The Summoner's Handbook

by Taran Matharu

  Defeating the orcs at the Battle of Corcillum, Corwin and his nobles were taught the art of summoning in exchange for driving the orcs back into the jungles. Orc raids continue, however, and the culture of living belowground becomes ingrained in dwarven society.

  A thousand years later, dwarves and humans live in relative harmony alongside one another. A council of dwarves rules in conjunction with the human king and his nobles. It is at this time that everything changed.

  A great sickness brought by human traders from the west swept across the dwarven population, killing so many that soon humans outnumbered the dwarves. Where previously the balance of power had been relatively equal—the humans with their summoning ability, the dwarves with their greater numbers—now the humans had the advantage. Treacherously, the king slaughtered the council of dwarves at a meeting and began the process of subjugating their entire race.

  It is here that our problems with the dwarves began, and continue to this day. Since then, it has been debated how many times the dwarves have attempted rebellions against the Hominum Empire. There have been four major insurrections, while several others might be considered riots that got out of hand. In general, dwarves believe they have rebelled and failed fourteen times. The main reasons for these uprisings are detailed below.A series of laws were enacted, the strictest being quotas in how many children dwarves could have. In doing so, dwarves were unable to recover their numbers and became a minority in their own land. To this day, the dwarven population has never exceeded more than a few thousand.

  Other laws were put in place to limit dwarven prosperity and power. It was made illegal for dwarves to own land, and they were forced into a small ghetto in the center of Corcillum, where they could be watched and kept together. I have visited this place on many occasions, and though the surrounding buildings are decrepit, the dwarves have made a garden of their home, making up for their lack of space by digging deeper.

  The last dwarven insurrection was around two hundred years ago, but even today, rumors of potential troubles abound. Dwarves are still considered untrustworthy by most humans, and racial violence and hatred continue. That being said, there are some humans who sympathize with the dwarves, and it is not unheard of for half-human, half-dwarven children to be born in illicit trysts between lovers of different races. Unfortunately, it is said that these children suffer terribly, rejected by both sides. Most make their way across the Vesanian Sea to the west, where such prejudice does not exist.

  Throughout his reign, King Alfric has expanded and ruthlessly enforced the old laws and enacted further limitations on his dwarven subjects. They may not join the military, for fear that they will learn the art of warfare. Curfews prevent dwarves from walking the streets at night, and dwarves are not allowed to gather in groups larger than three, so they are forced to travel underground when visiting one another in the evenings.

  Weapons are not allowed to be worn by dwarves in public—something that all adult dwarves, both male and female, have a religious and traditional obligation to do. This has led to many dwarven arrests, and their prison population is significantly higher than that of others. Alfric is also in control of our police force, the Pinkertons, who are instructed to be suspicious of dwarves. I suspect the dwarves are given far worse treatment than humans when stopped. It is not unknown for dwarves to return home from work with broken bones, or worse, after a run-in with the Pinkertons.

  Dwarven goods are now taxed at a significantly higher rate than that of humans, making their wares more expensive to produce. However, dwarves have remained competitive by being extremely skilled and specialized artisans, far surpassing their human counterparts. In particular, they excel in ceramics, textiles, mechanisms and of course, weaponry. These weapons are particularly coveted because they are often made from dwarven steel, far sharper and stronger than normal metals, but notoriously difficult to work with. The secret to creating this alloy is one of the dwarves’ most closely guarded.

  Dwarves produce their merchandise within their own homes to protect their secrets. As such, dwarven homes are designed to contain workshops and other such studios deep underground. It is not unusual for one of these structures to contain a central chimney, running from the basement to the large, plush tent that remains permanently erected above their underground homes. This chimney keeps the home warm and allows dwarves to do activities such as pottery and blacksmithing. In fact, some dwarven homes have the space to contain their very own baths and saunas.

  Dwarves have also learned that by spiraling the stairway in their underground homes counterclockwise, an attacker’s sword arm would be encumbered by the pillar in its center when fighting downward. This makes dwarven homes incredibly difficult to invade. They also have strong metal doors that protect different sections of the home, meaning they need not fight at all if they wish not to. Networks of tunnels between homes allow for escape, but also allow warriors to reinforce one another should they need assistance, and spring up to attack an enemy from behind should such a strategy be required.

  Dwarven religion is taken very seriously by most dwarves. The females wear veils to protect their modesty and to ensure that the men marry them for their personalities rather than out of attraction. When they mature, dwarven women are given a sharpened or spiked bracelet known as a torque. Since this is not considered a weapon by the Pinkertons, it is far rarer that female dwarves are arrested.

  In contrast, dwarven men do not shave or cut their hair. This stems from their belief that if the creator wanted them to have shorter hair, he would have given them shorter hair. They choose to remain in his image. Their hair is often braided and oiled to remain clean and out of the way, and some even wear turbans to keep it in place.

  At maturity dwarven males are given a small axe, which they are to carry with them at all times. It is also common to see dwarven men with tattoos, though this is more of a cultural than religious requirement.

  Dwarves are small in stature, with the very tallest reaching an adult human’s sternum, while a shorter dwarf might reach man’s navel. However, a dwarf’s strength is unmatched, as they are barrel-chested and muscular. Despite not being allowed military training, they have a reputation for being dangerous fighters.

  Boars are popular pets among dwarves, used in much the same way as we do horses and mules. Historically, dwarves rode chariots into battle, but these days boars are used to draw carts loaded with goods. That being said, the boars are formidable creatures, with dangerous tusks and a powerful charge.

  Finally, I must address dwarven foods and drinks. I must confess to having a particular fondness for their cooking, as well as their excellent beer. Many a night I have passed in the Anvil Tavern (an excellent dwarven establishment) on my way to the north. Dwarven beer is a secret recipe, so I am forced to buy several casks whenever I pass through. It is worth the expense.

  As for dwarven food, their fried root vegetables and meat dumplings are to die for. And with that, I must close this treatise. The tavern awaits!

  Day 178

  The days go by slowly now. I practice the same battle spells over and over. It feels I shall not improve much more. So, I have sought out other spells. The nobles seem to practice only the same four as we commoners do. Perhaps … I can find a way of beating them by mastering one that nobody else is using.

  Back to the books.

  Day 189

  With a little help from Lady Sinclair, I have begun to compile a list of spells that may prove useful in the future. You can find them written in this volume. Of course, there are thousands of spells. But many of them are variations of the same thing, others too complicated and high in mana-cost. You would not believe the size of one book I found, dedicated purely to changing the colors of wyrdlights. Hundreds of spells!

  In any case, I have slowly begun to practice some of the spells. They are hard—far harder than the battle spells. But I suppose that’s why they are not used. No matter. I shall persevere.

  Day 198

&
nbsp; The frost spell and the cat’s-eye spell are all I have been able to pull off so far. Interestingly, the former is a recent discovery by Electra (found inside a Polarion) and has not made it into Hominum’s official curriculum. I barely have enough mana to pull off even a single instance of the others. I do dearly love Sable, but I wonder how much better off I would be with a demon that has more mana.

  I mustn’t think such things though. She can sense my disappointment.

  Day 204

  I begged Lord Cavendish to help me capture a new demon today. Since we began our summoning lessons, we have been focused on demonic control. We also watch him send his demon into the ether—once he even sent his second demon, a Lutra, to swim in a small brook that flowed through the ether’s jungles.

  We have also practiced powering up pentacles and creating minuscule portals of our own, barely larger than a fist (but large enough for Sable to pass through, I have noticed). Unfortunately, I cannot hold one open long enough to send Sable safely through—it fizzles, shrinks and disappears on occasion. If Sable was on the other side when that happened, unable to get through, I would lose her forever.

  Even if I was able to hold the portal open steadily, my mana would run out quickly—I would barely have any time at all to capture another Mite!

  So I asked Lord Cavendish to hold one open for me—to let me hunt. I could capture a lesser Mite, I think. Have Sable drag it through the portal, hold it over the pentacle and allow me to infuse it, thus capturing the creature.

  They are weak, base demons, but it would give me more mana, and another set of eyes, another distraction.

  But Lord Cavendish refused, saying it would be better to wait until second year, when I was more experienced. He asked me what my rush was, and I had no answer for him.

  So, it will be just Sable and I going into battle.

  Day 219

  The days blur into one now. It’s quite depressing, sitting down and looking at you, dear journal, and finding I have nothing new to report. I eat alone, I study alone. Lord Etherington is right. I could not stand another year like this. Am I truly so unlikable? No matter how hard I try with the other commoners, they avoid me like the plague. Perhaps it is easier for them, to have a scapegoat, an enemy. The nobles and teachers are just as hard on them as they are on me. It can’t be easy for them either.

  Day 220

  We have been given a date for the mock tournament! So as not to clash with the real tournament that the second-years shall be taking part in, it will take place in a month’s time. I am glad of it.

  There is a flattening of the learning curve when it comes to spellcraft and demonic control, not to mention swordcraft. I am ahead of the others, but my rate of improvement has slowed and they are beginning to catch up. Even my body has slowed in its changes—I cannot shift a layer of puppy fat from my stomach and arms.

  Sir Caulder has told me not to worry—it will lend weight to my swings and put the others in a false sense of security. I can’t tell if he’s trying to make me feel better.

  Maybe only one rasher of bacon tomorrow.

  Day 221

  Who am I kidding? This bacon is too damned good. I had four, and two eggs and some toast with jam besides. Whoops.

  In other news, our exams are next week. In all honesty I have barely noticed their approach. I have been studying flat-out since I came here, and I am far ahead of everyone else. I should pass with flying colors.

  Day 227

  I went back to Electra with my findings on the orc runes. I had not been back to her since our first encounter—Lord Etherington had banned me from doing so for fear of drawing attention. But I couldn’t hold back.

  In any case, she was not as dismissive as Lord Etherington was. She has asked Jeffrey to investigate—sending him to the Anvil Tavern to see if he can learn more about the dwarfish language. He seemed disgusted by the proposal when she called him to the room. I don’t think anything will come of it.

  Day 228

  Exams. I trounced them. I walked out of the lecture hall a full hour before anyone else.

  Day 229

  Damn. Did I spell “Catoblepas” correctly on that last question? I can’t remember.

  I’m sure I got its classifications, summoning level and everything else correct. Surely they can’t take marks off for that?

  Day 230

  Lord Etherington is a sneaky man. Today we were told that in between rounds of our mock tournament, our mana could be recharged using a charging stone. That’s a small cylinder made up of corundum crystals of the same color—it can be filled up with mana by a summoner to be used later. Apparently it is used on our front lines quite often to sustain shield spells throughout the night when orc shamans rain fireballs down on our trenches.

  Anyway, providing a charging stone was a way to give us commoners a better chance at winning, since we would likely use up all our mana in the first round (given we only have a single level-one Mite each and so little mana to begin with). We could refill our “jar” of mana (if I remember correctly the metaphor Lord Cavendish used) between rounds.

  Then again, the nobles would be fully charged again too. Even now, I’m not quite sure if it will be an advantage. But the way Lord Etherington sees it, it is better to face a more powerful opponent with some mana of your own than a weaker opponent with no mana. In the latter situation, I would be helpless.

  Day 240

  Exam results are back. I scored better than all the others, even the golden boy, Jamie Fitzroy, but it seems none of the teachers care. Not even Lord Etherington. Perhaps they used to be important, but now that there is a war on, the entire curriculum seems to be weighted toward the tournaments.

  No matter. I shall excel there also.

  Day 250

  It is today. Our mock tournament. I found I could barely sleep last night. Nor could I practice my spells, or exercise. I needed to be fully charged and rested for the tournament.

  For once, I did not eat any bacon at all for breakfast. My stomach was in knots. Almost a year of training, and it all came down to this. I could slip on the sand and be out in the first round.

  Then what? Another year of solitude and probable inadequacy, followed by eventual death on the front lines.

  Still, my success in the exams gives me heart. One form of practice had paid off. Perhaps my other training will see me through this.

  Now I must leave my room and go down to the atrium. It is about to begin.

  Day 251

  This is what happened.

  We were walked down the long line of jail cells, a stark reminder that the leaders of Vocans had thought the war so terrifying that they would need these for deserters. Here we were battling for the right to fight in it, and perhaps earn a safer posting.

  Of course, now they just shot deserters on the spot. Much simpler.

  When we reached the sands of the arena, I was surprised at the number of people in the audience. It seemed most of the servants had shown up to watch, as had the teachers, Provost Scipio and even a few parents—though clearly only the nobles’ parents had been allowed to attend. I wonder what my own parents would have thought, had they seen me here. It didn’t bear thinking about.

  Strangest of all was the general. There was only one, a jolly-looking man whose nose was beet red from drink, his uniform garishly covered in medals and tassels. He swigged from a hip flask as we looked at him. Clearly this was more of a jaunt away from the front lines than serious consideration, but the other commoners perked up at the sight of him. As far as they were concerned, he was the man to impress.

  When I glanced at the nobles, I saw they seemed barely bothered by the onlookers. I wasn’t surprised. Most of them would end up taking commissions in their parents’ battalions, however they performed. This was more a chance to show off for them, if anything.

  “We have separated the tournament into two brackets, to keep things fair: the commoners in one and the nobles in the other. The winners of each bracket will fight ea
ch other for the victory,” Provost Scipio announced.

  This made sense—it was a win for everyone. We commoners would be guaranteed to get to at least second place, while it spared most of the nobles the risk of embarrassment of being beaten by one of us.

  He announced the bracket contenders, but all I remember now was that my first round would be against Valentine. We were given no details about what each round would entail; instead, we were led back down the corridor of cells and locked in.

  It seemed a while before the first round started—and servants wheeling cloth-covered handcarts hurried back and forth, though for what purpose it was impossible to tell. Finally, Sir Caulder came for the first two combatants—two nobles.

  Then all I could do was wait and listen to the cheers of the crowd as the nobles went at it. I strained to hear the sound of spells, but the noise was hard to distinguish.

  So instead, I stroked Sable’s carapace, soothing both her and myself as her feelings of well-being traveled down the umbilical cord of our consciousnesses.

  I don’t know how many rounds took place before it was my turn. I only remember Sir Caulder rapping on the bars of my cell with my spatha. I reached out for it as he unlocked me, but he kept it out of reach.