Nature Mage (45 page)

All the magicians at the gate were silent now, scanning the darkness between buildings for the first sign of their enemy. It seemed to Emea that they’d been standing like that forever, every nerve afire with adrenaline; and then it was upon them, and the waiting was over far too soon. The darkness in front of the gate seemed to move, a greater darkness gliding out of the general murk, taller than the tallest of the Mages by at least another head, boiling and swirling with a power that spoke of the theft of light and life. Emea broke into a sweat as the first wave of fear passed over her, an icy chill stabbing right into her belly. The creature emerged fully into the lamplight, its dark head swivelling to take in the crowd of magicians standing in its path. The ground at Emea’s feet crackled as an icy coating spread its fingers over everything, and her breath misted in the moonlight. It seemed to swell even larger for a moment, before the heavy head dipped and thrust forward from the weighty bulk of what might be shoulders as it let out a heart-stopping howl. Emea would have fallen over if it wasn’t for Lydia, who had grabbed her arm – whether to help Emea or to steady herself, she didn’t know.

All thoughts of fighting fled from her mind, as she simply fought to hold onto sanity. Her soul shrank to a faint glimmer as fear forced her back into the deepest recesses of her mind, her body unresponsive to the urge to run for her life. As if from down a great distance she heard a human shout, and dimly recognised Voltan in the sound. A great ball of fire, much larger than the one Voltan had summoned minutes earlier, swept past her towards the dark creature, and in its wake she felt her terror diminish. The creature’s fearsome howl changed to a cry of pain as the flaming tar-ball struck it in the chest, where flames now crackled in a wide circle. Its head snapped up, glaring at Voltan, its bottomless eyes black vortices of hatred that seemed to pulse with dark power. Charging at its antagonists, the demon roared in agonised fury, anger and pain driving it to put an end to those that opposed it; but it was halted in its path by several fireballs flung by other magicians, freed from the grip of horror by Voltan’s bravery. Red hot flame flared all over its body in a conflagration, as the balls of burning tar hit it. Its howl of pain escalated into a jagged, wheezing roar that was no less horrible for its brokenness. It writhed in agony for unendurable seconds, turning this way and that in an effort to escape the pain it hadn’t known it could feel, but in the end the demon collapsed in on itself. Its death howl ended in sudden silence, and all that was left were a few remnants of burning tar flickering fitfully on the ground.

Emea patted herself, as if to make sure she was still all there, and turned to look at Lydia, whose face was unnaturally pale beneath her dark, gypsy complexion. Before either of them had a chance to say anything, Voltan hissed in warning and she turned to see a sight that froze the blood in her veins.

Three more demonic creatures were emerging out of the blackness between buildings, converging on the gate from different directions. For a brief second before the madness began, Emea wondered how many more of them there were. Then fireballs were flying through the gate as the magicians shouted in defiance, borrowing courage from their victory over the first of the demons. Lydia lifted a hand purposefully, her fingers splayed widely as she summoned a burning ball of tar from one of the barrels. Her friend looked to be filled with a cold fury as she gestured with her upraised hand and flung the ball of burning pitch right at the head of one of the creatures. Emea glanced across at Everand. He was pale-faced and clearly terrified, but with gritted teeth he was throwing fireball after fireball at the demons.

Realising she was doing nothing to help, Emea reached out with her power as well, containing as much burning tar within a strike as she could manage. It wasn’t quite as big as the sphere Voltan had used to demonstrate with, but it would have to do. Flicking her wrist, she threw it out at the same creature Lydia had attacked. Although it moved slowly, her strike hit the demon below the waist, leaving a second patch of flame on its dark bulk as it rushed forward. For a moment it looked like the magicians had the upper hand in the fight, as fireballs landed on all three of the demons, but then two more slid heavily out of the darkness, moving quickly towards the gate.

The combined fear effect of five of the creatures was unbearable. Emea felt frozen on the inside as well as the outside, except for her labouring heart, which was trying to beat itself right out of her chest.  It seemed as if the other magicians were similarly affected, as the flow of fireballs had all but dried up. Only Voltan continued to fight, throwing fireball after fireball with his teeth gritted, every tendon standing out in sharp relief on his neck as sweat poured down his face. But it wasn’t enough. One of the five demons was out of action, covered in a rippling wreath of flame that looked likely to kill it as it howled and writhed in pain and anger. The remaining four converged on the gateway at the same time, and then were suddenly caught in mid-motion. Dark heads swivelled this way and that, accompanied by harsh roars of anger as the magic of the wall was activated. The wall itself, and the slender span of enchanted stone spanning over the head of the four creatures, flared with a searing radiance - a kind of fierce golden glow. Roars of rage swiftly turned to howls of pain as the ancient enchantment fought them, searing them as they tried to push through into the college.

The fifth demon had perished outside the gate now, and with the four creatures battling to break the enchantment of the wall, Emea felt the dread that had immobilised her loosen its grip. She watched with a horrified fascination as the creatures started to steam and smoke, as the dJin had done all those months ago. Even Voltan had stopped attacking and was grimly watching the magic of the wall do its work. The demons were boiling with a fathomless hatred that was in itself terrifying to behold. How could any creature be filled with such black violence, and not be destroyed from the inside?

Steam was pouring off the demons in clouds now, as they continued to be resisted by the magic of the wall. Emea couldn’t see how they could last much longer. The one on the right suddenly burst into flames and was consumed, and Emea felt a momentary surge of hope. But wait; had the glow of the wall flickered? Emea stared at the glowing stone, hoping beyond hope that she’d imagined it, but no...there it was again. The bright radiance of the wall was no longer constant. It kept dimming and then blazing back into light again, and each time the light returned it was a little less bright than it had been previously. As if sensing victory, the three creatures howled in concert, their combined sound causing Emea’s heart to lurch into her throat in an uncontrollable spasm of fear.

Suddenly Voltan was shouting orders. “THERE IS ALMOST NO TAR LEFT. IF THEY BREAK THROUGH THE GATE SPLIT UP AND FALL BACK TO THE NEXT BARRELS. WE HAVE TO SPLIT THEM UP. THEY ARE TOO POWERFUL TOGETHER. WHEN I SAY RUN, RUN!” And with that he summoned up the remaining tar into a large flaming strike, holding it ready to throw if the magic of the wall failed.

A sharp crack sounded through the night, and Emea looked up in horror to see a jagged break in the stone arch splinter right through the upper part of the gateway’s span. The golden light shone defiantly for one last second before flickering out completely, and broken rock tumbled down on the demon’s heads.

“RUN!” Voltan yelled, as he sent the last fireball surging into the demon that looked most weakened by the battle with the enchantment of the wall. Emea watched in stupefied fascination as it was engulfed in flame. Lydia was tugging at her arm and shouting something in her ear. She found the strength in her legs, turned, and ran for her life.

When Gaspi arrived back at the gates, the fighting had already moved inside the city wall. The Mage stationed with the guards was nowhere to be seen, and all but one of the demons had already moved on into the city. The one that remained was surrounded by dozens of the dog-like creatures, boiling over each other in a killing frenzy. The guards had been joined by reinforcements from the barracks, and were holding their own. It was easy to see Taurnil, whose blazing blue staff swept through the night in a broad arc. In the light of the staff Gaspi could see Jonn fighting alongside his best friend, and he was pretty sure that was Erik right next to them.

Everything in him wanted to join them, but he was stopped in his tracks by a sudden jolt of realisation. The demons were sent to target magic users. Perhaps they could harm normal people and perhaps not; but the creature in front of him was not attacking any of the guards, but seemed to be making straight for Taurnil, whose staff advertised him as some kind of magical adversary. Gaspi desperately wanted to help Taurnil, but there were nine more of those creatures, all of whom looked like they would bypass the defences of the lower city and head straight for the college...for Emmy! He knew he should get up there and help defend the college, but he was still torn. How could he leave his best friend to fight this thing alone?

A wild flash of blue caught his attention, as Taurnil’s staff connected with one of the dogs. Its ribs snapped loudly as they broke, its snarls turned into strangely pitiful yelps as the creature fell writhing to the floor. Taurnil leapt over the fallen dog, pausing only to crush its skull with the metal end of his staff. He let out a coarse yell, sprinting straight at the demon at the centre of the melee. It howled in response, and Taurnil’s staff flared with an even greater brightness. Although Gaspi couldn’t make out any expression in the featureless black vortex of the demon’s face, there was something in its response that looked like hesitancy. Taurnil sprang forward with a shout, and his staff burst into bright blue flame. Convinced now that his enchantment had given Taurnil the power to face this foe, Gaspi made the difficult choice, and turned away from the fight. He ran towards the college with every last bit of speed he could muster. He’d always been fast, but no village competition had ever spurred him on to such a pace. The demons were heading straight for the college, and Emmy was there. Nothing else mattered to him now.

He sprinted past burning tents and wagons, past groups of people running terrified through the streets, or sensibly hiding in buildings, peering fearfully out of darkened windows. There were bodies everywhere; guardsmen ripped and mauled lay dead across the ground. The wounded cried out in agony, reaching out to Gaspi for help as he vaulted over their sprawled limbs and carried on towards his goal. He rounded the final corner of the road leading up to the college to find that the enchanted archway that used to span so elegantly over the gateway a broken, useless piece of rock. The once glowing stone was piled at the foot of the gateway, lifeless now, drained of all enchantment. With a cry of despair, Gaspi jumped over the failed barrier, and stepped into carnage…

Chapter 34

Hephistole stayed in his tower when the fighting began. Some instinct he daren’t ignore compelled him to stay and watch the battle as it unfolded, waiting for something that would tell him what to do. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something didn’t feel right. Using a scrying device, he watched with tears flowing freely down his face as the guards bravely gave their lives to defend the city against what he recognised as Wargs; a perversion of nature bred from wolves, and altered by dark enchantments. He watched with pride as Voltan organised a brave defence at the wall, and with grim satisfaction as Taurnil wielded his magical staff with deadly efficiency, destroying one of the demons in a fierce duel. After dispatching the demon the young fighter left the fighting at the gate, which was now under control, and sprinted up towards the college.

He sent out his senses throughout the college, marking out where their enemies were gathered. The Wargs had been held at the city gates, three demons had been destroyed at the wall, and Taurnil had killed another. Two had penetrated the wall and were being fought by magicians stationed in the college, so that left four unaccounted for. He searched for them carefully, letting his consciousness roam through the campus, alert for any demonic presence, and then he found them. They must have missed the gate when moving up through the city towards the college, and were circling the once-enchanted wall. It didn’t appear that their corporeal embodiment enabled them to climb, as they were even now circling the wall, looking for an entrance. Hephistole could see that they would soon stumble across the broken gate, and there would be six demons loose within college grounds. It looked like it was time for him to join the fight.

He sent his perception out for one last sweep of the city and college grounds, and sensed two things that caused his breath to hitch in his throat. One was Gaspi sprinting up towards the gate, on a collision course with the four demons still coming round the curve of the wall, and the second was a sudden surge of powerful magic emitting from the abandoned pyramid - Shirukai Sestin’s pyramid. He froze, unable to look away from either sight. The sense of wrongness his instinct had alerted him to earlier now swelled and surged into full bloom as dark power flooded from the long-abandoned structure. Panels that had sealed themselves shut decades earlier slid open without a sound on each side of the pyramid, and a tide of Wargs poured from the openings. They followed one much larger Warg built on the same twisted canine model, but bulking twice the size of the others, its armour-like hide tinged a blood-red colour.

Hephistole didn’t feel he had a choice. Gaspi was going to have to use the powers that had been bestowed on him; a Nature Mage was never defenceless. They had been tricked, and only he knew they were being attacked from within. With a sick feeling that he might regret his decision, Hephistole stepped onto the transporter, and was magicked to the atrium. The large entrance to the tower was deserted – all the magicians would be spread throughout the city and the campus, stationed by the barrels of tar.