The Children of the Light: Book 1: Spirit Summoner

by Matt Campbell

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Erec’s stare burrowed deep, but Darr didn’t look up. “Suit yourself,” Erec said in an oddly gentle tone. “We’ll be inside when you’re ready. Lacdur and Feywen scouted the area. They say the Seekers are gone for now. You should get some rest.”

  Darr nodded and thanked his brother for checking on him. Erec’s footfalls faded into the dusk. Inside, where his emotions ran deepest, images of the dead townspeople were etched into his mind, and he couldn’t escape their feel. The depthless gaze of dead eyes spoke of the horror that would soon run rampant through Ictar.

  From Lacdur’s examination of the scene, the first of the fires began around midnight, exactly when Darr heard the screams in the Currents. The Summoner couldn’t ignore the fact he hadn’t recognized the danger. He should’ve known something, but instead, he’d pushed the spirits away, and with it, any hope the Crossroads would be spared.

  --The fault does not lie with you--

  --The fault lies with the others--

  --Your choices were good ones--

  Whispers voices drawn from the Currents. Darr trembled and breathed deep. With the straying of his thoughts, his mind had strayed into the Currents. The spirits, detecting his pain, had come to him to dispel the negative emotions he forced into their realm. Darr slowed his breathing, yet their voices persisted.

  --What has been done cannot be undone--

  --What has been done can be prevented in other places--

  “Go away!” Darr yelled, leaping to his feet. “Leave me alone! You should’ve stopped this!”

  His screams rose into the coming night sky and the small smattering of stars as his raw emotions bubbled to the surface. “I could’ve helped the Crossroads. I could’ve saved them.”

  “Darr?”

  Jinn‘s voice was small but recognizable. His sister stood motionless along the end of the wall, her body and face sketched by the light of the stars. She gave him a look of concern, but also love.

  Everything drained away from the Summoner and he crumpled to his knees. Jinn ran to him in an instant, the strength in her arms evident while she cradled him close. “What’s wrong with you?” she whispered.

  Tears rolled down the Summoner’s face and he tucked his head into her shoulder. “This is all my fault, Jinn. I heard them last night...I heard them in the Currents, and I could’ve stopped this, I should’ve stopped this, but I ignored it...”

  Jinn held him, running her fingers along the back of his head like she might a child. “Don’t hold onto this guilt, Darr,” she whispered. “The Soul Seekers did this, not you.”

  She held him for a long time. When he finished, Darr lifted his head away and wiped at his eyes, ashamed at his outburst.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “All I wanted to do was take responsibility. I thought if I could do that, I could stop this from ever happening again.”

  “But don’t you see, Darr,” she urged, leaning close. “You’re helping stop the Soul Seekers. You’re preventing this from happening again.”

  Darr let the strength of her words seep through him. Jinn was right, and so were the spirits. Despite the odds stacking against him, he promised himself he’d see the end of the Soul Seekers and their master.

  * * * *

  Nidic Waq woke an hour before dawn. Though his burns had been wrapped and the lacerations to his ribs sewn up, he walked unassisted into the side room of the blasted house where the others waited, a testimony to his incredible endurance.

  Nidic Waq braced himself against the wall and stretched his hand out to his companions. “We don’t have much time.”

  Feywen bolted to his feet without a word and supported the prophet’s large frame. Darr and his companions all rose to their feet, and both awe and skepticism radiated through the Currents. Feywen led Nidic Waq to a scattering of blankets next to the woodstove and sat him down. Conra passed a bowl of soup to him, but Nidic Waq waved it aside.

  “We don’t have time for this,” the prophet scolded. “The assault has begun much sooner than I anticipated. Navda is in danger. The Seekers move east, while we stay here.”

  It sickened Darr to think another town faced a massacre such as this. “They must be warned,” he said. “We must go there.”

  “Not yet,” Erec said, his voice cold and demanding. He rose to his feet. “No one’s going anywhere until the prophet tells us why he’s here.”

  “Erec, sit down,” Jinn demanded, her round face pinched with anger.

  “No. Not until we find out why he left without telling us and why he’s at the center of this butchery. I won’t take another step until he gives us a reason why we should trust him.”

  No one objected. The fire burning in the woodstove made hardly a sound, as if it too was unwilling to disrupt the tension. Did everyone believe as Erec?

  “You’re right to question me, Erec,” the prophet admitted. “Your questions, all of your questions, are warranted.”

  Nidic Waq adjusted his body and leaned into the glow from the woodstove, his skin pale amid the wash of red from his beard and hair.

  “My decision to leave you in the Triker was selfish,” the prophet began. “I would only be able to protect myself, and that alone proved difficult. When I first detected the Seekers, they’d recently emerged from their mists. They were advancing on the Crossroads. I was still too far away to stop anything from happening, but I had to try. To bring you with me would’ve put all of our lives in danger. The number of Seekers which had assembled to destroy the Crossroads was larger than anything we’ve seen before.”

  Nidic Waq’s face turned hard. “Nothing could’ve been done to stop it. The town had no preparation and hardly any defense. The Seekers washed through the town like a tidal wave. When I arrived, the Crossroad’s had been burning for some time, a result of the townspeople who’d hoped to flush out the Seekers with fire. I helped those few who remained by sending them into the forests. I did everything possible to hold off the Seekers long enough for their escape. In the end, only daylight saved me. The Seekers retreated to their mists, and I collapsed where you found me.”

  Darr knew he told the truth. Despite whatever character defects Nidic Waq possessed, the spirits recounted his story as he told it. He’d done everything possible, and that hadn’t been enough.

  “‘Aos--all those people and no one escaped,” Lacdur said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Nidic Waq raised his head and replied, “Some escaped, but how many actually made it to the safety of Jakova, I do not know. Regardless, it’s more important now to focus on those we can still save in Jakova and Navda. As I said before, the Soul Seekers are massing along the peninsula leading east. They’re in such great numbers their presence is unmistakable.”

  “What is your plan?” Feywen asked.

  “There are horses in a field south of here that the Seekers missed. I can see them in the Currents,” Nidic Waq said. “You must secure them and head at once for Navda. The Summoners there must be warned, and they must be prepared either to flee or fight. I will go to Jakova.”

  “You’re too weak, Prophet. I should know. I stitched you up,” Conra countered.

  “I’ll be fine.” Nidic Waq stood upright. He looked down at Darr and said, “I’m sorry, Summoner, but your quest must be deterred for the time being. The time spent warning Navda will inevitably slow the Seekers and ultimately give you more time to restore the remaining Sephirs.”

  The Summoner understood the importance of what they were required to do. He wouldn’t ignore his instincts this time. Navda would be saved.

  Lacdur and Feywen went out to find the horses while Darr and his siblings packed their things. A lot of the gear they’d brought would be left behind to necessitate a speedy journey. Conra helped, but in the end, each of the four would carry only a rolled blanket with some foodstuffs tucked inside.

  Erec and Conra left to find weapons, leaving Nidic Waq alone with Darr and Jinn.

  “I realize this must be
very difficult for the both of you,” Nidic Waq said, his voice soft. “You’ve both been patient despite everything that’s happened. I sense your unease with where things are heading. Darr, your quest for self-discovery has turned into a destiny you cannot break from. Jinn, what once seemed to you an unconditional following after your brother, has since turned to a condition of your very soul, a following you cannot abandon. I ask you only to look after one another. Your mutual survival is what truly matters.”

  The prophet lifted his head as though he searched for something, but he whipped his cowl over his head, his face vanishing into darkness. “Keep yourselves safe,” was all he said.

  Nidic Waq swung around, a whipping of tattered cloth, and he stalked away into the darkness, his body melting away, leaving a void in the wake of his departure. When Nidic Waq traveled with him, Darr couldn’t tolerate his deceptions. With him gone, Darr longed for his support. The Summoner saw the same confliction of emotions layered on Jinn’s face.

  “It’s as if he has no place in this world,” Jinn said, “yet we all rely on him to save us.”

  Darr nodded. His thoughts were the same.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “The Devoid, long imprisoned and forgotten, was still alive, surviving on the only Light remaining within its body. Symdus’s Light, so small and corrupt, could not escape the Devoid. It took many centuries before the Devoid gained enough strength to begin pressing against the bars of its prison, but when it did, Caeranol took notice.”

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

  Erec and Conra returned shortly after Nidic Waq’s departure. Their search for weapons turned up one short sword so Conra could arm himself. He wouldn’t abandon his crossbow, but it didn’t work against the Seekers. They settled down amongst their meager supplies and waited for Feywen and Lacdur to return. The fiery glow of dawn broke through the trees before the horses arrived.

  “Sorry it took so long,” Feywen said, leading three horses by a set of crude reins.

  Lacdur appeared behind him with the remaining three. “We mutilated my pack to make bridles for these beasts.” The Dwarf warrior slapped his rolled up blanket into Erec’s arms. “Ha! You’re strong enough to carry two blankets, aren’t you, Tyfran? Or did I misjudge you?”

  Erec laughed. “Are you sure you need a horse, Lacdur, because you’ve been riding me since we got here.”

  The Dwarf warrior laughed heartily. Despite the gravity of their work yesterday, cleaning up the Crossroads had finally brought Lacdur and Erec to a mutual understanding. Whenever Erec pushed Lacdur, the Dwarf would push back, and vice versa. As a warrior, Lacdur had a wealth of knowledge to teach Erec, and Erec knew it.

  “I’m not used to riding without a saddle,” Jinn said as she patted down the flanks of her horse.

  “You won’t have to worry about it,” Feywen told her. “The horses are trained by Dwarves, and we’re the best in Ictar. They’ll follow my commands. All you have to do is hold tight.”

  By Feywen’s estimate, it would take two days to reach Navda at a moderate pace, but he hoped to reach the city in half that time. Sleep and rest of any kind would be allowed only when the horses were required to stop. Though it would be a tough ride, Darr was excited. Since first learning about his summoning abilities, he’d always wanted to visit Navda, the City of Summoners.

  Once everyone was situated, the once-prince gave a low whistle and took his mount into a steady gallop. Darr’s horse responded by dashing after. Through the early morning hours, they rode steadily along the main road leading from the Crossroads. Sometimes they let the horses relax at a quick jog, and sometimes they walked, but for the most part, Feywen kept them galloping fast. Upon reaching the eastern edge of the Triker Forest, they were met with a torrential wash of rain.

  Feywen led them to an outcropping of cedar to wait out the weather, cursing under his breath the entire time. Feywen’s misery ran deep since leaving the Crossroads, and Darr recognized it without having to think too much on it. While he’d only imagined his responsibility for what happened at the Crossroads, it must be ten times worse for Feywen Dery.

  When the rain had subsided to a slow drizzle, Feywen didn’t hesitate to forge ahead. They rode across the boulder-strewn plains, and after a while, Darr’s mind slipped into the Currents. He did so without knowing at first, but when he realized when he was doing, he forged ahead out of curiosity. Racall had told him the Lights of other living creatures carried their memories and feelings. Perhaps he could find a way to help his friends by listening to the Currents.

  The emotions of his companions flooded Darr, making him feel things like frustration, anger, and sadness. In his own heart, he felt tired. Images came next, a disjointed flashing of pictures portraying things he hadn’t seen or done.

  Darr redirected his mind and focused on the emotions rather than the connecting memories, keeping his own thoughts locked away so as not to invade the privacy of his friends. But things weren’t so simple. Memory and emotion were closely connected, if not indistinguishable, and Darr couldn’t read one without reading the other, so he forged ahead.

  Feywen felt rage at what the Seekers had done, but that came as no surprise. His anger burned over the things done to the people of the Crossroads and his own father. His emotions and memories indicated the two events were inseparable in his mind. At the same time, Feywen struggled for restraint, but he couldn’t command it.

  Lacdur, on the other hand, could hardly be read at all. He kept everything hidden away, and only a glimmer of his memories revealed themselves. His body and mind were focused on his surroundings. Conra acted in much the same way, but Conra kept himself closed off from his emotions and memories. Both the Elf and the Dwarf lived very much in the moment.

  Darr shifted his attention to Erec, finding a storm of frustration and sadness. Erec had mostly blocked off his memories of the Crossroads, though fragments of the atrocities infiltrated his Light. As a result, he couldn’t distinguish his past memories from the troubled present, a difficult variance for anyone.

  Last, Darr focused on Jinn. Though her insecurity and fear both loomed within her Light, they were overridden by her resolve. She pressed onward, adamant to follow through even though her fears told her to run in the other direction. She possessed great strength. She’d have to be. Along with three others, she would have to stand up to and defeat the most reckless evil Ictar had ever seen. The spirits wouldn’t have chosen someone of any less character.

  Darr relaxed his body, pulling his mind away from the Currents. The experience, though rudimentary in nature, had taught him much about how to control his ability. While rewarding, it was also an invasion. People kept their feelings to themselves for a reason, and it wasn’t up to him to decide what they should share.

  The day moved on, and the rain came and went in fits. Sometimes it would pour for several minutes at a time, only to stop long enough for the party to forge ahead and be caught in another downpour. Progress slowed, but Feywen didn’t relent. He forced the horses into a wild gallop, keeping them moving when they could, and stopping them when the rain required it.

  When they stopped for an hour to water the horses and rest, Feywen stalked around their shelter beneath the drooping limbs of a willow. Because Darr so recently felt what Feywen did, he approached the once-prince in an attempt to help. Feywen stopped pacing, his face kind but cautious. The emotions roiling within him invaded the Summoner’s mind, but Darr shut away his connection.

  “What is it?” Feywen asked, though not in an unkind tone.

  Darr flipped his hair from his eyes while searching for something to say. “I wish I understood more about the Soul Seekers.” As soon as he said it, Darr regretted opening his mouth. Feywen didn’t need a remainder of the thing fueling his anger.

  Feywen looked thoughtfully at Darr, perhaps to decipher the true nature of his intrusion. The once-prince settled himself at the base of the tree and welcomed Darr to sit as well. The others in
their company were huddled on the other side of the trunk, tucked away from their conversation.

  “Despite the time I’ve spent searching out the Soul Seekers, I understand very little about them,” Feywen said. “They are single-minded in their need to hunt, but I’ve never seen them attack a group larger in number than ten or twelve. An attack on an entire town is unheard of. They don’t notice movement or sound, but several times Lacdur and I got too close, and within moments they’d found us,despite all our efforts to stay hidden.”

  “What about the mist Nidic Waq talked about?” Darr asked, his mind racing for a way to keep Feywen talking.

  “I’m not sure exactly how it works,” Feywen answered, his brow furrowed. “It’s not normal mist. It’s thick and stagnant, and it moves unnaturally, like steam billowing from a kettle. You would recognize it if you saw it. Lacdur and I tracked it once, followed it while it moved through the Borderlands. Inside it, the Seekers don’t appear to physically manifest themselves, but we didn’t risk getting close enough to test the theory. We think the mist protects them from the daylight, but they retain their ability to move while in it.”

  “I suppose that makes sense considering what they’re trying to do,” Darr said. “It’s just one more advantage...”

  “What brought you over here, Darr?”

  Darr steadied himself. “I wanted to know something more about the Seekers. I wanted to know how to defend myself.”

  “That isn’t what brought you over here,” Feywen said. Darr hesitated. Feywen glared at him.

  The Summoner thought it over, then decided. “My connection to the Currents allows me to sense emotions and memories within other people. Ever since the Crossroads, it has been easier to read everyone because of the intensity of their emotions.”

  Feywen didn’t break eye contact. “So, you know what I feel?”

  “I felt your pain,” Darr answered, “and the memories attached.”