“That’s sophisticated magic, and possibly a real breakthrough!” Hephistole said, sitting upright. “Those young magicians from Aemon’s Reach are quite something! We’ll have to look into that when she’s back. So you’re sure Gaspi is okay?”
“Thanks to Emea, I’d say so, yes,” Voltan answered. “If he wasn’t I’d send him straight back for attention.”
“Amazing,” Hephistole said, staring thoughtfully into space.
“So what do you think?” Voltan asked. “Do we let them compete or bring them all back?”
Hephistole considered their options carefully and came to a conclusion. “This Skelkan threat needs looking into. I struggle to believe it is a coincidence that they tried to kill Gaspi. I’ll start researching their religion - the archivists will know where the relevant information is stored. As for the Measure, if there was any evidence of an immediate threat, I’d pull you all out straight away, but it really does seem that the danger has been dealt with.”
“So you think we should carry on competing?” Voltan asked.
“Only those who want to, but if they really want to see it through, why should we stop them doing it? There’s also the matter of the college’s reputation. We have a long association with Arkright, and if we can avoid making a scene, it would be preferable.
“As you say,” Voltan said, but he was clearly still ill at ease.
“You don’t agree that the danger is over?” Hephistole asked.
“I can’t explain it,” Voltan said. “I just feel uneasy about continuing, but that’s why I’ve come to speak to you. If I was confident that we should withdraw, everyone would already be back.”
“Let’s give them the chance to continue, but keep your eyes open. I trust your instincts Voltan. If you really need to, just get everyone together and pull them out at any time.”
“There’s something else you ought to know,” Voltan said.
“Oh, and what’s that?” Hephistole responded.
“Ferast is competing in the Measure.”
“Ferast? Really? Did you speak with him?” Hephistole asked.
“Yes,” Voltan answered, grimacing with distaste. “I extended an invitation to return to the college, but he refused outright. His manner was unpleasant.”
“
That’s…regretful,” Hephistole said, chagrined by what he heard.
“You still blame
yourself for Ferast leaving the college,” Voltan said. It wasn’t a question.
“I do,” Hephistole responded heavily. “I consider it to
a considerable failure on my part. He was in my care, Voltan, and I must take some responsibility for whatever has happened to him.”
“You know my thoughts on this matter,” Voltan responded. “You are too hard on yourself. There is no way of knowing whether or not Ferast would have listened to you.”
“I should at least have given him the chance,” Hephistole said. “Who is he competing with?”
“Some hulking mercenary called Bork. An unsavoury brute, made a mute by force.”
“How did he perform today?” Hephistole asked.
“I don’t know,” Voltan responded. “Some of the others will have watched him fight but I haven’t had a chance to speak with them yet.”
“Keep a close eye on him,” Hephistole said. “You never know, we may get another chance to win him over.”
“It won’t happen, but I’ll do
as you ask,” Voltan responded.
“That’s all I can as
k of you,” Hephistole said. “Right then! It’s time for you to return to your charges. If you have any other causes for concern, just come on back and we can discuss them further.”
“Right you are,” Voltan said, standing up and pulling the amulet from his pocket, making a face as he prepared to transport. “This is never pleasant,” he said.
“Best to get it over with then,” Hephistole said with a wink.
“Transport to Arkright,” Voltan said, and disappeared.
Adela sat on her narrow bed, hugging her knees against her chest and rocking gently back and forth. She missed Jonn. The thought shocked and pleased her at the same time. Her emotions, always complicated these days, were particularly mixed when it came to her rescuer. Men had stolen every good thing she had known, crushing them with their lusting, grasping hands. She had lost her family, her home and her innocence. The rapes had left her unable to imagine that anyone would ever want her again, and she
hated
men for that. Despite his innocence, Jonn represented all of that just by being a man, and sometimes when she was with him she wanted to do nothing more than run from him screaming. Other times she wanted to make him pay, and found herself speaking in a way that was deliberately hurtful. His endless patience only infuriated her more, and some of their conversations had ended very badly, but he always came back.
Therein lay the problem. Jonn never gave her any reason to mistrust him. He was unfailingly kind, respectful and gentle, and bit by bit, almost against her will, she found that some of her barriers were coming down. She’d started looking forward to his visits, and once or twice had found herself laughing in his company, happy for those brief moments in a way she’d never believed she would feel again. The re-awakening of her feelings gave her hope, but hope was dangerous too. If you could hope you could build a life and have it all ripped away from you again, and she didn’t think she could survive that a second time.
In Jonn’s absence, she’d come to realise how much she missed him. Lonely for companionship, she’d ventured outside for the first time that day, buying a loaf of bread from the baker only two doors away, but then she’d panicked and ran back to the tiny room she lived in, wishing Jonn were there to comfort her. She’d come to rely on his persistent gentleness, and in that moment, she felt guilty about how hard she made him work just to be near her. She remonstrated herself for her unfair treatment of him, and determined that she was going to be nicer to him when he got back. Softened by the thought, she lay back on her bed and sighed, sliding her slender arms under the pillow behind her head.
Her heart almost leapt out of her chest when the door smashed open, splintering on a hard, hob-nailed boot as it was thrust into the room. Scrambling back to the corner of the bed, Adela screamed. Another kick slammed the door back on its hinges and two men entered. Sheer terror made her writhe and twitch when she recognised Belash, following quietly behind the brute that had kicked her door down. She screamed again, over and over until the brute walked up to her and cuffed her hard across the head. She fell back on the bed, frozen in terror.
Belash stepped across the room, walking carefully around the debris of the door. He bent down, leaning in close. He placed a hand under her chin and tilted her face towards his, a small smile playing across his lips. Tears spilled silently from her eyes as she stared into a flat gaze utterly devoid of kindness.
“I won’t lie to you,” he said quietly, as if divulging a secret. “Life was never going to be very good for you, but now I’m going to make you pay, along with the thief that stole you from me.”
…
Gaspi watched Jonn surreptitiously as they waited for Voltan to arrive. The news that Emmy could heal not only the body but the mind had left him with a kind of boyish hopefulness Gaspi had never seen in his guardian. It was as if the years had been stripped away and the young man Jonn must once have been was allowed out. Whoever this Adela was, he obviously cared for her, and Gaspi was happy for him. This was what he had always hoped for back in Aemon’s Reach - that Jonn would find someone to share his life with and be happy. His guardian had seemed troubled recently, but perhaps this was just the thing to pull him out of it. It’d almost be worth backing out of the Measure just so they could get straight back to Helioport, and Emmy could try and help this Adela with whatever memories were troubling her.
“He’s back!” Jaim announced, and sure enough, when Gaspi looked up, Voltan was entering the room.
“What did Hephistole say?” Taurnil asked, all business.
“Let him breath Taurn!” Jonn said. Voltan still looked a little pale from the transportation.
“It’s okay,” Voltan said, looking round at each of the remaining teams. “Hephistole and I have decided that, as the Skelkan threat has been quashed, you can compete tomorrow if you so wish.” Taurnil slapped his leg triumphantly and smiled in satisfaction. “But if anyone wants to return to Helioport,” Voltan continued, “we’ll gather you up in a group and transport you out tonight. Of those that remain, both members of each team need to choose to stay, or you also go back.”
“Gasp?” Taurnil asked, so close to pleading that Gaspi didn’t have the heart to make him sweat.
“We’ll fight,” he said. Taurnil harrumphed in satisfaction and settled back into his seat.
“I reckon we’ll fight,” Baard said. “Laddie here and me make a good pair,” he added clapping Everand on the back.
Everand flushed at the praise. “Count me in,” he said.
“Well that leaves myself and Jonn,” Voltan said. “I can’t see much point in staying and not fighting. Jonn?”
“We’ll fight,” Jonn said.
“Okay, that’s decided,” Voltan said. “I suggest that those of you competing tomorrow get some sleep.”
With that, they all went to their beds. Whether it was due to Stragos’ sleep tea, sheer exhaustion, or the after-effects of Emea’s soothing spell, Gaspi was asleep seconds after his head hit the pillow.
Gaspi awoke late the next morning, and had to rush through getting washed and eating breakfast. He’d intended to wake up early and spend some time meditating but exhaustion must have won out over his good intentions.
“Don’t force it down Gasp,” Jonn said as he shoved cereal into his mouth. “The last thing you want is indigestion before a battle!”
Gaspi slowed down, spooning the last of the cereal into his mouth at a more reasonable pace. As soon as he was done, they left the apartment and walked through the town, passing out through the main gate and continuing along the path to the arena. Taurnil talked strategy with him the whole way, forcing him to shake off any lingering sleepiness, and by the time they were cloistered in the preparation area, Gaspi was fully alert and ready for battle. He’d been glad to see that the area of burnt sand had been removed, and the sand of the arena was freshly raked. There was no sign to remind him of yesterday’s traumatic events, and thanks to Emmy’s amazing spell-work, he felt energised and ready to compete.
The mayor was still carrying his staff, but the aide who accompanied him carried a small barrel, fixed to a frame that allowed it to turn. It had a small door set into its coopered side, and the frame sported a handle. Voltan explained that as the mayor’s staff of office had been tampered with, they had to use an alternative method to choose the combatants, and this was the best they could come up with on short notice. The mayor walked out across the sand, followed by his harassed looking aide, who was struggling with the barrel. It wasn’t big but the frame made it awkward to carry. Facing the gathered crowds, the mayor made an unnecessarily dramatic speech about the winning teams from the first round, and, reading their names from a list, called them to take their seats one by one. The differing noise levels as the various teams entered told a clear story of who had won the crowd’s heart the previous day, and unless he was very much mistaken, the clear favourites were Brukasi, Voltan and himself.
“Only half as many left,” Taurnil growled as they took their seats, eyeing their opponents speculatively. Gaspi looked around too, wondering how many of these teams they could beat. The battle with Sthycass had taught him that magical strength was not everything, and he was under no illusion that they would win the tournament without a lot of skill and even more luck. If he was honest, he had to admit that some of the teams didn’t pose much of a threat - they’d been evenly matched against similarly weak opponents the previous day, and didn’t fit in the company of warrior mages like Voltan or clever spell casters like Brukasi. He hoped they wouldn’t have to face the tiny mage and the warrior woman in this round. That force-whip would take some serious beating!
Gaspi’s wish was granted when the mayor’s aide spun the barrel in its frame, opened the little door and pulled out two strips of parchment, one of which had Brukasi’s name written on it. He was facing a team from the lake country not far south of the Mountains Gaspi had grown up in, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to root for them. They had been unimpressive the previous day, and had only won because their opponents were even weaker than they were. The warrior woman was wielding her blazing force-whip from the start of the match, and sure enough, the first bout was over in moments. The force-whip sheered through one of the warrior’s swords and cracked his armour wide open, leading to an immediate surrender.
The second bout wasn’t much different, except this time she used the whip against the magician, who tried to defend himself with an insufficient force shield, and was knocked unceremoniously from his feet, deprived of consciousness. The crowd booed at the unsatisfying display of combat, but Brukasi just shrugged and walked back to his seat. It was hardly his fault that his opponent was so badly outclassed.
The next few bouts passed quickly enough. Some were better than others, but Gaspi had already picked out many of the likely winners, and they went through almost without fail. In fact, the day went largely as expected, with the stronger pairs from the first day holding their own, with very few exceptions. Gaspi didn’t feel nearly as nervous as he had the previous day, and actually started to enjoy himself, comparing notes with Taurnil as they watched their potential opponents fight.