Hello all, it's me again. I'm here with another chapter. I'm hoping that you'll enjoy it and write me about it. (Yep, that would be shameless begging for e-mail. If you read my works backwards you'll see the message that tells you to e-mail me).
I want to thank the people that have e-mailed me over the last little while. Of course I have my devoted Kenitra (but I've drugged you so there's no escape) and Shade, Aeoros, and my beloved Apples. And of course David, great guy. Most recently there was Mirage. Thank you to everyone. If you want to drop me a line you can send mail to either Mist_dark@hotmail.com or Mist_dark@yahoo.ca I check both and will respond as quickly as possible.
The disclaimer has to happen now. I don't know anyone in this story. If I did I very much doubt I would be writing it. In fact none of the people in this story are real. Five people in this series have a passing resemblance to five real people, but they're not the same. They have the same names, appearances, and at one point, the same jobs. That's it. Everything else I made up. If homosexual themes offend you, I'd leave. If you are too young or it's illegal in you area to read this, it'd probably be easier if you left (of course you don't have to, just don't get caught). Parts of this story are based of the RPG Rifts. All trademarks belong to Kevin Siembieda and Palladium books.
That's it from me for now. Enjoy the story, Until next time, Rune
CHAPTER TWO
The runes of the magical circle glowed in the dim light of the stone room. They flared to life and a red-haired man appeared in a flash of magical energy. He slumped to his knees when the residual energy had started to fade. He had been a fool to assume the newcomer hadn't been a threat. Had he not spent hours before creating circles the psychic would have been no trouble. As it was he had been forced to flee.
"No matter," he murmured to himself. "He is in my realm now, and he won't be leaving it. At least his body won't."
Summoning reserves of strength, the Summoner pulled himself to his feet. When he had composed himself completely he snapped his fingers. A moment later an avian elven maiden appeared. Her golden hair was pulled away from her face to reveal her pointed ears. She wore a simple white gown, her feet were bare. Her wings were folded neatly behind her.
"Yes Master," she asked timidly.
"I will be visiting a number of the villagers in the morning," the Summoner told her. "I wish to leave them with an impression. An hour after first light I wish to have my horse saddled and a variety of my creatures prepared to leave. See that it is done."
The elf bowed her head. "It will be done Master. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
The Summoner presented his injured left hand. "Heal this."
She didn't ask any questions. Instead she took his hand and closed her eyes. The wound stopped bleeding and closed in on itself. In a moment there wasn't even a scare to show that there had been any injury at all. When she finished healing her master's hand, the elf let it go. She curtseyed once before leaving the room to fulfil her tasks.
By the time the sun had climbed to its zenith the Summoner had visited seven of the ten villages in his domain. Each had been sufficiently cowed by his arrival and hadn't offered any resistance to his demands. He doubted any would. His minion had chosen the creatures that were to accompany him well. She would have been punished otherwise.
Above him flew two Yema. Winged reptilian creatures that would blindly follow whatever orders a mage gave them. The Yema were one of the few creatures under his control that he hadn't summoned. Beside them flew three demonic harpies, each appeared as a normal harpy, but glowed with the brimstone they could spit. One either side of him trotted a manticore. Their spiked tails whipped back and forth when they walked. Their lion heads stared straight ahead. Behind him walked a minotaur. The creature's bullhead took in everything around it, while seeming to ignore everything.
Even his horse struck fear. A shadow horse was a rare creature indeed. It had a jet-black coat with leather wings, similar to those of a bat.. Now and again its hooves would strike up sparks from the rocks. This was another of his creatures that he hadn't summoned. It had cost him a small fortune to buy the horse, but since he'd sent a few assassins after the buyer, he'd gotten his money's worth.
These creatures terrified the villagers, but the real source of their fear was him. He represented a force that could kill them on a whim. If they insulted him in the slightest, they could pay for it with their lives. It had taken very little to point this fact out to them. Showing them how his magic was fueled was more then enough to stifle any rebellions. All rebels met the same end. The power source for his circles.
The villagers scattered in front of him as he rode into their village. The mayor came out of his house. He was an aged man, bald and fat. The Summoner would have killed him years ago, except that he was easily subdued and did his job well.
"Call a meeting," The Summoner snapped. "I want every man, woman and child there. Regardless of age. Don't gape at me. Do it."
The Mayor nodded and went scurrying away to follow the Summoner's demands. Within moments everyone else in the village was making their way toward the townhall. Though no one would admit it to anyone else, they were afraid. Very afraid.
He waited until the streets were cleared and then dismounted. He raised his arm and waved it forward. Wordlessly the manticores and the minotaur moved to follow him. His horse remained where it was. The Yema settled next to it, as did the demonic harpies.
The hall was quiet when he entered. A few people were whispering here and there. Most of it was parents telling their children to be quiet. The moment he stepped into the hall though, all noise ceased. The Summoner strode forward with the manticores following right on his heels like well-trained hounds. The minotaur closed the doors and remained by them.
When he reached the front he motioned to each of his `pets'. They lay down on either side of him, eyeing the assembled villagers. The Summoner had instructed them to do just this. Manticores were not the most intelligent of creatures, but simple commands were within their grasp, and he wanted them to make the villagers think they were about to eat the entire lot.
"I will not waste your time or mine by formalities," the Summoner told them. "Recently a man has entered my domain. He has proven more difficult then I originally thought. This man is dangerous and I wish him eliminated. However, I will deal with that myself. All you need do is avoid him. Anyone caught helping him in any way will be dealt with."
He paused to let that sink in. For an instant silence descended upon the hall. Then one of the harpies shrieked. It was a cry full of hunger and a desire to bring pain to any other creature. The sound had the appropriate effect on the villagers. They were even more terrified. None of them would disobey his commands. The effects were worth the time it had taken to instruct his various minions on timing. A cry given at the proper time was far more powerful then any display of magic. Let scholars think what they would, he could do more with a well-staged performance then most could with a grand display of magic. Of course his display had more effect, because he could back it up.
"As I was saying, this man is dangerous. Very dangerous. He is traveling with a small boy, about ten years of age. I will leave complete physical descriptions with your mayor. If you should see either of them, notify your mayor at once. I will be in touch and will see that this threat is dealt with immediately."
Without waiting for any sort of response the Summoner and his manticores left the front of the hall and worked their way toward the back. When he was about half way down the aisle a young girl dropped her doll in front of him. She slipped out of her seat to retrieve it before he could step on it. The Summoner fixed her with a stare and the girl froze in fear.
"Whose child is this?" he demanded.
An elderly man that had been sitting next to her stood. "I'm her grandfather. Her parents were killed by.." The man appeared to be about to say something, but changed his mind. "Were died last year. I've been taking care of the girl."
"Are you aware of what she has done?"
"She didn't mean it," the old man groveled. "She's only a child."
"Perhaps I will be lenient then," he said. He waited for the sigh of relief to run through the assembly. "Take them both." He took the girl by the arm and lifted the child off the ground. With dizzying speed the minotaur left its post by the door and picked the old man up. "Once the threat has been removed I will return these two to you. In the mean time, consider them my assurance that you will follow my instructions."
"What have you done with the old man and the girl?" The Summoner sat in a large chair facing a fire. Standing beside him was a Drow. The dark elf's black skin made him seem ethereal in the flickering light of the fire.
"They have been placed in one of the cells on the third level of the dungeon," the Drow told his master. "What do you plan to do with them?"
"Kill them of course," he said calmly. "They'll be able to power one of my circles. At least they'll be able to help. They're as close to non-magical as it's possible to be."
The Drow nodded. "There are two matters of importance Master. The first is the missing Forest Born." The dark elf pronounced the words as if they were a curse. "We have been unable to locate her in the jungle. If she leaves the safety of the trees she won't be a problem."
"Don't worry too much about her. She's the last of her tribe. She won't be able to muster much of a resistance." The Summoner absently toyed with a small bottle of grayish crystals. "What is the other matter?"
"A warlock has entered your domain." The tone of the Drow's voice left no doubt about which he thought was the more important of the two matters.
"What measures have you set in motion to deal with him?" The Summoner asked. "And what is his life sign?"
"Her," the elf corrected. "I've dispatched a few of your capable creatures to deal with her. I haven't heard anything back yet. As for her life sign, I don't know that either. I would guess that it isn't air, the weather has been too calm for that."
"I'm sure you'll be able to deal with a single warlock," the Summoner told his servant. "Was there anything else?"
"Just one last thing," the Drow said. "The priests of Tark seem to be restless."
"The spider goddess?"
"Yes. Large numbers of the priests have been leaving their main temple and entering the jungle. It's almost impossible to track them, but from the reports I've been getting, they're all over the place. I'm not sure what they're up to, but I doubt it has your best interests in mind."
"I believe you're being paranoid. The spider goddess bares me no ill will, and she has no reason to send out so many priests to confront me. If she desired to do that she'd simply appear to me herself."
"Of course Master," the elf said. It was obvious that he didn't share his master's beliefs about the actions of the priests. "If there is nothing else I have my duties to attend to."
The Summoner waved his servant away. The door made almost no sound as the elf left the room. The man didn't even notice. His attention was focused completely on the bottle in his hand. A smile crossed his face.
"I'll have you yet Night-child. Your friend won't be able to help you once the true reality of the situation sinks in. I doubt he is skilled in the arts of surviving in a jungle. Eventually you'll run out of food. I'm content to wait until then."
The art of summoning is indeed a rare practice. There are several reasons for this. The first of which is that this form of magic leaves the wielder very open to surprise attack. Even a Diabolist is not as exposed as a surprised summoner is. However, a prepared summoner would be, and is, a horrible thing to behold.
Another reason for the rarity of this art is the fact that all magi are secretive by nature. This is particularly true of the more evil magics. Necromancers rarely, if ever, accept more then a few initiates each year. And over three-quarters of the numbers that are accepted as initiates are destroyed in the process. Of the remaining quarter no more then ten percent will achieve the full rank of necromancer. Summoners are very much the same, except far more so. There are few teachers of the art and since they often fear persecution they are usually unwilling to take an apprentice. Those that are accepted by a summoner must face many years to learn the basics of the art. Months will be spent studying one symbol (it's actually a boring study unless you enjoy the complexities of art and literature). This study is necessary for the young summoner. One symbol can make the difference between life and death. Between a successful summoning, and a total disaster.
That brings me to the third reason summoners are so rare. The chance of a summoning gone wrong. In most spells it is possible to make mistakes when you are unfamiliar with the spell. The effects vary from spell to spell. But generally a miscast spell will simply cause minor discomfort and rarely cause any amount of damage (though once I did make it rain for two months straight while trying to conjure a small breeze). Summonings carry much more danger. If the summoner incorrectly creates the circle then the creature he wishes to summon may not appear (that is the best case senario). Worse the desired creature could appear and not be under the mage's control. Or the creature could appear and attack before the mage has time to bind its will to his. If the creature is not under his control then the summoner is in very grave danger. This is the main reason why this art is so rare. Few men and women are willing to put themselves in so much danger for power.
The other circles that a summoner can make, that aren't summoning circles, carry their own dangers. Though the dangers of incorrectly making one of these circles are generally nothing compared to those of a summoning circle. If one incorrectly makes a teleportation circle then the thing will probably just not work, or at worse teleport you somewhere other then the desired destination. These circles are the safer ones to use because if incorrectly made they will just not work, or will work in an incorrect, but annoying manner.
Perhaps another reason summoners are so rare is due to the links they have to their minions. It takes a great deal of mental control to keep those creatures from ripping themselves free of your will. And all it would take is one minion to free itself. Summoners are powerful mages, but an arrow is just as lethal to them as it is to any other man. If a creature escapes control it will do one of three things. It may simply return to its native world (not all the summoned creatures are creatures of this world, but few actually possess the ability to return by themselves). If it cannot return, or does not wish to, it has two choices. One is to kill the mortal that dared summon it, the other is simply to leave. The latter of these choices is rarely the one picked. More often then not the creature will kill its former master before either returning home or wondering the world.
A great many summoners have been killed in the past, much like witches are. Of courses witches have willingly sold their souls for power, whereas the summoners are only flirting with death. I suppose in a way casting any magic is flirting with death. I mean, you are taking a force far behind your comprehension and making it do what you want. Of course it isn't a living force, but it is a force none the less. We've been using fire for thousands of years and we still haven't mastered it. Granted we can control it, but if we get too cocky it will get loose and do things that we don't want it to do. Almost anyone can learn to cast a spell and almost anyone can start a fire. The trick is not to burn the house down, or turn your neighbour to stone by accident. I guess it's the same with summoning. Be careful. Always be careful, and you might just live long enough to try the circle again.
The musings of Doren, a dwarven summoner. Written two days before his death.
TBC
Hope you enjoyed. I'll have the next part out early next week, most likely. Let me know what you think of it. I really do want to hear from you.
Until next time my friends, Rune