Jonn wasn’t the only person who seemed out of sorts. Everand stood apart from the group, as if he wasn’t with them at all. Gaspi watched him surreptitiously, trying to decide whether or not to approach him. He’d thought that after Everand’s apology, the proud boy might be more comfortable around him, but his shoulders were stiff, and he was diligently avoiding everyone’s gaze. Gaspi supposed it shouldn’t be a surprise. Everand had salved his conscience by apologising for calling the elementals demons, but he had other reasons to feel unwelcome in the group. No doubt, he felt awkward around Emmy, who had rejected his advances. And then there was Voltan - the warrior mage had taught him a humiliating lesson in front of half the college!
Gaspi had given Rimulth’s words about Everand a lot of thought. The tribesman had a way of making simple statements that turned Gaspi’s assumptions on their head, and he’d certainly done that where Everand was concerned. After considering things carefully, Gaspi had reluctantly come to the conclusion that perhaps Everand didn’t think he’d done anything wrong by making a play for Emmy. If that was the case, there was no point holding out for an apology. Gaspi didn’t see Everand as any kind of threat anymore, certainly not when it came to Emmy’s affections, so there wasn’t really any need to keep him at arm’s length either. Gaspi sighed in resignation. He didn’t have to like Everand, but the proud boy looked lost and out of place, and Gaspi didn’t like to see anyone feeling like that. His conscience pricked, Gaspi resolved to be the one to try and bridge the gap. Before he could do anything about it, however, Voltan arrived, and the opportunity passed. Without further ado, the warrior mage led them to the twelfth transporter and magicked them up to the Observatory.
Hephistole greeted them as they arrived, dressed in bright red robes edged in a broad band of silver thread.
“Come in, come in!” he said, ushering them into the room. As they moved away from the plinth, a loud tapping noise sounded from the window, and Hephistole bustled over to swing it open and let the air spirit in. It swooped across the room, flapping noisily as it landed on Rimulth’s outstretched arm and sidestepped up to his shoulder. Hephistole closed the window and walked back over to the group, looking at them with proprietary eyes.
“All here?” he asked.
“All here,” Voltan answered.
Hephistole took a deep breath, let out a huge sigh of satisfaction and spread his arms wide.
“Look what we have here,” he said, beaming proudly at them. “I hope you will afford me the honour of giving a short speech.” He looked at them enquiringly, and when no-one objected he carried on.
“The time has come for you to compete in the Measure. It is an ancient tournament, highly esteemed and attended by important members of the magical community from around the continent and beyond. I couldn’t be prouder to have you each of you represent the college.” He looked from face to face, and Gaspi could have sworn he lingered on Everand the longest. Gaspi breathed a quiet sigh of relief, heartened at the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one concerned about the isolation Everand might be experiencing. Heppy was going out of his was to make sure the proud boy knew he was included in that last statement.
“I should probably say something about doing your best and fighting with honour, and all of that is important. But hang it all! I’d like to see a team from the college come back the winner! So how about it? Go and make names for yourselves!”
Taurnil barked a surprised laugh and stood rigidly to attention the way he would for Drillmaster Trask. He thunked the bottom of his staff against the floor. “Yes Sir!” he enunciated loudly. Jonn had seemed distracted until that moment, but Hephistole’s exhortation seemed to have snapped him back into the present, and he grinned from ear to ear. Even Everand seemed to have lost some of his frostiness, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Well, that’s quite enough from me,” Heppy continued more briskly. “It’s time for you to be off. Over to you Voltan.” He handed Voltan a fragment of a simple-looking amulet, which Gaspi assumed must be the transporter device Hephistole had enchanted. As he understood it, there were four parts to it - one to get them to Arkright, one in Arkright to receive them, one in case Hephistole needed to send a messenger to them, and one that would stay with him so they could transport back home again.
Voltan held the device up for them to look at. “If for some reason I’m not in a position to activate this, any magician can do so in my place. It works in a similar way to the plinths in the Atrium. The enchantment lies in the object but it requires someone of magical ability to activate it. Simply hold the amulet, feed a tiny thread of power into it, and say “Return to Helioport.” I thought we should keep it simple, but use a long enough phrase that no-one will set it off by mistake! Does everyone understand?” he asked, receiving a chorus of assent from the magicians.
“Good luck everyone,” Hephistole said roundly. “Voltan, if you will.”
“Form a circle,” the warrior mage said, taking his place in the group. “Link arms!” He watched carefully to make sure they were all in position. Gaspi had Emmy on his left and Taurnil on his right. Loreill was wrapped around his shoulders and Lilly was lying across Emmy’s feet. Looking around the circle, he saw that the air spirit was still perched on Rimulth’s shoulder, and the fire spirit had draped itself over Lydia’s feet in imitation of Lilly.
“Okay, hold tight,” he said. As he counted down he locked eyes with Hephistole, who regarded him with something that looked like sympathy. He only had a moment to wonder why that might be before Voltan started the countdown.
“Three, two, one…Transport to Arkright!”
Gaspi felt like his body had ceased to function. None of his previous experiences of transportation had come anywhere close to this! It was far, far worse than the time he’d transported back from Heath’s home with Hephistole. He felt like his head was behind his belly button and between his legs all at the same time. A great sense of disorientation swept through him, making him feel sick to his stomach, and it seemed to go on forever. If he could have yelled out he would have done, but nothing worked as it should. He was locked into place with no choice but to endure. His head was filled with a deafening buzzing, the bones of his skull and jaw rattling uncontrollably in its grip. He felt like he was going to implode!
Suddenly it was over and he found himself standing in the middle of a muddy field. Pulling his arms away from Emmy and Taurnil, he fell to his knees and noisily threw up. Loreill instantly transformed into spirit form and zipped away across the field. From the corner of his eye he saw two other bolts of light - one blue and the other white - do the same, except the white bolt of light shot directly upwards. That could only be Lilly and the air spirit. His head continued to spin wildly as he dug his fingers into the cool grass, desperate to gain some measure of control over himself.
Slowly the dizziness subsided and he pushed himself up into a sitting position, looking around at the others. They were in varying states of disarray. Some, including Jonn and Rimulth, lay flat on their backs, gulping in the fresh air. Taurnil had his head in his hands and was moaning softly, and Emmy was actually crying. The only exception was Voltan, who had remained standing, though he was white as a sheet and was swallowing noisily. Next to him stood a grossly overweight man robed entirely in black, clutching another part of Hephistole’s enchanted amulet.
“Why didn’t you warn us?” Gaspi croaked.
“What would it have served?” Voltan asked. “It’s over now, and you didn’t spend the last few weeks worrying about it.”
“Did you know?” Jonn asked, struggling back to his feet.
“We had to practice to make sure it worked,” Voltan said with a grimace. “For what it’s worth, it gets easier each time you do it.” Gaspi looked again at the warrior mage’s damp, pallid skin and decided that it couldn’t get
much
easier. No wonder Hephistole had looked at him the way he did before he activated the transporter!
It was then that he noticed the fire spirit, lying in a bedraggled heap next to Lydia. The other elementals could transform into spirit form to escape their torment, but the fire spirit couldn’t do so without the presence of flame unless it wanted to substitute one form of discomfort for another.
“This is Stragos,” Voltan said, introducing the stranger to the group.
“Stragos, are you attached to that tree?” Gaspi asked, interrupting the introductions to point at a stunted yew growing in the lee of a giant boulder.
“Er, not particularly,” Stragos answered, frowning in confusion at Gaspi’s odd question. “Why do you…” he started to ask, but finished his sentence with an unmanly yelp as Gaspi drew on the energies in the air around him and shot a beam of pure fire across the intervening distance. The tree went up in a great conflagration as soon as the bolt struck it, the flames reaching thirty feet into the air. The fire spirit lifted its head, and in a flash of light transformed into spirit form. It shot across the field and straight into the blaze, where it could heal itself in the comfort of its natural environment.
“Well I never!” Stragos said, but he sounded curious rather than angry.
“Thank you Gaspi,” Lydia said, smiling at him gratefully.
“No problem,” he said, and turned back to Stragos. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I had to take care of the fire spirit right away.”
“No need to apologise my boy!” the fat man said, eyeing him with a professional eye. “So you must be the Nature Mage.”
“All in good time,” Voltan interrupted. “Let’s get inside first.”
“Of course,” Stragos said, his voice smooth and unctuous. “Welcome to my humble abode.” He swept an arm outwards in a grand gesture to encompass an expansive bungalow sitting on its own at the edge of a forest that stretched away behind it for as far as the eye could see.
Gaspi took a second look at the man Heppy had entrusted part of the enchanted amulet to. A carefully manicured goatee beard framed an overly sensual mouth, and his bald, shiny pate tapered to a point like a highly polished egg.
“Come on then, we don’t have all day!” Voltan said, and the group got to their feet, accompanied by an assortment of groans. He led the way across the muddy ground of the field, and Taurnil fell in next to Gaspi.
“That was awesome!” he said. “Shame we can’t do that in the Measure!”
“It’s only a shame if you don’t mind killing people,” Gaspi answered sarcastically.
“Oh yeah,” Taurnil said, but Gaspi could tell he was still thinking about it. He watched Stragos as they walked, amused by the overweight man’s attempts to avoid getting his shoes wet. He was dancing from one patch of grass to the next with surprising grace.
“Do you live here on your own?” Emmy asked the enormous man politely.
“Yes my dear, but this is only my country retreat,” he answered between leaps. “I’ve got a place in Arkright, right in the heart of things!” he said proudly. “But every magician needs peace and quiet to study, so I keep this home too.”
“Oh! It’s very nice,” Emmy said as they approached the expansive dwelling, which sprawled in every direction with no apparent design. Stragos ushered them through the low door, and they found themselves in a well-appointed entrance hall, leading to further, equally comfortable rooms. Gaspi took in the plush furnishings, noting the elegantly carved tables, the thick velvet drapes, the many ornaments gracing every flat surface and rugs so thick you could lose your feet in them. Every inch of it spoke eloquently of an appreciation for the finer things in life. Hephistole would love it and Heath would hate it! He smiled wryly at the thought.
“Shoes off please!” Stragos urged, and then led them through to the lounge.
“Thank you for hosting us,” Voltan said.
“Nonsense!” the fat magician insisted. “It’s only for a few days after all, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Gaspi noticed he was fidgeting with his part of the amulet, turning it over in his hand with his short, stubby fingers. He saw Gaspi looking and slipped it into an interior pocket of his robe. “Tea for everyone?” he asked genially.
“Yes please,” Gaspi answered, along with several others.
“I’ll brew up a pot,” he said, and bustled off into the kitchen, followed by Emmy, who seemed to be doing her dutiful best to befriend their host.
“Are you competing in the Measure too my dear?” Stragos asked as they left the room.
“No I’m just here to support Gaspi,” she answered.
“Oh really? That’s a shame…”
Gaspi let the conversation buzz around him as he sank back into one of Stragos’ comfortable chairs. Last night’s lack of sleep was catching up with him all of a sudden, and he closed his eyes for a moment. He sank further into the chair, and the noise of clattering tea cups and polite chatter soon became distant, irrelevant, as if it was happening behind a thick curtain. Before he knew it, he’d drifted into a barely conscious doze.
…
They must have decided to let him sleep, because when he awoke later, a good couple of hours had passed. Everyone had settled in by that stage, and someone had moved his bag, presumably to the room he’d be sleeping in. He rubbed his eyes and climbed out of the extraordinarily comfortable chair. Stretching, he went through to the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea.