“So what should I do?” I asked.
“You won’t be as fast. But you can be stronger than them. I reckon you need a heavy blade—something that can beat their thin stabbing swords aside and let you get in close. Not too short—they’ll dance back before you can hit them. But not too long either—you need to chop down quick.”
He lifted my arm from its side and took in my measurements with a glance.
“You’ll be wanting a spatha. King Corwin’s weapon of choice, a classic. Good for fighting orcs, good for fencing. You can’t go wrong.”
He pointed to a straight blade with a sharp point, as long as my arm. Its hilt was a basic rectangle of wood, and the grip was made of bound leather. But it gleamed in the dull morning light, and I knew I had to have it.
He lifted it and balanced it on his finger in its center. It hung perfectly.
“Dwarven steel. Balanced, sharp. Heavy enough to knock a rapier askew, light enough to maneuver.”
I wanted it more with every word.
“How much?” I asked.
“Twenty shillings,” came the swift reply. I looked at the silver still clutched in my palm. It was the exact same amount. Had he counted it in the tavern? It seemed a fair price, from what little I knew.
“I’ll tell you what,” Athol said, “I’ll throw in the scabbard for free.”
He tugged forth the sheath from his backpack, a simple, leather-bound thing that would attach to my belt loop easily enough.
“I won’t have enough for a ride back to Vocans,” I replied.
Athol frowned.
“I can’t go lower,” he said. “A dwarf has to make a living, you know. This is a fine blade.”
So I accepted. And now you know why I was so exhausted yesterday, dear journal.
I walked back.
Day 79
I don’t think I could have been more nervous than when Sir Caulder assessed my new spatha. Luckily, after a few swishes in the air, he grunted his approval.
“Did you steal it?” was all he asked. I shook my head … and it was back to training.
The other commoners watched on in jealousy as I whirled the blade about. I believe I cut quite the dashing figure, even if Juno rolled her eyes at me when I smiled at her. Alas, I shall not melt that icy heart just yet.
Training with a spatha is different from training with a cutlass. Sir Caulder expects me to meet each cut with a parry of my own instead of dodging, to stab more than I slash. In particular, he has taught me how to get in close—to catch the enemy blade on my own and press in, then use my strength to overcome them. Only … I don’t have the strength just yet. He now has me on a regime of forty push-ups in my room each night. You shall have to forgive the sweat marks on your pages today—I have just finished doing them.
I feel new confidence. That dwarf may have made a profit, but he was a godsend. I don’t care what Jeffrey says. They aren’t a bad lot.
Day 80
Demonology lessons were particularly interesting today. We went over the most common orc demons—Kamaitachis, Nanaues and the like. It seems our conversation six days ago inspired Lord Etherington. I am beginning to think I misjudged him.
Is he using me? Perhaps we are using each other.
Day 92
It would seem that Lord Etherington’s plan to have me graduate a year early has come to fruition. This morning, at breakfast, Provost Scipio made an announcement.
There would be a “mock tournament” at the end of the year for the first-year students, to help us prepare for the real thing. Lord Etherington had suggested that even a few generals and other summoners attend. And, most importantly, should anyone show real promise, they might even earn themselves a commission as an officer.
He said it with a wink and a nudge, not truly serious, but Lord Etherington, who had accompanied him, looked meaningfully at me across the room.
Later, Lord Etherington took me aside, waiting for me near the library.
“There are no guarantees in this,” he told me. “If you make a poor showing, it will be suspicious if I offer you a commission. You need to do well.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” I asked him.
“By working harder than everyone else. This is first year—the nobles tend to slack off so you might be able to beat one if you’re lucky. And the other commoners may have higher summoning levels, but in the first year they’ll still only have a Mite, same as you. You have a chance, at least this year. Next year … they’ll be way ahead of you.”
“Can you help me?” I asked. “Maybe some private tutoring?”
“It will arouse suspicion,” he replied.
A servant scurried past, barely giving us a second look. But it was enough—Lord Etherington strode off without a word, leaving me alone in the dark corridor.
Day 100
It’s hard to imagine I’ve only been here a hundred days. It feels like so much longer! I miss my parents dearly. I have tried to write to them a dozen times, but the words will not come. How strange that I can pour out my innermost feelings to you, dear journal. I talk to Sable sometimes—and she understands more than I think, even if they are just my emotions. Scarab Mites are intelligent creatures.
Day 125
I wake, I work and I sleep. I have barely found the time to write—more than once, Dame Fairhaven has found me in the library, reading over ancient books. Already I have made much progress in my study of the orcs. There have been summoners before me who have seen a city built around a pyramid so ancient that none know when it was built.
Strangely, Lady Cavendish—Lord Cavendish’s mother—has been a useful source. As a member of the Celestial Corps, she had scouted deep into enemy territory on the back of her Peryton and even made sketches of their great city from above. I re-create some of them here.
Of course, it cost her in the end, taking such risks. She was seen going down over the jungles a few years back. Her body was never recovered.
TREATISE ON THE ORCS
by Lord Edmund Raleigh
It seems that my treatise on the elves was so popular that the librarian has requested another from me. So I write all my knowledge of the orcs, in the hopes of educating young minds about our oldest and most dangerous foe.
Living on the borders of their jungles, it seems that I am one of the most qualified to write about them. However, it is important to remember that much of what I know is based on hearsay and word of mouth, rather than firsthand knowledge.
Though we have never captured an orc for study, anecdotal evidence suggests that they age far faster than we do, reaching maturity at the age of ten and living only to fifty years old or thereabouts. At full maturity, bull orcs will grow to the size of seven feet or higher, with prominent tusks in place of their lower canines. Females are smaller in stature and have smaller tusks, but are no less deadly.
Specimens are known to wear a variety of body paints, tattoos, bone armors, feather decorations, animal skins and leaf skirts over their gray skin. Their hairstyles also differ by tribes, ranging from shaven patches to topknots and bowl- shaped mops. Piercings are also not uncommon, usually with bone, ivory or carved wood.
Orc weaponry is almost never metallic, with a focus on clubs and stone axes. Their favored weapon is the macana, a flat club with obsidian shards embedded on the sides. These weapons are in fact sharper than steel, though the edges more brittle, and are capable of decapitating a horse with a single blow.
It is not unheard of for orcs to ride rhinos into battle. These creatures are also raised for their milk, or to transport resources around. Hyenas are also a popular pet for orcs, taking on the role that dogs play in our own culture.
Orcs seem to be split into two separate forms of society. The first is relatively peaceful: small villages made up of a few families living in harmony with the land. Human encounters with these groups are often hostile in nature, but it seems they have almost no male warriors among them, for reasons that will be mentioned below.
&n
bsp; The second society is based in their only city, with thousands of orcs gathering there for religious ceremonies, or living on the outskirts in much larger villages. This society is made almost entirely of male warriors, whose numbers are supplemented by the kidnapping of young orcs from the villages mentioned previously. These young males are indoctrinated to become violent religious zealots, and it is this civilization that is at odds with Hominum.Unfortunately, our soldiers cannot tell the difference between the first and second, slaughtering indiscriminately when any orcs are encountered.
The violence of the orcish civilization has been noted by our scouts, who have seen some of the more brutal games that the orcs play among themselves, in part for entertainment, but also to weed out the weak and select victims for their sacrificial rites on the pyramid that dominates the center of their sandstone-built city. The pyramid’s origins are unknown, and it has been theorized by ancient elvish academics that it was not in fact built by the orcs. There are also unproven statements from these same scholars that the interior of the pyramid is covered in hieroglyphics, which may or may not be the basis for their religion.
Several of the orcs’ religious games are listed below:
PITZ (in honor of the wind god): A ball game designed to get a rubber sphere through a hoop by hitting it with a club. These clubs may also be used against opponents during the game, leaving many of the participants crippled, maimed or dead. The losing team is almost always sacrificed.
VENATIO (in honor of the animal gods): A gladiatorial arena where three individuals are tied together by the ankle and are set upon by wild animals. These animals include hyenas, jaguars, tigers, lions, crocodiles and baboons. There are rarely any survivors, as the dead bodies of their followers hamper those trying to maneuver in the arena.
SKIN-PULL (in honor of the fire god): In which a skin is stretched across a pit full of flames in a tug of war. The opposing teams attempt to pull the other team into the pit.
NAUMCHIA (in honor of the water god): A giant pool of crocodile-infested water is created, while teams of orcs in canoes attempt to overturn the others, using clubs to aid them. It is common for the water to be red with blood by the end of the spectacle. Orc society is stratified by shamans who act as the de facto rulers of the orcs, being both their religious leaders and military commanders. These shamans teach summoning via a system of apprenticeship, with no official schooling. It is not unknown for shamans to travel from village to village, copulating with young females in the hopes of producing more offspring with the ability to summon.
One mystery that is yet to be solved is the fact that orcs regularly summon very different demons to our own, though there is some crossover. These differing species tend to be demons that inhabit oceans and swamps, which we lack in the part of the ether that our own summoners capture demons from. We have also never encountered another portal belonging to a shaman there. This has led some to theorize that the orcs summon from a different part of the ether to us and possess the symbols (or keys) to that location. This is yet to be confirmed.
Finally, it is a well-known fact that albino orcs have some special significance to orc religion and culture. It is suspected that they serve as both a prophet and savior, though this is not to be confirmed. It is said they are taller still than the average orc and have high summoning levels, but these rumors are likely spurious at best.
NB. Some years ago, I was told that the birth of an albino orc had been witnessed by some novice summoners in the jungles. Though I believe them, there has been no sign of it since. It is my fervent, if somewhat morbid hope that the child died soon after birth. Cruel though it may seem, the last time an albino led the orcs, war broke out between our peoples. I can only pray that it does not happen again.
Day 127
I have been found out. Lord Cavendish asked to see me today in his office, after our summoning lesson. I made the mistake of asking him too many questions about the keys—if we could make them more accurate, where they came from, what the symbols mean. I even asked what the orcs use—after all, as Lord Etherington said, my reputation matters not a jot.
But as it turns out, it was not this that aroused his suspicions; it only confirmed them.
“Whatever Lord Etherington has asked you to do, I beg of you, do not do it,” he said as soon as I entered the room.
I stuttered a garbled response, but he held up a hand, stopping me.
“I have seen the books and treatises you have been reading in the library. Even for one as inquisitive as you, your area of study is too specific to be mere coincidence.”
He seemed angry, though I could not understand why.
“My mother died working for that man. He offered her money. Our family is poor; when she married a commoner, my father, it impoverished our family. And she was a patriot; she believed in his cause. But he asked too much of her. He is a zealot, a fanatic. Trust me when I say this: He will not hesitate to put your life at risk if it helps him get to the truth.”
I asked him what other choice I had. I was a low-level commoner—I would be fighting on the front lines regardless. It was safer for me this way.
He only shook his head.
“I hope you’re right,” was all he said. Then he dismissed me.
Day 137
As I study the orcs more and more, I begin to suspect that their coordinates within the ether are near an ocean, and perhaps a swamp. Reading old journals of summoners who battled the orcs in the First Orc War, I have noticed the demons they summon seem to belong in those environments. I do not know what use that information might have, but I told Lord Etherington regardless. He seemed pleased, but shooed me away before anyone could see us speaking.
Day 142
I am definitely losing weight. Is it vain to say I perhaps stare at myself longer in the mirror than I used to? My arms are leaner, my shoulders broader. My stomach is not flat, but it no longer bears a paunch. I have more energy, even if my mind feels befuddled with all the studying and training.
To say I am as lean and muscular as, say, Jamie Fitzroy (who is, according to an overheard conversation between Juno and a servant girl, the perfect male specimen) would be a lie.
But my confidence grows daily, and I earn grudging praise from Sir Caulder after each lesson. When we spar, Valentine and Tobias give up easily, for fear of being bruised by my wooden sword (as much as I would like to use my spatha, several experienced summoners are required for the barrier spell).
In any case, only Juno can stand against me—she is faster than me and I have earned lumps in our duels. Then again, I do not use my full strength against her—not because of any misplaced chivalry, but because I wish to surprise her in our mock tournament.
I wonder if she does the same. I am told she has taken to sparring with Jamie Fitzroy in her spare time. When the time comes to face her for real … I do not know what the outcome will be.
Day 145
I have not mentioned spellcraft in a while. In all honesty, that is because things are not going so well. You see, Mites have low mana. They recover it quickly, true, but it means that there are only so many spells I can practice before I run out.
Lucky for me, the shield spell can be reabsorbed into the body after being used, returning the majority of the mana to me. So, I am proficient in the shield spell, at least, even if my fireballs are a bit wonky and miss the makeshift target I have made in my room. It was hard enough having to explain the burn marks on the stone wall to the servants. Now, each time they change my bedding, they purse their lips with disapproval.
Day 157
I have made a discovery! I have been comparing Hominum’s keys to all other symbols and languages that I can find. I have ruined my eyes in the countless hours I have spent examining ancient tomes in the library.
Finally, I have found something. Dwarven runes.
There are similarities there. Not identical matches to be sure, but one might guess that they follow the same root language.
Of course,
even Lord Etherington scoffed at that. But I shall investigate further. I have discovered another treatise on the dwarves, which I have copied out in this diary.
TREATISE ON THE DWARVES
by Lord Edmund Raleigh
In recent years I have worked closely with several dwarves, perhaps more so than any other summoner, both common and noble. It has given me occasion to see their culture firsthand, and though I am no expert, I have been asked once again to write a treatise on one of the four races that inhabit our great continent.
When I announced my intentions to write this essay, it was met with some derision by my fellow nobles, who do not look so kindly upon the dwarves. This is in part due to the hostility that has historically existed between our peoples, which must be understood before dwarven society can be addressed.
Around two millennia ago, King Corwin led his people across the Akhad Desert to the east, arriving in what would one day come to be known as Hominum. These were the first humans to walk these lands but for a few traders and explorers. King Corwin’s history is unknown, but it is said that he was banished from a great empire by his older brother, somewhere far to the west.
On arrival, King Corwin ingratiated himself with the native dwarves in their capital, a place that the humans called Corcillum. In exchange for sanctuary there, the humans built strong walls around the city to protect their new home from the orcs in the southern jungles. After a series of pitched battles, the humans were able to declare a truce on behalf of the dwarves.
For a time there was peace, until an albino orc declared war once more. The dwarves, who already had the habit of living belowground, used this to their advantage, protecting themselves from attack. Meanwhile, Corwin and his army retained a strong position behind their walls. The orc marauders turned their eyes to the elves instead, slaughtering them in a series of brutal raids across the northern territories. Once again, King Corwin and his army made a deal, this time with the elves.
The Summoner's Handbook Page 4
