by Susan Hayes
Summoned and Bound
Susan Hayes
Summoned and Bound
Two souls bound by fate. Two lovers enslaved by magic.
Vamir Halmar is the Commander of the last Company of Guardians. When a summoning spell targets the wrong man and drops Vamir into the enemy’s hands, he discovers his salvation in the form of a beautiful slave with quicksilver eyes and the heart of a warrior.
Torn from her family and home before she had grown into her powers, Gwyneth Annaren has spent most of her life as the unwilling servant to one of the most fearsome Magi. When Vamir is accidently summoned by her master, she finds herself face to face with a living reminder of the past she has forced herself to forget. The handsome guardian is as dangerous to her as he is compelling, tempting her to dream of freedom and an end to her loneliness.
Can they have a future together, or will the price of their freedom be paid in sacrifice and heartbreak?
Length: 37,500 words
Summoned and Bound
Copyright © 2015 by Susan Hayes
ISBN 978-0-9940495-6-8
First E-book Publication: May 2015
Cover design by Sloan Winters
Edited by T. Donaldson
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
DEDICATION
For my parents, who encouraged me to chase my dreams,
And for my best friend, Karen, who puts up with me despite all my craziness.
***
Chapter One
Twilight was falling by the time Vamir Halmar located the last things on his shopping list. The marketplace grew quieter, and the fading light pushed him to leave the stores and head back to the clearing they’d designated as a meeting place. The others might even be waiting there already, trading stories and finding out who had scored the best deals with the local vendors.
Time away from their duties was rare, and all of his men enjoyed the opportunity to get away for a few hours. Vamir hadn’t been on a supply run for years. Normally, he left the job to others, giving them the chance to relax, but today, he’d felt the need for a break in his routine. He was the commander of the last Company of Guardians, tasked with safeguarding the sole remaining link between his home plane and the rest of the universes. They stood watch over the gateway, protecting it from discovery while quietly hunting their enemies, the Magi. He and the one hundred men who formed his company had stood watch for more than a century now, and their duty would continue until the last Magi died.
He shifted the sack that hung over his shoulder, rebalancing the load of fruits and vegetables he’d purchased over the course of his shopping trip. The spells that protected and powered their outpost also kept the garrison’s pantries and larders well-provisioned. The wells stayed full of sweet, fresh water, and the wine cellar well-stocked, but that didn’t mean a little variety wasn’t welcome. They’d explored and documented a number of realms like this one over the years, places where trade with other realms was a fact of life and Vamir and his men could blend in…at least in one of their forms.
His race, the Garda, were born with the ability to shift between a human-like body and that of a fearsome creature made of solid stone. They spent most of their lives in human form, allowing them to live similar lives to their creators, the elementals. It also allowed them to visit worlds where the citizens appeared more or less human. There were a number of theories as to why so many different worlds and even distant planes of existence contained beings of similar design, but that’s all they were, theories.
Some mysteries simply had to be accepted, never solved.
Their enemy had no idea that there were any of Vamir’s race were still in existence, and Vamir intended to keep it that way. Not that they’d had any luck locating the cunning bastards lately. In fact, they hadn’t found any trace of the Magi in more than a decade. The enemy had all the planes to hide in, and finding them was painstaking work.
Lately, their lack of success had Vamir frustrated. He wanted a clear enemy to fight. He wanted to see Essa, his home world, again, to hear the laughter of children and watch the moons rise over the mountains. Most of all, he wanted to feel like his life had a purpose beyond merely standing guard over a dying dream.
The first stars were appearing in the sky as Vamir reached the forest beyond the town they’d been visiting. A quick check of his bearings told him he had another half mile to go, but he could already sense several of his men waiting there. Two more guardians followed not far behind him, and he knew without even reading their energy that the pair behind him would be Tyrion Lamir and his brother, Tanor. They were his self-appointed honor guard, and he’d given up protesting their presence after the first decade or so. Now, they were his best friends, his shield brothers, and two of the eight men who acted as his inner council.
A few strides later, a strange feeling hit him, as if thousands of ants were suddenly crawling across his skin. The sensation intensified, first to an itch, then a burn, and finally he felt as if his flesh were being consumed by white-hot flames. He tried to cry out, but no sound came from his tortured throat, and when he tried to shift forms, something blocked the change, leaving him vulnerable and alone in a realm of hellish torments.
There was nothing but darkness and agony for what felt like an eternity, but the pain faded at last. Vamir opened his eyes a bit at a time, wincing as the light sliced through his brain like a burning blade. At first, he had double vision, making it impossible to see any details, but gradually the world came back into focus.
Braziers and torches lit the large chamber he found himself in, the red and yellow flames giving off a warm light that flickered and danced across the dark, stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense and other, less wholesome things. The torchlight played over glyphs and wards that were inscribed onto nearly every flat surface he could see. The inscriptions were obscene things, designed to twist and warp the very essence of magic. He knew of only one type of spell-weaver who harnessed the essence this way, the Magi, the sworn enemy of Vamir’s race. He’d been captured by one of the black-hearted bastards he’d vowed to destroy.
Well, fuck.
****
Gwyneth Annaren loathed being present during her master’s summoning rituals. She hated witnessing the suffering of the beings her master summoned. It had been a hundred or more years since her own summoning, and she still remembered every agonizing moment. Even worse, she had to accept her part in their capture. She had no choice, but that didn’t ease the guilt she felt knowing that because of her, someone else would be forced into a life of slavery and suffering.
Her master delighted in his petty torments. Not only did he command her to go out time and again to seek new planes and peoples he could summon for his benefit or amusement, he would often demand she be the one to deliver the captured slaves to their new homes and masters. It amused him to force her to bring suffering and fear to others, keeping her isolated and alone. He also used those tasks to remind her of her place, demanding she perform menial tasks when the truth was that if she were free of his control, her powers would far outstrip his. Her master had dedicated his life to learning to control the essence, but she’d been born with the ability.
Gwyn was an elemental, a natural-born conduit for the essence. She’d been able to manipulate it and draw on its powers from chil
dhood. Her gifts allowed her to open gateways to other planes of existence. As a child, Gwyn had learned that there wasn’t one plane, but many, each one full of countless worlds and beings. Her mother had explained that the dimensions fit together like spoons in a drawer, stacked together, but separate.
Her abilities to use the essence and create portals had made her the target of her master’s summoning spell so many years ago. Just like the poor soul currently materializing in front of her.
The moment his naked form became fully visible, Gwyn braced herself for the punishment that would soon be directed her way. The man the ritual had summoned was not one of the potentials she’d scouted. In fact, by the way the essence responded to his presence, he wasn’t even the right species. The new arrival groaned and lifted his head, already shaking off the effects of the summoning spell.
Impressive. He wasn’t the bear shifter she’d been sent to find, but anyone strong enough to recover so quickly might well be a viable alternative. As she saw his face for the first time, Gwyn’s heart skipped a beat. If he proved to be unskilled at fighting, then her master would have no problem selling him as a pleasure slave. The man was breathtaking. He had a powerful and well-muscled body, with lines and symmetry that could have been sculpted by a master artisan. His close-cropped hair was black as night, and even in the dim light, she could see his aquamarine eyes gleamed so brightly they seemed to glow.
There was something familiar about those eyes…
“Idiot!” her master snarled in fury as he looked over his prize. “I told you to locate a feral. Whatever that creature is, he’s no animal shifter.”
Her master struck the back of her head hard enough to make her ears ring, but Gwyn knew better than to react. If she cried out or faltered, the punishment would only go on longer. Cruel fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her head back, so she had to look up at her master. His dark eyes glinted with icy malice as he glowered at her before throwing her forward so that she stumbled and landed on her knees a few feet away.
She stayed on her knees and bowed her head, ignoring her discomfort to ensure he didn’t strike her again. “I scouted the area and found several bear shifters present. You crafted the summoning ritual to find the strongest shifter in the area. Perhaps he is a shifter, but of another type? I’m not certain what species he is, master.”
Gwyn sensed that she’d seen someone like the new slave before, but the details eluded her. It was a memory from before she’d been summoned, from a time that she did her best to forget. Those days, like her freedom, were gone.
Vamir couldn’t believe his eyes. Deep in the lair of his sworn enemy was the last place in the planes he would have expected to find an elemental. Tall and lithe, like the others of her race, she had silver-white hair that fell around her shoulders. Her features were as delicate as they were beautiful, and he could sense her innate grace even as she knelt in cowed silence at the sorcerer’s feet.
It wasn’t until he saw her eyes that he knew for certain. She had to be an elemental. No other species on the planes had those ethereal, quicksilver eyes.
What in the nine hells is she doing here?
He listened as she called the man her master, and his blood turned to ice in his veins. It didn’t seem possible that one of the most powerful creatures in creation would act as a willing servant to a Magi. She was dressed in a robe of coarse gray wool, with slippers of felted fabric that would do little to protect her from the chill of the stone floors. The robe covered most of her skin, and it wasn’t until she moved again that Vamir spotted the torc around her slender neck. He would never have seen it at all if the cold-eyed bastard in charge hadn’t thrown her to the floor.
Once he saw the collar; he knew what had been done. The sorcerer had summoned her, then enslaved her with the blackest magic of all. Dread filled him when he lifted a hand to his own neck and discovered he too had a thick band of metal coiled around his throat.
He’d been summoned and bound. Well, that explained how he’d ended up here. Now, he had to figure out how the fuck to get home. Deep in his heart, a dissenting voice whispered, reminding him of duties and vows that he’d not thought about in a century. Protect the elementals and destroy the Magi. Those were his missions. Before he left here, he would have to see them both done, but first, he had to figure out how the fuck to get both himself, and the elemental, home again. He couldn’t leave her behind.
“If he cannot be sold, then I will take the price of his summoning out of your hide,” the sorcerer said as he stalked past the still-kneeling woman.
His black and red robes made barely a whisper as they swept across the cold, stone floor. He was of average height, but even his long sleeves and the deep hood he wore couldn’t completely disguise the changes that a lifetime of working dark magic had wrought on his body. His hands were nothing more than dry flesh stretched over bones. His features were cadaverous—sunken eyes, thin lips, sharp, angular lines of jaw and cheekbone. There was a price for his power, and he’d paid it in the warping of his body and the darkness that tainted his soul, what little was left of it, anyway.
“Welcome to your new home, slave,” the sorcerer said with a sneer. “I am your new master. If you must address the woman, you will call her mistress. That collar you’re wearing binds you to my will. There’s no point in fighting the control. It is complete, and resistance will only cause you pain. The less you fight, the less you will hurt.”
Vamir nodded once to indicating his understanding.
“So the translation element of the spell is working, good. Tell me your name and the name of your race.”
“I am Vamir Halmar. My people are called gargoyles.”
Pain flashed behind his eyes and sizzled down his spine at the half-truth, but compared to what he’d already endured today, he barely felt it. Vamir kept his expression blank and his body still, and the lie passed unnoticed. Gargoyle was the name one of the other races had given to his, an old name from a plane with little magic, where spell-weavers rarely visited. Vamir played a hunch that the translation spell would not recognize the name, and thus wouldn’t be able to translate it to its proper form, Garda.
“Gargoyles? Never heard of them.” The sorcerer glanced back at the elemental. “Have you?”
There was a brief pause, then the pale woman spoke. “Yes, master. I have. I think they are a warrior race, but I didn’t see any when I observed the area for you. I don’t understand what happened.”
The sorcerer turned and struck her, the back of his hand cracking against her cheek. “You failed to perform your task properly. That’s what happened.”
Vamir rose to his feet, unable to sit and watch the abuse any longer. The moment he moved forward, blinding pain filled his skull. The force of it hit him like a war hammer, forcing him back to his knees.
“I see you’ve discovered for yourself one of the collar’s other functions. If you even think of doing harm to the one who controls you, there are consequences.” The sorcerer tapped his hand, lifting it so that Vamir could see there were rings on every finger. “The ring and the torc are linked. With this, I command your complete obedience. Remember that, and everything else will fall into place.”
“I will teach him what he needs to know, master,” Gwyn murmured.
“You better. I don’t like surprises. If he displeases me, I will punish you both.” The sorcerer looked intently at Vamir.” Do you understand? If you resist, she suffers.”
Vamir bowed his head. “I understand.”
The bastard couldn’t know how effective a threat he’d uttered. Far back in the mists of time, Vamir’s race had been created by the elementals to act as their guardians. It was encoded in the very core of their being to defend and protect their creators. Vamir would never do anything to cause her pain, even if it cost him his life.
“Good. With an attitude like that, I might get my money out of you after all. You are to obey the mistress’ commands just as you would obey mine. She will show you to your c
ell and explain what is expected. Tomorrow, you will be tested.”
He turned and left, leaving Vamir to wonder what being tested would entail. He was already certain that whatever it involved, it wouldn’t be pleasant.
Gwyn didn’t get to her feet until the master departed the chamber. He was always unpredictable after a summoning. The ceremony drained him, leaving him vulnerable, and the master detested weakness above all other failings. Things could have been much worse. She’d seen it before. She might be bruised, but Vamir was alive, and that meant they had both gotten off easy.
“Your master is one of the Magi?” Vamir asked.
Surprised, Gwyn nodded. It wasn’t often that a newly summoned slave had ever heard of her master’s kind. They were a secretive order, few in number and distrustful of everyone. “He is. How do you know that name?”
“He’s not the first one I’ve heard of. He is the first I’ve ever spoken to, though.” Vamir shrugged. “Most spell-weavers are born with the innate ability to manipulate the essence. Your master uses glyphs and rituals. Only the Magi do that.”
“For your sake, you should forget everything you know about the Magi and magic,” she told him, her voice pitched low so that it wouldn’t carry far. “Whoever you were in your past life, whatever your life you knew, you need to let it go. The first lesson you must learn is that slaves have no past and no future. They only exist in the present.”
Vamir rose to his feet, displaying every inch of his naked body to her gaze in the process. “Is that what you tell all your master’s new slaves?”
She had seen hundreds of naked bodies in her time with the master, but none of them had affected her the way Vamir did. Her stomach twisted with a hunger that had nothing to do with food, and when she went to answer his question, she found her mouth strangely parched. Disturbed by her reactions, Gwyn hardened her resolve and summoned the icy demeanor that she had long since perfected. She needed to stay distant. It was the only way to survive the life she led.