The Children of the Light: Book 1: Spirit Summoner

by Matt Campbell

  The Chosen of the Light:

  Spirit Summoner

  by

  Matt Campbell

  Wild Child Publishing.com

  Culver City, California

  The Chosen of the Light: Spirit Summoner

  Copyright © 2013 by Matt Campbell

  Cover illustration by Michelle Campbell and Taria Reed Cover illustration Wild Child Publishing © 2013

  For information on the cover art, please contact Taria Reed.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Editor: S.R. Howen

  ISBN: 978-1-61798-115-9

  If you are interested in purchasing more works of this nature, please stop by www.wildchildpublishing.com.

  Wild Child Publishing.com

  P.O. Box 4897

  Culver City, CA 90231-4897

  Printed in The United States of America

  Dedication

  To Jenniffer and Jacobi, my family and my home, you have made this book possible through your love and understanding during long nights of editing and writing, but mostly through your laughter and your smiles.

  You are the reason I continue to write.

  To Patrick, my best friend, you have made this book possible by reminding me how important “the story” is. Your professional expertise on writing and analysis continues to be a constant source of inspiration. Also, you’re a giant geek, just like me.

  You are the reason I want to write.

  To Mom and Dad, my biggest supporters, you have made this book possible because you both challenged me to be whatever I wanted to be. You might’ve tried to direct me where you wanted me to go, but you allowed me to be myself. I became a dreamer and a writer.

  You are the reason I love to write.

  Chapter One

  “Before this land of Ictar came into being, before even the Ancients, chaos engulfed this world. The Four Elements and life itself had no meaning.

  Then the Sephirs of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water appeared, and the Archons within them spread their Light to every corner of this land. The laws of nature passed down from the Sephirs and enforced by their Archons, organized the chaos and balanced the Four Elements. Mountains rose, waters settled, and air became clean. The spirits flooded the hidden realm of the Currents and life flourished in this new land. The Light, the power of life and death, ruled them both.”

  ~From A Current History of Ictar, as told by Nidic Waq

  A fall breeze cut through the afternoon air, rustling tree branches and sending brightly colored leaves cartwheeling across the path along which Darr Reintol walked. The sun wouldn’t set for another hour or so, but already the day had grown cool enough to wrap his travel cloak tight against his body. Overhead, the tree limbs interlocked and screened away what little heat and light remained in the day, but Darr found he didn’t mind.

  He liked to get away from the confines of the village and his life there. Tyfor might be a prosperous farming community, nestled within the forests of the Valimere Peninsula, a virtual paradise to most of its visitors, but Darr saw a solitary island lost in a sprawling ocean. These journeys into the surrounding countryside, to deliver packages to the farmers along the coast, were a chance for him to pretend Tyfor existed in a completely different world. It allowed him to believe his old life had ended, ushering in a new era of travel and adventure.

  Darr sighed wearily to himself and let such thoughts drift away with the leaves at his feet. He couldn’t indulge in fantasies. Their lack of fulfillment simply hurt too much. The luxury of leaving Tyfor wouldn’t come any time soon. His obligations to his family would always come first.

  He found a loose stone along the path and kicked at it absentmindedly. He was stuck in place. The middle child, he did what he was told. His older brother, Erec, was a soldier in training, a warrior who would make the family proud. Jinn, his younger sister, looked to be the ghost of his mother, a woman loved and respected by many. Darr was just a young boy grown only halfway to adulthood, yet still falling short with his scrawny limbs and awkward movements. He had a lot of trouble making his body do what he wanted it to, and being a Spirit Summoner added to those difficulties.

  Before he could catch himself, the voices of the spirits intruded on his thoughts. Their voices began as a faint whisper in the back of his mind, turning rapidly to a scattering of words carried over the rustling of the leaves until they were all around him. They came to him like this, every time he thought about Summoning or about them, their messages always unclear and indecipherable.

  The spirits were hundreds of thousands of souls, flowing freely within the Currents, a place distinct from the physical world. As a Spirit Summoner, Darr had been born with an invisible connection to the Currents, allowing him to hear the voices of the spirits, and in turn, communicate with them. Strange, that he should know so little about something he was so deeply connected to, but life hadn’t filled in the gaps in his education. He had adapted to his ignorance.

  At times, the voices of the spirits were his inner voice, their visits soft and unobtrusive. He never really questioned what they were trying to say to him. The Currents were a spiritual plane, yet somehow, the voices of the spirits connected him to their world, if only by the smallest pinch. So far, he’d chosen to remain silent to them. He often wished they would extend him the same courtesy.

  The methodical rhythm of his breathing took over his body and mind like he had been taught. The young Summoner breathed deeply into his diaphragm and concentrated on the rock he kicked along the path. He focused on the sound of his breath entering and leaving his body. Within a few moments, the voices of the spirits disappeared completely.

  Darr sighed gently, brushed his lanky, brown hair out of his face, and continued towards Tyfor, fighting the urge to dwell more on the spirits.

  Dusk had fallen when the trees finally bunched together into a giant wall that gave way to the road marking the borders of Tyfor. The village sat on the western most region of Cortaz, homeland to the Cortazian race of Man. At the edge of the foothills, on top of the mountain rich soil, and bordered by the protective confines of the forest, Tyfor’s buildings sprawled out from the center of a vast clearing, lost to the rest of Ictar except for the random hunter and trapper.

  Ahead, the mountain peaks of the Valimere climbed up from behind the trees. He’d been beyond them only once, and only to Stern. His mind wandered again to thoughts of travel and exploration, of mountains rising up from the trees in other places, other lands.

  Farmhouses and barns appeared in the distance, nestled among the protective conifers, the buildings lone sentries guarding over patches of black earth. The village took shape, and Darr quickened his pace. Yes, he loved the world outside Tyfor and dreamed of escaping the ordinary life he lived there, but Tyfor was his home. He doubted he’d get that feeling anywhere else.

  The forest and farms gave way to homes and cottages, all tended and maintained with daily care. The citizens of Tyfor took great pride in their community. If one person grew unable to tend their land or buildings, others would come to help them. Darr knew he might not find such a powerful sense of fellowship anywhere else in Ictar.

  As Darr approached the town center, he slowed his walk, more intent on taking his time. He would enjoy the f
ew last moments he had to himself as he walked the main road running through Tyfor’s center. One side of the road held the Tyfran General Store--the other side held Arn’s Inn, the blacksmith’s shop, and a cluster of smaller houses. A few people were still out, finishing their daily business in the light left to them. With their customers gone home for the day, the general store and the blacksmith’s shop were closed, but Darr heard voices and laughter from the brightly lit interior of Arn's Inn.

  He and his siblings spent many nights at the inn, listening to the tales concocted by the hunters and trappers who visited. Lately, they had only been hearing ghost stories.

  Satisfied with what he saw, Darr turned towards the Tyfran General Store and started along its wood-planked side. His house sat some twenty-odd yards behind the store, nestled amid a gathering of aged cedar trees. Darr’s father had built it ten years ago, after the death of his mother. Amid the towering cedars, the brown and white trimmed house appeared small and insignificant, but its insides were open and welcome. He’d only been gone for the day, but a pang of joy welled up inside Darr.

  The Summoner bounded up the stairs of the porch and threw open the front door, momentarily forgetting his father hated surprises. He stood in the doorway and breathed a sigh of relief, examining the stuffed couch and chairs. His father was nowhere in sight. Darr took off his travel cloak and shut the door in the same motion. He hung his cloak on a hook by the door and walked leisurely towards the kitchen. A fire burned in the hearth on his left, and down the hallway on his right, darkness came from the bedrooms. Except for the smell of something cooking, it appeared no one was home.

  He slid past the dining table on his way to examine the contents of the stew cooking on the wood stove. A voice called out from behind him, causing him to startle.

  “I thought you’d be back earlier,” his father said with a hint of disappointment in his voice. “I was getting ready to send out a search party.”

  Darr shook the hair out of his face. The shoulder length strands tried to fall back. He looked his father in the eye, trying to convey the shock the old man had given him.

  His father smiled and walked stiffly to one of the kitchen cabinets, his thickening body moving slower than it used to. His father brought down two bowls and spoons from the cupboard along with some day-old bread wrapped in a baking cloth. With precision that belied his old age, he set the table before taking a seat facing Darr, who still stood over the pot of stew.

  His father stared at him. “Well, what’re you waiting for, boy? I’m sure you’re starving.”

  “Aren’t we going to wait for Jinn and Erec?” Darr asked. He used woven pads to lift the small pot to the table.

  His father chuckled and snorted at the same time, a strange sound he often made. “We’ll be waiting for a couple of weeks, or better, if we do, and I’m pretty hungry right now.” The old man’s mouth twitched. He was teasing him. “They left right after you did this morning. I sent them to Stern to see what’s holding up our ale shipment. You know how people get around here when there’s no drinking all winter.” The old man’s eyes took on a distant look. “One of these days I’ll convince old Tyer to brew those apples he grows into cider, then we won’t need Stern’s wares at all.”

  Darr used a spoon to scoop the stew into a heap in his father’s bowl before filling his own. The daylong excursion had left him more famished than he’d thought, and he ate in silence, concentrating on his meal.

  When they were finished and had set their bowls aside, his father asked, “So how was the trip?”

  The Summoner described in detail which paths he’d used and any problems he’d encountered, how his customers were doing and which packages he’d delivered. His father was only testing him. With Erec going off to Mertz to join the army in the spring, his father wanted to make sure Darr could make the supply run to Stern when necessary.

  When Darr finished his summary, his father nodded in approval and smiled, his gray hair bobbing around his head. “You’ll be ready for Stern in no time, my boy.”

  “You know I really want to go, Father.”

  “I know. You will,” his father said with profound understanding. “You know I’d never keep you here, Darr. Not you or Erec. As much as I’d miss having you around, you both have to go out there and take a look around.”

  Darr nodded, almost embarrassed by the strength of his father’s words. “You know I couldn’t go, Father. Not anytime soon, anyway. Not with Erec going away to Mertz.”

  The old man grunted and straightened in his seat. “Not Mertz anymore. It’s been a busy day for travelers,” he said with a half-grin.

  Darr scrunched up his face in confusion.

  The old man left him perplexed for a moment longer before continuing, a game he often played. “A soldier came here today, well several of them if you want to get exact about it, and they didn’t come from Mertz. They came from Darlholme.”

  “That old outpost. Why?”

  His father’s smile held no warmth. “Apparently, our King, Lord Ariel Forn, wants to try to unify the northern and southern provinces,” he said, a heavy rebuke. “He’s strengthening the fortifications at Darlholme so he can be closer to the south-make them feel more included. He’s also uniting the militias in the south and integrating them into the main army, naming the combined force the Cortazian Army.”

  Darr shook his head. “This doesn’t make any sense. Lord Forn must know the southern men won’t allow that. They may owe allegiance to the crown, but they have never been respectful to it. What about Mertz? What is he going to do to the capital city?”

  “He’ll change it, I suppose,” his father said, leaning back in his chair. “From the sounds of it though, Darlholme is going to be the new capital, once the north and south are fully integrated.”

  Darr continued to shake his head. “That will never happen though--not without a major war. The whole thing is ridiculous.”

  “Well, you haven’t even heard the most ridiculous part yet.” His father’s tone was incredulous. He folded his big hands before him. “This whole business with the Cortazian Army and Darlholme came about three months ago over the summer. It’s in response to the threat of the Soul Seekers.”

  If Darr had been confused before, he was dumbstruck now. “The Soul Seekers? But they’re only a myth. The hunters and trappers that come here think so, well, most of them anyway. They’re nothing more than a fairy tale cooked up by the Divine to scare people into not going near magic anymore.”

  The old man nodded. “I know, boy. Me and half a dozen townspeople, Arn included, tried to tell these soldiers the same thing. They wouldn’t listen. Just following orders, they said. Said we would do well to heed the warnings. They requested volunteers to go to Darlholme, and then they left. It’s a good thing Erec wasn’t here or he’d be off fighting Ariel Forn’s demons for him.”

  Darr smiled at his father’s attempt at a joke, but quickly let it fade. Something about this business didn’t make much sense. Ariel Forn was a young, untested king, but the organization of such a massive force suggested the “myth” of the Soul Seekers might have more truth behind it than what he’d heard. Men of power, especially kings, couldn’t allow themselves to be taken in by rumors and superstitions. Not after what had happened during the Aeon Wars.

  His father pushed back from the table, stretching out his arms and yawning. “Well, it’s best not to think too hard on these things, boy. Let those in power do what they think is best. When they decide to wage war west of the Valimere, then we’ll worry.”

  The old man rose from the table and started towards the hallway, the shadows beginning to fold around him. “Goodnight, Darr. I’ll see you early at the store.” He disappeared into the gloom of the hallway on his way to bed.

  Darr sat at the table, listening to the fire crackle in the hearth. After a while, he got up and cleared the table. He worked for a few minutes, wiping down the counter, cleaning the bowls, and storing the leftover stew. When he finished, he
walked into the sitting room and collapsed on the feather couch next to the hearth.

  He thought about the soldiers’ cryptic message about the Soul Seekers. The rumors about the Seekers were fragmented and vague, and Darr had heard them only from the hunters traveling through the village. No one knew who they were, but everyone agreed the Seekers used magic lost since the Aeon Wars, and they ripped the souls from the bodies of those they killed.

  The mere thought of the stories chilled Darr, yet logic reminded him the stories were just that. Magic no longer existed in Ictar, save for the magic contained in the Sephirs, the ancient relics that bound the Four Elements of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. Nobody could tap into the Sephirs, not now when the Divine were entrusted with their protection, decreed by the Kings of Ictar. No one could harness such power. It was forbidden to do so.

  Of course, laws had always been broken throughout the course of Ictar’s history.

  The warmth from the fire seeped into him. For a second, Darr thought he heard the spirits whispering unbidden in the back of his mind. Mistaken, he reached up and pulled down a blanket, letting sleep claim him.

  Chapter Two

  “When the Ancients rose to power, they made use of their science to erect giant cities. Over time, their science unbalanced the Sephirs, and so they explored new avenues in which to grow. They discovered the ability to pass into the Currents from within their own minds. The Ancients used this newfound ability to walk the Currents and communicate with both the spirits and the Archons. Together, they balanced the Sephirs and restored order. Despite their vast knowledge of both science and magic, the Ancients maintained strict discipline in using their power.”