‘Inside that oily thing?’
‘Right. And I knew it was a vicious bastard, but I didn’t know what it would do to me, so all I could do was hope against hope that something would come to me when I got sucked inside.’
‘What was in there?’
‘Oh, that’s immaterial.’ Gilmour waved the question away; he was enjoying his moment of triumph. ‘I’ll tell you in a moment, but that’s entirely beside the point. I was saved the moment that slimy, blackhearted puddle reached out for me.’
Steven ran his hands over his head, smoothing down his matted hair. ‘How? I was lost the moment it touched me. I couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything.’
‘You were hopeless.’
‘Helpless, yes.’
Gilmour wagged a finger back and forth through the air, ‘No, hopeless – the trap was designed to grab hold of you and drain you of all hope.’
‘Jesus Christ.’ Steven shuddered.
‘Had you been at Sandcliff Palace fifteen hundred Twinmoons ago, you would have learned that the greatest sin any Larion Senator could commit was that of hopelessness.’
Steven pursed his lips, then said, ‘There are some faiths in my world who teach the same thing.’
‘Hopelessness was the one fault for which there was no excuse and no forgiveness: we were the world’s greatest hope, the world’s teachers, researchers, scientists and leaders. If responsibility for Eldarn’s general welfare rested anywhere, it rested with us. Hopelessness was the worst thing a Larion Senator could feel. So Nerak left a spell here that would leave any Larion Senators who came looking for Lessek’s spell table feeling hopeless, and they would die not only knowing they had failed, but, worse than that, as a cruel added bonus, they would die experiencing the one feeling Larion Senators worked to avoid at all costs.’
‘Ironic little bastard, wasn’t he?’ Steven said.
‘He certainly was.’
‘I’m glad I killed him.’
‘So am I,’ Gilmour chuckled.
‘But-’ Steven interjected, ‘I still don’t know how you survived it.’
‘You saved me.’
‘You keep saying that, Gilmour, but I was out of the game. This was not my finest hour by a couple of touchdowns.’
‘It’s like I said, when you kicked clear of the cave, I brought the whole place down. It was all I could think to do. When the walls collapsed, the rutting rocks came smashing down on me. I think I’ve got two or three broken bones to mend when we get back to shore.’ Gilmour felt along his collarbone with two fingers, checking for a fracture. ‘Anyway, the riverbed didn’t let me go. I was heading into that black circle, going in nose-first-’ He winced and checked the opposite clavicle. ‘I didn’t do anything but hope, Steven. I hoped and I wished and I willed that someone – preferably you – would come along and save my life.’
‘And in fact you did.’
‘What happened to your magic when you reached inside the circle?’ he asked suddenly.
‘It disappeared,’ Steven said.
‘Did it?’ Gilmour looked genuinely surprised.
‘No,’ Steven corrected him, ‘it was still there, but it had faded to such a tiny little point that I couldn’t reach out and get it. I didn’t even try until you shifted my broken fingers and the pain slapped me out of that daze.’
‘Exactly,’ Gilmour said, ‘the magic was still there, but you had lost hope of using it to save yourself – or me, for that matter.’
‘Jesus, that’s a nasty one.’
‘It is,’ Gilmour said, ‘but there’s one guaranteed way to slip past it.’
‘Have hope?’
‘Have nothing but hope,’ Gilmour clarified. ‘If you have hope and the Orindale Chainball Team…’
‘You’re screwed,’ Steven finished.
‘Interesting way of putting it, but yes.’
‘Have nothing but hope,’ Steven said.
‘That’s right.’
Steven’s face changed. All at once angry, he glared at his friend and said, ‘I’ll be right back.’
‘Where are you going?’ Gilmour said. ‘You have other plans? I think Garec has his eye on Kellin, so I wouldn’t pursue that possibility.’ He was obviously still pleased with himself for outwitting his old nemesis.
‘It’s still down there.’ Steven dived for the riverbed, mustering all the hope he could summon. The end this time would be different. He knew how it felt to have nothing but hope; it had been a staple since the moment his best friend disappeared through the far portal in their living room. Now he would use that to his advantage.
The two sorcerers took a break to dry out and warm up. Brand built a bonfire, and both men, despite having been artificially warmed all morning, sat as near to the flames as they could. Steven and Gilmour answered question after question until Steven threw up his hands and begged a half-aven to rest.
‘So where’s the table now?’ Garec asked as Steven unrolled his blankets.
Steven pointed. ‘Just over there in the shallows. We’ll haul it up here after I’ve had a bit of a sleep.’
‘Why’d you leave it?’ Kellin asked.
‘It’s a big table, it’s heavy and cumbersome,’ Gilmour said. ‘Getting it out was one spell. Out of the water it’ll be an entirely different animal.’
‘It will be heavier,’ Garec said.
‘A great deal heavier,’ Steven agreed.
‘And you don’t have a spell for that?’ Kellin asked. Remembering what Gilmour had said, Steven noticed that she and Garec had been sitting next to each other through the midday meal. They stood beside one another now, looking comfortable together.
‘Sure we do,’ Steven said. ‘It’s just different, and it takes a bit of concentration.’ He rested his head on his pack. ‘We’ll get it done… later.’ He yawned and closed his eyes.
‘Did you destroy that last spell?’ Garec asked.
Steven sat up again. ‘Did the gods send you here to keep me awake, Garec?’
The Ronan laughed and agreed, ‘They might have, yes.’
‘I didn’t destroy it,’ Steven said, lying back and pulling his blankets tight beneath his chin.
‘But Gilmour said-’
‘I didn’t destroy it,’ Steven interrupted, ‘but a weak-willed, terrified bank manager from Idaho Springs did.’
Garec looked quizzical.
Steven smirked. ‘It was about the easiest spell I’ve cast since I got here. No kidding. It just fell off my fingertips and tore the thing to ribbons.’
Garec said, ‘Nothing but hope.’
‘I know that song, my friend.’
‘Sleep well, Steven.’
‘Watch for Mark. I probably shouldn’t be resting at all, but I’m afraid I’ll screw up royally if I do too much while I’m wiped out.’
Gilmour sat on a folded blanket, his back resting against a pine trunk and his feet propped on a flat rock.
‘How are you?’ Garec asked.
Gilmour shrugged. Not bad, I suppose.’
‘Did you…’ Garec awkwardly mimed what he couldn’t find the words to describe.
‘I did all right,’ Gilmour said, nibbling at a piece of venison. ‘I couldn’t get free from the riverbed or untangle the web, but I managed a few decent explosions and I did outwit Nerak’s hopelessness trap, so all in all, I’m pleased.’
‘You have the spell table, and you’re sitting here intact,’ Brand said. ‘By my reckoning, that’s a successful morning.’
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Gilmour said. ‘I think I’ve reached a new phase in my life – one I could never have predicted. I thought I had to be a great magician, on par with Nerak, to win this battle, but I don’t.’ He grimaced comically. ‘At least I think I don’t.’
Garec smiled. Regardless of how his life’s work might be evolving, there were things about Gilmour that would never change, especially his propensity for engaging life from a comfortable sitting position. Now, with Lessek’s spell table successfully excavated and waiting in the shallows, Gilmour was stretched out languidly beside the fire and Garec waited to see one of the old man’s ubiquitous tobacco pipes appear suddenly in his bony fingers. ‘So what’s your charge then?’