Nature Mage (46 page)

Hephistole sent out a mind probe to Voltan. “We’re attacked from within. They’re coming through the pyramid. Rearrange the defence.”

Voltan’s response arrived in his own head like a thought he didn’t think. “We’re all split up. I’ll be there; will bring others.”

Hephistole was a powerful Mage, much more so even than Voltan, but even he knew he couldn’t take on what looked like forty or fifty Wargs on his own. He moved quickly back towards the wall, gathering magicians as he went. Some of the guards had been stationed in the campus in case of attack, and they joined him too. Halfway to the wall he met Voltan, who had brought five magicians and about twenty guards. Hephistole was relieved to see that Taurnil was among them.

“Taurnil, go back to the college gate and help Gaspi. He will be fighting there,” he said. Taurnil turned on his heels and sprinted off. The Chancellor looked round at the rest of them. The complement of guards was bolstered by the presence of Sabu and Baard, fighters who, along with Taurnil, carried magically enhanced weapons. Sabu‘s curved scimitars were unsheathed, emitting a faint white glow that announced the presence of magic. The massive two-handed axe Baard carried had a kind of dark, heavy aura that made it hard to look at directly for more than a few seconds. Hephistole knew Bonebreaker’s history, and seeing it glowing darkly in Baard’s hands, he felt uncertain about using it in their defence. A moment later he dismissed the thought; desperate times make for desperate measures. He looked around at the gathering of fighters and magicians. “This will have to do,” he said.

He spoke quickly to Voltan, who addressed the group of guards and magicians.

“There’s been an incursion of about fifty Wargs - the dogs -  inside the campus. They came through the pyramid.” Several of the older magicians drew a collective intake of breath through clenched teeth.

“There don’t seem to be any more of the demons, but there are still six of those around here somewhere. So be on your guard, and check behind you as you go. Follow!” he ordered. Hephistole fell in next to him, and the group followed behind, as Voltan paced rapidly towards the pyramid.

Within minutes, a group of seven Wargs came streaming around a corner, baying and growling at the sight of flesh and blood. The one in front sprang into motion, flowing over the ground towards them with unnatural speed. Voltan threw a heavy force strike at it, powerful enough to blast a man off his feet; but the Warg was only slowed briefly, pushing through the strike with a kind of grunt.

“They’re resistant to magic!” Voltan cried. “Guards forward!” he ordered.

Led by Sabu and Baard, the guards jumped out past the magicians without hesitation and ran at the Wargs with a loud shout, swords brandished before them. Bonebreaker was a flowing streak of night that cut one of the Wargs in half with a single stroke, and Sabu’s glowing white scimitars whirled in the blade master’s dance of death, slicing another one up in seconds.But between the two fighters the other guards were being slaughtered; ripped to pieces by the vicious rending teeth and claws of creatures designed for only one thing. The magicians did what they could, trying different strikes and spells to slow the Wargs’ advance until Sabu and Baard could deal with them. However, their spells had little effect, and Voltan quickly stopped them, urging them to  save their spell power until it was really needed. This fight was up to the guards. Baard and Sabu dispatched a second pair of Wargs, and the other guards had killed two in the course of the fight, leaving only one Warg to kill. Seeing it was alone, the last Warg broke and ran, and Baard started to chase after it.

“Hold!” Voltan commanded, and the huge fighter reluctantly stopped. “Keep order. There are many more of them, and we don’t want to run into another pack unprepared.”

Chastened, Baard re-joined the group, and Voltan led them forward once again. They’d won that battle, but as they passed the corpses of the six Wargs they’d killed, Hephistole looked at the four dead guards who lay among them, and wondered how many more would die before they could win this fight.
If
they could win it.

Gaspi stepped through the broken gate, his heart full of anxiety for Emea. The area around the gate told the story of a hard-fought battle. Broken stone lay shattered all around, and patches of the ground were scorched, remnants of burning tar still flickering around the edges. He couldn’t see any bodies, so the fight must have moved further back into the campus. He was bending down to examine one of the scorched areas of ground when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and a frigid chill puckered his skin. Whirling around, he was faced with a terrifying sight. Four of the demons were passing through the gate behind them, their dark bulk drawing all warmth and light into a ravenous vacuum. As one the creatures saw him, and, lifting their heavy heads, let out a chorus of grating howls that threatened to curl a fist around Gaspi’s soul and rip it right out of his body.

Fear battered Gaspi like a hurricane, but he had been expecting it, and kept a tight grip on himself. Reaching out with his magic, he summoned the flickering remnants of flame from the ground, forging them into a single hovering ball of fire. He flattened it, shaping it into a wide shield between himself and the demons, who stopped their advance, uncertainty making them hesitate. Gaspi didn’t show any such hesitation, but reached out with his magic to an old tree planted near the gateway. With a thought he shattered the heavy trunk into jagged shards of wood, summoning them to his side. He siphoned flame away from his shield, lighting them with magically enhanced flame. He whispered to the burning shards of wood, urging the fire to burn hotter, and in moments they were transformed into blazing spears, sizzling with super-heated sap. With an angry motion he let his shield drop away, and flung his burning arsenal at the four creatures.

They didn’t have a chance to flee, rearing up in surprise as they were peppered with the burning shards. A two–foot-long shaft of flaming wood flew straight into the face of the nearest demon, piercing so deeply it thrust out the back of its head. The creature didn’t even have time to react, collapsing in on itself so rapidly Gaspi almost lost his concentration. One second it was there; the next it was not. The other three creatures were not so easily banished. Hurt, but by no means vanquished, they rushed at Gaspi, howling fiercely as they came. They made a frightening spectacle, looming figures of darkness punctured by burning spears of wood, filling his vision as they slid heavily towards him.

For a moment Gaspi was immobilised, horror stealing his strength of purpose, and then they were on him. Gaspi shuddered as they reached out for him, his back arching in agony as the touch of dark hands froze him inside and out. Incapable of movement or action, Gaspi’s mouth opened in a silent scream as he felt his power, his precious magic, being siphoned out from the very core of his being. Anger pierced his incapacitating fear, and with a roar of defiance Gaspi found his strength. He reached out and grabbed a large shard of burning wood, pulling it from a demon’s body. Uncaring of the searing pain in his hand, he thrust it with a yell into the face of the demon right in front of him. He pulled his hand back, willing the flaming spear to blaze, and as it flared white hot , the creature stumbled back from him, clawing ineffectually at its face until it too collapsed to the ground and dissolved into nothing.

The pain in Gaspi’s hand was suddenly unbearable. He knew he should be attacking the remaining two demons but it was all he could do to keep from sobbing, clutching his ruined hand to his chest. Sensing victory, the demons let out a twisted howl of rage mixed with a rapacious hunger for Gaspi’s power, and fell on him again. When the cold grip of fear paralysed Gaspi again, he couldn’t find the strength to resist. He felt his power being drawn out of him once more, dragged up from his most private of inner places. A spark of anger rose in him again, but it was not enough. Abused in every part of his being, Gaspi was immobilised in horrified stasis, willing that the darkness take him, willing that it be over.

And then it was. A bright flare of vivid blue light swept across his vision, and the freezing cold receded. Gaspi was so far gone he almost didn’t care, his eyes closing in brokenness and exhaustion, but someone was yelling, shouting his name. Why were they making all that noise? When the yelling didn’t stop, Gaspi forced himself to focus, opening his eyes a crack to once again see the vivid flare of blue cutting bright swathes through the night. He forced his eyes open further. The blue fire was blazing from a weapon; a staff. Taurnil! Summoned back suddenly to full consciousness, Gaspi took in the scene before him.

“Taurnil,” Gaspi said weakly, watching helplessly as Taurnil battled the two remaining demons. His initial attack had surprised them, the bright blue fire of his staff inflicting unexpected pain. They approached him warily from both sides, looming menacingly over Taurnil, their arms outstretched hungrily towards their prey. Taurnil stepped back carefully, trying to draw them nearer to each other. Blue flame rippled over his staff, apparently not burning his hands at all. Taurnil continued to step backwards slowly and methodically, manoeuvring the demons into a better position. Gaspi could see the concentration on his friend’s face, the tightly clenched muscles of his jaw bunching with tension. Suddenly, Taurnil sprang to the right, putting one of the creatures between himself and the other one. Even through the haze of his unbearable pain, Gaspi’s heart lurched in fear for his friend. Taurnil brought his staff up, blazing with searing blue fire, and slammed it down across the head of the nearest demon. The blue flame burned even more fiercely as the blow landed, hungry to destroy its enemy. The demon let out a fearsome howl of pain - a sound so broken and grating it hurt Gaspi’s bones just to hear it.

Taurnil didn’t relent, pressing his staff down hard against the demon’s face as it twisted and shrieked, blue flame spreading out from the staff across its head. The other demon didn’t attack, frozen in a kind of dumb uncertainty. The first demon was now fully ablaze, shrieking in agony as it burned. Taurnil held the staff in place, his face a mask of fierce anger as the creature finally collapsed in on itself, burned out of existence by the bright blue fire. Taurnil lifted his head slowly, his angry gaze stopping on the last demon, which was already backing away from him. Turning, it started to flee, gliding over the ground as fast as it could, heading into the depths of the campus. Taurnil flipped his staff up into the air, catching it over his head. Hefting it like a spear, he bounced it against his hand a couple of times, getting the measure of its weight, and then with one swift motion he flung it at the fleeing demon. The flame made a roaring sound as the staff flew through the air, a sound that should have alerted the demon to its impending doom. The staff flew straight and true and caught the demon between the shoulders, piercing right through its dark torso, and protruding from its chest. The creature couldn’t even make a sound. It spun slowly in one heavy circle, blue fire sheeting up its torso, and consuming its heavy head. Within moments it simply disappeared and Taurnil’s staff fell with a clatter to the cobblestones; its magical fire dying out, leaving them in darkness.

Gaspi gasped as pain throbbed agonisingly through his hand with every heartbeat. Taurnil was quickly by his side.

“Are you okay, Gasp?” he asked, with obvious concern.

“No,” was all Gaspi could say, his breath hissing through clenched teeth.

“We’ve got to get you to the infirmary,” Taurnil said, picking up his friend as easily as if he were a child. Gaspi moaned and held his hand to his chest. Taurnil started to walk briskly towards the infirmary.

“The staff,” Gaspi hissed. “Get the staff.”

Taurnil turned, and carried Gaspi over to where the staff lay on the floor. “Hold on mate,” he said. Gaspi put his good arm round Taurnil’s neck as he bent down to retrieve the staff. Taurnil had to carry it in awkwardly, pressed up against Gaspi’s side, bruising him with every step, but that was better than leaving it behind. If more of the demons came, they’d be in trouble without it. Gaspi really didn’t think he’d be able to draw on his magic through the pain he was feeling. He passed in and out of consciousness as Taurnil carried him, the pain in his hand pushed back by moments of dark oblivion, and then the darkness took him completely.

Gaspi came round, lying on a bed in the infirmary. The first thing he noticed was the diminishing pain in his hand. Looking down he saw Emea kneeling by his side, determination on her face as she cupped her hands over his burnt hand and forearm. White light shone brightly from between her fingers, and with every second the pain receded further and further, until it disappeared altogether. Emea gave a start as Gaspi sat up. “Oh, you’re conscious!” she said, with relief.

Gaspi kissed her warmly. “Thanks, Emmy,” he said. Emea flashed him a grim, but triumphant, smile.

A loud cry of pain from across the room grabbed his attention. Looking around, he realised that every bed was occupied with wounded guards, all sporting gruesome injuries. The cry of pain came from a man in the far corner, whose face was furrowed with deep gouges from chin to forehead. There was only a ragged, wet hole where his left eye had been. Gaspi gagged and looked away, shocked by the gory sight. Healers in white robes bustled from bed to bed, tending to the wounded as quickly as they could.

Gaspi pushed himself off the bed, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. He signalled to Taurnil. “Let’s go mate. This time we stick together.” Taurnil nodded, and picked up his staff.

“I’m needed here,” Emea said. Her eyes landed briefly on each of them with a curious intensity, as if burning their faces into her memory. “Look after each other,” she said, and then she was at the bedside of the guard with only one eye.

Gaspi and Taurnil headed out into the night. There was no obvious direction to go in. “Where should we go?” Taurnil asked, looking up and down the path.

“The tower,” Gaspi said on instinct. “Any kind of fighting will probably end up there.”