by Eric Vall
Dinner was already in full swing when I arrived at the dining hall. A round of applause greeted me as I strode into the room. Like it was in the arena, not every student cared about my victory, but it was enough to show that I had proven myself, that I belonged, and that I was a force to be reckoned with.
There was no line for the food, so it took me no time at all to get my dinner: roasted pork topped with gravy, a baked potato packed with cheese and bacon, and a rich creamy vegetable bisque. To top it all off, I got a tankard of imported honey mead from the southern farmlands. It was as if the Headmaster had anticipated my victory and had prepared accordingly. I knew that was preposterous, but it made me smile anyway.
I was barely able to eat in peace once I found my seat with Layla and Braden. People swamped over us to offer me congratulations and shake my hand. Many introduced themselves for the first time, mostly those from the older classes. More than a few girls made some much-appreciated advances, which I would gladly take them up on later. I was glad to see that Layla didn’t care about that in the slightest. In fact, she was smiling ear to ear about the whole spectacle.
Classmates like Folli, Deren, and others sat with us. They shared jokes and laughed and smiled, and it felt like, finally, the summoners weren’t the outcasts. What really made me smile was seeing all the attention that Braden and Layla were getting.
A girl with short black hair and bright red cheeks leaned across the table from Layla. “Can you do what he did too?” she asked with unbridled enthusiasm.
Layla looked, dare I say, bashful. She chuckled. “I mean, I can do a little like that. Gryff is way more skilled than I am.”
That made me grin.
Braden got the same treatment and responded with his nervous stuttering. He was not used to being a focal point of attention, I noticed that although he still stuttered, it wasn’t as pronounced as it used to be. He’d gotten better, so maybe over time, we could rid him of that particular nervous mannerism.
Finally, the crowd around me parted for Nia Kenefick as she strode toward me. I swiveled around to face her. She came to a halt a step away, her arms folded behind her. The chattering of my table lessened as I rose to meet her.
“Gryff,” she said coolly, her expression guarded.
“Kenefick,” I replied with a stern frown.
We stared at each other for several seconds, the gathered crowd looked between us, their eyes flitting back and forth. At last, Nia’s cold facade broke as she smiled wide, her face absolutely radiant. When she let that inner warmth out, she made everyone else around her seem so much lesser.
She extended her hand to me. “Good job, summoner.”
I grinned and shook her hand. “Thanks.”
Her grip tightened, and she leaned in close to my ear so that only I could hear her. “I’d give you a hug, but, well, I have a reputation to uphold, you know. If these people see me with emotions, they might revolt.”
Nia Kenefick being sarcastic. I had seen it all.
I smiled back at her. “I got it. Go on and make them think you have ice for a heart.”
She nodded, her grin cheeky as she patted my shoulder. “Thanks for your understanding.”
The conversation around us had picked up again, so no one batted an eye when I chuckled. “Don’t worry about it.”
Nia leaned in closer than before, her hair fell over my nose as her words tickled my ear, her breath warm on my jaw. “I knew you could do it.” Then she turned and left, leaving my heart pounding and my cheeks warm. She really did a number on me, and I couldn’t help but look forward to where our relationship might go in the future.
The celebration rolled on. The chatter at my table died down a tad as I ate my meal. Many people started to get seconds and refill their drinks, as was the case most nights. I smiled when I noticed throughout the night that Gawain and his ilk were nowhere to be seen. I’d left him to nurse some injuries in the infirmary, but it didn’t surprise me that he would hide in shame with his tail between his legs.
Almost an hour into our meal, near the end of dinner most nights, there was a loud musical clang from a chalice that had been struck with a knife to draw our attention. On the raised platform at the head of the room where the faculty sat to eat stood the Headmaster, his beard only slightly stained red from his wine. As I thought that, almost like he could read my mind, he dabbed at it with a napkin before he raised an ornately decorated chalice which glinted with what looked like sapphires. A warm smile graced his features as he looked out across the crowd that stared back at him. “Students, faculty. Tonight, I would like to congratulate our most recent student to claim victory in the Dance of Wills.” He gestured out toward me. “Gryff of Njordenfalls, stand sir.”
So I did.
All eyes fell on me, and while most of them were encouraging, there were still many who were skeptical. That was fine. It was a hard thing to break a perception that people have held for their entire life, but I would change them, of that I had no doubt.
As I stood in the middle of this storm of eyes, Headmaster Sleet continued. “Gryff, come up here, will you?”
I eyed him curiously as I got the sense he didn’t usually call students up to stand by him, but I obliged him. I strode across the crowded room, between the long tables full of students, food, and drink. The steps up to the dais were thin and narrow, carpeted and soft. I climbed up them and stood next to the Headmaster.
He clapped a firm hand on my shoulder. “What some of you may not be aware of, in fact, what most of you are unaware of it, is that Gryff and mister Maddox had a little wager for their duel. They wagered that if Gryff won, he could take Gawain’s place on the new response squad being led by miss Hamner, and lo and behold, Gryff won.”
Murmurs rose up through the room. Much of the talk was filled with excitement, but there were skeptics among them, some of them being the higher-level teachers. But they hadn’t had the chance to have me as a student yet, they would learn about my ability in time.
“Now, as my esteemed friends in the military wondered, what has Gryff done to earn this, aside from promptly beating one of the most promising fire mages of the generation?” the Headmaster recounted as he stroked his beard. “My answer to them and to you is that he single-handedly rid Ralor’s Stead of a monster threat, including a fire-eye, which is a feat most squads together would struggle with. On top of that, he bravely ventured into the Shadowscape with Miss Kenefick, and defended our school against dozens of monsters.”
My face grew hot and red, my heart swelling with pride. I wasn’t used to being recognized like this, but I found I liked it.
“So before any naysayers speak out,” he said, his voice rising. “Know that this man has earned his place a hundred times over. Let’s hear it for him, Gryff of Njordenfalls, summoner.”
The room erupted into furious applause. Everyone stood and clapped, whooped and hollered and whistled. Layla was cursing loudly with enthusiasm, as Braden beamed even as he tried to rein her in. Nia was radiant with pride for me, her friend, and I couldn’t help but smile as wide as I ever had in my entire life.
This was only the beginning, I knew that. I had a long way to go, more than three and a half years left at the Varle Academy. There was a long road ahead of me, with many challenges that I couldn’t even imagine, but I had great friends, great teachers, and a knack for overcoming challenges. I’d done so much, and I would do so much more. Me, a dumb farm boy from the wilds with no formal schooling.
Me: Summoner.
End Notes
Thank you for reading Summoner. If you enjoyed the book, the best way to ensure another one gets written is to please leave a review right here.
Have you read my other novel Planet Broker? It’s about a guy who buys planets, colonizes/upgrades them, and then sells them. He’s got a crew of beautiful women, including a catgirl and super sexy mechanic. Click on the links to get it:
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by Eric Vall