Summoner: Book 1: The Novice (17 page)

31

Fletcher started, then looked around the room. Othello was moodily poking the flames with a stick. He was topless, his shirt and jacket left to dry out beside the fire.

‘I must have drifted off. How long was I out?’ Fletcher asked, sitting up. His clothes were still damp, but he decided to leave them on. He supposed that Sylva would not be pleased with such a lapse in decorum. Yet, to his surprise, she was sitting on the other side of the fire, ripping the bottom of her dress off in a long strip. Ignatius was curled up beside her, his back warmed by the flames.

‘Only a few minutes, Fletcher,’ she said, handing the strip to Othello. ‘Here, use it to wrap your head. It will help it heal.’

‘Thanks,’ Othello said, with a look of happy astonishment on his face. ‘I appreciate it. I’m sorry you had to ruin your dress.’

‘That’s the least of my worries. How stupid of me, to think I could walk the streets of Corcillum in the middle of a war and not suffer the consequences.’

‘Why did you?’ Fletcher asked, furrowing his brow.

‘I thought I would be safe with the Forsyths. They walked with their demons in plain sight and we were given a wide berth. In hindsight, I am not surprised.’ She wrung her hands in frustration. ‘I am sure if a man was to saunter into elven territory, he would suffer a similar fate. There are race haters on both sides of the frontier.’

‘I’m glad you feel that way. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking the worst of us and convincing your father to end all chances of an alliance between our peoples,’ Fletcher said, shuffling over to the fire and warming his numbed hands.

‘No, it has only strengthened my resolve,’ Sylva replied, gazing into the flames. Gone was the haughty girl who had looked down her nose at them. This person was someone entirely more righteous.

‘How so?’ asked Fletcher.

‘If even the false war we pretend to fight has created so much hate between our peoples, what would a real one do?’ she explained, pushing more wood into the fire.

‘What is the feeling amongst the elves?’ Othello asked, removing his boots and letting his socks dry by the crackling fire. Solomon dutifully picked them up and held them close to the flames.

‘Some understand it, saying that joining with humans to fight in the south is worth it if it keeps the orcs from our doorsteps. Others claim that the orcs would never raid so far north, even if the Hominum Empire fell,’ Sylva answered, wrinkling her nose at the cheesy smell of the dwarf’s feet. ‘But my father is an old chieftain. He remembers the stories his father told to him, of the days the orcs laid waste to our villages, slaughtering us for sport and gathering our warriors’ heads as trophies. The younger elves are barely aware that it was the orc marauders that made us make our homes in the great oaks of the north in the first place, thousands of years ago. Even when we did, that only slowed the orcs down. It was the first humans who allied with us, driving them back to their jungles and patrolling the borders. Our alliance existed since the first men crossed the Akhad Desert, yet over time and countless generations it fell into non-existence.’

‘We were allied with the elves?’ Fletcher asked, wide-eyed with incredulity.

‘I studied the history of our two peoples before coming here on my diplomatic mission. We elves can live for two hundred years, so our historians’ memories are longer than yours. King Corwin, the first King of Hominum, led a war against the orcs on our behalf. It was the elves who taught him and his ilk how to summon in exchange for his protection, creating the first noble houses of Hominum.’

‘Wow. I had no idea you had a hand in creating our empire,’ Fletcher marvelled. ‘Nor that elves were the first summoners.’

‘Not so,’ Sylva murmured. ‘The orcs were summoning long before we were. But theirs was a rough, nascent art, small imps and nothing more. Would that it were so today—’

‘I have a question,’ Othello interrupted. ‘Why didn’t you bring your own demon? Surely you must have your own demons over there, if you taught men how to summon in the first place?’

‘That is a difficult question to answer. We had a long period of peace after the Hominum Empire was founded. Whilst the dwarves were rebelling and the orcs were raiding the kingdom of man, the elves remained in relative safety. So, our need for using demons to defend ourselves passed. Of course there were other factors. For example, the summoning of demons was banned for a brief period four centuries ago, when duelling came into fashion amongst our clan chieftains’ heirs. Eventually there were no more demons to gift as they were either killed in these duels or released back into the ether.’

Othello’s stomach rumbled and Sylva laughed; the sombre tone of the room rushed away.

‘I’ve got an idea,’ Fletcher said, standing. After a moment’s hesitation he jumped outside. Thirty seconds later he rushed back into the shed, soaked to the skin once again but holding an armful of corn.

As he settled back down Fletcher noticed something he hadn’t before. Othello’s back was tattooed in black, depicting a hammer crossed with a battle-axe. The level of detail was extraordinary.

‘That’s a beautiful tattoo, Othello. What does it mean?’ Fletcher enquired.

‘Oh, that. It’s a dwarven sigil. They are the two tools that dwarves use. It represents the axe for our prowess in battle and the hammer for our skill as craftsmen. I never liked the idea of tattoos though. I don’t need marks on my skin to tell the world that I am a true dwarf,’ Othello grumbled.

‘Why did you get it then?’ Sylva asked, spitting a few ears of corn on a rusted pitchfork and holding it over the flames.

‘My brother had it tattooed on him, so I had to do the same. Sometimes I need to take the rap for him. It makes more sense that we look identical. The Pinkertons take off your shirt when they . . . punish you.’

Sylva continued to look at him with a mix of bafflement and horror, then her eyes widened as they settled on Othello’s scars.

‘We’re twins, not that the Pinkertons could tell the difference usually anyway; one dwarf is the same as another to them,’ Othello explained.

‘So . . . you’re like Isadora and Tarquin then,’ she ventured. ‘I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be a twin.’

‘I thought they were twins, but I wasn’t sure,’ Fletcher said, trying to picture the two nobles.

‘Of course they are,’ Othello said. ‘It’s always the first-born who inherits the ability to summon, twins included. The other children have a much smaller chance, although it happens sometimes. Nobody is quite sure why, but it has certainly helped consolidate power in the noble houses. Firstborn sons and daughters inherit the entire estate, so the lands are not portioned out to multiple children in the majority of cases. The Forsyths have enough land for two though, that’s for sure.’

The dwarf pulled an ear of corn from the pitchfork and bit into it greedily, blowing on his fingers.

‘So tell me, Sylva, what were you doing in Corcillum? Did you see Genevieve and the others in the perfumery?’ Fletcher asked, trying to put aside the fact that she had almost got them killed.

‘The nobles took me in a carriage to the town square. Then Isadora and Tarquin brought me to the flower district, as they wanted fresh roses for their rooms. I was wearing a headscarf to cover my ears and hair, so I did not think there would be a problem. But my eyes, they must have given me away. That fat man, Grindle, he tore my shawl from my head and dragged me down an alleyway with his friends. Isadora and Tarquin ran at the first sign of trouble. They did not even look back. I didn’t have a summoning leather with me, so Sariel remained infused within me. I’ll never make that mistake again.’

‘Summoning leather?’ Othello questioned, finishing off the last of his cob and reaching for another. Sylva slapped his hand away playfully.

‘Greedy! Fletcher, have some. I noticed none of you came down for lunch at the canteen earlier, you should eat something.’

‘Thanks. All I had for lunch was an apple,’ Fletcher said, grabbing an ear for himself. He bit into the soft kernels, each one bursting with cloying sweetness in his mouth.

‘A summoning leather,’ Sylva turned back to Othello, ‘is just a pentacle printed on a square cut of leather, which would allow me to summon Sariel when she has been infused within me. I’m not sure if your summoners call it that today. The documents I found on summoning practices were pretty ancient.’

‘I can’t believe that Tarquin and Isadora ran away!’ Fletcher exclaimed through a mouthful of corn.

‘That’s not the worst part. They both had their demons out when I was captured. I suspect it was the sight of them that attracted so much attention in the first place.’

‘Those cowards,’ Othello growled.

‘And their full-fledged demons are inherited from their mother and father,’ Sylva continued. ‘They could have taken several times the number of men that attacked me. If I had been standing closer to them, the men would have never attacked, but I was getting sick of their narcissistic chatter so I walked away for a moment.’ Sylva paused, delicately biting into her own cob.

‘Why did you try and befriend them if you didn’t like them?’ Fletcher asked.

‘I am here as a diplomat. Who would you think it best to befriend if I am to broker an alliance between our two peoples? I know now of course that the best way is to become an officer as soon as possible and make a name for myself in battle, not suck up to spoiled children with no real power. That will get the word out, if it is known that the elves have some fight in them.’

‘Ah,’ said Fletcher. It made sense, yet the way she had treated him before still hurt. Then again, if he were alone in his enemy’s land with such a huge burden of responsibility, being considerate might be the last thing on his mind, too.

‘Right, we should bed down for the night. We’re probably going to get in trouble for staying out all night, but there’s no way we can walk back in this weather,’ Fletcher said, stretching out by the fire.

‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ Othello said, rolling his jacket into a makeshift pillow and lying back on it. ‘There are no guards or anything at the academy entrance. If we get there before the deliveries, we should be able to sneak in without a soul seeing us.’

As Sylva curled up beside the fire and pulled up the jacket’s hood, a thought crossed Fletcher’s mind. How did Othello know that?

32

‘Where the hell have you been?’ Seraph hissed. Fletcher, Othello and Sylva had just stumbled into the summoning room, attaching themselves to the others as quietly as possible when the students made their way in from the atrium. The trio looked a mess but there was nothing they could have done. They had arrived whilst the deliveries were being made, so they were only able to sneak in after breakfast, just as lessons were about to begin.

‘It’s a long story. We’ll tell you later,’ Fletcher whispered. Isadora turned at the commotion, her eyes widening when she saw Sylva. She prodded Tarquin, who looked around and jerked in shock. Sylva stared blankly at them and then turned to face Captain Lovett, who was waiting for everyone to settle down. The tall woman was wearing a leather apron over her officer’s uniform, as well as heavy leather gloves.

‘Let’s get some light in here,’ Lovett said, releasing several balls of blue wyrdlight into the air. Unlike Arcturus, she allowed them to float around the room aimlessly, casting the room in a bright but eerily shifting light.

‘So, as I understand it, Arcturus allowed those of you who were already practised in wyrdlights to leave early yesterday. This will not happen in my classes. My motto is practice makes perfect, and considering your short tenure here, you should be making use of every second under our tutelage.’ She paced back and forth in front of them, her hard eyes ranging across each of their faces. This was not someone Fletcher wanted to cross.

‘The first order of business will be to teach you the art of infusion. I see that some of you do not have your demons with you, so I assume you have already been taught this. However, the speed at which you can release your demon from within can be the difference between life and death. Trust me, I know. Those of you who have been trained by your parents are to practise on the summoning circles on the other side of the room. I will come and check on you later.’

The nobles peeled off with smug expressions, talking and laughing amongst themselves. Lovett had split the room into two with a large curtain, so they were obscured from view once they ducked through the central parting. After a few moments, Fletcher saw bright lights flashing underneath. What manner of demons did the nobles possess?

Sylva raised her hand and stepped forward.

‘I was self-taught. Would it be possible to stay with the others and learn the proper technique?’ the elf asked.

Lovett eyed her torn dress and dishevelled hair and arched an eyebrow. After a long, hard look, she relented.

‘All right. But please note that in future, I expect you in uniform,’ she said, before turning to the rest of the commoners. ‘Go and get yourselves a summoning leather each, as well as a leather apron. There should be gloves and goggles in the compartment below too.’ She motioned at the back of the room and one of the wyrdlights shot over and hung above a row of cupboards built into the wall.

‘What happened to you?’ Genevieve muttered out of the corner of her mouth as they walked over. ‘We waited for as long as we could, but we had to go before the last carriage left.’

‘We missed the last carriage and had to walk home this morning,’ Fletcher murmured back, rummaging through several rolls of leather until he found one with a pentacle that was not too faded. He didn’t know if Sylva wanted her assault to become common knowledge.

‘Did you get mugged on the way or something?’ Genevieve asked, unconvinced.

‘What makes you say that?’ Fletcher retorted, shrugging a leather apron over his head.

‘Well, leaving aside Othello’s bandaged head, you have a goose egg-sized lump on the side of yours too,’ Genevieve pointed out as they walked back. Fletcher reached up to his temple and winced as he realised she was right. Fortunately, they had arrived back in front of Lovett again, who silenced them with a look.

‘I hear some of you have had your demons for at least seven days. They should be quite tired now, so it would be best to infuse them straight away so that they can rest. Raise your hands those of you who received your demon last week,’ Lovett announced. Genevieve and Rory raised their hands. After a few moments Fletcher raised his too.

‘What’s the hesitation? Fletcher, is it?’ Lovett asked, beckoning Fletcher to step forward.

‘I have had my demon for two and a half weeks,’ Fletcher answered. ‘Is that normal?’

‘No; it must be very tired indeed! Let’s have a look at it,’ she chided. Fletcher woke Ignatius with a mental prod. The imp mewled in annoyance and leaped on to the ground from Fletcher’s hood. He looked around with curiosity and then licked his chops. The demon must be quite hungry, having turned his nose up at the roasted corn the night before.

‘He’s been a bit sleepy, but he usually is anyway,’ Fletcher explained, feeling a pang of guilt as the little demon yawned.

‘A Salamander,’ Lovett breathed. ‘Rare indeed! Major Goodwin will be very interested in this. It is not often that he gets to examine a new species of demon.’

‘Is Ignatius going to be OK?’ Fletcher asked, still worried about the supposed exhaustion.

‘It would appear so,’ Lovett replied. ‘The more powerful a demon is, the longer it can survive without rest in our world, although it will be several months before their tiredness becomes life threatening. I had thought, as a commoner, your demon would be one of the weaker species. Although by all accounts it seems you have been a lucky bunch. Last year most of the commoners were given Mites, but you have a Lutra, a Barkling, a Salamander and a Golem.’

‘A Canid too!’ Sylva exclaimed, unrolling her mat on the floor. Fletcher smiled, glad she had put herself in with the commoners.

Rory shuffled his feet and clenched his fists.

‘I’m sick of being told how unlucky I am to have Malachi,’ he whispered with obvious frustration.

‘Why don’t you begin, Sylva?’ Lovett suggested. ‘It is a relatively simple act, once you know what to do.’ Lovett suggested.

Sylva kneeled on the floor without hesitation and laid her gloved hands on the leather mat. The goggles sat awkwardly over her long ears, but she didn’t seem to mind. Fletcher was sure she couldn’t wait to be under Sariel’s protection once again after last night’s debacle. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Sylva stared at the pentacle until it flickered with soft, violet light.

‘Watch how she pushes the mana through her hands, into the leather and through to the pentacle. She will know when it is time to push the demon through once the pentacle is glowing steadily.’

The pentacle gleamed with blue light, yet nothing happened for almost half a minute. The only sound was Sylva’s laboured breathing as she glared at the shining star. Then, without warning, a Canid’s form grew into the space out of nothingness, expanding from a pinprick of light to a large glowing shape in half a second. The figure shone white, then the colour faded and Sariel stood above the pentacle.

Her four eyes focussed on Sylva, and then the Canid leaped on to her master, sending them both tumbling to the ground. The demon licked her face and howled. Fletcher wondered whether Sariel was aware of what Sylva had gone through yesterday. Maybe she had just missed her owner.

‘Obviously your demon needs some discipline and training, but good work none-the-less! I shall summon my demon, Lysander, so that I can demonstrate how to infuse. Stand back please!’ Lovett announced. Sylva and Sariel moved aside, and the rest of the group took several steps backwards.

‘The larger your demon is, the more difficult the summoning. Of course, in the field, you won’t be able to wear protective clothing, but it is best to take precautions when we can, especially with untrained noviciates such as yourselves,’ Lovett said, kneeling on the corner of the summoning leather. ‘The main reason for all the protection is for using keyed pentacles, but we won’t get on to that until later.’

She fished a pair of black-lensed goggles and a leather cap from a pouch in her apron, then put them on firmly.

The pentacle glowed again, white sparks spitting and sizzling on the leather around it. A white orb appeared above it and, to Fletcher’s astonishment, a demon formed in just a few seconds. The creature had the body, tail and back legs of a lion, but the head, wings and front talons of an eagle. It was the size of a large horse, with tawny brown feathers that blended into the golden fur halfway down the creature’s back.

‘I too was blessed with a rare demon, a Griffin. But he was not given to me. I started with a Mite, just as some of you have. Do not be disheartened by your modest beginnings. Mites are fiercely loyal creatures, and you can control many of them at once. Lysander requires all my concentration just to keep him under control. Major Goodwin will teach you more on demon control in your demonology classes.’

Genevieve smiled and lifted Azura to her lips, kissing the beetle’s cobalt carapace.

‘Does that mean you were a commoner too?’ Rory asked, barely able to tear his eyes away from the majestic creature.

‘No . . . although I was present when the first commoners arrived at Vocans. I am the third daughter of the Lovetts of Calgary, a small fiefdom in northern Hominum. By strange coincidence, my father was blessed with several adept children. I was the youngest, so I was given the weakest demon by my father. I’m glad he did though. If he had not, I would never have specialised in demonic capture. You can all own a powerful demon such as this, as long as you work hard.’ She wrapped her arm around Lysander, who nuzzled his beak against her chest fondly. The Griffin’s eyes were deep amber, as large and intelligent as an owl’s. They flicked from student to student with curiosity, at last resting with special attention on Ignatius.

‘Now, I shall demonstrate how to infuse. It is almost a reverse of the procedure. The pentacle must be pointed directly at the demon and it cannot be too far away. This is why we have them stand on the summoning leathers. However, if Lysander were to hover several metres above the pentacle, I would be able to manage it.’

She kneeled and laid her hands on the leather once more, sputtering the pentacle into life.

‘You must first push mana into the pentacle. Soon you will feel an obstacle between your demon’s consciousness and your own. Once you feel that, pull the demon through it . . .’ She heaved with effort, and Lysander glowed, then dissipated into strands of white light that flowed into her hands.

‘That’s all there is to it,’ Lovett announced, her forehead beading with sweat. They applauded her skill, but Fletcher was filled with apprehension when she turned her steely eyes on to him.

‘Fletcher, you shall try first, as your demon needs to rest the most. Arcturus tells me you are unusually gifted at spellcraft. Let us see if the same holds true for infusion.’ Lovett pointed at the floor in front of him.

Fletcher slowly unrolled his summoning mat and sent Ignatius on to it. The demon sat there, uttering a nervous chirr as he felt Fletcher’s anxiety. Fletcher did as he had been instructed, channelling the mana into the leather mat. It glowed a fierce violet, steady and unwavering.

‘Do you feel it, Fletcher?’ Lovett asked, placing a steadying hand on Fletcher’s shoulder.

‘I feel it,’ Fletcher grunted back through gritted teeth. In his mana-charged state, the light was almost blinding, filling his vision with the glowing star.

‘Pull him through. You may struggle initially, but that is normal for the first infusion.’ Lovett’s voice sounded as if it were coming from a great distance. The mana pulsed through his veins with each beat of his heart, thundering in his ears. His link with Ignatius was blocked. He grasped at the demon’s mind, then, with a colossal effort, drew him in. For a moment, he strained, hissing between gritted teeth. It felt as if Ignatius was caught in an elastic web. After what seemed like an age there was a gentle snap, and the demon’s consciousness merged with his own. It was like sinking into a warm bath.

‘Well done, Fletcher! You can rest now,’ Lovett whispered in his ear.

Fletcher pressed his head into the soft leather, breathing in deep lungfuls of air. He could hear the others clapping and yelling incoherently. His mind was filled with extraordinary happiness and clarity, as if he were drugged to the gills.

‘What Fletcher will be feeling now is the temporary exhilaration of merging consciousnesses with another being. His demon is within him, yet he will be barely aware of it in a few minutes. Ignatius will see everything that Fletcher is seeing, though he will understand very little of it. This can be extremely useful should you need to summon in the midst of battle, as demons are prepared for the situation as soon as they reappear,’ Lovett lectured, pacing back and forth behind him.

‘Some summoners experience flashes of demonic memory in the months after they first infuse their demons. This too shall pass, but is an important part of how we learn about the ether. If this happens to you, make sure to take note of every detail and tell myself and Major Goodwin all of it. We need every bit of information about the life of demons we can get,’ she continued.

Fletcher stood with difficulty and walked back to the others, his head still spinning. Seraph patted him on the back with a jealous grin on his face.