Summoner 7

by Eric Vall

  “So, something was very wrong,” I mused.

  I added Layla’s information to my own observations of Gawain over the past few days. If he’d been doing this for a while, it meant his dad’s new position as Headmaster of the Academy couldn’t possibly be his motivation for taking the ciphers.

  If it wasn’t that, then what could it be? I didn’t know why Gawain would want the old artifacts for himself, but I also couldn’t come up with a single person who could’ve influenced him to steal them.

  “Maybe there really is something wrong with him,” Varleth admitted quietly.

  If even the gypsy who hated Gawain more than anybody else was willing to say that unusual trouble was afoot, then I had to take this seriously.

  “Weird stuff has been happening for a long time,” Erin murmured. “Rifts all over and people with dark magic and sinister motives. Maybe we should give Gawain the benefit of the doubt.”

  Cyra sighed. “I suppose we can. Maybe somebody threatened a friend of his or they blackmailed him with information.”

  The two beautiful women had a point.

  “When we find Gawain, we’ll take him in safely and figure out what happened,” I said. ”We shouldn’t act rashly until we know the truth. Gawain could actually be the victim here.”

  The other four murmured their assent, and silence fell over our group as we continued the trek to town and considered the situation. It wasn’t a pretty thought to imagine Gawain had been corrupted or frightened somehow into stealing the ciphers. Even Headmaster Sleet had believed Gawain was firmly on our side.

  Since we didn’t know what turned the fire mage against our group, I was also nervous about the possibility of this happening to another one of us. What if Layla changed into an enemy? What if Varleth’s deadly sword was turned against us?

  I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, let that happen.

  As we walked, the town turned from a smudge on the horizon into a collection of distinct buildings and houses.

  “What’s the name of this place?” Erin asked as we approached it.

  “Millervale,” I answered as I recalled the map. “It’s more well-off than Ralor’s Stead, in part because of the good farmland it has access to in the north. The town isn’t limited to bartering for its food, so in general it’s a wealthier spot with more diverse goods. It should have the supplies we need.”

  As I spoke, I mentally ticked off a list of what I wanted to get. Dry firewood was definitely a necessity. I could cut down as many trees as I wanted with my axe goblins, but the fresh lumber would be too green to burn well. The moisture inside would make any fire we tried to build smoky and weak. Without Nia or Gawain’s fire magic, we could be left with raw food and a cold, sleepless night.

  We would need more bedrolls and warm blankets. We’d all only brought the supplies necessary to stay at inns, so we sorely lacked important sleeping materials.

  We also needed to buy wide hats to keep the sun off our faces. Cyra’s dark western skin kept her safe from the sun’s harsh rays, and Layla fared well with her honey coloring, too. Meanwhile, Erin, Varleth, and I slowly acquired a flush of pink across our noses and cheeks that spelled an upcoming sunburn.

  I used to be able to work outdoors for hours without an issue. It seemed like my robust tan had faded over the past year, so I’d have to be more careful now.

  Erin in particular had begun to look very red. She had the soft, pale skin and freckled complexion that didn’t do well in prolonged sunlight. I might have to invest in a potion or poultice to help her with her burns.

  There was no way to tell how far Gawain would wander out into the Wilds, so we also needed to carry a lot of water with us. I was interested in doubling our number of water skins and flasks just to be on the safe side.

  Finally, we would be wise to bring as much food as possible. Erin, Cyra, Layla, and I could potentially use our summoned monsters to hunt down rabbits and deer, but that would lead to a situation where we’d be forced to skin, gut, and cook them on the road. That would take up time even if it went smoothly, and I really didn’t expect every step of it to go off without a hitch.

  “Did you miss this?” Cyra asked as she stepped closer to talk to me.

  I gave her a surprised look. “Miss what? Wandering around with sore feet and bug bites? Wondering when the next fight will kick up?”

  She grinned. “The Wilds, Gryff. Traveling. Haven’t you missed it? People like us were made to wander around.”

  I nodded and surprised myself. “Yeah, I did miss it. Not just Maelor, but the journey itself. Tying myself down to Varle Enclave feels strange. I do like the Academy, and I love using my skills to prove myself as a summoner and help save lives … “

  “But it’s not the same,” Cyra confirmed. “Both of us were raised on the road.”

  I wanted to ask about her past, but Varleth interrupted our conversation.

  “I wandered around as a gypsy for years,” the banisher cut in, “so you can say I was raised on the road. Personally, I think you two are nuts. Going to school and being on the monster response squad is a way better gig.”

  I rolled my eyes and bumped shoulders with Cyra.

  “He never appreciates the good things in life,” I confided to her. “You don’t want to know how long I had to wear him down just to get him to admit attachment to other human beings.”

  Layla snickered. “It used to be like talking to a wallerdon.”

  “Still is,” Erin added, “except now he’s added a whole second facial expression.”

  Varleth frowned at that, and he was completely unaware he’d just hammered home Erin’s point.

  We burst into uproarious laughter at his expense.

  Layla let out a series of giggles, and Cyra laughed so hard tears came to her eyes. Erin leaned into me as she slapped her knee and tried hopelessly to catch her breath. Even Varleth couldn’t help but crack a wry grin.

  “Look!” Layla gasped as she pointed to his smile. “There it is, the second expression!”

  I lost it. I cackled so hard I had to sit down before I fell over from lack of air.

  Cyra patted my back in gentle circles as she tried to revive me.

  “I’m glad I can amuse you all,” Varleth muttered as he helped me back to my feet.

  I could tell he didn’t really mind. Despite his limited range of expression, Varleth wasn’t all that much of a mystery anymore. On the inside, he was just a softie who liked to laugh and work hard.

  When we’d all sobered up, I led us onward into Millervale’s main street.

  Gabled roofs on four-story buildings loomed over the main thoroughfare. Dishrags and clothing hung out to dry from the upper balconies, and the multicolored rags decorated the streets like vibrant banners.

  On the streets below, pedestrians hurried past laden with supplies of all sorts. A short man bumbled by with a stack of books that reached his chin, and a woman in a clay-smeared apron hurried away with a tray of small, unfired pots that rattled precariously across their container in their half-hardened state.

  There wasn’t much copper to be seen, I noted, but probably not because of any kind of shortage. In Millervale, they simply didn’t have to worry about finding iron and other, more useful building materials. I was sure they could buy all the copper they wanted at a bargain price from Ralor’s Stead.

  As we walked further into town, the air filled with the smell of classic Wilds street food, like roasted sweet corn and duck wings slathered in spiced sauce.

  Then a certain cheesy, smoky scent drifted over to me on the wind.

  “Potato skins,” I gasped out.

  Varleth and the girls shot me odd looks.

  I didn’t care. My favorite food was here, and I absolutely needed to find it. Camping supplies could wait until later.

  I turned to the rest of my team. “Go buy whatever you want, but I can get our firewood and bedrolls. When you’re done, meet me at the bar in the Ricochet Inn.”


  I pointed at the wood and plaster building across the street that was adorned with a simplistic, round sign engraved with the words Ricochet Inn.

  It was a weird name for an inn, but when I looked it over, it seemed to fit the bill of what I wanted. The people coming and leaving were of the middle-class sort, and they didn’t seem too dirty or angry. If I was correct, prices would be good without us having to worry about watered-down ale or fleas in our beds.

  I’d had fleas once before as a young teenager. Maelor and I had itched for a whole week after a one-night stay in seedy-looking lodging. No amount of savings was worth that.

  Our group split up, and I weaved through the vendors in search of potato skins. I didn’t completely neglect my duties as team leader, since I did make sure to stop in at a busy general store for a bundle of firewood that was held together with thick twine.

  We still needed blankets and bedrolls as well as food and water. I’d have to go in search of an outfitter later for the rest of the goods.

  The distant word potato drifted over to me in the distinctive tone of a ware hawker’s voice, and I followed that sound like a hound on the trail of a fox.

  At the end of the block, my prize awaited me.

  Crispy skins crackled over a low fire, and oils from melted cheese dripped down through the metal grate into the flames below. The grill was divided into two parts, and the stand worker tossed a frying pan of thick, fatty bacon on the left side. He finished flipping the bacon before he turned to his cutting board to slice thin strips of cheese off a pale yellow block.

  Maker, this was too good to be real. The semi-portable stand before me was dedicated entirely to the production of potato skins.

  I ordered five with a breathless voice and had four of them wrapped up into a package of wax paper. If one of my teammates didn’t want theirs, I could just use it as an excuse to eat more.

  With my cheesy treasure obtained and safely stowed in my travel bag, I looked for the rest of what we needed. I found several thick blankets that could serve our purposes, but I didn’t like the high price tag.

  Unfortunately, the competing travel store was closed for the day. I checked the opening time and decided I could return at seven in the morning for the rest of our supplies. Food and water could wait until then as well, since fresher food was always better for the start of a journey.

  After I finished my tasks, I then backtracked through the streets of Millervale until I reached the Ricochet Inn. A drunk man opened the door as I arrived, and he left with a giggle and a stumble to his step that spoke of an evening well-spent.

  “Gryff!” Cyra called as I entered, and the door swung shut behind me.

  I stopped short at the sight of the impressively well-stocked bar against the opposite wall, but I refocused as I made my way over to my friends at a large table in the corner.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said with a grin. Then I extracted my paper bag of potato skins and plopped it down in front of them.

  Layla quickly snatched it by the handle before she delved inside and pulled out the wrapped potatoes.

  All three of the girls cooed in excitement and dug in with obvious hunger. Varleth cocked an eyebrow at their antics and ate his with the same measured approach he used for everything.

  I looked at what my team had been doing while I was off shopping. All four of them held drinks already, though their mugs were still mostly full.

  The exception was Cyra, who had two drinks, one of which was completely empty. The other was well on its way to being done, too. Kalon was tiny again, and the little dragon was tucked away to sleep on Cyra’s shoulder. She was hidden in the wild curls of her hair, which was probably a good thing in a strange inn that maybe wasn’t so used to summoners and their monsters.

  “Did Maelor pick you just because you could keep up with him?” I asked in astonishment as I examined the empty drinks in front of her.

  Cyra winked confidently. ”I picked him. He was just forced to take me along because I won the drinking contest.”

  I laughed at the joke, even though it wasn’t true. She’d run into Maelor while he argued with a mining foreman about the speed of his drillmoles. Cyra stepped in to help him, and they’d traveled together ever since.

  Well, at least until the Academy found out she’d escaped conscription. Now, she was stuck with us as a student.

  “You’re a strange woman,” I told Cyra with a smile.

  “Good thing you aren’t interested in normal women, then,” Layla joked with a smirk.

  I couldn’t help but agree. My girls were a little more likely to spend the day killing monsters than your average maiden. It didn’t make them any less formidable as women, however.

  As if to underscore my point, Layla took a drag from her drink and pulled back with an entire strawberry held between her teeth. She winked and bit the end off it before she offered me the rest with a flourish of her hand.

  “What in Mistral is that?” I asked as I peered into her drink. Distractedly, I accepted the strawberry and took a bite. It tasted vaguely of spiced alcohol, sugar, and smoke.

  “Ricochet Inn’s signature drink,” Layla announced with a grin. “It’s called a Flaming Meteor.”

  “I’m confused,” I confessed.

  Not only was I unused to seeing fancy mixed drinks at the sorts of taverns I usually frequented, but the name itself made no sense.

  “The waitress gave us the whole history of the place,” Cyra said with a nod to the building. “Apparently, a rift opened up here over a decade ago, and a monster sent a fiery meteor through the roof. It ricocheted off the bartop and out the front wall of the inn.”

  “And they renamed the entire place after that?” I asked skeptically.

  “I think it’s clever,” Erin declared. “They took a kind of freak disaster and turned it into a marketable story for their business. Personification of the inn itself is the best way to draw in customers.”

  We turned to stare at the mimic in surprise.

  “Erin is definitely an Enclave girl,” I accused with a pointed finger.

  “Yup,” Layla affirmed. “I’m sure she’s used to big cities filled with eccentric places like this.”

  Erin laughed, but she couldn’t deny we’d hit the nail on the head.

  I was actually very surprised a middle-class inn in the middle of the Wilds could serve up a fancy drink with an extravagant tale to go with it. Maybe this was simply the way trends moved out into the world. It just took a few oddball examples spreading into the mid-sized towns, and before you knew it, the world had changed around you.

  “I feel like Maelor,” I complained. “I don’t understand you kids and your weird drinks.”

  “I can help make you feel young again,” Layla flirted shamelessly.

  “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer,” I rumbled back.

  Her words sent a thrill through me, and I knew I definitely had to catch up with my lover tonight.

  Varleth rolled his eyes at our antics and took a sip of his drink.

  “What are you having?” I asked the banisher.

  Varleth shrugged as he looked into his mug. “I just asked for the cheapest beer on tap. Tastes good to me.”

  I flagged down the waitress with an upraised hand and asked for two cheap beers and a shot glass. She didn’t ask any questions and came back quickly with exactly what I wanted.

  I smiled wryly as I pulled Maron’s bottle of brandy out of my bag and poured myself a shot.

  Cyra’s mouth fell open as she saw what I had. “Maron gave you good brandy?”

  “It’s better than good, if the label means anything,” I replied with a wink.

  The drink itself confirmed my suspicions as it went down smoothly with a rich, spicy aftertaste. It was delicious, and even better than that, it was strong.

  “If you don’t give me some, I’m going to ask Kalon to burn your hair off,” Cyra declared.

  I grinned and filled up the shot glass again before I pushed i
t over to her side of the table.

  The chocolate-skinned summoner downed it like a pro and melted into her chair happily. “That has to be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

  “My turn!” Layla chirped.

  I refilled the glass and watched in curiosity as she took a careful sip.

  Layla started coughing almost instantly, but when she saw my amused face, she immediately drank the rest out of spite. Her eyes watered, and she wiped at them furiously.

  “Need some help there?” I teased.

  “I’m good,” Layla wheezed before she grabbed the bottle and refilled a second shot for herself.

  I had to admit I was impressed as I watched her swallow the second shot without a wince.

  The rest of the night progressed along similar lines. Varleth and Erin drank minimally while Cyra, Layla and I paced ourselves. None of us wanted to get wildly drunk while Gawain was still on the run.

  Dinner arrived in the form of roasted chicken, creamed spinach, and carrots that swam in a sugary glaze. It probably wasn’t the best meal I’d ever paid this much money for, but as the drinks warmed me up, I found I didn’t care. The potato skins from earlier had fulfilled my need for good food.

  When the night grew old, Varleth, Erin, and Cyra excused themselves for bed one by one. Cyra held her liquor well, but she still swayed slightly as she walked up the stairs. When she was gone, Layla and I were the only ones who remained.

  At some point during the night, I’d ordered myself a Flaming Meteor. As I gulped down the sweet contents, I had to admit it tasted pretty good. I wouldn’t order a dozen of the pricey drinks just to get properly drunk, but it kept a nice buzz going.

  Layla giggled at me when I pulled out the strawberry at the bottom with my teeth.

  “Like what you see?” I asked, and before I could get a response, I leaned in to share the fruit with her.

  Mouth to mouth, of course.

  The taste of her lips blended with the sweet, smoky juice of the berry until I couldn’t tell one from the other.

  Then Layla made the difference clear as she moved her mouth responsively under mine, and we teased each other with light nibbles for a while. Our tongues twisted together, and my hands roved over her back until they came to rest on the gentle curve of her neck.