A Summoner's Calling

by Jacquelyn Evans

  The clergyman takes the bowl to Irba, placing it on a stone table. She places her hands in the bowl as the water swirls around her hands. The blood creates writings all over the exposed skin of her arms, neck and face. The bowl is removed, and hush falls on the prayer hall.

  “Drotonic, may the gods guide you well. Irba,” the bishop says stepping aside.

  “Step inside to begin the enchanted trials,” Irba instructs.

  Drotonic steps in as a runic force surrounds him, and a table rises out of the ground before him.

  “Before you are four items: Zaravarn’s crest, a book, an emerald Geostone, and a robe. You must concentrate while fighting distractions as one chooses you. You only succeed by out lasting your distractions and obtaining one of these objects. Are you ready to begin?” Irba asks.

  “I am.” Squaring his shoulders, he washes away any distracting thoughts. Stepping forward, Drotonic is intrigued to see what’ll come his way. He places his hands on the table and focuses his energy on the bowl. Irba, at this point, chants words while she places her hands on the barrier. Meanwhile, the blood writing is transferred to the barrier. It then fills the floor with the crystal water which once was in the bowl. The blood Drotonic added springs up from his heels wrapping around his legs, forming an image of barbed wire.

  “Oh no, Drotonic.” Erryn goes to lunge toward him, but the maid grabs her arm, shaking her head no.

  Then, everyone watches as the book lights up on the table. They become exited to see which object will answer him.

  “He’ll be fine. He’s been training, as you have, for this. He just needs to last longer than his sessions,” the maid whispers to Erryn, but then the cloak lights up, followed by both Zaravarn’s crest and the Geostone.

  “That’s supposed to happen right?” Erryn asks as she looks to the maid who has a stunned look on her face.

  She shakes her head. “Never of which I’m aware.”

  “I’ll help Erryn, even if it asks everything of me,” Drotonic shouts as he funnels more of his power to the table and the barbed wire dissipates. Then a simulated flame covers him from the blood. He focuses as the cloak attaches to him. Irba continues moving her hands more fiercely, adding more power to the ritual. Stones begin lifting, bludgeoning him from all directions.

  “Irba that’s enough,” The bishop moves next to her.

  “The magic has spoken. I won’t deny it from its worthy challenger,” she tells him.

  As a green aura surrounds Drotonic, he moves his arms in front of him. The rocks surround him, slamming into him all at once and forming a rock cocoon. The spectators hold their breath, anticipating the outcome. A burst of force thrusts the rocks to the barrier, breaking it. On the cloak is a burned image of Zaravarn’s crest, and on both of his wrists is an embedded emerald as he holds the book in his hands.

  “He’s passed.” The bishop cheers. Irba remains immobile after witnessing the impossible.

  “Miss Erryn, you should go before the bishop takes notice,” the maid whispers. Erryn nods, thanking her and exits the room. The bishop and Irba gather their composures, and the bishop motions for someone to retrieve something.

  “Drotonic, in your triumphant success and to congratulate on such a signature feat, I bestow upon you the Sage Staff. Let it help you among your adventures in helping our summoner succeed within your upcoming journey. Ladies and gentlemen of the temple, I present to you a divine sage,” The bishop says as the room rattles in cheers for him.

  “You; I’m not done with you. I’ll speak to you afterwards,” The bishop scolds Irba. Drotonic turns from the cheering crowd to the bishop and Irba, asking the bishop not to be too hard on her. However, he notices Irba’s saddened eyes. Did something happen? Drotonic wonders.

  “Alright, we can assume Vladimir will react as he did to the prior bishop. We have a summoner’s journey for which to prepare. Let’s get to work,” the bishop says, and the crowd disperses.

  Volcano : Jet

  9

  Within the dark, volcanic depths of an inhabited cave, Jet kneels on the ground. She battles for her sanity, with chains bounded to her wrists and ankles. A soldier approaches her barred quarters, knocking a spoon against one of the bars as she remains motionless. Entering with caution, Jet’s head dangles with her chin nearly touching her chest. Making as minimal noise as one could make in armor, he places a plate of food down next to her. He turns, making a break for the door until hearing the clanging chains. He then seizes any further movement.

  “I brought dinner for you,” he stammers, stepping back and seeing Jet, trembling.

  “Dinner? How nice,” She looks at the plate, smiling at him with her head crooked. Then as he spins for the door, she lunges at him, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him to the ground as he screams for help.

  “Sshh, no one’s down here to hear the cries of the corrupt. Isn’t that what you told all of us?” Jet brushes his face along his ear softly.

  “I was just following orders to bring you food,” he begs as he meets her eyes.

  “Were you just following orders when the women across the hall miscarried during one of your orders to torture her for information? Knowing full well what it could to her and her baby?” Jet asks.

  “That wasn’t me,” he says.

  “Oh, but it’s all of you!” she yells in his ear, biting onto his ear and ripping it from its connected base. His howling pain resounds the cell walls down the corridors as the vindicated echoes pleases Jet. He struggles to scurry away. Jet kicks him away from her as he crawls to the edge of the cell, closing it behind him. He looks back in to see Jet spit the ear back at him as it rolls to his feet. His blood is smeared on across her mouth. It drips down her chin, partially staining her pearl white teeth and giving notice to her grimace smile. He picks up his ear as red pours down the side of his face, and he runs away.

  “Serves you bastards right,” Jet says, disregarding the food and looping her chains around hooks. She creates a swing, hanging from it upside down while humming a lullaby to pass the time.

  “Must you take it out on the ones that only serve to keep those here fed,” Kosmos walks over to her cell bars.

  Jet pauses her humming, “Why don’t you come in and find out yourself?” She waits for a moment and then continues, “I thought so,” resuming to swing and hum her lullaby.

  Kosmos stands for a while, admiring her humming and asks, “So, how’ve you been doing?” Jet continues to hum, ignoring his question.

  “Jet, how’re you?” he asks again.

  “Why the hell would you care? If you remember correctly, you’re the one who brought me here,” she says in a cold, hard voice.

  “True, very true. I don’t care. Erryn does,” Kosmos walks away as Jet stops and drops to the floor from hanging upside down. Jet hurries toward the edge of the cell, only to be stopped by the limited reaches of her chains. “Erryn, where’s she? You better stay away from her, Kosmos or I swear! Kosmos. Kosmos? Kosmos!” She yells into the halls carrying her echoes. Erryn, please don’t let them get you too, she thought, plopping her butt on the dirt ground. She sits there, hugging her knees. Suddenly, out of her line of sight, a chunk of bread bounces off her knee, drawing her attention. Looking to the cell bars is her usual visitor wearing his Black Razor gauntlets and his shield leaning against his leg. He removes his helmet to reveal his short brown hair and rustic orange-brown eyes.

  “You again? Back for more amusement today? Well, you already missed the fun,” Jet says.

  “I heard. I saw him holding his ear in his hand on his way down. Seriously, you bit his ear off?” he asks.

  “Yep. You want to be one with Vladimir, that’s what’ll happen to you,” she tells him.

  “Come on, eat up. I know you aren’t going to eat that other stuff, anyways,” he says, and she grabs the bread he had thrown at her.

  “You know, Kozic? You don’t have to go far to learn why many dislike your king. Just look and open your eyes. I promise you’ll fin
d the answers yourself,” Jet says.

  “Yeah, well—apparently the blonde I found in the woods over a year ago has been staying in this secret village for the past year. She made a scene, humiliating Vladimir,” Kozic says.

  “Blonde hair?” Jet asks.

  “Yeah, one of the soldiers tonight said that he witnessed the girl’s eyes glow purple,” Kozic says.

  “No way,” Jet’s eyes widen as she bites into the bread.

  “Too bad Vladimir is working on getting things together to have Gesthal raid and conqueror that village in about a day or so,” he says. She smacks her forehead in thought, What were you thinking, Erryn?

  “Kozic, you still believe in fighting for justified reasons and protecting the weak?” Jet asks.

  “That’s never changed, Why?” Kozic asks.

  “You said if you could prove your worth and trust, you would. Well, this is what I want you to do. If you help that girl escape this village without her falling into their hands, I may believe in your shining knight persona,” Jet says as she walks forward. Kozic stands in thought as he’s never heard her so desperate before.

  “Kozic, what’re you doing up here?” scolds a voice.

  Kozic looks back at Jet.

  “If you know what it’s like to have or imagine a sibling bond, you would know how important this is. How important she is.” Tears form in Jet’s eyes.

  “Kozic, Dark Arts training. Now. You’ll be leaving in a day, so move it.” orders a sergeant.

  “Yes, sir. Had to see where the missing ear excitement was constructed,” Kozic salutes the sergeant and marches off. The guards come trooping in as Jet hears other feet. So, she hurries to finish the bread Kozic gave her.

  “Let’s go, Jet; to your feet. You know the drill,” he tells her. She rolls her eyes and stands as he hits a lever, which pulls the slack on the chains. It slams her back against the wall, keeping her arms and legs tightly separated. The cell door opens, and two people enter. She recognizes Kosmos standing behind someone as her eyes adjust from her head hitting the wall.

  “What? I have to be restrained like this for you to be brave to enter?” Jet smiles.

  “Oh no, but it’s a nice change in scenery from the usual body parts lying around the room,” he says as her eyes start to focus on the other individual.

  “So, to whom do I owe the pleasure this time?” Jet asks.

  “Mine,” Vladimir speaks up as Jet’s attention sharpens. She now sees him clearly.

  “What do you want?” Jet asks as soldiers come to each of her sides.

  “I’ve come to escort you to your new exercise for the day. Let’s see how you handle the pyramid horse ride,” Vladimir snaps his fingers as the chains drop her. The soldiers jump on her before she could find her feet.

  “Doesn’t sound so bad. I guess I should thank you,” Jet says as Vladimir leads the way to a locked room. He opens the door. Jet can see the walls covered in tentacles ever moving with chains which link all over. A metal horse stands at its center. Its back is made of a sharpened point.

  “Use the chain over there.” Vladimir points as one of the guards grabs it, tying her wrists together. While he’s tying her, Jet tries to bite his wrist and he hits her in the face. Though his armguard catches her shirt and rips it down the center.

  “I’m not losing my flesh because of you,” the soldier says as she blows him a kiss.

  “Now, Jet, pay attention. Every thirty minutes, the horse’s back will move or expand while you sit. Weights will be placed on your ankles that’ll increase as I command it,” Vladimir says.

  “Is that all?” Jet asks.

  “Mostly. Maybe this will persuade you to cooperate with us while we retrieve your sister. There’s no escape for her. Oh, before I forget… feel free to scream. The beast likes it, and the more you sweat and salivate, the hungrier, it’ll become for you. Enjoy,” Vladimir says as Jet is lifted by the chain and placed on the horse. The first weights are placed on her ankles.

  “You won’t have her, Vladimir. You hear me? You even touch her, and you’ll die by my hands. I swear it,” Jet shouts as they lock the door behind them, and the tentacles cover the door.

  Zaravarn’s Realm : Erryn

  10

  as the sky continues to sleep in Nija, Erryn springs up from her bed. There’s a pounding at her bedroom door instead of the usual revisits of her nightmares. She pauses for a moment, rubbing her eyes confused at the darkness outside. Did I sleep at all? she wonders.

  “Erryn.” The bishop continues to pound on her door.

  She idly considers not answering, but rolls over, pushing the covers off, and yawns. “Alright already. Where’s the fire?” Bleary-eyed, she opens the door.

  “Have you forgotten what day it is? It’s time for you to meet with Zaravarn,” he says.

  “This early? Can’t he wait till daylight breaks, at least,” she wines.

  “Due to the differences in time, you have to leave now in order to be back by nightfall. Please head down to the lobby,” he explains.

  Erryn sighs, mumbling, “Selfish gods. I was having a pleasant sleep too,” She shuts the door to get dressed, splashing water on her face to awaken her senses. Her clothes have all been cleaned for her and are laid out on the chair. Will he be stern? Will he be approachable? Maybe he’s fun. She braids her hair in her customary style. Taking one last look in the mirror, she gathers her courage and heads for the lobby.

  “Morning, Erryn.” Drotonic poses his hands on his hips, showing off his new attire.

  “Hi, Drotonic.” Erryn stretches purposely, not mentioning anything about his new outfit.

  “Notice anything different about me?” he raises his brows.

  Erryn looks right at him and shrugs. “Nope. Nothing stands out.”

  “Oh, come on. The cloak, the staff, nothing?” Drotonic throws his hands up as everyone laughs, and Erryn smiles.

  “Obviously, she sees Drotonic. Is everything all set?” The bishop enters the room and consults with his clergymen.

  “He’d better be awake,” Erryn says. The bishop stands to the left of the prayer doors, moving a tapestry as Erryn hears raging flames and catches a whiff of sulfur.

  “What’s that?” Drotonic asks.

  “I don’t know. Is someone burning something?” Erryn asks.

  “You could say that,” the bishop laughs. A clergyman hands him a black coal, and he starts drawing two circles with two lines in the center. He hands off the coal, chanting some words as his hands vanish inside the circles. He turns his arms as a heavy clunk falls into place inside the walls. At the base of the prayer doors, Erryn spots four hot sparks, all outlining the crevices of the door in different directions. What the heck, she wonders getting closer to the doors.

  “I wouldn’t get too close yet,” the bishop warns as Erryn stands close enough to feel immense heat from the doors. Two temple guards come over in full armor and open the prayer doors, revealing a flaming lava portal.

  “What happened to the prayer room?” Erryn asks.

  “It’s still there. This only superimposes itself on it,” the bishops smiles.

  “You ready?” Drotonic stands next to her, and she nods.

  “We’ll look forward to your return,” the bishop says. With a deep breath, they walk into the portal. Regardless of the immense heat generating along the outer rim of the portal, the center was a void. While teleporting inside a lava tube, Erryn can’t help but hear the screams from her suppressed memories of her own and Jet’s childhoods.

  She covers her ears, attempting to drown out the sounds, but they only became muffled. She relives the horror of the torture, and the pain seems multiplied. Erryn struggles not to lose focus, but the memories and sensations are relentless. Her grip on rationality begins descending quickly into madness. Just when it seems she’s going to lose her sanity, Erryn screams. She drowns out her memories as a pair of hands grab her wrists, pulling her hands from her head. “Erryn, it’s okay. We made it. You’r
e safe. Look,” Drotonic says.

  It takes Erryn a moment to recognize that she’s not at the castle. And so, she calms her thoughts. She looks around at the lava rivers, fire flowers, and roaming magma bears. She thinks the bears are nice to touch. “Wow, this is his home?” Erryn asks.

  “Unfortunately, this is the only place that can harness his power and heat without destroying Arthro,” Drotonic says.

  “Sounds kind of lonely,” Erryn says.

  “It can be. Welcome to my realm, Summoner and Divine Sage. Many congrats to your accomplishments,” Zaravarn voices through his realm’s sky.

  Drotonic turns to a kneel, not knowing where to look. “Thank you, Your Greatness.”

  “Is that really you?” Erryn looks around.

  “It is. I’ve anticipated this meeting for quite some time. Please make your way to my tower. It’s not far,” he invites them. They walk down paths, passing trees with black burnt trunks and fiery yellow leaves. Fire ants eat the dead trees sprouting from the ashes like other Phoenix trees. In their walk, a monstrous beast hunches over its most recent kill, savagely consuming his prey; a deer. Only exposing its hexagonal etched back protected by its harden nature. They avoid being hit by its tail, dreading the chance of attracting its senses.

  “Drotonic, what’s that?” she whispers, gripping his hand.

  “That’s a Destroyer, the meanest of sorts. I learned in Nija’s library they are vicious to their prey, locking onto whatever smell which entices them. We should avoid it,” Drotonic says.

  “He won’t bother you while under my protection,” Zaravarn assures them, and they sneak by. After successfully passing the Destroyer, they reach a vast steamy lava river with nowhere to continue.