Path of the Specialist

by Pedro Urvi

  He swallowed. He knew that he did not stand the slightest chance in close combat with the Elder. Not even Astrid or Viggo would have had many options open to them, which meant that he himself had none at all. He took a deep breath. This is the test I’ve got to pass, and I’m going to pass it!

  Engla took a great leap and fell on him, and he held his ground as best he could. He blocked her thrusts and retreated two steps. Engla attacked again, gliding over the snow at amazing speed as if she were skating rather than stepping. Lasgol dodged her attacks and retreated again. He did not dare to counterattack, because he knew she would nullify any move he attempted and leave him exposed. He could only hold his ground and wait for a chance, or a miracle.

  Engla’s long knives brushed his head and stomach in passing, fast as lightning... He thought of using his Gift and invoking his skills of Cat-like Reflexes and Improved Agility, but that would be using an advantage denied to other pupils and he felt it would be unfair. Viggo’s voice came to his mind, encouraging him to use his Gift, together with any other advantage available. He was tempted to, because this particular situation was a desperate one. I want to pass the test the same way other people did, without magic, by my own means. Just as my father did.

  “Let’s bring this dance to an end,” Engla said icily.

  Lasgol prepared himself inwardly, and she attacked with a dazzling combination he could barely defend himself against. Suddenly the Elder made a feint, then a disarming movement, and his axe flew out of his hand. He stepped back. In her eyes he saw the gleam of victory, but he also saw something else behind her. He decided to risk everything on a single card, grasped the knife and prepared to throw.

  “You’re not going to try that, are you?” Engla said. She sounded disappointed at this feeble decision on his part.

  He half-closed his eyes, and began to move his arm.

  She got ready to deflect the knife. Lasgol’s arm finished the move, but the knife did not leave his hand.

  The Elder looked at him in puzzlement, then realized that it was a trick. Her eyes opened wide and she spun around.

  Too late.

  Ona pounced on her with a huge leap. The panther had approached her from behind in absolute silence, as if she were stalking a quarry. She had leapt the moment Lasgol lowered his arm. She was so silent, and had leapt from so far back with the aid of her powerful hind legs and tail, that Engla had not heard her coming.

  He drew back his arm once again to throw. Engla meanwhile was protecting herself from Ona’s attack, but she could not help being thrown off by the panther’s strength and fell backwards with Ona on top of her. With an incredible defensive movement, using her feet and forearms, she pushed the panther off and threw her to one side. She leapt to her feet and turned to Lasgol.

  His knife got her in the stomach. She swore, lowered her scarf and breathed out heavily.

  “Good throw. Go on with the test,” she said, and lowered her knives.

  Lasgol gave a cry of joy. Then he saw that Ona was about to pounce on Engla again.

  “Ona. Stay!”

  The panther looked at him.

  “Ona. Here.”

  The panther, crouching and ready to attack, looked at Engla, then back at Lasgol. Very slowly, without taking her eyes from the Elder, she obeyed and went over to her friend.

  “Ona. Good girl.” He petted her.

  “Good familiar. A magnificent animal,” Engla said.

  “Thank you, Ma’am. She certainly is.”

  Lasgol got his bow back, stroked Ona a little more and went back to tracking. Ona showed him where the trail went on, ten paces or so away. When he saw it Lasgol realized what had happened. It was not that Engla had vanished by some magic trick, simply that she had leapt up into a tree. That was why the trail had vanished in front of his eyes. He shook his head. Always remember to look up into the treetops, he said to himself, to drive the lesson home.

  The woman’s prints ended beside a waterfall above a small lake. There they turned into a man’s footsteps. The footsteps of two men, to be precise.

  Lasgol showed them to Ona, who sniffed them and then looked back at him. One of the sets of footprints was very strange: judging by their size, they were the prints of a man, but their width and depth told a different story.

  “Let’s follow them, very cautiously. I don’t like these prints.”

  They crossed the forest and came to a long clearing. The tracks went across, and he squatted to study them. The two pairs of prints went on across the open land, then into a fir wood. He looked carefully at the edge of the wood, but saw nobody. Crossing the open stretch was going to be risky, but there was no alternative for some distance. He had no choice but to cross it, even though he loathed the idea of breaking cover.

  “Ona. Alert.”

  Ona growled and looked toward the far end of the wood.

  “On we go,” he said, and they set off across the clearing, which was six hundred paces or so long. It was snowing lightly, though not enough to bother him. Ona seemed to love the falling snowflakes. Every once in a while, she would open her mouth and try to catch mouthfuls of them. Lasgol smiled. The panther was truly precious, and he was very happy to have her with him.

  Halfway across, the situation changed completely. Two figures came out of the wood. One was a Ranger Specialist, carrying a compound bow. The other one was a child. No, it was a dwarf: Enduald!

  “Ona. Get ready,” he said.

  The Ranger Specialist pushed back his hood, and Lasgol recognized his red skin. It was Loke, whose Masig skin was unmistakable. He was up against a Mage and a Specialist, and he was in open ground. The situation did not bode well.

  Loke aimed his bow. Lasgol knew he would be able to hit him, because he was two hundred and fifty paces away. On the other hand, Enduald could not attack him until he was less than two hundred paces away from him, going by what he knew about the range of Magi. He had two options: either to run back, or to move forward. If he ran away, Loke would bring him down, and there was still fifty or a hundred paces to go before he was out of his range, and that meant more than three shots. He would never make it, because Loke would not miss. If he moved forward, he only had the slimmest of chances, but he had to get to within two hundred paces before he could use his short bow.

  He decided that this was his best choice. He would attack.

  He pointed to Loke. “Ona. Attack.”

  Ona growled and leapt off as if she were after a gazelle, and Lasgol did the same, following his familiar’s example.

  Loke and Enduald looked at each other; the move had caught them by surprise. They had probably expected him to retreat, not to charge at them. Loke aimed and released. As soon as he saw the arrow leave the bow, Lasgol threw himself to one side. The arrow fell where he had been a moment before. He stood up as Loke was already nocking, aiming and beginning to run. Ona was running so fast that she seemed to be flying over the snow, heading straight for Loke.

  Lasgol saw the arrow leave Loke’s bow, and threw himself to the ground again. This time the arrow brushed the side of his head – he had almost been eliminated! Loke hastened to nock his bow again, and Lasgol got up to run. He calculated the distance: two hundred paces. He could now release as soon as Loke gave him a chance – if he ever gave him one. Enduald began to cast a spell. Both he and Ona were within range now, so they were both in danger. He stopped and aimed at Enduald. Loke was about to release against him, but then he saw Ona leaping on to him. She had covered the distance amazingly fast. Loke turned to release against Ona as she jumped on to him. He released, but she was already in the air and the arrow did not touch her.

  Lasgol released at the moment when Enduald stopped conjuring. His bow burst into flames.

  “Magic!” he cried, and was forced to drop his bow. His hands and arms were burning. With an abrupt movement he buried his arms up to his elbows in a mound of snow on his right.

  Enduald was about to work magic again when Lasgol’s arrow hit him fair
and square in the chest. He cursed and stopped the spell.

  Lasgol breathed out in relief. He had hit him. The shot had been quite a good one. He had felt it as the arrow left the bow, but as archery was not his strong point, he was never sure of hitting the target. All those hours of practicing with Ingrid and Molak seemed to have been worth the trouble. He would have to thank them once the test was over.

  Meanwhile Ona was attacking Loke. The Masig had already lost his bow, but was defending himself well, with his cloak rolled around his left forearm. Ona was gripping this with her teeth, not letting go of him. Lasgol ran to help his partner as Loke reached for his knife. Lasgol saw him and knew that if Ona were stabbed, he would lose her for the rest of the test.

  “Ona. Here!”

  She heard the order and looked aside at him, but without letting go.

  “Ona. Here!”

  The panther obeyed and ran back to him. Loke tried to get her with his knife in a circular slash, but only managed to touch her tail.

  “Ona. Very good.”

  He looked at Ona, then at Loke. “Ona. Guard,” he ordered, so that she would be protecting him.

  He began to walk toward Loke, who was tightening his cloak around his left forearm and reaching for his axe. With his knife in his left hand under the cloak and his axe in his right hand, the Masig confronted Lasgol and Ona.

  Lasgol moved until he was two paces away, then stopped. Loke took up a defensive stance with his legs flexed and his left forearm forward, ready for Ona’s attack.

  Lasgol launched into his attack with a combination of thrusts from both knife and axe. Loke defended himself masterfully. Lasgol realized immediately that Loke was a better fighter in close combat, but he himself had one great advantage: he had Ona.

  The panther got ready to attack Loke.

  “Ona. Bring down,” Lasgol ordered.

  Loke looked at him in surprise. The panther was not going to go for his arm, she was going to bring him down. He turned to her as she gave a tremendous leap and carried him with her. Lasgol seized the advantage and ran to him, while Ona moved away, then jumped again to keep him down. Loke began to get to his feet, and simultaneously, Lasgol and Ona jumped on the Masig Ranger.

  Lasgol succeeded in marking him.

  “Ona. Here,” he ordered her, and she backed off Loke.

  The Masig looked down at his side where Lasgol had marked him. “Very well done,” he said. “Pass and keep going.”

  Lasgol nodded respectfully at Enduald and Loke, then picked up his bow, which was scorched and useless.

  “Ona. Come,” he said, and they went on deeper into the wood.

  There was only one more obstacle left. Lasgol’s spirits rose. He was very close to making it. He could not afford to fail now. Whatever the last obstacle might be, he had to overcome it.

  The tracks he was now following were those of a single man, and they faded away at intervals, so that he had to make an effort to find the trail again. On three occasions he almost lost it for good. He had to draw on all his knowledge and experience, and even some tips from the days when his father had taught him to track.

  He came to a clearing in the middle of the wood and stopped at the southern edge of the trees. On the opposite side a figure appeared, with another snow panther. It was snowing heavily now, so that it took him a moment to recognize them.

  They were Gisli and Ilsa!

  He began to feel very nervous.

  “You’ve done a very good job to get this far,” Gisli congratulated him, without moving from where he was.

  “Thank you, Master.”

  “I see you didn’t lose my trail.”

  “My Master’s teachings have served me well.”

  Gisli smiled and pointed. “We’ll meet in the middle.”

  “Are we going to fight?” Lasgol asked uneasily.

  “No, we’re not going to fight. This last test is rather different, and a lot more difficult. You’ve fought enough and proven your worth.”

  Lasgol had no idea what the Elder had in mind, so that he was even more uneasy now. He walked on to the center with Ona, and Gisli did the same with Ilsa. When Ona saw her mother, she ran to her at once, and Ilsa licked her head, showing her love.

  “You’ve come this far, which means you’ve passed the test as far as tracking is concerned. You’ve done that very well. Hence, I’m granting you the Specialty of Tireless Tracker. Now we need to see whether you pass that of Beast Whisperer.”

  “Oh...”

  “This is a very complicated Elite Specialty, and the moment has come for the final test.”

  “What do I have to do, Master?”

  “Very simple: you have to go away.”

  Lasgol looked at him blankly. “Go away?”

  “Yes. Go back the way you came. Stop before you go into the wood.”

  “Is that all?”

  Gisli nodded. “That’s all.”

  Lasgol could not understand this strange situation. Puzzled, he obeyed his Master’s instructions. He turned and began to walk back to the trees. Gisli did the same and walked back to the point where he had appeared. When Lasgol reached the trees, he turned and saw Gisli on the opposite side of the clearing. Ilsa and Ona were still in the center, behaving like mother and daughter.

  “Ilsa. Here!” Gisli called.

  Ilsa looked at him and began to walk toward him.

  Ona looked at Lasgol, then at Ilsa, then went after her mother. They reached Gisli together.

  “Call your familiar,” Gisli said from the other side of the clearing. “If she goes back to you, you’ll have passed the test. If she decides to go back with her mother, you’ll have failed. It’s as simple and as difficult as that. I wish you the best of luck.”

  At that moment Lasgol understood what the test consisted of. He saw Ona with her mother and Gisli, and his hopes of passing the test vanished. Ona would not choose him over her mother. He took a deep breath, feeling a dreadful unease. His stomach was churning and he felt sick. He did not want to lose Ona, whom he loved very much. He breathed in deeply, trying to calm down, but was unable to. He did as Gisli had asked him to.

  “Ona. Here!” he ordered, and tapped his thigh three times with his fingers.

  Ona looked at him, then at her mother.

  “Ilsa,” Gisli called. “Come.”

  And they went into the wood.

  Ona was left looking at Lasgol, who repeated the order: “Ona. Here!”

  Gisli and Ilsa disappeared among the trees.

  Ona looked at Lasgol one last time, then followed her mother and vanished.

  Lasgol’s spirits fell to his feet.

  “No...”

  He fell on to one knee and stared at the ground, distraught.

  The snow went on falling, and a moment later it had covered the tracks of Ona, Ilsa and Gisli.

  Lasgol could not feel the snow, the cold or his own exhaustion. He was broken. He had lost Ona and the Specialty of Beast Whisperer. What hurt him most was the loss of his partner. He had become deeply fond of her, and his eyes moistened. He was left kneeling there in the snow.

  Chapter 49

  Lasgol heaved a deep sigh. There was nothing to be done. Everything had turned out badly at the last moment... he had been so close... and yet so far... He decided to go back before he turned into an icicle.

  He raised his eyes from the ground, and his heart burst with joy.

  Ona was coming back to him, running fast over the snow.

  “Ona!”

  The snow panther came up to him and pounced. He was thrown on his back on the snow with Ona on top of him licking his face.

  “Ona! I’m so happy!”

  Ona sat up on his chest and licked his face and hair.

  He was laughing with joy, and his heart was bursting with happiness.

  “Test passed!” Gisli shouted at him from the other side. There was an enormous smile on his face.

  Lasgol could not believe he had succeeded. He had passed the tes
t! And most importantly, Ona had chosen to stay with him instead of going back to her family. He could not have been happier.

  He laughed and played with her, his heart overflowing with joy, and they both lay there in the snow watching the snowflakes fall.

  At last, glowing with happiness, he went back to Sigrid and the Lair.

  At nightfall the Nature pupils came back. They had been in the forest for three days. Everybody wanted to see Sugesen, who contrary to all predictions had survived, although he looked so bad that Annika took him to the Cavern of Autumn to be looked after. Gonars, Elina and Frida did not look much better, and they too needed assistance. When they were asked how they had fared, they simply shrugged. None of them seemed very confident about having passed the test.

  The next day’s dawn was glorious. Finally, it had stopped snowing, and a timid sun was making its appearance in a sky that was only partially cloudy. Warm, bright rays of sunbathed the Lair and the southeastern part of the great valley that was the Shelter. Considering it was the depths of the Norghanian winter, it was certainly a spectacular day. Sunny days could be counted on the fingers of one hand in winter in the northern realms of Tremia.

  Sigrid appeared in the Cave of Spring and assembled them for an announcement.

  “Today we are going to decide who is worthy of attaining the rank of Specialist. We’ll be taking into account all the work and progress you’ve made throughout this year, and of course the result of the Proficiency Test, which will be the determining factor. To that end, the four Elder Specialists and I will meet at the Pearl and make the decision for each one of you. Don’t imagine for one moment that because you’ve passed the test you’re off the hook. There are other variables which will also be taken into consideration in the making of the final decision. Nobody is safe, and nobody is disqualified, until we make that final decision.”

  Everyone exchanged nervous glances. The moment of truth had arrived, the moment they were to know their fate, and nothing seemed to have been completely decided. Even those who thought they had passed the test felt uneasy after the Mother Specialist’s words.

  Viggo looked at Lasgol and raised both eyebrows. Lasgol understood what he meant. There would be surprises, and they might be unpleasant ones.