. Baard shot him a wink and Jonn chuckled to himself. The giant had turned up in boiled leathers and chainmail, his hair a mess and his beard a tangle.
Jonn permitted himself another smile, but it faded when he thought of Hephistole and Voltan, whose absence was conspicuous. They both should have been here by rights, but their lives had been lost in the final battle against Sestin. Talmo should have been here too, as should Erik. Erik had saved Gaspi’s life when they’d first met, rushing him to Helioport to be healed. Over the years, he and Jonn had become trusted friends, and he’d always known Erik had his back. He hoped Erik had been equally confident of Jonn’s friendship, but if he didn’t it was too late to tell him.
Jonn caught himself and took a deep breath. There was enough pain in the world, and none of his missing friends would want him to spend his wedding day brooding on past sorrows. Jonn rolled his shoulders and shook it off. Today, he would focus on what he had and not on what he had lost.
Gaspi, who stood beside him, caught his gaze and smiled. Yes, he had Gaspi; the boy he had raised as his own was with him on this most important of days, and for that Jonn was grateful beyond words.
“Ready?” Gaspi asked.
“Ready,” Jonn said, and he was. After all the years of loneliness and pain he had found Adela. She was home to him, and he was more than ready to make her his wife.
Gaspi signalled to Loreill, who hovered, glimmering at his side, and the elemental shot off into the forest. Moments later the spirit reemerged, accompanied by Lilly – two coruscating beings of light – and behind them came Adela, dressed in a simple white gown, walking barefoot through the trees. Jonn had never seen anyone look more beautiful. The sunlight winked from the pale blossoms woven into her hair, which shone like spun gold. She met his gaze and smiled, joy dancing in her clear, blue eyes. Jonn smiled back, forgetting everyone else in the clearing. Right there and then, she was everything.
