The Summon Stone

by Ian Irvine

  Mendark: See Magister, the.

  Mirror of Aachan: A device made by the Aachim in Aachan for seeing things at a distance. In Santhenar it changed and twisted reality and became corrupt, but stored many secrets. Yalkara took it to the void with her.

  Moon, the (Santhenar’s moon): The moon revolves around Santhenar about every thirty days. One side (the dark face) is blotched red and black, and because the moon rotates on its axis much more slowly, the dark face is fully turned towards Santh only every couple of months. This rarely coincides with a full moon, but when it does it is a time of ill-omen.

  Murg, Magsie: The evil old owner of a tannery in Casyme.

  Nadiril: The head of the Great Library and the most senior current member of the Great Council.

  Nightland: A place, distant from the world of reality, wherein Rulke was kept prisoner for 1000 years.

  Norp, Basible: A self-effacing master at the college.

  Old human: The original human species on Santhenar and by far the most numerous.

  Osseion: A former captain of Mendark’s guard, a huge dark man, now the innkeeper of Ninefingers. Father of one child, a daughter, Ussarine.

  Pitlis: A great Aachim of the distant past, whose folly betrayed the great city of Tar Gaarn to Rulke and broke the power of the Aachim. The architect who designed Tar Gaarn and Alcifer, he was slain by Rulke.

  Portal: See gate.

  Rachis: Karan’s steward at Gothryme Manor, now an ancient, frail man.

  Ragred: a collectably ugly man, but a fine servant to Snoat.

  Rasper, Jundelix: A master assassin.

  Recorder: The person who set down the account of the four great battles of Faelamor and Yalkara, among many other tales. His name was Gyllias (see Shand).

  Reshaper: A mancer who can change the form and structure of matter.

  Rula: The Magister before Mendark. She was regarded as the greatest of all.

  Rulke: The greatest of the Charon. He enticed Shuthdar to Aachan to make the Golden Flute. After the Clysm he was imprisoned in the Nightland until a way could be found to banish him back to Aachan. When Tensor opened a gate into the Nightland Rulke escaped, later occupying Shazmak and Carcharon. He died in Shazmak at Tensor’s hand.

  Julken: the obnoxious son, aged nine, of Maigraith and Rulke.

  Santhenar, Santh: The least powerful but most populous of the Three Worlds, home of the old human peoples.

  Secret Art: The use of magical or sorcerous powers (mancing). An art that very few can use and then only after extensive training. Notable mancers have included Mendark, Yggur, Maigraith, Rulke, Yalkara, Tensor and Faelamor.

  Sending: A message, thoughts or feelings sent from one mind to another.

  Sensitive: Someone whose human senses and feelings are far more acute than normal. Sensitives, for instance Karan, may have seeings of things happening far away. Rarely they can make mind connections such as one-way sendings and two-way links. Sensitives can be unstable because they feel things far more strongly than other people.

  Shand: A friend of Karan’s late father, also known as Gyllias and the Recorder. He had a daughter, Aeolior, with Yalkara. Aeolior, who died young and tragically, had a daughter, Maigraith.

  Shazmak: The forgotten city of the Aachim in the mountains west of Bannador, now largely abandoned.

  Shuthdar: An old human of Santhenar, the maker of the Golden Flute. After he destroyed the flute and himself, the Forbidding came down, closing the Way Between the Worlds.

  Sith: A free city and trading nation built on an island in the River Garr in southern Iagador.

  Snoat, Cumulus: A wealthy, narcissistic, power-hungry collector.

  Span: The distance spanned by the stretched arms of a tall man. About six feet, or slightly less than two metres.

  Sulien: Karan and Llian’s only child, a girl aged nine. She has unknown gifts.

  Tale of the Forbidding: Greatest of the Great Tales, it tells of the final destruction of the flute by Shuthdar more than 3000 years ago, and how this created a Forbidding which sealed Santhenar off from the other two worlds.

  Talent: A native skill or gift, usually honed by extensive training.

  Tallallame: One of the Three Worlds, the home of the Faellem. A beautiful mountainous world covered in forest, recently invaded by savage creatures from the void.

  Tar: A silver coin widely used in Meldorin. Enough to keep a family for several weeks.

  Tell: A gold coin to the value of twenty silver tars. Enough to keep a family for a year.

  Teller: One who has mastered the ritual telling of the tales that form part of the Histories of Santhenar. Great tellers also write their own tales and a rare few of these may become Great Tales.

  Tensor: The former leader of the Aachim. He saw it as his destiny to restore the Aachim to finally take their revenge on Rulke, who betrayed and ruined them. He was proud to the point of folly. He died in Shazmak ten years ago.

  Thandiwe: Llian’s former lover, now a master chronicler desperate to have her own Great Tale.

  Three Worlds: Santhenar, Aachan and Tallallame.

  Thurkad: An ancient, wealthy and notably corrupt city on the River Saboth and the Sea of Thurkad. Seat of the council and the Magister.

  Thyllan: Once a warlord of Iagador and former member of the council, now known as the Impotent. A troublemaker.

  Time of the Mirror: The period of several years, beginning about twelve years ago, during which the events set down in Llian’s Tale of the Mirror took place.

  Tirthrax: A city of the Aachim in the Great Mountains.

  Tolryme: A town in northern Bannador, close to Karan’s family seat, Gothryme.

  Triune: A double blending – one with the blood of all Three Worlds, three different human species. They are extremely rare and almost always infertile. They may have remarkable abilities. Karan is one, Maigraith another.

  Turlew, Legless: A malicious former college servant who wants revenge on Llian.

  Unick, Gurgito: a genius at inventing magical devices, but a sociopathic, depraved drunk.

  Ussarine: Osseion’s daughter. A huge, kindly warrior.

  Voice: The ability of great tellers to move their audience to any emotion they choose by the sheer power of their words.

  Void, the: A place where life is more brutal and fleeting than anywhere. The void teems with the most exotic life imaginable, for nothing survives there without remaking itself constantly.

  Vyl, Scorbic: A mancer in the service of Snoat.

  Way Between the Worlds: The secret, forever-changing and ethereal paths that permit the difficult passage between the Three Worlds. They were closed off by the Forbidding.

  Whelm: Former servants of Yggur – his terror-guard – they are now masterless and dwell in the frigid southland of Shazabba.

  Wilm: A good-hearted country lad aged seventeen, who always gets things wrong.

  Wistan: The dying seventy-fourth Master of the College of the Histories.

  Xarah: A young Aachim woman in Malien’s group, twin to Shalah who was killed in Katazza.

  Yalkara: The last of the three Charon who came to Santhenar to find the flute and return it to Aachan. She was Shand’s partner for a time. Maigraith is her granddaughter.

  Yetchah: A Whelm woman, partner to Idlis.

  Yggur: A great, powerful but troubled mancer and warlord, and a former member of the Great Council. Last year he had a relapse and withdrew from all his captured lands, creating a power vacuum that Cumulus Snoat has taken advantage of. Yggur is now mentally unstable and withdrawn.

  Zain: A scholarly race which once dwelt in Zile and founded the Great Library. They made a pact with Rulke. After he was imprisoned in the Nightland most were slaughtered and the remnant exiled. They are still hated.

  Zile: A city in the north-west of the island of Meldorin. Once capital of the empire of Zur, now chiefly famous for the Great Library.

  GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION

  There are many languages and dialects used on S
anthenar by the four human species. While it is impossible to be definitive in such a brief note, the following generalisations normally apply.

  There are no silent letters, and double consonants are generally pronounced as two separate letters; for example, Yggur is pronounced Ig-ger, and Faellem as Fael-lem. The letter c is usually pronounced as k, except in mancer and Alcifer, where it is pronounced as s, as in manser, Alsifer. The combination ch is generally pronounced as in church, except in Aachim and Charon, where it is pronounced as k.

  Aachim Ar’-kim

  Chanthed Chan-thed

  Charon Kar’-on

  Faelamor Fay-el’-amor

  Iagador Eye-aga’-dor

  Karan Ka-ran

  Llian Lee’-an

  Maigraith May’-gray-ith

  Neid Nee’-id

  Rael Ray’-il

  Shuthdar Shoo’-th-dar

  Ussarine Oos-sar-een

  Whelm H’-welm

  Yggur Ig’-ger

  Xarah Zha´-rah

  extras

  meet the author

  IAN IRVINE, an Australian marine scientist, has also written thirty-one novels. These include his internationally bestselling Three Worlds epic fantasy sequence, comprising The View from the Mirror quartet, The Well of Echoes quartet and The Song of the Tears trilogy, and a related fantasy series, The Tainted Realm trilogy.

  His other books include a trilogy of eco-thrillers, Human Rites, set in the near future when the world is undergoing catastrophic climate change, and thirteen novels for younger readers. He is currently writing book two of The Gates of Good and Evil.

  introducing

  If you enjoyed

  THE SUMMON STONE,

  look out for

  BATTLEMAGE

  Age of Darkness: Book 1

  by Stephen Aryan

  “I can command storms, summon fire and unmake stone,” Balfruss growled. “It’s dangerous to meddle with things you don’t understand.”

  Balfruss is a Battlemage, sworn to fight and die for a country that fears and despises his kind.

  Vargus is a common soldier—while mages shoot lightning from the walls of the city, he’s down in the front lines getting blood on his blade.

  Talandra is a princess and spymaster, but the war may force her to risk everything and make the greatest sacrifice of all.

  CHAPTER 1

  Another light snow shower fell from the bleak grey sky. Winter should have been over, yet ice crunched underfoot and the mud was hard as stone. Frost clung to almost everything, and a thick, choking fog lay low on the ground. Only those desperate or greedy travelled in such conditions.

  Two nights of sleeping outdoors had leached all the warmth from Vargus’s bones. The tips of his fingers were numb and he couldn’t feel his toes any more. He hoped they were still attached when he took off his boots; he’d seen it happen to others in the cold. Whole toes had come off and turned black without them noticing, rolling around like marbles in the bottom of their boots.

  Vargus led his horse by the reins. It would be suicide for them both to ride in this fog.

  Up ahead something orange flickered amid the grey and white. The promise of a fire gave Vargus a boost of energy and he stamped his feet harder than necessary. Although the fog muffled the sound, it would carry to the sentry up ahead on his left.

  The bowman must have been sitting in the same position for hours as the grey blanket over his head was almost completely white.

  As Vargus drew closer his horse snorted, picking up the scent of other animals, men and cooking meat. Vargus pretended he hadn’t seen the man and tried very hard not to stare at his longbow. After stringing the bow with one quick flex the sentry readied an arrow, but in order to loose it he would have to stand up.

  “That’s far enough.”

  That came from another sentry on Vargus’s right who stepped out from between the skeletons of two shattered trees. He was a burly man dressed in dirty furs and mismatched leathers. Although chipped and worn the long sword he carried looked sharp.

  “You a King’s man?”

  Vargus snorted. “No, not me.”

  “What do you want?”

  He shrugged. “A spot by your fire is all I’m after.”

  Despite the fog the sound of their voices must have carried as two others came towards them from the camp. The newcomers were much like the others, desperate men with scarred faces and mean eyes.

  “You got any coin?” asked one of the newcomers, a bald and bearded man in old-fashioned leather armour.

  Vargus shook his head. “Not much, but I got this.” Moving slowly he pulled two wine skins down from his saddle. “Shael rice wine.”

  The first sentry approached. Vargus could still feel the other pointing an arrow at his back. With almost military precision the man went through his saddlebags, but his eyes nervously flicked towards Vargus from time to time. A deserter then, afraid someone had been sent after him.

  “What we got, Lin?” called Baldy.

  “A bit of food. Some silver. Not much else,” the sentry answered.

  “Let him pass.”

  Lin didn’t step back. “Are you sure, boss?”

  The others were still on edge. They were right to be nervous if they were who Vargus suspected. The boss came forward and keenly looked Vargus up and down. He knew what the boss was seeing. A man past fifty summers, battle scarred and grizzled with liver spots on the back of his big hands. A man with plenty of grey mixed in with the black stubble on his face and head.

  “You going to give us any trouble with that?” asked Baldy, pointing at the bastard sword jutting up from Vargus’s right shoulder.

  “I don’t want no trouble. Just a spot by the fire and I’ll share the wine.”

  “Good enough for me. I’m Korr. These are my boys.”

  “Vargus.”

  He gestured for Vargus to follow him and the others eased hands away from weapons. “Cold enough for you?”

  “Reminds me of a winter, must be twenty years ago, up north. Can’t remember where.”

  “Travelled much?”

  Vargus grunted. “All over. Too much.”

  “So, where’s home?” asked Korr. The questions were asked casually, but Vargus had no doubt about it being an interrogation.

  “Right now, here.”

  They passed through a line of trees where seven horses were tethered. Vargus tied his horse up with the others and walked into camp. It was a good sheltered spot, surrounded by trees on three sides and a hill with a wide cave mouth on the other. A large roaring fire crackled in the middle of camp and two men were busy cooking beside it. One was cutting up a hare and dropping pieces into a bubbling pot, while the other prodded some blackened potatoes next to the blaze. All of the men were armed and they carried an assortment of weapons that looked well used.

  As Vargus approached the fire a massive figure stood up and came around from the other side. It was over six and a half feet tall, dressed in a bear skin and wide as two normal men. The man’s face was severely deformed with a protruding forehead, small brown eyes that were almost black, and a jutting bottom jaw with jagged teeth.

  “Easy Rak,” said Korr. The giant relaxed the grip on his sword and Vargus let out a sigh of relief. “He brought us something to drink.”

  Rak’s mouth widened, revealing a whole row of crooked yellow teeth. It took Vargus a few seconds to realise the big man was smiling. Rak moved back to the far side of the fire and sat down again. Only then did Vargus move his hand away from the dagger on his belt.

  He settled close to the fire next to Korr and for a time no one spoke, which suited him fine. He closed his eyes and soaked up some of the warmth, wiggling his toes inside his boots. The heat began to take the chill from his hands and his fingers started to tingle.

  “Bit dangerous to be travelling alone,” said Korr, trying to sound friendly.

  “Suppose so. But I can take care of myself.”

  “Where you headed?”
<
br />   Vargus took a moment before answering. “Somewhere I’ll get paid and fed. Times are hard and I’ve only got what I’m carrying.”

  Since he’d mentioned his belongings he opened the first skin and took a short pull. The rice wine burned the back of his throat, leaving a pleasant aftertaste. After a few seconds the warmth in his stomach began to spread.

  Korr took the offered wineskin but passed it to the next man, who snatched it from his hand.

  “Rak. It’s your turn on lookout,” said Lin. The giant ignored him and watched as the wine moved around the fire. When it reached him he took a long gulp and then another before walking into the trees. The archer came back and another took his place as sentry. Two men standing watch for a group of seven in such extreme weather was unusual. They weren’t just being careful, they were scared.

  “You ever been in the King’s army?” asked Lin.

  Vargus met his gaze then looked elsewhere. “Maybe.”

  “I reckon that’s why you travelled all over, dragged from place to place. One bloody battlefield after another. Home was just a tent and a fire. Different sky, different enemy.”

  “Sounds like you know the life. Are you a King’s man?”

  “Not any more,” Lin said with a hint of bitterness.

  It didn’t take them long to drain the first wineskin so Vargus opened the second and passed it around the fire. Everyone took a drink again except Korr.

  “Bad gut,” he said when Vargus raised an eyebrow. “Even a drop would give me the shits.”

  “More for us,” said one man with a gap-toothed grin.

  When the stew was ready one of the men broke up the potatoes and added them to the pot. The first two portions went to the sentries and Vargus was served last. His bowl was smaller than the others, but he didn’t complain. He saw a few chunks of potato and even one bit of meat. Apart from a couple of wild onions and garlic the stew was pretty bland, but it was hot and filling. The food, combined with the wine and the fire, helped warm him all the way through. An itchy tingling starting to creep back into his toes. It felt as if they were all still attached.