Looking back over his shoulder he called back. “And when my patrol get back, I’ll make sure your horse is looked after. You can pick him up when you want to.” Jonn thanked him again, and followed the student into the college.
Chapter 8
Gaspi was lost in a sea of pain. A red haze filled his vision, surging and swirling in an agonising tide. His grasp on his identity was faint at best, slipping away through his fingers, and all he knew to do was to hold on, to fight. But hold on to what? Fight for what? There were no obvious answers to these questions but some gritty part of him insisted he continued to do these things, and so hold on he did.
He had no awareness of the journey by horse, or of Jonn holding him, or the passing of night into day, but he could feel the thread of his life slipping inexorably out of his grasp, moment by moment.
The pain seemed endless, its objective cruelty racking him beyond his ability to endure, and at some point even his stubborn insistence to hold the darkness at bay began to diminish. Dark, empty spaces floated through his red inner vision. The darkness was empty of pain, but felt cold and lifeless, worse almost than the hot pain he fought. Oblivion called to him from that darkness, calling him to let go, to submit; and perhaps if it had taken longer to reach those that could help him, he would have done so.
At the point where darkness began to fill his vision, where blackness swept through the red in powerful waves, where the fingers of his soul began to loosen their grip, there was a sudden inrush of light, as if a door had been flung open, and blessed whiteness flowed over Gaspi’s eyes, filling his vision and ending his pain. And then, there was nothing.
When Gaspi regained consciousness again, he was disturbed to find his vision again blank and tinged red, but as he moved out of the deep sleep of recovery he identified the colour as the warm pink glow of sunlight through his closed eyelids. Slowly, tentatively, he opened his eyes, the motion heavy and unnatural. It took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the bright glare of the sun, but when he stopped blinking against the brightness he was able to look around.
He was tucked into a narrow but comfortable single bed, enclosed by starchy white sheets, in a high-ceilinged room big enough to contain the five other beds set opposite each other in rows of three. The other beds were all empty, as in fact was the room. Warm swathes of sunshine beamed down through the high windows and spot-lit the wooden floor in broad rectangles of light. Dust motes drifted lazily in the sunbeams, and through the windows Gaspi could see the swaying tops of elegant trees, and hear snatches of laughter and muffled conversation carried to his ears by swirling breezes.
Memories of his encounter at the gypsy campfire filtered through Gaspi’s sleep-fuddled haze, and if he had the strength he would have sat up in alarm. Where was he? Why was no-one here with him? But he had no time for further thought, as at that moment the door was pushed open by a matronly woman carrying a tray, and following her was Jonn.
“Ah - I thought you’d be awake!” said the nurse.
“Gaspi!” Jonn cried with relief and rushed to his bedside, falling to his knees on the floorboards to give Gaspi a bear-like hug. “How do you feel?”
“I’m think I’m fine, Jonn,” Gaspi said, tiredness making it hard to focus. “I’m just exhausted…can barely keep my eyes open.”
“Well that’s to be expected, young man,” interjected the nurse, placing her tray down on a small table next to Gaspi’s bed. “Go back to sleep, and you can eat this when you’re awake again.”
“But I want to know where I am…what’s happened…” Gaspi fought with his shutting eyelids, which slid down and closed with irresistible finality, and with Jonn’s hand on his head he was reclaimed by sleep. Several hours later Gaspi awoke again, feeling much more alert and keenly aware of his growling stomach. Jonn was asleep in the comfortable chair next to him, breathing noisily through his open mouth.
Unable to restrain himself, Gaspi prodded Jonn until he awoke and immediately began to question him. “Where are we?” was the first thing on Gaspi’s mind.
Jonn rubbed his eyes. “If I answer that question, will you eat before asking me anything else?” Gaspi nodded impatiently. “We’re in the infirmary of the College of Collective Magicks.”
Gaspi couldn’t help feeling excited. “But…” he began, but was cut off by Jonn placing the tray of food firmly in his lap.
“Eat!” Jonn said firmly. Gaspi did as he was told, wolfing the food down as fast as possible, barely noticing the freshness and delicacy of the fruit, or the wonderful flavour of the nutty bread in his hurry to return to interrogating Jonn. Finally, he pushed his tray aside and looked at Jonn expectantly.
Gaspi wanted to know what happened after the confrontation at the gypsy camp, where Emmy and Taurnil were, if Lydia was okay, how they got to the college, how long he’d been asleep, and if he was alright. Jonn patiently answered his questions, even explaining the help he’d had from Erik.
“I wonder how close Taurnil and Emmy are,” Gaspi sighed, once Jonn had answered all his questions to his satisfaction.
“I’m sure they’ll be here in a day or two,” Jonn replied. A frown marred Jonn’s forehead as he stared hard into space. “What I want to know,” he added, “is what on God’s green earth was that thing that attacked you at the gypsy camp?”
“It didn’t attack me, Jonn,” Gaspi responded. “It attacked Lydia.”
“Lydia? But why?” Jonn asked in surprise.
Gaspi realised Jonn hadn’t seen the monkey strike Lydia earlier on the same day they had been attacked at the gypsy wagons. “Jonn, we only met Lydia that day because she was attacked by that demented monkey. You know, the one that made such a horrible screech at the campfire?” Jonn looked thoughtful for a moment and nodded. “Well we were watching the same monkey earlier in the day,” Gaspi continued, “when it suddenly went mad and sprinted at Lydia. She was sitting in one of the gypsy wagons doing a reading for one of her family.”
“A reading?” Jonn asked quizzically.
“Yeah, Lydia can read the future sometimes,” Gaspi explained. “She called herself a Seer. She must have been using magic when the monkey saw her.”
A grim understanding dawned on Jonn’s face. “Mmm…the thing you fought must be the same type of creature that attacked Harold in that village we stopped at.”
“And the monkey is some kind of scout!” Gaspi finished. They both sat in silence for a moment, thinking through the implications of what they had deduced.
“We may not be right about this, Gaspi,” Jonn said. “It’s more than a little bit strange.”
“I’m sure of it, Jonn!” Gaspi insisted, pressing himself up onto his elbows, his face full of zealous conviction.
“Easy now, Gasp,” Jonn said gently. “You may be right, but this is way beyond us. We need to take this to the Mages.”
“But maybe they should send someone out, someone who can do magic,” Gaspi urged. “Lydia might still be in danger.” His eyes widened suddenly. “And Emmy!”
“Good point, Gaspi,” Jonn conceded. “I’ll go straight away, if you don’t mind me leaving you.”
“I don’t mind,” said Gaspi, leaning back on his pillow, temporarily mollified by Jonn’s urgency.
Jonn paused before he passed through the door. “Stay in bed, Gaspi!”
Jonn exited the infirmary into a large open courtyard, surrounded on all sides by ivy-covered buildings, and crisscrossed by rambling paths that wound around fruit trees and old willows. Not knowing where he was going, Jonn looked for the first Mage he could see, and guessing the man sweeping past him in deep red robes was a candidate, he stopped him with a hand on the arm.
“Excuse me, but can you take me to…the leader here?” Jonn asked, unsure of the correct title assigned to the head Mage.
“To the Chancellor?” the red robed man responded. “But why? He’s a busy man, you know.”
“I assure you, it is a matter of urgency,” Jonn said. “My son is in the infirmary after a magical attack, and we have news he will want to hear.”
The conviction in Jonn’s tone must have convinced him. “Follow me, then,” he said briskly, and strode across the courtyard, red robes flapping around his ankles as he went. Jonn allowed himself to be led out of the courtyard, and on a winding uphill journey through low arches, narrow corridors, up and down stairways, past various buildings both grand and meagre, though all having a certain grace of their own. Jonn was taken aback by the sheer variety of styles of the buildings they passed. There was no sense of uniformity, and in fact even the more sedate, traditional section of the college that housed the infirmary was not consistent with the reddish stone used to construct the city itself.
After several minutes of walking past the endless variety of bizarre constructions, some of which Jonn could have sworn should not be able to support their own weight, they came to a stately tower situated on then highest point of the complex. Its scale made it look narrower than it in fact was. Its tapering height was dotted with windows all the way up and around, until it swelled at the top into a large bulb, which itself tapered to a fine point, like the stopper in an alchemist’s apothecary jar. The bulb-shaped peak of the tower had a series of large glass-filled windows looking out in every direction, several of which reflected the morning sun into Jonn’s eyes in dazzling rays.
Squinting, Jonn entered the large, open doorway at the foot of the tower, following his red-robed guide, who urged him to wait there until he returned, indicating a row of deeply-cushioned gold-coloured armchairs spaced along the wall of the atrium. The Mage spoke to a silver robed magician sitting behind an enormous desk near the entranceway, then walked towards a series of platforms set against a wall opposite the armchairs. Each platform was made of the same creamy stone as the outer wall of the college, glowing faintly from within. There were twelve of these circular platforms in all, each one standing just under a foot tall, the wall behind them marked with arcane symbols. Reaching the twelfth platform, the Mage stepped up and moved to its centre. Placing his hands by his sides he spoke a single word, and to Jonn’s amazement he simply disappeared. There was no warning; one second he was there, the next he was gone.
Mentally exhausted, Jonn blew out a lungful of air and sank down into one the comfortable chairs with a shake of his head. He decided that too many new things at once made them lose their appeal. Even so, he couldn’t help staring curiously at his surroundings. The inside of the tower was much larger than it appeared, and it took him a moment to work out it wasn’t a magical trick, but merely the deceptive proportions of the tower that gave a false impression from the outside. Reasoning the tower must be extremely tall, Jonn let his eyes roam over the contours of the spacious entrance hall. Rich tapestries of every hue hung around the cool, creamy interior of the building. Spaced in some kind of design he couldn’t discern, they formed a pattern that was unpredictable and yet comfortable to the eye, as if part of an order beyond his ability to detect.
Letting his eye roam further, Jonn was curious to discover the ceiling swept upwards on all sides to a hole in the very centre of the room, about twelve feet wide, below which there was another of the cylindrical plinths of the same width, glowing gently against the floor. Jonn almost jumped off his seat when a pair of feet came out of that hole, followed by the hem of a multicoloured robe, and then the whole robe, and finally above outstretched arms came an enigmatic face framed by long hair and a dark beard. The cause of Jonn’s fright descended quickly to the floor, where he gently pulled his arms in to his side as he neared the plinth. As he pulled in his arms, the figure slowed and then stopped just as his sandaled feet touched stone. Stepping off the plinth with cheerful aplomb he strode towards Jonn, a look of wild enjoyment on his broadly grinning face.
“Welcome, friend!” he said, pumping Jonn’s hand with enthusiasm, his hands exerting an unexpected strength. “My name is Hephistole, and you would be...?”
Jonn gave his name, trying his best to sound normal, but the strain of seeing vanishing and flying magicians must have showed in his voice.
“My good man, you must be tired,” the colourful stranger said, “being dragged up and down the grounds like that! Come up to my office, and we can sit down and have a nice cup of tea.” Jonn couldn’t stop his eyes flicking nervously towards the hole in the ceiling. Hephistole laughed. “No, not that way,” he said, and taking Jonn by the arm led him towards the glowing plinths on the floor.
“Ahem…” Jonn cleared his throat nervously.
Hephistole glanced sideways at Jonn with a mischievous glint in his eye. “No need to worry. No need at all. It’s perfectly safe,” he said confidently, his lips upturned at the edges in a repressed smile. Leading Jonn onto the twelfth platform, Hephistole turned to Jonn and said “Now just stand still, arms by your side….that’s right! You might feel a little disorientation.” Once Jonn was standing as directed, Hephistole brought his own arms in, and looking Jonn in the eye spoke a single word with annunciation: “Observatory.”
The strangest vibration ran through Jonn’s body, as if he were buzzing like a giant bee. His vision blinked off entirely, seeing nothing but a blank greyness emptier than darkness. It couldn’t have been longer than a heartbeat later when Jonn’s sight came rushing back, along with the welcome presence of something solid beneath his feet, but his relief was quickly overridden by astonishment at the sight of a completely different room.
Hephistole hopped off the platform, and turned to Jonn with a grin. “See, it’s not too bad!” he said cheerfully. Jonn wasn’t sure he agreed, but didn’t want to offend his unusual host. Hephistole gestured at Jonn, encouraging him to seat himself in a chair near the platform. Jonn stepped off the platform, with some relief, and sat down in the well-cushioned chair. Hephistole was already pouring hot red-yellow liquid into delicate cups with tiny handles.