Summoner

by Eric Vall

  SUMMONER

  Eric Vall

  Chapter 1

  It was a beautiful day when my life got turned upside down for the second time. A perfect day, one might say. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the sun sat overhead and watched the town that hosted my work and lodging like a doting parent scared to let her child out of sight. Yes, a perfect day for someone painting a landscape. For me, it was too hot, and the humidity a tad too stifling. But that was my life. I worked in the sun.

  I worked with my monsters.

  A few stray black bangs clung to my sweaty forehead. I swatted them away and reinforced the knot that my hair was tied back in. It was bad enough that sweat stung my eyes, so I didn’t need to add my oily locks to that equation. I adjusted the leather bandoliers that crossed my chest. The heat made them sweat too and that made me chafe. I was used to it, but that didn’t mean I liked it.

  I got over my discomfort quick, though, and surveyed the work before me. A swath of spruce trees sat in front of me, with another swath of stumps and a pile of lumber nearby to my right. I could see the steep gabled roofs of Ralor’s Stead peek above the trees half a mile ahead of me. The town was a busy little hub, as it sat near a lucrative copper mine, but it was full to bursting and needed more houses. So here I was, eagerly doing my part.

  One of us had to anyway.

  Sitting by the lumber pile was Maelor, his gut barely contained by his black overalls. He’d pitched a small felt umbrella and sat underneath it for relief from the heat. But I wasn’t allowed such a luxury. I was technically on break, sure, but he hadn’t moved from that spot in an hour.

  “You gonna’ get off your bum and help me, old man?” I asked.

  He snorted and ran a hand through his scraggly beard. It was mostly grey, but there were pockets of brown still resisting the onslaught of age. “Maybe if you ever got to work, you no-good sack of frog grease.”

  I shook my head at the ridiculous insult. Why would you put grease in a sack? But that was Maelor for you. “It would still be nice if you pitched a hand every once in a while,” I replied.

  He smirked, which made the scar that ran down the left side of his face from his balding head to his neck twitch. “You got two hands, don’t ya?” he said. “I’m an old man. My days of hauling lumber are behind me.”

  “You never did haul lumber.”

  “Well, I reckon neither did you, Gryff.” He pointed at the many crystals strapped to my chest.

  He was right, of course. My bandoliers contained more than two dozen essence crystals, the magical rocks that held the power of the monsters that constantly plagued our world. However, my crystals didn’t hold the monsters’ essence, but the monsters themselves, so I didn’t have to do the manual labor. That’s what the monsters were for. Just one of the perks of being a summoner.

  I was drained though. It took mana to summon and direct the monsters, and I’d been working since damn near sunup. Maelor was a summoner too, but I knew he wasn’t the man he used to be. Mana can dwindle with age, and I doubted he could summon even a simple axe goblin to help cut down the trees, let alone summon the type of muscle we needed to move them. No, he mostly just supervised me. It wasn’t all bad though. He’d raised me since my parents died and was a good man, crotchety though he may have been.

  When I felt more rested, I cracked my knuckles, fingered a couple of medium crystals from the pouch on my hip, and got back to work. The crystals were about the size of my pinky and resembled a long piece of rock salt, but these would not break from any physical amount of force. Only magical energy could destroy essence crystals, which was fine by me because I dropped my fair share of them by mistake.

  I gripped them between my fingers and could feel the pulse of their energy, almost like a heartbeat. I could picture the monsters inside of them, waiting to be used. Essence crystals didn’t show what was inside of them, but when a summoner held one that contained a monster, they simply knew what sat within.

  So, I took a deep breath and threw them.

  My stomach lurched as I felt the mana inside of me rush forward to draw out and command the beasts. There was a brief flash and a plume of blue-grey smoke, and then two monsters stood before me. Axe goblins. Barely more muscular than skeletons, they had sickly green skin that stretched over their small frames. Beady red eyes stared back at me, unblinking. They had razor-sharp teeth, but theirs weren’t showing, not with me in command. On the ends of their arms where their hands should’ve been were two wicked axes. They were made of a strange bone-like metal that was popular to use in the construction of trains, airships, and other advanced items.

  I commanded them to start working on the trees, and they did so. They swung their arms and cut into the trunks with ease, much stronger than their small frames would suggest. They were strong, yes, but they were also slow.

  “That won’t do.” I shook my head and began to dig through a small pouch of my bandolier over my heart. I retrieved two more essence crystals, but these were tiny, no bigger than marbles, and they had a faint verdant hue. They wouldn’t take too much energy from me. The smaller the crystal, the weaker and smaller the monster. The bigger the crystal, the bigger the monster and the more dangerous. It was simple in theory and in practice.

  I was never any good at summoning the bigger beasts, though I didn’t really have a need for them, so my little pets suited me just fine. I gripped the little crystals in my hand and chucked them. Another flash, a poof of smoke, and then two green slugs, slick with slime and about the size of my forearm, laid in the grass. Speed Slugs. Ironic. They hopped onto the backs of the axe goblins and stuck there with a resounding squish. The goblins paused and went rigid for a moment before continuing. This time, they swung so fast they were almost a blur. They hacked and hacked until the tree gave in and tumbled. The goblins were also thankfully strong enough to push the tree in the right direction. I didn’t need them to flatten me.

  Finally, as they worked, I grabbed a large crystal the size of an apple from a pouch on my hip and held it in front of me. The coloring was dark grey, and it felt heavy, but it was a simple monster that slept within. I tossed it.

  A squat creature appeared, about as tall as my chest, but with bulky, broad shoulders and arms that bulged grossly with muscle. Long fine hairs ran the length of its arms and chest. It was a typical box ogre, used often as a grunt in the monster assaults that frequent the land. They weren’t very dangerous or smart, but in groups they could be deadly. They were great for menial labor, though.

  So I sat back and directed my minions. The slug-sped axe goblins mowed through the trees like warm knives through butter, and the box ogre piled the trunks in a neat pile near Maelor. He crossed his arms and smiled.

  “See?” he said. “You don’t work.”

  I rolled my eyes. We both knew that was false. Though I was sitting back, I still exerted my will over my monsters.

  Maelor pushed me hard and busted my chops, but I didn’t blame him. He’d taught me all I knew about being a summoner and being a man. He didn’t need to save me all those years ago and certainly didn’t need to raise me as his own. He wasn’t the most loving individual, but he cared for me in his own way, and I would always be grateful for that. So the least I could do was do the hard work while he enjoyed his twilight years.

  “So do you have any plans for when we’re done with this town?” I asked. I scratched at my goatee. “I think I caught fleas from that inn.”

  “Serves you right, you seven-toed mutt,” Maelor grumbled with a hoarse laugh. More nonsense, I had all my toes, but I knew he referred to the old tale of the lucky seven-toed dog. It had lost three toes in a gambling match of dice, but the dog was stubborn and not only won back its toes, but also the paws of the other dogs. It was a ridiculous story about det
ermination, but Maelor only meant I was stubborn, which was true.

  The old man pulled out a flask from his pockets and took a sip. Wine spilled down his chin. “I got a wire from a friend in Norrush. Wants to contract us for some wall building and maybe some irrigation, but he was iffy on the details.”

  “Norrush is far, grandpa. Think you can make it?”

  He spat on the lumber. “We’ve traveled farther. You like the road.”

  “Yeah, and I also like taking hot baths and having a warm meal every day.”

  “Coulda’ fooled me. You smell like my piss.”

  I chortled at that, for I knew exactly how gross his piss smelled. He offered me the flask, and I gladly took a sip. The wine was crap, but it was a relief in the heat. I wish he’d brought water like I’d told him, but I supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  We sat like that for a while and passed the flask back and forth while I controlled my monsters. I lost my concentration a few times, but it was of no consequence. We were in no danger of the monsters running rampant. All that happened when I lost focus was that they’d just idle around without a purpose. The bigger monsters, however … those could be a serious threat when let loose.

  The clomp of hooves broke through the din of the cicadas and the monotonous work of the monsters. I looked to the dirt road to my left that ran parallel to the stretch of woods that we were clearing. It headed south into town, and I saw five riders traveling in that direction. The ones in the front and back were soldiers, their green uniforms pressed and tidy like they’d never been worn or ridden in before. Their long rifles glinted in the sunlight across their backs. Between them rode three mages, all who seemed older than me and wore an air of invincibility and arrogance.

  They wore gaudy jewelry over their thick suede robes. I knew their colors well. One wore a billowing brown petticoat with a red cloak that was as bright as a rose field. A fire mage. The other two, a man and a woman who both shared the brown skin of the west, wore white jackets and cloaks marking them as adepts, mages that could manipulate their bodies in various ways.

  They sneered at me as they passed. Their eyes widened briefly when they saw my monsters but then relaxed when they saw the essence crystals on my chest. Their sneer didn’t disappear, but they at least were less hostile.

  “Great weather today, eh?” I called out to them, but none of them answered. Instead, the mages all looked ahead and spurred their horses faster. Bunch of dung piles they were. I snorted and took another swig of the wine.

  “Don’t pay those tossers no mind,” Maelor said. “Mages like them think their shite don’t stink, but when it comes down to it, they’re just a bag of bones and blood like you and me.”

  “I know we need them, but I wish they weren’t such pricks.”

  “People in power are always pricks,” my adoptive father snickered.

  Another hour went by in a heavy, hot daze. We cleared another swath of trees and only another two dozen or so remained. We’d be done with plenty of time left before sundown, which was good because the heat made the burnt skin of my left arm and shoulder itch something fierce. I was exhausted from controlling the monsters all day, but I knew it wouldn’t be for too much longer.

  As we watched the box ogre lift a fallen spruce effortlessly onto one shoulder, Maelor told me another one of his ridiculous folktales from back east.

  “I’m sure I’ve told you this one, but I’ll say it again.”

  “Maybe you’ll remember it correctly this time.” I rolled my eyes and took another swig of his drink.

  He swatted my head lightly. “That was one time.” He grumbled and readjusted himself in his seat. “Anyways, there once was a man who lived in a large farming community, before the Enclaves had come to be. Monsters were a new phenomenon and people were living in fear, but not this man. He was strong and brave and could kill monsters with his bare hands.”

  The old man had told this story before, but at least this time he didn’t botch the beginning.

  He continued, “One day, a beautiful woman came to his town and asked for their strongest man to help her. Naturally, our hero volunteered. The woman tasked him with drinking this warm, golden concoction, for if he did, he would have eternal glory and the strength of the old gods. But he had to survive the ordeal.”

  “Our hero didn’t hesitate. All he wanted was to be a legend. He knew he could do anything. So, without any thought, he took the drink and chugged it whole. Then he died on the spot. The woman, you see, was a former lover who he had spurned years ago, but he did not recognize her. She had gotten her revenge.”

  He ended the story with a sigh. I shook my head. “That is such a stupid story, and depressing.”

  Maelor shrugged. “The old tales teach lessons. They aren’t necessarily good literature.”

  I laughed. That was certainly true, coming off the heels of a story with the four-pronged lesson of not drinking goblin piss, thinking things through before making decisions, not doing anything a woman tells you to, no matter how beautiful, and not spurning an ex-lover. Timeless lessons indeed. I’d heard all of his insane folk tales, but they never failed to leave me flabbergasted. They were a comfort though, of that I couldn’t lie.

  Distant screams tore me away from the story. We both lifted our heads and faced the far-off town. There was silence, a gentle breeze, then we heard it again. Screams. There was no doubt. I looked to Maelor, whose age-spotted face scrunched up in a scowl. He rose to his feet slowly, his weight and age made the easy movement more difficult.

  “What do you think’s going on?” I asked. Which was stupid, for how could he know? He wasn’t a mage. Well, not that kind anyway.

  He huffed and shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know, boy, but whatever it is ain’t good.”

  I was about to ask another question, but then the distant pop of gunfire and the boom of an explosion broke the hot air and reverberated out like a wave. I scrambled out of the dwindling woods and onto the road. Once I was free of the trees, I peered south toward the town and saw small pillars of smoke rising from the houses, but not the light grey smoke of a fireplace. No, this smoke was black as night.

  Moments later, Maelor stumbled over to me, all groans and labored breathing. He probably hadn’t moved that fast in years. When his gaze found the town, his face dropped. “Oh no,” he muttered.

  We didn’t have to wait long for an explanation. A rider on horseback tore down the road towards us in a billowing cloud of dust. He would have passed us, but I flagged him down before he could miss us. He reluctantly stopped, fidgeting uncontrollably, and his eyes were in a panic. He smelled like smoke. I didn’t recognize him, so he must’ve just been passing through the town.

  “Sir,” I began, “what’s happening?”

  He did his best to calm himself, but he had a hard time controlling his breathing. “P-portal opened u-u-up. Had n-no time prepare before the attack began.” He spurred his horse. “Sorry, I need to leave, and so do you.” Then he shot off like a bullet.

  I turned back to Maelor. His face was as sunken as I’m sure mine was. “Monsters,” I breathed with a hitch. “Those mages from earlier can handle it, yeah?”

  His brow furrowed as he stared off at the chaos. He frowned. “It doesn’t sound like it.”

  More gunfire. A plume of fire suddenly shot into the air over one of the houses and disappeared just as quick. I cursed and ran my fingers through my hair.

  “I need to do something. Maybe the mages don’t need help, but I can’t sit here and watch.”

  Maelor’s eyes burrowed into me like one of those new powered trains the military used. He didn’t want me to go and risk my life, but I also knew he wouldn’t say no, for he’d done the same thing for me all those years ago. So, he nodded.

  “Go. Keep your head on your shoulders and your eyes open.” He put out his hand to shake. When I took it, his grip tightened far stronger than one would’ve expected of him. He pulled me into a fierce hug. “Don’t be an idiot and
die on me, you hear me?” he whispered into my hair.

  I hugged him back and fought back a tear. “I’m too stubborn to die.”

  We pulled apart. He patted my shoulder and jerked his head towards the town. “Go.”

  With a smile, I nodded. I returned to my idle monsters and reached out a hand. The monsters materialized back into their crystals, which then shot through the air and into my outstretched hands. All except one. As I put the others away, I reached down for the remaining speed slug and rubbed its slimy back.

  “Sorry, fella, I’m gonna need you a little while longer.”

  I placed the slug on my shoulder and suddenly felt a rush of adrenaline. Then I took off at a speed that wasn’t humanly possible. The landscape blurred around me as I shot towards the town faster than a galloping horse. Euphoria washed over me. It was a thrill to move at such superhuman speeds, even if I might be running head-first into my own death.

  The brick houses of Ralor’s Stead grew large in my vision, so I ground to a halt. A trip that should have taken a normal running man fifteen minutes took me only one. Before I could think to do anything else, I felt bile rise in my throat, so I pitched over and heaved. That always happened after I used the slugs. Once that was through, I patted the slug and ordered him back to his crystal.

  “Thanks,” I told it, even though it wouldn’t care or understand the sentiment.

  I was drained from working, but all I could do was push through my exhaustion. The town of Ralor’s Stead was about three dozen buildings which were thick, large brick structures with steep-gabled tile roofs. Most of it was on fire or consumed by some manner of destruction. Debris as well as smoke was everywhere, and there were bodies strewn about the streets. My stomach lurched.

  The stench hit me first. It was acrid, like rot and decay. I knew what it was. The portal. I took some tentative steps and rounded a corner onto the main avenue of the town when I saw it. Right there in the middle of the street, as tall as the houses, the portal to the dark, monster-infested realm that so desperately wanted to destroy us, The Shadowscape.