A Summoner's Calling

by Jacquelyn Evans

  “Really? Her name is Jet,” Erryn’s voice lightens, accepting his offer as Valedent nearly chokes on his beer.

  This girl is her sister, he thought.

  Drotonic walks over, nearly tripping over his own feet.

  “Not a problem,” Valedent shrugs, reaching for a napkin to clean himself.

  “What’s not a problem?” Drotonic asks as Erryn fills him in on their discussion.

  Drotonic glares at Valedent.

  “Drotonic, stop giving him such a gaze. This is Valedent. He’s the one who helped us earlier in the woods, remember?” Erryn places a hand on his arm.

  “Huh? Oh, right,” Drotonic says as his alcoholic wafts across the table.

  Erryn waves her hand in front of her face.

  “Nice to meet you.” Valedent nudges a gesture from his brow.

  “Likewise. I appreciate you entertaining the Lady Summoner, but she must make her way for rest. Thank you,” Drotonic reaches for her pulling her out from the eat-in booth as she sighs.

  “How’ll I find you for news about my sister?” she asks before Drotonic completely pulls her away.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll find you, Lady Summoner,” he says as Drotonic continues rushing her away.

  They go towards the stairs as Valedent hears Drotonic mutter, “You’re lucky that smugglers didn’t kidnap you. He’s a thug from downtown. He can’t be trusted.”

  “But he said he could help find my sister. Since he saved us, he couldn’t be all that bad,” she bickers back.

  “Something seems off with him. I don’t want you near him,” Drotonic scolds, and she storms off on ahead.

  Valedent rests his head back against the wall of the eat-in booth. The girl with the dazzling eyes happens to be related to Gramps’ adopted daughter. He finishes his beer and gets up, realizing he now had business with which to contend. As the night is late and the temple bar starts to clear, he couldn’t help but think of only one place to find Mirk Lordin to be able to reach the old geezer.

  Valedent waves to Kulman and exits through the back tunneled door, reentering downtown. The streets are still lively with the night life. Walking farther down the road, he passes Roland’s place before coming to the bustling tavern, Chilling Rocks. Someone gets thrown out the door, face first. Home sweet home, he thinks.

  The lively bar is filled with miners drinking their pains away, young kids rooting for their favorite fighter in brawls, and games of throwing daggers and dice played by sailors. Valedent steps in as he looks around, seeing two men drinking at the bar while conversing.

  “Gentlemen,” Valedent sits next to them.

  “We’re wondering when you were going to find your way down here,” says Mirk.

  “About now. How goes the waters lately, Ace?” he asks as he gets another beer.

  “Turbulent and pirates per usual. Why?” Ace asks.

  “Business, unfortunately. He’d probably consider it to be urgent,” Valedent sighs.

  “You’d just use the package you brought to Roland’s,” Mirk suggests.

  “The package?” Valedent looks at him perplexed as Mirk laughs and nudges Ace.

  “You’ll need this to activate it though,” Ace hands Valedent a round opal.

  “Alright, if you say so. Thanks. It was good seeing you again,” Valedent gives handshakes and leaves for Roland’s place.

  At Roland’s place, he looks around for the crate only to find the lid on one of the picnic tables. With no one in the outside kitchen, Valedent continues to investigate inside Roland’s house.

  Please don’t kill me, he thinks upon entering.

  On investigating inside, he can’t find anyone and is puzzled. Then he hears a noise coming from a door in the narrow hall, leading to the basement. He ventures down and hears scuffling. Someone’s tinkering with metal.

  “This should be working,” Valedent hears Wark.

  “You sure you put it together correctly?” Roland asks.

  “He probably forgot a piece,” Liza says and throws the crate. “Hm, nope. All the pieces were used up.”

  Valedent enters and sees a unique contraption, one the likes of which he had never seen before.

  “Eh, Valedent. How nice of you to intrude in my home,” Roland greets as Valedent gives a smile.

  “Man, it almost seems like there should be something in this spot, but there isn’t anything left,” Wark scratches his head.

  Valedent studies the machine. There’s a space in the base of the lever the same as something like the opal Ace gave him.

  “Maybe it just needs a loving touch,” he suggests and walks over, placing the opal in before pulling the lever. The contraption powers up as five points conjoin from combining lightning and steam elements. Afterward, a window is formed looking into a room Valedent recognizes.

  “Roland, you’re going to want to seal that basement door,” Valedent says.

  Roland shuts the door. Then a man with white hair and a brick-build body approaches the created window.

  “Ah, you got it working; very good. Valedent, who’s with you?” he asks.

  “Sir, these are the most trustworthy people I know, aside from two others who aren’t present. I would put my life in their hands. This is Liza, Wark, and Roland—captain of the guards,” Valedent introduces them.

  “Honor to meet you all. I’m Thomas Kingsblade, leader of the rebellion,” he greets them as they become deathly silent. “However, Valedent, I do believe you have intel to deliver on the updates on Dragonar.”

  “Actually, sir, I had to receive the opal from Ace. But I can give more important news pertaining to your daughter,” Valedent shares as Thomas pauses, curling his lips.

  Thomas clears his throat and asks, “Where is she? Where’s Jet?”

  Volcano : Jet

  18

  Two days have passed since the strange, new shackles were donned on Jet’s wrists. Since the unveiling of her sleeping darkness, Vladimir orders for her inscribed manacles to always remain on her. After she woke, she learned of the episode from Kozic. Now, Jet refuses to sleep, limiting the guard’s chances of gaining the upper hand. She sits by the middle of the back wall as bodies surround her. Bodies she has created from their attempts to take her anywhere. The cell smells of nothing but decaying corpses, blood, both old and new, and sweat.

  Small amounts of clear drinking water have been administered to her, and she continues to refuse to eat the only food they have provided. It resembles the same purple and blue coloring as the forced fed biscuit. Vladimir chose to give them the name Oxtasy fruits. However, certain brief visits bring her a sense of light in this grim place, coming from the most unlikely source. Kozic. When he can, he sneaks her edible breads. On these rare occasions, she manages to exchange a few brief words with him.

  In the moments of silence, Jet can’t help but wonder about the darkness, for she had never witnessed something like that before. The last time anything happened to her body, it felt like it exploded from within, leaving her to be found by Thomas in Storm Forest.

  A warden comes to her cell bars. He hits the bars with a baton as she slowly raises her head from her knees, which she hugs. “Warden.”

  Jet sees the warden trying to suppress a gag.

  “We’re going to have a change of pace today,” he says. “If you do as your told, there’ll be no tortures or experiments. You’ll be granted nutrition and sleep. No strings or gimmicks attached.”

  “Nutrition and sleep? Do I look like an idiot to you?” She gazes across the way.

  “These terms were set by Vladimir himself,” he says.

  Intrigued by his proclaimed offer, she walks over, stepping on bodies and in pools of blood. In the light, her malnutrition shows. Her skinny body is covered in blood and soot. Her eyes squint as she nears the cell entrance. The lights in the corridor show the bags weighing heavy under her bloodshot eyes.

  The warden unlocks the door. As she steps out, he directs her to the task. He opens a door farther down the
corridor. Her suspicion is aroused, but as she looks inside, she sees that the room is not filled with tentacles or torture equipment. She enters the room and sees a cloak covering around four feet tall. The warden closes the door behind them. The room illuminates more, revealing five additional soldiers standing guard along the walls.

  “What’s this?” she asks.

  “Your task. If you accept and torture or kill others that we need to interrogate, you’ll get what’s promised,” the warden says.

  “Sure, I guess,” Jet shrugs as he hands her a dagger.

  “Jet? Jet, is that you?” a voice comes from the draped object.

  She stops short as it sounds familiar. She grips the dagger to stop the trembling in her hand.

  “Warden, who’s under the cloak?” She wracks her memory to place the voice, fearing it might be someone close.

  “Your task,” he says as he motions for a soldier to remove the cloak, revealing Ryan Lordin, a young sailor who had a knack for gathering intel for Thomas. He was also the one to suggest to Thomas when Thomas found her in the Storm Forest that he should bring her home, thereby making her family.

  Why’d it have to be him? How? she wonders as tears form.

  “What were you doing in Cinx?” The warden begins the interrogation.

  “I can’t seem to remember,” Ryan replies as the warden looks at her.

  She grips the dagger as a tear drips onto her cheek. “I won’t do it.”

  “Excuse me?” The warden crosses his arms, staring at her balefully.

  “It can be anyone else but not him,” she says.

  The warden unfolds his arms and nods, turning away. A soldier walks up to the warden and hands him a cylindrical container before returning to the wall. As he opens the container, Jet’s body instinctively shies away from the crackling noise emanating from it.

  “Do you not remember the arrangement?” He turns toward her, holding a branch continuously crackling with lightning from the Storm Forest.

  “Jet just do it,” Ryan yells as his eyes keep looking at her and the branch.

  “No, our family won’t forgive me. Your brother will hate me,” Jet says as the warden hits her with the branch, electrocuting her body. She stumbles to her knees.

  “Do it,” the warden orders.

  Jet looks up at him, “I won’t; I can’t.”

  Then, the warden hits her again and she collapses flat to the ground. Her back arcs as she tenses from the shocks. Ryan yells and launches himself backward, breaking the chair and loosening the ropes. He scrambles to Jet’s side, holding her face in his hands. Soldiers start to move off the walls as the warden holds his hand up to stop them.

  “Look at me. You must be the one to do this. I don’t have a prayer to survive their tortures like you, never mind escaping this place. If I must endure any of this, I’d rather it be by your hands or by your side. Don’t let them have the pleasure of doing it themselves. Do it for the family,” Ryan pleads as she nods with reluctance.

  “You were always doing things against his wishes for the good of the family,” Jet sniffles. Heavy hearted, she stands. She watches the soldiers manhandle Ryan, tying his arms together and forcing him to kneel in the center of the room.

  “Last time, do it,” the warden orders.

  She wipes her tears clear as she attempts to envision Vladimir’s face. She slices a deep wound into his arm. He stifles a cry, but she can see the pain etched on his face.

  The warden repeats the question. Ryan refuses to answer, forcing her to continue stabbing him while the warden guides her arm, striking him harder. Tears flow down her face, making tracks in the grime as her guilt eats her soul.

  After thirty minutes of interrogation, the warden kicks Ryan in the face. “So, I’m going to rule it that either you really don’t know anything or you’re just plain stupid.” The warden turns to Jet with a look of anticipation. “Finish him.”

  Jet dry wretches. Her body goes cold. Sweat trickles down her back. She can barely look at Ryan, but when she does, he nods, accepting his fate.

  Jet kneels next to him. Through tear fill eyes, she looks deep into his.

  “I’m so sorry.” She stabs through the side of his neck, pulling to the front, and cut both veins.

  As he bleeds out, his eyes quickly become hollow. Then Jet sits, pressing her lips against her knees as the warden orders two soldiers to dispose of the body. They carry him out as his blood continues to spill. Jet rubs her hand in Ryan’s warm blood and smears it on her clothes. Her legs can barely support her weight as she hauls herself to her feet. She hears someone approaching from the hall.

  “So, I take it the brat had nothing to share?” Kosmos walks in, asking the warden.

  “Unfortunately, no,” he reports as Jet sees him and grips her dagger.

  “Oh, was today the change-up?” Kosmos asks.

  “Indeed. A little resistance, but she came to her senses,” he says as Kosmos smiles.

  Jet’s eyes narrow with a gaze colder than death. She charges at him with her rage, gripping the dagger’s handle so tight her knuckles turn white. She elbows the warden in the face as she passes him, knocking him off his equilibrium. Then she draws her arm back to attack Kosmos, but four soldiers pile on top of her bringing her to the ground.

  Kosmos bends to his knees and looks at her in question.

  “It’s all because of you why I have become so damned. If it weren’t for you, Ryan would still be alive and not dead by my hands. He wouldn’t have been here for me,” Jet’s rage gives way to anguished sobs.

  “Interesting, very interesting.” Kosmos tilts his head, brushing her hair from her face.

  Volcano : Vladimir & Kosmos

  19

  Kosmos stands aside wondering, as the soldiers keep shocking and punching Jet, trying to gain her submission. She tries to say something, but because of the soldiers, Kosmos can’t understand her.

  “Enough,” he demands, waving them off.

  “Sir?” asks one of the soldiers, halting with a grip onto Jet’s shirt and a fist raised, ready to continue. The warden looks back to Kosmos, confirming his words before nodding his head. “You heard him. Get off her.” One by one, the soldiers release her, stepping back as ordered.

  “Now, what was that?” Kosmos looks at her as her wounds begin healing, and her ribs pop back into place. She wipes the blood on her lips, spitting some out while gathering her balance.

  “What’s so damn interesting?” she asks.

  “A theory, involving that power you keep hidden so well. I’d like to prove or disprove it right now,” Kosmos says.

  “Sir?” the warden asks.

  “Why’d I agree to help you with anything? I’ve had enough of this. Can I go back to my cell now?” Jet sighs as she starts for the door, but Kosmos blocks it.

  “You’ll go when we allow it. Plus, I think you would be interested to hear what’s in it for you,” Kosmos says, noticing his last words catch her attention.

  She takes a step back with arms crossed, “I’ll listen.”

  “I want you to use all your efforts. Try and cut me with the knife the warden gave you. Do this, and you can walk out of here free, no strings attached,” Kosmos offers.

  “Wait, you… I can’t let you, sir. If anything happens, Vladimir will—,” The warden stumbles over his words.

  Kosmos interrupts, “Relax.”

  “Just a cut, eh? And I can leave free of all of this?” She says with distrust on her face.

  “Yes, a cut, scratch, whatever. You wound me, you’re free,” he says.

  After a few moments, she nods. Agreeing to his terms as Kosmos waves his hand, the shackles drop from her wrists and the soldiers return to their spots in the room. She walks back to the center of the room, standing in a readied stance while the warden begins sweating while stationed against the wall by the door. Kosmos reassures him with a firm shoulder grip, walking to the center of the room five feet from her stance. “Don’t you look ready?”
<
br />   “You’ve had this coming for a long time,” Jet says and charges at him. She tries to lead off with an elbow, launching several kicks and throwing several punches. But he catches them all before throwing her to the ground.

  “I thought you wanted freedom,” Kosmos says, hoping to ignite her rage. He stands there, waiting as she gets up from the floor and stretches her joints to face him again.

  She scrunches her nose as she focuses more on him, “Freedom’s nice, but revenge has a bitter sweetness to it.”

  This is it, he thinks.

  She crouches down and thrusts forward as Kosmos notices a blackness appear. It vanishes over her right eye. Jet raises her right hand to punch and Kosmos redirects it as before. Then immediately hooking her left fist, which is surrounded by a faint white light, she contacts his face as images of a crystal and his dead wife flash before him.

  Kyla? The crystal? Why? His thoughts race within while working to regain stability on his feet and turn back to Jet.

  He turns in time for her to run up and connect her knees into his chest, hitting two hard high strikes. The two blows force him back, as Jet twists her torso in midair, swiping with her left elbow. Kosmos steps backward, bewildered by her attacks as she rushes to slice. He blocks her entire arm, pushing it up with his forearm. He grabs her shirt and, using Jet’s momentum, turns with her to throw her across the room.

  Jet hits the wall, dropping the dagger. But once her feet touch the ground, she sprints forward.

  He mutters, “Let’s see how ineffective you really are.” Kosmos concentrates on just her to stop time around her body. He notices a white aura start swirling around her, making her able to move but in slow motion.

  “Let me give you a clue on just how easily connected I am to your precious sister. I could claim her with such ease if I were to choose,” Kosmos says, curious to how far her rage will go. He creates a portal, making a window to Erryn. She’s lying peacefully in her slumber as he touches her hair. A misting frost begins to attack his hand, only to bring on a fatherly smile. So you’ve awoken finally, he thinks as he looks back, dismissing the portal. The blackness on her arm begins growing like before, but spikes protrude from her wrists, causing her pain as her left eye tears.