Nature Mage (21 page)

Just before withdrawing from his trance, Gaspi reached out with splayed fingers to feel the barrier between him and his power. Ever so gently, he rested his fingertips against it. It had no texture or temperature, but simply was. It stood invisible and unbreachable between him and his magic, and after a few seconds he withdrew, and slowly brought himself out of his trance. When he opened his eyes he was almost surprised to find himself still sitting on the bench, hands resting in his lap. He stood up and stretched, enjoying the lingering after-echo of peaceful contentment, and made his way to the refectory. The other students were awake now, some of them stumbling bleary-eyed out of their dormitories, squinting at the bright morning sun, which had fully risen now, and shone brightly down on them.

Emmy and Lydia were sitting on their own in the refectory. Gaspi grabbed some steaming, freshly baked bread and some fruit that had been sliced and stirred into thick yoghurt, and went to join them.

“You look cheerful,” Emea said, smiling at him warmly.

“Have you been meditating?” Lydia asked.

Gaspi grinned. “Yeah. You too?” Lydia smiled and nodded. “It’s great, isn’t it?” Gaspi said. “How about you, Emmy?”

Emea’s mouth twisted in frustration. “Well, I tried. It wasn’t a total waste of time, I suppose. I mean, I did start to feel relaxed towards the end, but I couldn’t…do anything.” Emea’s eyes flicked towards Lydia. “Unlike Little Miss Magic here!” she added in disgust. “Show him, Lydia!” Lydia gave Emea an understanding look, then extended her hand towards Gaspi. Her palm was empty for a moment, and then the deep red globe of light she had conjured the previous day blinked into existence. It was tiny this time, swirling beguilingly over her palm like a living pebble. Gaspi caught Lydia looking at it fondly for a moment, like it was a pet, and then she snapped her hand shut and it was gone.

“I can make it bigger, of course,” she said, “but I don’t want everyone to see what I’m doing.”

“That’s great Lydia, that’s really great!” Gaspi said sincerely. He was amazed at how comfortable she seemed with magic, as if she’d been practicing it for years, but then he supposed that in a way she had, acting as a Seer for her family. Emea, on the other hand, was clearly wrestling with the idea of herself as a magician, and he had not even had a chance to touch his magic in a controlled way yet, with the block still in place. He determined to speak to Emelda about it today to see when it could be removed. Breakfast ended when the bell rang, calling them into class, and they all filed out of the refectory and into their classroom. 

Emelda was taking the class today. Her large body was stuffed into the armchair behind the teacher’s desk, and she smiled indulgently at the students as they walked in, saving a wink for Emea, who trailed in at the tail end of the group. Gaspi, Emea and Lydia had to sit in separate seats as the others were already taken, which wouldn’t have bothered Gaspi had he not seen Everand smile at Emea and invite her to take the seat next to him with a wave of his hand. Gaspi knew Emmy was too nice to say no, and that she wouldn’t be interested in such a pompous idiot, but had to subdue a wave of anger at Everand’s presumption. The self important idiot knew he and Emea had something going, and was flirting with her anyway. What riled him most of all was Ferast’s smirk. Everand’s dark-haired, skinny friend was sitting on his other side, his lips curling in a knowing smile as Emea took her seat. Gaspi took a deep breath and chose to focus on the lesson. Those two could wait.

Emelda taught from the chair, mostly, her manner matronly and comforting. Gaspi found her voice soothing and full of warmth, and her frequent chuckles infectious. The topic of the lesson was healing. The other students had started the series two weeks previously, so Emelda went over the basics briefly to help the newcomers catch up a bit.

“Healing is more about deftness of touch than it is about power,” she said. “It’s about tuning into the delicate processes of the body - where bone is knitting, or flesh is rebuilding itself - and stimulating that process. The more you try to speed it up, the harder it is to get right. It doesn’t take a lot of power, but just a sliver of magical pressure exerted in the right place at the right time. There are times not to heal, and times to wait for the body to align itself before encouraging its natural process. If you want to study healing you have to use patience, and become intimate with nuance.”

“Not very exciting is it?” she said with a smile, looking round the room from face to face. “Well - it is to me!” she said in answer to her own question, her broad face beatific with sincere pleasure. She let her eyes roam from face to face. “Remind me,” she said, “how many of you here have a primary healing gift?”

Emea’s hand didn’t go up straight away. Emelda gave her a level look, until Emea’s hand shyly rose into the air. “So we have Emea,” she said, her eyes scanning the rest of the room. “Ah yes, that’s right - Ferast.” Gaspi looked round in astonishment, sure he must have misheard, but Ferast’s hand was still in the air, an inscrutable look upon his shrewd, intelligent face. Lydia was looking at Ferast with an arched eyebrow. Ferast didn’t seem to notice the attention he was receiving, and Gaspi and Lydia exchanged questioning looks before turning their attention back to Emelda, who had started talking again.

“A practical demonstration always helps arouse the interest, don’t you think?” she said, before ringing a small bell on her table. A minute later the door opened, and a brown-robed magician came in, carrying a black cat, slack and drooping in the way only a sleeping cat can manage. Gaspi assumed from the robe that the girl, who looked only a year or two older than them, was one of the older students. She placed the slumbering creature carefully on the desk.

“Thank you, Salomé,” Emelda said. Salomé smiled at Emelda, and then briefly at the first year students, before leaving the room.

Emelda shifted the cat around, until the students could see a long gash in its side. “So you can all see that this cat has been injured,” she said. “It’s been given something to keep it asleep for a few hours, and it doesn’t feel any pain. In a minute you will come up in groups of three. As you know, healing takes place through contact, so I want you to place a hand on the cat, and then probe with your senses. I want you to explore the wound, identifying where the healthy flesh ends and the torn flesh begins. Feel that break, until you can pinpoint the exact place of transition. Okay you three - you go first,” she said, pointing at the students sat nearest her.

In groups, the students all had a turn exploring the cat’s damaged tissue with their minds. When it was Gaspi’s turn he tried to do what Emelda said, and found he was unable to do so. He couldn’t “send his thought” anywhere. Emelda caught his look of frustration. “Ah, sorry Gaspi...I wasn’t sure if you would be able to do this with your block in place. You‘ll get a chance at this soon enough.”

Gaspi sat down, disappointed he’d been unable to join in the class, but more interested in what Emea would experience when it was her turn. This class was more important to her than to him. Soon enough her turn came, and she went to the front of the class with Everand and Ferast.

Emea made her way to the front of the class, nervous and excited at the same time about trying her hand at her first bit of healing.

“Any questions before you begin?” Emelda asked.

“Yes,” Emea said. “How do I send my thought out? I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“Well everyone does this differently,” Emelda said, “but I just imagine my thought is a tiny probe, a ball of light if you will, or a breath of wind, something non-physical, and then send it into the cat. It is a function of magic to do this, which is why Gaspi was unable to do it, but it requires almost no power at all. You’re not doing anything other than observing. Want to try?”

Emea nodded, and focussed her attention inwards. She allowed a tiny point of awareness to form, barely a flicker of power, and was surprised to find she could do it. With the minimum of effort she directed that point of awareness into the cat, and immediately became aware of the living and breathing casing of flesh surrounding her probe. She moved it back and forth, sensing the difference between healthy flesh and the torn and ragged tissue of the wound. She could feel the exact point where the damage began, could feel the change of texture beneath her fingers, see the ruined ends of torn blood vessels. At some point her perception moved from a simple awareness to an almost visible perspective, as if she were inside her probe, viewing the injury from inside the cat. She could “see” the healthy and torn flesh all around her, sensing its transition in minute detail.

“Very good Emea,” said Emelda. “That’s enough for now. Gently withdraw your awareness.” Emea released her concentration and realised she had been so immersed in the exercise she had closed her eyes. She opened them, delighted to have found the exercise so easy, and thrilled by the vivid sights and sensations she had experienced.

“Very interesting, Emea,” said Emelda with a thoughtful look. “What were you looking at there?”

“The wound, like you said,” Emea answered confusedly.

“With your eyes closed?” Emelda asked.

“Well, yes. I was looking at the tissue; where it was torn, and where it was healthy.”

“And what was your perspective when you were looking?”

“What do you mean?” Emmy asked.

“I mean, where were you looking from?”

“From inside the cat, of course,” Emmy said.

Emelda clapped her hands. “Well, well,” she said. “That’s very clever of you. Most people can send in their thoughts to probe the flesh they are still seeing from the outside, sensing the flesh through the probe as if through touch, but not seeing it visually. It’s another thing altogether to enter the body like that. It’s not unheard of, but very sophisticated, young lady. Well done.”

Emea went bright red with embarrassment and pleasure at Emelda’s praise. As she took her seat, she determined to ask Emelda more about what she had done at the end of the lesson. The rest of the class all had their turns at laying hands on the cat and searching out its wound, with mixed success, and no-one was able to duplicate Emea’s feat of perception.

“I’m really pleased with how you’ve all done this morning,” she said with a genuine smile. “So pleased, in fact, that I want to take this a step further and give some of you a chance to actually heal the cat. Emea, why don’t you come first, seeing as you are the most familiar with the wound?” Emea looked suddenly unsure of herself, but made her way out to the front anyway.

“Okay, now you’re going to do the same thing as before - but instead of looking at the quality of the tissue, I want you to sense the body’s natural healing process. It will be very subtle, and very slow, but there should be a kind of growth you can pick up on if you can be still enough to sense it. Can you try and do that?” Emea nodded, determined, and placed her hand on the cat before closing her eyes. Emelda looked on with approval.

“Now, send in your senses,” she instructed. Emea closed her eyes, letting her awareness form once again into a tiny probe of consciousness, and sent it into the warm casing of the cat’s body. “Okay, good,” Emelda said, softly. “Now, listen very carefully with all your senses, until you can sense the body’s healing process.”

This was harder to do, and for several moments all Emea could hear was the rushing of the cat’s blood and the deep bellows of the lungs; but slowly she became aware of a gentle movement beneath that. It wasn’t a physical movement, nor did it make a sound, but it was more of a direction, a gentle pressure towards mending, towards the knitting together of bones and flesh, towards health. It was like an intricate weaving, and had the kind of patient, timeless quality she would expect a tree to have in its slow growth towards the light, and it infused every cell of the cat’s body. Emmy felt she was sensing health itself, the very opposite of decay, and allowed herself to get in sync with its living force.

“Can you sense it yet, Emea?” Emelda asked.

“Yes, I can,” said Emea.

“Good,” said Emelda gently, not wishing to disturb Emmy’s concentration. “Now comes the interesting part. I want you to draw on your power and release it in a tiny, steady outflow, directed not into the flesh but into the healing force of the body itself, encouraging it to speed up. Don’t force it or use too much power or the body will probably not respond. You are just to massage it, tease it, show it what you want it to do as you release your power. This takes a steady hand. You can begin whenever you’re ready.”

Emea tried to tune in to her spirit, into the core of her being, but found herself unable to summon anything that could be described as power. She used the meditative technique Emelda had showed them the day before, and for a moment was sure she could sense what she was looking for; an alluring, spinning core of healing light. Sensing she was close to her power, Emea tried to grab it and release it into the cat’s body, but it was like grabbing at air, and the nearness evaporated into nothing.

Emea opened her eyes in frustration. “I can’t!” she said angrily.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry!” Emelda said comfortingly. “I would have been amazed if you had been able to do this on your second day of using magic. It was a good try. How about you, Ferast?” she asked, turning to the dark-featured boy, who came forward eagerly, his fingers clenching and unclenching involuntarily in anticipation of using his powers.

“Now put your hand on the cat…oh!” Emelda stopped in her tracks, as Ferast was already touching the cat, his face twisted into a mask of feverish concentration, not waiting for Emelda to instruct him. His eyes narrowed so tightly they were almost shut as he bent his thought on the cat. For a few moments nothing happened, and then a girl sitting at the front of the room gasped as the cat’s wound began to close. Flesh filled out the gash, the raw tissue replaced with healthy muscle, until the skin stretched itself out over the wound and was knitted together, leaving no mark at all, as if the animal had never been injured.