Fan Fiction ❯ Summoner ❯ Chapter 7 ( Chapter 7 )

Chapter 7

 

 

The Supreme Overlord was having a busy day. He was seated in the grand throne room with no less than 5 expert healers flitting about him, tending to the various bandages and splints that were currently holding his upper body together. However, he had guests.

 

The first of which was the Iagan with the long sword. Xavier nodded and sucked in a laboured breath, indicating his acknowledgement of the monochrome individual.

 

“I wish you a speedy recovery, Supreme Overlord.” He began in a distinctly foreign accent “There was an attack on a Human resistance enclave a week ago. I led the Elf forces and routed the Humans, but during the skirmish I encountered a powerful Water-worker. He sealed himself and the “treasure room” of the enclave in ice, making plundering or even immolation of the sacrilegious items all but impossible without heavy explosives. As it stands, nobody, human or elf, can touch the treasures, so I suggest leaving it be at least in the short term. There was however, one remarkable event; that being a successful summoning.”

 

Xavier started at this, waving the healers away. He leaned forward expectantly.

 

“A boy of no more than 18 defended one of his compatriots when he was struck down by two Wights. He summoned Benedict, who killed off all the elves in the room, banished the two Wights and furthermore, imbued himself within the fallen compatriot. Both the injured boy and the one that cast the summoning weren't among the dead and are expected to have escaped.”

 

The Supreme Overlord stared intently at the Iagan he'd hired to act as his eyes and ears in the far-reaching human territories for specifically this reason. A summoner would be the only being capable of actually killing him, they were universally respected peoples, believed to be above the bias of species or anything as mundane as that, intent only on keeping order in the world with the help of the spirits, who were powerful indeed. However, the spirits were nearly powerless without the conduit of a Summoner. This human needed to be killed, or did he?

 

Xavier thought for a moment, the etchings of a plan rapidly forming in his mind. He could kill this being and his power would be cemented, but what if he could be turned? What would be able to possibly stop him, even in the unknown territories with a tame summoner at his disposal? Or maybe he could find a way of stealing the Summoners' gift. His magical scientists were the best; if there was a way to transfer the power of a summoner from being to being; they'd manage to find it.

 

“Thank you, Skott. Your services have been most useful, you can consider your contract complete.”

 

The Iagans were brilliant combatants, especially this one; the Sorceress' Knight, but this was a task he had to trust to an Elf; the Iagans were like Elementals- they always seemed to have another agenda.

 

A look of surprise flickered across his face, almost too fast to catch - but it was there. He nodded once and left the chamber. Almost as soon as he'd left, Commander Sillick rushed in, barely keeping his walk respectful as he approached the Supreme Overlord.

 

“Your Excellency, I bring ill tidings: We were unable to apprehend the Elemental, she was far more advanced in her Magicks than we had previously estimated, I barely escaped with my life. However, one point is of note: she now travels with a young human man, barely more than a boy, but he was wearing Raine's armlet…and it was reacting to him.”

 

Xavier smiled thinly. Raine's Armlet was an item of considerable power, and the fact that it responded to this mere human proved that he was the one that had summoned Benedict. He nodded once to his Bodyguard.

 

“Very good.” He wheezed out “Remain here, consolidate the palace guard and have General Cronus brought before me, there is much to be discussed. In the mean time, have Juyo go to Tyllan's Tomb and bring me this human. He may yet be of some use.”

 

“My lord, what of the involvement of the elemental?”

 

“She is of no concern for Juyo. My dear boy, you are death personified for anything that wields a sword, but against truly capable Magical foes, you are simply outclassed, and it is no failing of your own. Juyo however, has been trained to…handle beings such as her. I would expect no less from my daughter. Now go, I need to rest.”

 

He waved a hand in dismissal, and Sillick bowed quickly and hurried from the room.

 

 

 

It was dark when they finally arrived at a farmhouse nestled by the coast. The building was dilapidated and only had one plot of land that was growing neatly ordered rows of small plants, some with flowers. They entered through a door riddled with cracks and age, and with a wave of her hand, Brayah lit three lanterns and a small stove. She moved over to a low table and with an identical wave, lit up a small stove underneath an equally small teapot. She knelt gracefully at one end of the table and busied herself making two small cups, and Nix knelt awkwardly opposite her, unsure of what to say or do.

 

“I imagine you have a few questions.” Brayah stated, a hint of amusement dancing through her voice.

 

“Uhh, yes.” He replied, his cheeks warming at the simplicity of his reply.

 

She picked up a dainty spoon and shared out some herbs into a pair of small cups as the water began to boil.

 

“Perhaps your first question would be how you came to be in a graveyard?”

 

“Do you know?”

 

She handed him a cup and took a sip from hers. The smell of the tea was spicy but savoury, held no sweetness to it and was incredibly bitter, but it also instantly focused his mind, bringing every single aspect his senses absorbed more…detailed. It was definitely a stimulant.

 

“No. However, I do know that our paths crossed for a reason. You are raw, Nix Loire.” He flinched at the mention of his second name.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You are in need of a teacher, Summoner. Your gift is raw, unfocused and although you have a basic grasp of Water-working, you don't know the fundamentals of simple Mage-work, and I'm sure you have no idea how you breached the fissure in Tyllan's Tomb.”

 

Nix nodded mutely.

 

“That was the intervention of the spirits, specifically, one Spirit: Hel. She is mistress of the underworld and that particular Fissure is rumoured to be the closest point to the surface world and hers, a portal of sorts. Her keeping you aloft is proof in itself that the spirits wish for you to life. Tell me, young Summoner, have there been any other occurrences of that sort?”

 

“One time, just before I woke up in the graveyard. It was during the assault on Hyllyard Heights - where I was being taught water-working. The Elves raided it and my friend Carver was holding them off. He was cut down by a pair o….half-ghost black things, he got mauled and ripped to shreds by them. I just lost control, next thing I know, this Giant bear is padding in from behind me, he licks Carver and kills the two ghoul things, then when a tall figure with a long sword comes in, he mutters something that seems to banish the Bear, but it didn't disappear, it sort of shrank until it covered Carver's form, and then he was fully healed - no wounds on him, just unconscious.”

 

“That was a summoning of Benedict the Metamorph. He was a famous warrior in his day, one of King Tyllan's bodyguards, and the original Changeling. He joined himself with your friend, most interesting. The spirits almost never obstruct Hel like that.” She muttered to herself.

 

“The fact that you were able to perform two summonings without any instruction is testament to your power, however you need tutoring in almost all of the Magical disciplines before you will be ready. I am willing to impart my knowledge, and I do indeed have some experience with the techniques used by Summoners, I am far older than I look, however, as with all things in life, this service comes at a price.”

 

Nix swallowed audibly. He had no money on him, nor anything of real value other than Raine's armlet, and he'd just as soon not give that up.

 

“When you are fully able to commune with the spirits, I wish for you to call upon the Raven Hugin and have it determine my fate.”

 

He nodded once, and finished off his tea. Outside the dilapidated farmhouse, the wind was picking up, and it sounded as if rain had started falling.

 

“In the barn there is some hay where you can sleep. Don't mind the horse.” Brayah said, it was clearly a dismissal. He muttered his thanks and made his way outside, running through the strong winds to the barn. Inside there was indeed a large pile of hay and a horse asleep in the one stall. Nix didn't realise how tired he was until he finally lay down, and was almost instantly sound asleep.

 

 

 

Carver's awakening was far less dramatic. He found himself in a small cabin, a window was open and outside he could hear the gentle lapping of water against wood and distant male voices. His stomach lurched slightly as he sat up, and the decorated wood of the cabin swam into focus as one of the guest quarters aboard the Quicksilver, Hyllyard Heights' very own boat. Piled neatly on the room's only chair was an open white shirt, some baggy tan pants, a pair of sandals, and on a small table were his broadswords in their saya. He looked down at his chest and arms, and where there should have been innumerable lacerations there was only his usual tanned, unblemished skin. Frowning, he got up and quickly dressed, then made his way onto the deck.

 

It was a riot of activity. Men swarmed about the deck and sails carrying out their assigned tasks, a pair of Water-workers were at the prow of the ship making sure the ship moved swiftly through the steady waters. And in the middle of it all, barking out orders was Captain Grody. Carver approached the older man and stood patiently by his side, relishing in the feel of the wind and the sun kissing his skin.

 

Eventually, Grody turned to him. “Ah, you're awake. How're you feeling?” Carver shrugged. “Fine.”

Grody barked out a laugh and clapped a heavy hand on Carver's shoulder. “That's what I like to hear, now, make yourself useful and move those crates into the main hold” He said, pointing at a large pile of chests and crates, all of them containing what he presumed were various treasures and artefacts from Hyllyard Heights.

 

He nodded once and got to work without complaint. The task took most of the day, and by the time he'd finished shifting the crates with the help of some of the other younger members of the warrior contingent, he was sent this time to Grody's cabin.

 

Grody sat with a large frothy ale before him, his eyes moving over several maps laid out on the table. He waved Carver to a seat without looking up - a gesture the adolescent ignored.

 

“Where's Nix?” He asked without preamble, his hand resting on the hilt of his broadswords.

 

“Truthfully, I don't know. Fillip was with him after that incident in the antechamber, but they never made it to the boat, however, we'd have known if the Elemental had died, they do so somewhat spectacularly.”

 

Carver glared. “Why'd you leave without him? Why didn't you wait?”

 

Grody this time chose to take offence at the youth's insolent tone. “Because Nikolai sacrificed himself for a reason, and because these treasures are all that remain of our history now; they're far more important than any one boy, even if he is gifted.

 

“He's basically the only thing that can stop us from becoming extinct!” Carver all but shouted.

 

“Have a care, Samuel-“ Grody began, but he was cut off.

 

“My name” he gritted out “is Carver. Where are we headed?”

 

“Stone Ring, now lower your tone or you can swim there.” Grody replied, standing.

 

“It'd like to see you try.” Carver snarled, drawing the two swords. “We will find Nix. Now.”

 

“You are NOT captain of this ship, I am!”

 

“Some captain, leaving a man behind!”

 

The punch came from nowhere, but it sent Carver rolling backwards out of the door and back onto the deck. Grody followed him our, fire in his eyes.

 

“Get this insolent shit out of my sight until he's willing to act his age.” He barked to his crew, then turned back into his cabin, slamming the door.

 

Two troops roughly hauled Carver to his feet, who was sporting a black eye already swelling shut. They unceremoniously dumped him back in his quarters, and marched out, shutting the door behind them. Carver lay back on his bunk, still reeling from the blow, but also worrying for Nix, he'd never been separated from the somewhat naïve human, and he knew that an untold number of people would jump at the chance to take advantage of his kindness. He needed to find him, and fast.