Gaspi checked to make sure they were all safely on the plinth. “Observatory,” he said, and they were whisked away.
…
When they arrived in the Observatory, they found Hephistole standing at the broad, curving window behind his desk, looking out at the horizon. Lydia shook off the unpleasant after effects of transportation and stared with admiration at the amazing view, appreciating the almost equally incredible window that allowed them to see the land spread out before them like a blanket. Helioport’s magically enhanced glasswork was one of the wonders of the college in and of itself. Glass was normally full of bubbles and hard to see through, but the glass in the Observatory window was totally smooth and didn’t distort the view at all. As a result it presented the most stunning panorama, all the way to the snow-capped majesty of the distant mountains. It was a chilly winter morning and the plains were covered in a sparkling veil of frost.
Hephistole turned around, his normally enigmatic face calm and reflective. “What a beautiful morning,” he said peacefully.
“Wow,” Gaspi said, stepping up alongside him to look out at the view. Gaspi seemed to feel completely comfortable with the chancellor, but Lydia didn’t think she could ever be so familiar. She wasn’t intimidated by him, as Emmy seemed to be, but she had an ingrained sense of propriety and didn’t think it was right to speak to someone over forty years her senior without at least a touch of deference.
“And what brings you ladies to my study today?” Hephistole asked, addressing her and Emmy with exaggerated courtesy. Emmy was being predictably shy around the chancellor, so Lydia decided to speak for both of them.
“Gaspi told us we should come. Apparently it was Loreill’s idea.”
“Oh really?” Hephistole said, enlivened by his easily awakened curiosity. “Take a seat, take a seat,” he said, waving at a cluster of comfortable chairs. “Let’s make some tea, and we’ll see what Loreill thinks is so important,” he said, bustling around his ornate silver tea set.
Emmy lowered herself into one of the comfortable chairs but Lydia remained standing, staring at the blazing fireplace, where two glowing orange eyes stared back at her from within the flames. Time seemed to stop, as if a giant bell had tolled and the world had gone silent. With a thwump and a shuffle, the owner of those mesmerising eyes emerged from the fireplace.
Lydia stared in wonder as the creature extended its wings and showered the flagstones with coals and ash. So this was the fire spirit! Gaspi had described it of course, but nothing could have prepared her for its remarkable appearance. Its black body gleamed in the red light of the fire, a light that was mirrored in its smouldering eyes. Its delicate wings were webbed, patterned with a tracery of fine veins, and the leathery skin that stretched between them was so thin it was almost translucent. Its long, slender snout was lined with sharp, interlocking teeth, and a sinuous tail snaked behind it, weaving back and forth hypnotically as it advanced.
Lydia knew it wasn’t actually a dragon, any more than Loreill was a ferret or Lilly an otter. It was a spirit in bodily form, but that was hardly any less remarkable than a real dragon! The spirit was still moving forwards, its glowing gaze fixed on her. She could feel something tugging at the deepest parts of her, calling to her very soul. She didn’t even try to resist, but knelt down, extending a hand towards it. It crossed the last few paces between them and rested its head on her upturned palm, its glowing eyes never leaving her own. Its shiny skin felt like sun-warmed leather, and as it gazed at her she could feel its presence.
What she felt was an invitation. Looking up at Emea, who was transfixed on the scene in front of her, she smiled. Somehow she knew that Emmy could feel what was happening, and as if to confirm that, her friend gave her the slightest of nods. She turned back to the fire spirit and bowed her head.
“I accept,” she said simply, and the spirit spread its wings triumphantly, blowing a narrow jet of flame into the air. Lydia felt the presence of the spirit more intimately as it bonded with her. It was the most natural sensation in the world, as if she’d found a piece of her soul that had been missing all her life without her even knowing it. She didn’t normally show her emotions publicly, but in that moment of completion, she cried without restraint. She could feel the complexity of the spirit’s nature. It was as much a creature of destruction as it was of creation. It contained within in it the violence of fire - not a violence born of hatred but one that took its place in the natural cycle of life. Its swirling power contained both life and death, and the two were impossible to separate. She accepted this without hesitation, and could feel the spirit’s contentment as she did so.
When the bonding was complete she stood up, and the spirit flapped up to the back of a nearby chair, its long tail snaking down to the floor.
“So that’s why Loreill wanted us to come,” Gaspi said reverently.
Hephistole had watched the whole thing in silence. “Does that mean the spirit has chosen you?” he asked.
“Yes it has,” Lydia answered, her attention reserved entirely for the dragon. Emmy stepped over and hugged Lydia tightly.
“So that only leaves the air spirit,” he said with a touch of sadness.
“Still hoping it will choose you?” Gaspi asked.
“No, no, I’ve accepted it now,” Hephistole said wistfully. “It would have made this old Archmage happy, but it’s not to be.”
Lydia had never heard the chancellor sound sad before, and she was surprised to see such childlike emotion in the man they all looked up to. Vulnerability wasn’t something she admired personally, but she could see why Gaspi liked him so much. The two were like peas in a pod, wearing their hearts on their sleeves.
“I wonder who it
will
choose,” Emmy said. “Maybe Taurnil!” she said excitedly.
“I don’t think so,” Gaspi said. “Only magicians can channel elemental magic, and I think it’s the same when you bond with them.”
“Oh,” Emmy said, sounding disappointed. “Nevermind. Let’s go and show him the spirit anyway!” she said more brightly. “Lydia, what are you going to call it?”
Bidding goodbye to Hephistole, they gathered on the plinth and transported down to the Atrium. They left him as they found him, staring out of the window, but this time he was peering upwards, turning his head from left to right, scouring the skies intently.
…
When they appeared in the Atrium, heads started to turn at the fire spirit’s remarkable appearance. Dragons were mythological creatures that may well have existed in the long distant past, but no-one in living memory had ever seen one. Both Loreill and Lilly attracted a certain amount of attention because of their amazing eyes, but in a city full of magicians, there were stranger things to be seen, and people seemed to accept them as unusual pets, as Gaspi had hoped. The other students had asked, but some quiet instinct had caused him to pass off the elementals as exactly what most people assumed them to be, and the others had followed his lead. Loreill and Lilly only transformed into spirit form when no-one else was around, and so far they had been able to keep the
true nature of the spirits a secret. But there was no hiding a dragon!
People were staring open-mouthed as the fire spirit flapped in lazy circles above them. From its glowing orange eyes and shiny black skin to its fragile, leathery wings and slender, weaving tail, the spirit was compelling to look at. They left the Atrium quickly, escaping the escalating attention.
“I was worried about this,” Gaspi said as they hurried down one of the side streets leading from the tower. “What are we going to tell people? That Lydia has a pet dragon?”
Lydia stopped walking, forcing them to turn around and face her. “We tell them the truth,” she said plainly, spreading her hands open in front of her. “Any story we make up will be just as incredible as the truth.”
“Lydia’s right,” Emmy said. “What harm can it do anyway?”
“I dunno,” Gaspi responded, “but I just have a bad feeling about it.”
“What choice do we have?” Lydia asked.
Gaspi was trying to work out exactly that, but the more he thought about it the more obvious it became. “We don’t really,” he said resignedly. “Maybe I’m just worrying about nothing. I’m up for it if you both agree.” Loreill chittered approvingly from his customary position around Gaspi’s neck.
“Lilly thinks we should tell people,” Emmy said, bending down to stroke the spirit’s head, and that finalised it. The next person who asked about any of the spirits would get the unvarnished truth.
…
It started out badly. They had to wait for Taurnil and Jonn to get off duty, so they waited in the Rest, where the first sight of the dragon caused shouts of alarm. Memories of Sestin’s attack on the city were still fresh in peoples’ minds, and they thought it was a demon, but once Gaspi assured them that they weren’t demons and explained about elemental spirits, their fear quickly turned to curiosity. Following Loreill’s clear instruction, Gaspi wouldn’t let anyone touch the spirits, but the locals crowded into the snug in groups, admiring them from across the room.
Curiously, the elementals permitted a single exception to their refusal to allow anyone to touch them, and that was children. Even the fire spirit, which didn’t seem to be as inclined towards physical touch as Loreill or Lilly were, was happy to let the children stroke him. Gaspi wondered at the difference between his relationship with Loreill and Lydia’s with the fire spirit. Even before taking bodily form, Loreill had wanted to be near him as often as possible, wrapping himself around his neck at every opportunity, and Emmy and Lilly had been inseparable from the moment they bonded, but the fire spirit seemed more aloof. Gaspi supposed that would suit Lydia, who was more self-contained than either he or Emmy was, and would probably not want a dragon wrapped around her neck half the time anyway!
The curious locals hadn’t shown any signs of growing bored of the new attraction, and when Gaspi finally ushered them all out of the snug, he felt that, all in all, things could have gone much worse. Perhaps he’d been worrying over nothing.
…
The real trouble started when they returned to the Warren later that day. The students’ initial reaction to the fire spirit was similar to that of the locals, but when Gaspi explained about elementals, some remained unconvinced. Matthias had been fascinated, and many of the girls had cooed over Loreill and Lilly, but there were some who had slunk away without stopping to talk. Most notable was Everand, who stalked off with loud footsteps and a stiff back at the very first mention of spirits. Gaspi threw a worried glance at Emmy but she just shrugged as if to say “What can you do about it?”
As he lay in bed that night, Gaspi thought he could feel trouble brewing. How strange that the ordinary folk of Helioport had accepted the spirits with only the slightest persuasion, but the students had not been able to shake off their unease. His thoughts drifted to the only un-bonded elemental, the air spirit, spiralling way above the city. He supposed it would come down when it bonded with someone, but until then it would remain in the air, circling and swooping in long loops through Helioport’s skies…
Gaspi stepped away from the blow, leaving Taurnil to catch Jonn’s sword on his staff. When they’d first started sparring against Voltan and Jonn, the fight had naturally split into melee and magical combat. Jonn would tackle Taurnil and Gaspi would fight Voltan, but over time their interaction had become much more advanced. Voltan wanted them to work on their raw skills without the aid of magically enhanced battle gear, so they fought with blunted weapons and ordinary armour as the warrior mage relentlessly pushed them to improve their teamwork.
To Gaspi’s great satisfaction, they were starting to develop their own style. After trying a few different formats, he found it best if Taurnil took the lead and he performed spell work to support the attack. If Taurnil was on the offensive, Gaspi might attack Jonn with a strike, forcing Voltan to defend his team mate. Even if Voltan managed to disperse the strike, it kept him busy while Gaspi was summoning his next strike. The problem with this tactic was that Voltan was particularly adept at grabbing his strikes right out of the air and deflecting them back at him with added force. If he failed to defend himself, he ended up on his rump while Voltan dealt with Taurnil and finished the bout. This in turn forced him to think on his feet and develop a more sophisticated series of blocks and dispersals to whatever kind of attack Voltan would launch.
In the main, it made sense to weave his magical attacks around Taurnil, using him as both weapon and shield, and doing everything he could to protect and enhance his warrior. If he faced a magician in the Measure that insisted on blasting him with spells, then he would be forced to face off against the magic-user and leave Taurnil to deal with the warrior, but hopefully his opponents would be drawn into this more complex form of engagement. It was far more creative and satisfying to fight in this way, especially when combined with a few well-placed enchantments on Taurnil’s gear. The more they practiced, the more he could see what Voltan meant about it being an art form. It was intricate and challenging, and to his surprise, he was enjoying it almost as much as Taurnil, who literally drank up every moment as if his life depended on it.