After the feasting the dancing began, starting with a slow, rhythmic tune that relied heavily on the booming of the Tibor. Two lines of villagers faced each other, made up of men on one side and women on the other. Sleeves were already rolled up above elbows and the top few shirt buttons undone in anticipation of the exertion to come. Everyone was smiling already, and as the music started people began the careful pacing that later on would become a ruck, as steps and form were entirely forgotten and people abandoned themselves to rhythm.
Gaspi spun and twirled with person after person, swapping partners many times in the course of a dance. He was old enough to be allowed to drink some ale from the casks that sat in the corner, and two cool, creamy, flagons later he was feeling a great warmth spreading out from his belly that seemed to have reached his face, where a grin had fixed itself immovably. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a lady taking Jonn’s hand with a look of infinite kindness on her face, and leading him to the open floor. Jonn had a look of surprise on his face the whole evening, as if taken aback that he could relax enough to let some of the warmth in. He looked out of his element but happy to be so, and though a big man, he looked smaller to Gaspi in the company of all these other adults, dancing in the bright, flickering light of torches and fire.
Gaspi passed to another partner, and turned his head away from Jonn to find Emmy in his arms, smiling exquisitely at him. He became aware of the sweatiness of his fingers, and the complexity of the footwork he found himself suddenly unable to follow. He had never noticed before the flecks of hazel in her deep brown eyes, and found himself saying so. Emmy looked both pleased and nervous, and neither noticed they had stopped dancing. There was a long moment of stillness and unbroken eye contact, and then, following his instinct, Gaspi leaned forward and kissed her. It was only a brief kiss, but Gaspi would never forget the softness of that moment, and the sensation of her lips on his, her warm breath mingling with his own. It was a moment isolated from all others, with a meaning and sensation all of its own. What came before and after were just seas surrounding an island of bliss.
And then they pulled back, becoming aware of the smiles directed at them from nearby dancers, and the laughter of some of the men. One woman slapped her husband’s hand as he playfully mocked Gaspi. Feeling embarrassed, Gaspi caught Jonn’s eye, whose smile had no mockery in it, but was full of approval and understanding, and suddenly Gaspi was not embarrassed anymore. Grinning, he grabbed Emmy and began to dance with her again. She too seemed unconcerned by the onlookers’ attention, and though sometimes they passed shy looks back and forth, they were mostly comfortable with each other. The swirling in Gaspi’s belly had diminished, and he was left with an excited feeling that this was the beginning of something new for himself and Emmy; something well worth exploring.
The dance drew to a close, and the two friends moved to the chairs left at the side of the moot hall where exhausted revellers were resting, to find Jakko sitting with two friends and scowling like a thundercloud. He stood up as they approached, anger radiating from him in waves. “Jakko, please don’t!” Emmy pleaded.
“Why should I listen to you, you…whore?” The word fell out of Jakko’s mouth uncomfortably, and he looked embarrassed to have cursed in such a way, but anger and injured pride would not allow him to back down, and his jaw firmed as he prepared to take it further. Lights flashed behind Gaspi’s eyes, but before he was able to pounce on Jakko, Emea grabbed his wrist and pulled sharply, turning him towards her.
“Gaspi, don’t be like him! Listen to me…please!” The words cut through the blaze in Gaspi’s head and he held back, just. Standing there, fists still clenched, he stared at Emea in frustration. She span back on Jakko, fury sounding in every word. “Get out of here, Jakko. You can forget we were ever friends. You are a pig.”
Jakko’s face flared bright red, and for a moment regret and pain showed in his eyes. But unwilling to voice his feelings, he turned and stalked out of the room, his friends trailing behind him.
“Thank you, Gaspi,” Emea said. “I know you wanted to hit him, and he would have deserved it. But I don’t want to descend to his level.”
Gaspi was smiling at her. “Why are you smiling?” she asked.
“I don’t think anything I could have done would have been as harsh as what you said to him,” he answered. Emea looked suddenly uncertain. “No, don’t feel bad,” Gaspi said firmly. “He deserves it. Let’s forget about him and have another dance.”
And they would have done that, but the musicians were packing up and it was time to go home. Jonn had volunteered to help clear up, so he and Gaspi and a few others were putting away tables and chairs and sweeping the floor. In the morning, some of the women would come in to clean properly, but this would make their job easier. Emea had gone home with her parents, and in the aftermath of the feast the men worked with easy companionship in the light of the dying fire.
When they were done, they threw dirt on the fire and made their way out. The other men departed, and Gaspi and Jonn turned alone from the large doors of the hall and began to walk home.
Before they had gone even ten paces, Jonn put an arm out to stop Gaspi, who was lost in a reverie and came to a halt in surprise. Following Jonn’s gaze, he saw a flicker of movement from out of the dark near the pond. His hand on Gaspi’s shoulder, Jonn stood still and waited for the shadows to resolve themselves. Two figures emerged from the gloom, and Gaspi was surprised to see it was Jakko and his Pa, Brock Hermon. Jonn seemed less surprised.
“Good evening to you, Brock. I didn’t get the chance to say hello at the feast.”
As Brock moved forward, his face caught the light from nearby windows. Gaspi had never really noticed before, but Jakko’s piggish face was a close imitation of his father’s, though bulk and years lent a worn quality to that unappealing look. Brock was the village blacksmith, the skin of his arms and hands scarred and reddened in places from his work, and in the lantern’s glow his face looked red to Gaspi too. His face was set in a leer, aggression seething behind hard little eyes.
“Why did you turn up tonight, Jonn?” Brock asked. “You’re a disgrace to yourself and to the village.” The deep slur in Brock’s voice showed him to be very drunk, and he was speaking so loudly that faces quickly began to appear in nearby windows.
“Brock, I think you should go home to bed and sleep this off,” Jonn said.
“What was that? Don’t you tell me what to do Jonn! You lost that right when you killed her,” Brock slurred drunkenly. Gaspi felt Jonn go rigid next to him. “You heard me, Jonn. You lay in the bushes and cried like a coward. You may as well have killed her yourself.” This was the first time Gaspi had heard anyone say that rumour to his face, and for a moment he was so shocked he couldn’t even react.
“I didn’t...” Jonn murmured.
“What’s that...coward? I can’t hear you!” Brock shouted. Jakko was sneering at Jonn, and then turned his face to Gaspi, a mingled look of hatred and satisfaction beaming unpleasantly from his face. The moment of shock was over, and Gaspi felt a burning fury building in him beyond anything he had ever known. Men were coming out of doors, feet crammed hastily into thick, fur-lined boots but otherwise dressed for bed, and freezing in the winter air.
“Brock, you need to calm down,” called Seth Bertram, Taurnil’s father.
“Don’t you tell me what to do, Seth,” roared Brock. “She should have been mine. But she got what she deserved.”
Brock’s attack had caused Jonn to withdrawn into a protective trance, trying to prevent the sharp edges of painful memories he tried so hard to submerge from scraping his mind once again. But at these words he came awake like a boar springing from concealment, an agonised roar sounding from his mouth. In a moment he was surging forward, arms outstretched, but he was stopped in his tracks by a mad rush of movement and wind sweeping past his head.
In the heart of unquenchable anger, Gaspi’s fury broke free of the constraints of his body. He became aware of the environment around him: of trees and soil and ice, and of creatures sleeping or prowling in the night. They felt like they were a part of him, his to command, and he filled them with the fire burning in his heart. He sent his will swirling and spreading out through the air, leeching up through tree trunks and along branches, filling the breast of every bird nearby, crackling through the thick ice of the pond. Gaspi didn’t know how he did it, but suddenly nature had become an extension of his anger, responding to his every thought.
Birds came awake and flung themselves from branches and nests, diving from the trees, gathering speed and momentum, before swooping down past Jonn and driving their sharp beaks into Brock and Jakko. They scraped them with scrabbling claws, flying in again and again to stab and scratch at the focus of Gaspi’s hate.
Brock and Jakko were shouting fearfully, swinging their arms wildly at their assailants, before turning and running out over the pond. They slid and fell, scrabbling to their feet, falling again, crawling desperately away from the unrelenting swarm of cruel beaks. Blood was showing on their clothing, seeping through a hundred holes and tears. Gaspi’s anger flowed through the ice, the inches-thick surface groaning as power coursed through it. He extended a hand, palm downwards, thrusting out splayed fingers. Massive cracks splintered the edges of the pond, sending a fine spray of snow and ice into the air and then, as Gaspi clenched his fingers fiercely into a fist, they lanced inwards from every direction. The thrusting fractures met in a violent explosion in the middle of the pond, shattering the surface beneath Jakko and Brock. The two terrified, bleeding men disappeared in a surge of spray.
“Gaspi, STOP!” yelled Jonn. Gaspi had been standing with a look of furious concentration on his face, with legs spread and planted on the ground, hand outstretched and pointing at the break in the ice, where even now the birds were diving at the water, trying to get another stab at the drowning men. Jonn’s shout did something to disturb his unrelenting focus, and as Jonn pleaded with him again he felt himself returning to his right mind. Seeing what he had done, and suddenly overcome by a massive wave of fatigue, Gaspi fell to his knees, head in his hands. A dark pit seemed to have opened beneath Gaspi, its draw irresistible, and he found himself plunging into unconsciousness.
Jonn ran to Gaspi and threw his arms around him, yelling to the onlookers, “Get them out, Seth!”
Like daydreamers snapping out of a reverie, the men of Aemon’s Reach leaped into action, running to the shattered ice of the pond. Gaspi’s attack had left giant breaks all through the ice, and Brock and Jakko had surfaced through two of these dark holes. The rescuers lay down on the edge of the frozen surface and reached out to the freezing, bleeding men, pulling them out of the water. One of the women ran into her house and brought back thick towels to wrap around Jakko and Brock, who were taken into Hahldorn’s house to recover. Their faces blue and their bodies shaking uncontrollably all over, the father and son threw terrified glances around them constantly, checking for more bird attacks, but Gaspi’s flock had dispersed the moment his trance was broken, flapping back to tree branches and away over the forest as if nothing had happened at all.
Hahldorn moved over to Jonn, who was still holding Gaspi protectively. As he approached Jonn looked up, his gaze defensive. Now was not the time to discuss what had happened.
Hahldorn spoke quietly so that only Jonn could hear him. “Take the boy home Jonn. I’ll come by in a while after I’ve seen to Brock and Jakko.”
Nodding gratefully, Jonn picked Gaspi up, who lay unmoving in his guardian’s arms as he took him home.
Jonn closed the door behind him and lay Gaspi down on his cot, covering him with blankets and pulling up a nearby chair to sit in. Only then did he have a chance to examine Gaspi’s condition. He was completely immobile, not twitching and rearranging himself like a normal sleeper, but statuesque, still as a stone, his breathing shallow and too fast. Panicking, Jonn ran back out and pounded on Hahldorn’s door until he opened the door. Hahldorn was the village Healer and the only one Jonn could think of who could help Gaspi.
“Hahl you have to come and see Gaspi. He isn’t moving.”
“Hold on Jonn,” Hahldorn answered. He poked his head back into the house and called out to his wife. “Martha, can you look after these two? I need to go and see to Gaspi.”
Martha must have said yes, as Hahldorn grabbed his coat and followed after an anxious Jonn to his house. Hahldorn had a close look at Gaspi, opening his eyelids and peering at his eyes, lifting his arms and letting them fall, poking and prodding at him until eventually he grunted and sat down.
“I’ve seen people in a state like this Jonn,” he said sombrely, “but normally they have to climb a mountain with a sack of rocks on their back to get there. Whatever happened out there tonight has drained him dry.” Pausing to scratch his head, Hahldorn peered at Jonn from the corner of his eye. “Jonn, I think most people won’t link Gaspi with the birds, and it may be best to keep it that way, if you get my meaning. But you and I know different. I don’t have the ability myself, but I think this is the emergence of magic in Gaspi.”
“Magic?” Jonn repeated, stunned by the concept. He had known in the moment that Gaspi was somehow linked to the birds’ attack on Brock and Jakko, but hearing it said so starkly was still a real shock.
“Not just magic, but nature magic,” Hahldorn added significantly. “He was angry enough to let it break loose, and the birds and the ice were responding to him. My gifts lie in healing, but it seems to me the amount of power released through the boy was immense, and without training that is really dangerous.”
“But can’t you help him…train him?” Jonn asked.
“I’m sorry, Jonn, this is outside of my knowledge. Nature magic is a rare gift, and Gaspi will need special training. I know one thing: he is going to have to leave here to get it.” Seeing the look of protest on Jonn’s face, he added “You don’t have a choice, Jonn. You saw what happened tonight. Now that Gaspi’s power has manifested, it will do so again, and unless it’s managed properly, it will kill him. He’s going to have to go to Helioport and study at the College of Collective Magicks.”