Nature Mage

by Duncan Pile

  “Taurnil, Voltan, we’ve got to get up to Hephistole’s office. He’s trapped up there!” Gaspi said urgently. Taurnil immediately broke away from the fight with the last Warg, which was surrounded by too many guardsmen, snarling its anger and hatred even in the face of inevitable death. Gaspi led Voltan and Taurnil to the transporter.

  “What are we facing up there?” Voltan asked brusquely.

  “Hephistole’s caught by a massive Warg. There’s some kind of device that stops him using magic,” he said. “The Warg’s really resistant to magic - so Taurnil, you’ll have the best chance at fighting it.”

  “Okay...let’s go,” the fierce magician said, urging them to get onto the plinth. He spoke the word of command, and the three of them appeared a moment later in Hephistole’s office.

  “It’s round the other side,” Gaspi said, leading them quickly round the interior of the Chancellor’s long office. He could hear the sounds of struggle from up ahead, and was fearful of what that might mean. “It’s just a bit further,” he whispered. ”By the hole.”

  Urgency sped their steps as they neared the spot, both Gaspi and Voltan summoning power to the tips of their fingers, and Taurnil bringing up his staff in readiness. They stepped round the last part of the curving wall, and found Hephistole flat on his back, using his long legs to scurry backwards away from the enormous Warg. Somehow he had escaped from the magical field and was now fighting for his life, throwing spells into the snarling creature’s face that would have floored anything else, but which only slowed the magic-resistant Warg down. It snapped and snarled its way through each spell, bearing inexorably down on the chancellor.

  Gaspi’s hair stood on end as Voltan released a spear of blazing white light. He shouted in defiance as he released it, catching the Warg full in the face as it turned to face him. The Warg dipped its head, seemingly in pain, giving Hephistole the time he needed to scramble to his feet and back away.

  “Go for its eyes!” Voltan shouted. All three Magicians cast their spells at once, and the Warg was struck in the face by a three-pronged attack. Voltan had thrown another blinding white spear, Hephistole a stinging globe of sparkling red particles, and Gaspi had seized an ornate letter opener with his power, and sent it flying right into one of the creature’s eyes. The Warg reared up in pain, the letter opener quivering in its right eye, fluid running down its face from the terrible wound.

  With a loud shout, Taurnil leapt forward, his glowing staff held high above his head. The Warg turned to face him, an avalanche-like growl rumbling in its throat as it launched itself towards this new attacker. Taurnil stopped short, judged the momentum of the Warg, and brought his staff down in a crushing blow, aiming for its neck. The Warg shifted to the side at the last second, and Taurnil’s staff slammed heavily into its ribs. The Warg let out a doglike whimper, as a loud snapping noise punctuated the sounds of battle. Limping backwards in obvious pain and surprise, it turned its baleful eye to its tormentor, glaring at him as if searing him into its memory.

  “This is not the end,” it growled in its broken voice; and, spinning around, it leaped into the dome of light. Taurnil hefted his staff above his head once again. All three magicians summoned power to their fingertips, but the Warg ran quickly to the device, pressing on its centre with a heavy paw. With an intense buzzing vibration it disappeared, the red light winking out of existence.

  Taurnil lowered his staff, as the three magicians stood for a long moment of frozen shock. “That was a transporter,” Hephistole said hoarsely, breaking the silence. “It was meant to take me with it.”

  “Take you where?” Gaspi asked.

  “There’ll be time for all that later,” Voltan said firmly, ushering the shaken Chancellor to a seat. “You two get to the infirmary,” he said.

  “But sir...” Gaspi said.Voltan raised a hand to quiet him.

  “I promise you, you will find out everything later - but for now, please go to the infirmary,” he said. “I will check on you later.”

  “Okay,” Gaspi said grudgingly, eyeing the fragile-looking Chancellor, who looked shaken for the first time since Gaspi had known him. He turned and started walking away with Taurnil, heading for the transporter.

  “Gaspi,” Hephistole called gently after him. Gaspi turned around. “Thank you,” he said.

  Gaspi nodded, smiling wearily. “You’re welcome, Heppy,” he said, and walked away.

  Emea waited anxiously in the infirmary. It seemed like forever since Gaspi and Taurnil had walked out of the door, and as the stream of new casualties slowed and then dwindled to almost nothing, she had far too much time on her hands and nothing to do except worry. She wouldn’t allow herself to finish any thought that started with what if, but despite her resolve she couldn’t stop tension building up, until she was blinking back tears that seemed determined to form in her eyes every few minutes. Jonn came in at one point to check on her and let her know he was okay. Grateful for his visit, it wasn’t long after he left to look for Gaspi and Taurnil that worry consumed her again. When the door swung open and her two battle-stained friends walked through it she abandoned restraint altogether and flew into their arms, kissing them both over and over amidst a constant flow of unchecked tears.

  It was Taurnil who broke away first, looking around anxiously. “Where’s Lydia?” he asked.

  “Have you seen Jonn?” Gaspi added.

  “Jonn’s fine,” Emea said, placing a reassuring hand on Gaspi’s arm. “Taurn,” she continued gently. “There’s nothing to worry about...but Lydia was brought in not long ago.”

  “What happened?” he asked, stricken with worry despite Emea’s assurances.”

  “She was fighting one of those demons,” Emea said with a shudder. “It got the better of her and started draining her power, but two magicians came along just in time and killed it. She’ll be okay, Taurn,” Emea said gently, placing a hand on his tense forearm. “The other magicians got there in time, and she just needs to rest.”

  “Are you telling me I can’t see her?” Taurnil said, tension straining his normally gentle manner.

  “Good grief, no!” Emea said. “She won’t stop asking about you. Come and see her right now, so she can sleep.”

  Emea led Taurnil and Gaspi to an annex of the infirmary, where Lydia lay abed, staring out of the large window into the campus grounds. Taurnil took four enormous strides across the room, falling to his knees by her bedside, and engulfed her in an enormous hug before she could even fully register what was happening. As she realised whose arms it was that held her, she slowly lifted her own, and slid them around his back.

  “Thank heavens you’re alive, you big bear,” Lydia said softly, kissing him gently on the cheek.

  “Are you okay?” Taurnil asked solicitously.

  “I was stupid,” she said. “I took on one of those demons by myself, and it cornered me. It was awful,” she said, her eyes growing troubled as she thought back on the experience. “But some magicians saved me,” she said, “and as far as I understand, I’ll be fine with a bit of rest.”

  “Which is exactly what you’re going to get,” Emea said, with mock sternness, from the doorway. “Come on, Taurnil,” she said. “Lydia needs to sleep, and not even you are allowed to get in the way of that.”

  Taurnil looked back at Lydia, his eyes locked onto hers as she smiled gently. “You’d better go, or we’ll both get into trouble,” she said. “I’ll be fine now, knowing that you’re okay.” Taurnil looked like he wouldn’t leave her for all the world.

  “Go on, Taurn,” Lydia said. “We’ll have plenty of time later.”

  Taurnil stood slowly, bending to give Lydia a soft kiss before walking out with Emea and Gaspi. Taurnil cleared his throat. “Sorry I was rude before, Emmy,” he said. “It’s just…”

  “Don’t be sorry, Taurn,” Emea said, slipping her small hand into the crook of his arm. “You never have to apologise for loving my friend.”

  Taurnil smiled, saying nothing more, as the three fr
iends headed back out into the entranceway. Emea sent Gaspi and Taurnil off to get some rest, but she would check to see if anyone else needed her before she left. She wasn’t going to leave the infirmary until the last patient had been healed.

  Chapter 36

  The next couple of weeks passed slowly for Gaspi and his friends. The city was reeling in shock after the attack, and despite the tireless work of the Healers, many guardsmen had been killed by the Wargs. Two magicians had also been killed, drained of all life by the demons, and signs of destruction were evident throughout the city and the campus. People spoke in quiet voices, relieved to be alive, but not wanting to disturb the mourning of those who had lost loved ones. Even as the remaining guards and civilian volunteers brought order back to the damaged parts of the city and campus, and things began to appear as they had done before the battle, the smashed gateway into the college still spoke eloquently of the events that had brought the great city to a standstill. Its tumbled stones no longer glowed gently with protective magic, but lay strewn across the ground, and no slender arch of rock gracefully spanned the entrance to the College of Collective Magicks.

  All classes had been stopped, and Gaspi and his friends spent time talking in the Traveller’s Rest or hanging out in the barracks, reliving the dreadful night they’d somehow made it through alive, feeling increasingly grateful that none of them had been killed. A quiet Feast-Day afternoon found the four friends talking quietly in the Rest, when a messenger arrived from Hephistole, summoning Gaspi to his office.

  “Just me?” Gaspi asked.

  “That’s all he said,” the white-robed messenger said, with a shrug.

  Gaspi hadn’t been back to the office since the battle, and found himself unaccountably nervous. “Tell Jonn where I am when he gets here?” he said to Taurnil.

  “Sure, Gasp,” Taurnil said. “See you later.”

  Gaspi kissed Emea, and left his friends in the tavern. On arriving at the tower, the receptionist was expecting him, and waved him straight over to the transporter. When the vibration of the transporter wore off, Gaspi found himself facing Hephistole and Voltan. The Chancellor seemed to be recovered fully from his encounter with the Warg. He lounged in one of the deep chairs near his desk, resplendent in a maroon brocaded gown. Voltan was dressed all in black and sat opposite Hephistole, sipping a cup of fragrant tea.

  “Ah, Gaspi,” Hephistole said with a warm smile, not rising from his chair. “So good of you to join us.”

  He indicated that Gaspi should take the third of a trio of chairs ranged around a low circular table, and poured a stream of steaming tea into a fine porcelain cup as Gaspi sat down. Gaspi lifted the cup to his mouth. The steam smelled of autumn leaves and woodsmoke, filling Gaspi with a deep sense of comfort and peace as he breathed it in.

  “A good tea for flagging spirits,” Hephistole said, with a wink. Gaspi smiled, and took a sip of the golden brew, letting its fragrant warmth slide over his tongue and down his throat. A restful type of tingling sensation flowed out languidly through his body, spreading down his limbs and to the very tips of his fingers and toes. Gaspi let out a deep sigh of satisfaction. He loved coming to Hephistole’s office.

  “So...how are you feeling?” the Chancellor asked.

  “All right thanks, Hephistole,” Gaspi answered. “How about you?”

  “I’m pleased to say I’m very much recovered,” Hephistole answered. “And no small thanks goes to you, my young friend.”

  Gaspi flushed with pleasure at being called Hephistole’s friend. “It was nothing,” he said, somewhat abashed.

  “Nothing? I hardly think so,” Hephistole countered. “That was quick thinking, moving the field of negation over the exit, and very brave letting yourself fall like that, and equally resourceful bringing the best possible aid. If it wasn’t for you, and the help of Voltan and your impressive warrior friend Taurnil, I dare say I would not be here right now.”

  Gaspi knew Hephistole was referring to the transporter the Warg had used to escape from Hephistole’s office, a transporter built into the same device used to block their magic. “Where do you think it would have taken you?” Gaspi asked, uncertain as to how much information he was going to be given.

  “Where I would have gone is less important than who was trying to take me there, Gaspi,” Hephistole said, suddenly grave. “I’ve asked you here today, as I’ve chosen to place my trust in you.” He held Gaspi’s eye. “Voltan here thinks I should do otherwise; not because you are untrustworthy, but because you are still in training. I have decided on this occasion to ignore his counsel. But before I carry on, I need to ask you if you are willing to hear what I have to say.”

  Eager for information, Gaspi opened his mouth to respond. “Don’t answer too quickly, Gaspi!” Hephistole admonished. “This is the most serious of business, and even hearing what I have to say will place an enormous burden on your shoulders. I think that the moment of this revelation is inevitable, but the timing is not. The choice is yours.”

  Gaspi sat silently, looking from the Chancellor’s earnest face to Voltan’s stern one. He forced himself to think seriously about what Hephistole had said. Would he want to hear something that would make everything more intense, that would put pressure on him and maybe on his friends, maybe even place them in more danger? Maybe he could just enjoy the summer away from college before classes started again, hang out with Emea and Taurnil and Lydia, go hunting with Jonn, have some romantic time with Emmy. The thought was enticing, but on the other hand here was a chance to really find out what was going on, and to be involved in the heart of things. It wasn’t just his curiosity that drove him, but also an instinctive feeling that his being a Nature Mage was something of consequence, and that things would work out better if he was involved.

  Gaspi made his decision. “I want to know,” he said, firmly.

  “I’m glad that’s your decision,” Hephistole said, “and in turn I will do you the service of telling you everything.” He must have seen a flicker of cynicism in Gaspi’s face. “Yes, everything!” he said, with a wry smile.

  Gaspi didn’t say anything, not wanting to give Hephistole a chance to change his mind. When the Chancellor was sure Gaspi wasn’t going to say anything else, he began to speak again.

  “Shirukai Sestin was my mentor,” he began. “He was a strange and reclusive man, and a very powerful Mage. He specialised in combining healing with neuromancy, and his experiments took him down a dark road. He was obsessed with exploring the effects of pain on another being, while subduing their ability to respond.”

  Hephistole’s gaze took on a faraway look. “I was dreadfully impressed by him and not a little scared of him too, and even when I saw a glimpse of who he really was I held my peace, to my great shame.” He fell silent for several moments, brooding over some unspoken detail, but then he pushed himself up straight, shook his head like a dog getting out of a river, and carried on.

  “It happened in my third year as a Mage, when I was on the cusp of becoming a fully fledged magician in my own right. A young guard had been missing for several days, and would probably never have been found if he hadn’t married a wife with latent magical talents. She was distraught when she came to us, saying that she could sense that her beloved husband was in unendurable agony and was reaching out to her. His pain must have awoken an empathic ability in her, and she could sense which direction he was in and how far away he was. She insisted that he was somewhere within the college campus.

  Several of us went with her as she followed her instinct, searching through the campus for her lost husband. The search led us ultimately to the door of Shirukai’s pyramid, a place that few magicians were ever allowed to enter. We forced our way past the door, and found him performing unspeakable magical experiments on the guard.

  We tried to capture him, but Shirukai was more than a match for even several magicians together, and fought his way past us, killing one of his fellow teachers in the process. He escaped, and as there was no alert f
or him in the campus, he was able to leave without being stopped. He fled the city and the country, and as far as we know was never seen again.

  The guard was so far gone he wasn’t aware of who or where he was, chained to the wall like an animal.” Hephistole paused, his face fractured by lines of sorrow. “We never found a way to heal him,” Hephistole said. “Sestin had experimented on him, pushing the limits of human pain and then healing him over and over, controlling his mind all the while so he couldn’t take back any kind of control. We looked after him in the infirmary for a several years, but something in him was broken beyond recovery, and he eventually just stopped living.”

  “That’s terrible,” Gaspi said, deeply shocked by what he’d heard.

  “That guard’s fate is a source of great shame for me, Gaspi,” Hephistole said heavily, his long face suddenly childlike and filled with sadness.

  “But why?” Gaspi asked gently. Someone else Gaspi’s age might have felt uncomfortable with an adult showing such vulnerability, but growing up with Jonn as his guardian had taught him early on that some adults were burdened by terrible regrets.

  “Ah, Gaspi,” Hephistole said with a brief smile, “your compassion becomes you. I am old enough to know that I cannot take full responsibility for what happened, but when Sestin was my mentor he involved me in an experiment that caused me great personal distress. It was probably the beginnings of his exploration into torture. I wasn’t quite sure what I’d seen, but it was enough to stop me going to him for mentoring, and it troubled me for months. If I had said something, then perhaps he could have been stopped before he did any real harm.