Taurnil was in the lounge when he returned, and dragged him off to a corner to strategise. As they talked through their various tactics, Gaspi found his nerves starting to escalate. The Measure was no longer a distant event, but a looming reality, and soon enough they’d be standing face to face with real life opponents. The other teams were all doing the same thing in isolated corners of the bungalow, though Everand seemed to be struggling to keep Baard interested. Whenever he got the opportunity, the giant warrior kept wandering off, and Everand had to go and drag him back so they could keep on planning. Gaspi reminded himself to speak with Everand as soon as possible, preferably when he could get him on his own. Emmy, Lydia and Rimulth weren’t included in the strategising, so they took the opportunity to leave the bungalow and explore the countryside.
Throughout the afternoon, and well into the evening, Stragos’ bungalow buzzed with quiet but intense conversation as each team went over their plans. When they weren’t strategising, they were checking their enchantments, polishing their armour and sharpening their weapons. Taurnil wanted to talk through every eventuality. What would they do if they faced an axeman? If he got injured, would Gaspi fight on or surrender? What kind of team would they want to face in the first match? What kind of team might they struggle against? By the end of the evening, Gaspi’s head hurt, and he was very thankful when Stragos brewed up a pot of sleep tea to help them drop off. If it wasn’t for the tea, he didn’t think he would have got a single wink, but as it was, he was asleep moments after his head hit the pillow.
When he awoke the next day the sun was blazing around the edges of the closed wooden shutters. Seeing that Taurnil’s bed was empty, he forced himself to get up, not wanting to be the last one to rise. He washed and dressed, and made his way to the kitchen, where he found their host pouring dark, steaming coffee for several of his guests.
“Good morning Gaspi, how did you sleep?” he asked brightly.
“Good thanks,” he answered. “That sleep tea did the trick.”
“It always does,” Stragos said amiably. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Sure,” he answered. It smelled delicious. Stragos poured him a cup and he took a seat next to Taurnil, who looked like a bear forced from his cave. He was holding one of Stragos’ tiny cups of coffee between his thumb and forefinger, his face the very picture of disgruntlement. Gaspi burst out laughing, earning him a reproachful glance.
“What you laughing at?” Taurnil asked gruffly.
“You,” Gaspi answered, chortling to himself. “Having trouble?” he asked, pointing at the cup he was clumsily lifting to his lips.
“Not as much as you’ll have if you don’t shut it,” he answered. Gaspi knew it wasn’t wise to bait Taurnil in the mornings, but he couldn’t resist it.
“Just don’t break anything with your massive ham hands okay,” he said. Without even looking at him, Taurnil reached out and pushed him off the chair. Gaspi yelped as he landed unceremoniously on his rump, and the whole room burst out laughing. Just then Jonn walked in and looked at them.
“That’s about right,” he said, and sat down. “What’s for breakfast?”
It turned out to be a bowl of dense cereal that Stragos claimed would give them energy for the whole day, along with boiled eggs, toasted bread and honey. Lydia and Emmy joined them half-way through breakfast, trailed by the fire spirit, and Rimulth joined them shortly after.
“Where’s Loreill?” the tribesman asked.
“Out playing with Lilly,” Gaspi answered. “They didn’t come back at all yesterday.”
“Fair enough,” Rimulth said. He was used to the air spirit being absent for longer periods than any of the other elementals, drawn away by the constant presence of its natural environment - the skies. Loreill very rarely stayed away from Gaspi for any length of time, but he couldn’t blame him or Lilly for staying out all night. They didn’t often have access to the kind of environment that suited their spirit forms, and he could understand why they’d want to make the most of it.
“Are you feeling nervous?” Emmy asked, and all of a sudden, he realised he was. Until that moment, the nervous tingling in his belly had been residual, calmed by the last lingering effects of the sleep tea, but as soon as she asked about it, the feeling intensified and he couldn’t swallow another bite.
Taurnil, on the other hand, was shaking off his morning grumpiness, and his eagerness to get on with the day was becoming clearer by the moment. There was a determined set to his jaw and a fierce light in his eyes that spoke of a hunger for combat. Jonn, Baard and Sabu looked settled and unruffled, seasoned campaigners who weren’t likely to get worked up about a tournament, even if it was the Measure. Jaim, on the other hand, looked like he was struggling to keep his breakfast down, swallowing each mouthful with a determined expression. Everand had arrived late and was eating quietly in the corner on his own. He seemed to be trying to avoid any kind of attention. Stragos made an attempt at conversation with him but the handsome boy remained withdrawn, and to Gaspi’s eye he looked downright miserable. Gaspi considered going over, but it didn’t seem like a good idea with everyone watching, so he decided to wait for a more opportune moment. Voltan also ate quietly, keeping himself to himself, but when the meal was finished, he stood up to address the group.
“Right everybody, in a moment we’ll be leaving for Arkright. I’m not given to speeches but I have something to say before we go.” Gaspi was surprised to see that Voltan’s eyes were burning with a fierce light.
“The way of the warrior is a proud one,” he continued. “War is ugly and wasteful, and people quite rightly want peace, but where war exists, the warrior is needed. You can’t ask a warrior to hate fighting. They must live and breathe it. They must love it. It must be in their bones.”
The whole room was silent as he paused. “Some of you here are fighters, and some are true warriors,” he continued, his gaze lingering on Taurnil and Sabu. Taurnil sat up straight, his attention utterly caught by Voltan’s words. In that moment, Gaspi knew that the warrior mage understood his best friend in a way he never could.
“When you’re out there, let your instincts take control. Fighting is the only art form I know, and the perfect warrior, whether magician or melee, can be a thing of beauty. That is what I want from you today. Be deadly and be beautiful, and you will make me proud.”
If anything, Taurnil’s back straightened even further. Looking around the room, Gaspi observed how the others reacted to Voltan’s speech. Jonn was frowning thoughtfully as he considered the warrior mage’s words. Baard was untouched, a simple fighting man but no artist. Everand on the other hand seemed to have been inspired. He was looking at Voltan as if he’d never seen him before, a gleaming light in his eyes. Jaim didn’t seem too excited by the speech, but a little smile played on Sabu’s face that spoke of great joy. Sabu was exactly what Voltan was talking about - the perfect warrior, a true artist. He remembered seeing him compete in the guard’s tournament the previous year, and again when the college was attacked. He was like sunlight come to life - agile and unlimited, his blades a blur of motion. He hoped they didn’t have to face him in the Measure. He didn’t know much about Jaim, but Sabu was a force to be reckoned with under any circumstances.
“Gather your things,” Voltan said. “Time to go.” With nervousness buzzing in his belly, Gaspi did as he was told. There was no stopping it now. In moments they would be in Arkright and soon enough they would be facing their first opponents.
…
When they were ready, Voltan had them step outside. Gaspi gave a shrill whistle, and three bolts of light came zipping towards them. Loreill and Lilly wove around each other as they flew out of the undergrowth, a mesmerising interplay of green and blue light, and the air spirit dropped down from above, a miniature storm that crackled with lightning. It transformed to hawk form above their heads and flapped down to Rimulth’s outstretched arm just as Loreill wound his dazzling green body round Gaspi’s shoulders and transformed into a ferret. Lilly came to rest on Emmy’s feet and changed into an otter.
“Amazing!” Stragos said, staring at the spirits in awe. Everand too was staring at the spirits in wonder, his open expression free from the taint of his previous prejudice.
“Link arms,” Voltan said, and the group did so, awaiting transportation. Stragos had sent a runner the previous night, carrying his part of the amulet to Arkright, and he would be in place at that moment, waiting for them to transport to his location.
“All ready?” Voltan asked, and they said they were. “Three, two, one…Transport to Arkright!” he commanded, and they disappeared.
When Gaspi’s senses returned, he was glad to find the effects of transportation over the ten mile distance between the bungalow and their destination were little worse than those he suffered going from plinth to plinth within the tower at Helioport. He easily shook off the remaining discomfort and looked about him. They had arrived at the side of a muddy road leading into a heavily fortified town that he had to assume was Arkright. He looked up at sturdy walls built of dark, heavy stone, topped with the crenellations of an ancient settlement that at some point in its history must have been important. It had clearly been built for defence, and kept a kind of military air about it, even if it no longer retained its historic significance.
Six armoured guards stood at the gate, checking the heavy flow of traffic as it passed out of the city and moved on down the road. Judging by the number of magicians travelling amongst the crowd, Gaspi also had to assume he was looking at some of his competitors, along with the many out of town visitors the Measure would draw. They varied in age from about his own to the very old, and many of them were accompanied by warriors, bristling with a remarkable array of weaponry. Some of the fighting men were enormous, but none more so than Baard.
“Why are they all leaving the town?” Emea asked. “Don’t they want to watch the Measure?”
“It’s not held in town Emmy,” Gaspi said, explaining something Voltan had told him months previously. “It’s in an arena nearby. They’re all heading there now.”
“Oh right,” she said, watching the crowd pass with interest.
“Wish I could have brought Bonebreaker,” Baard mumbled resentfully, fingering his two-handed axe with something close to disdain.
Sabu laughed and clapped the enormous fighter on the back. “And I my blades.”
“It’s not fair,” Baard grumbled. “Taurnil’s got that blooming staff of his, but we can’t bring our own weapons.”
“You know the rules Baard,” Voltan said. “The magician has to enchant his partner’s weapons and armour himself, and Gaspi enchanted Taurnil’s staff, so it’s allowed.”
“Nice to have a Nature Mage on your side,” Baard mumbled, but Gaspi knew it wasn’t personal.
“Yes I suppose it is,” Voltan said, “but there’s no point moaning about it. Besides, your weapons and armour have enchantments of their own.” All of the magicians had cast enchantments on their fighter’s weapons, but as far as he could tell they were limited to making the weapon unbreakable, hard-hitting, or razor sharp. The demon-bane powers of Taurnil’s staff wouldn’t come into play in the Measure, but as a Nature Mage, the amount of power he’d poured into its other magical properties gave it an edge over other enchanted weaponry.
“Alright, alright. Just saying,” Baard mumbled, waving a large hand in Voltan’s direction to pacify him. Gaspi wondered if there was more to his grumbling than just wishing he could fight with Bonebreaker - perhaps he wasn’t enjoying fighting alongside his partner. Everand looked pretty put out by Baard’s unintended slight on the power of his enchantments.
Gaspi sighed. More trouble! It was becoming increasingly important that he spoke to Everand before the Measure began. Stragos retrieved his part of the amulet from his runner, and sent him into town to prepare the apartment for later.
“Right, let’s go,” Voltan said, leading them towards the road. Gaspi found Emmy’s hand and followed along behind. They joined the flow of traffic and trudged along the muddy road towards the brow of a hill. Distracted by his concern for Everand, Gaspi wasn’t looking where he was going and bumped right into Taurnil.
“Bit distracted are we?” Taurnil asked. Gaspi grinned lopsidedly and his friend’s face stiffened. “You’re going to have your mind on the job right?” he asked sternly.
“Don’t worry Taurn,” Gaspi said. “I’ll do my best.” He knew he wasn’t the true warrior Voltan had been talking about, but he
was
competitive, and once they were out there facing their opponents, there was no way he’d be anything less than fully focussed. Taurnil harrumphed doubtfully but left it there.
They topped the brow of the hill and Gaspi stopped in his tracks, his jaw hanging open in amazement at what he saw. Just meters in front of him the land dropped away precipitously into a deep valley, only to rise just as steeply again on the other side into the rocky foothills of a distant mountain range. Some ancient geological event had rent a great cleft in the far valley wall, forming a natural amphitheatre in the dark, craggy stone. Skilled craftsmen had hewn out an enormous arena, surrounded by tiers of stone benches rising up and up until they disappeared into the broken cliff face above. Gaspi didn’t think there was a tournament in all the world that would be too grand for such a setting.