A Summoner's Calling Page 23

  “I know you’re probably tired, but you need to put this to rest. Concentrate and command it. Or else what do you think would happen if you weren’t in here, I wasn’t in my armor or you were out there among the family? Better yet, what would happen if your sister was here?” Thomas says, sheathing his blade on his back charging to her.

  Jet stands up, and before she could step with the quick step, he grabs her left hand. He catches her off balance with a solid left cross that smashes into her face. He throws another as she grapples his wrist, tucking under her armpit and grapples the other to head bash him. The ends of her hair turn into black blades hovering above her head. They thrust forward to stab into his head, but they stop just as they nick his helmet.

  “Jet…,” Thomas says, waiting for a reaction as her grapple loosens. Jet senses return to her with control as the black pigment dissipates. Weakness causes her to collapse onto a broken floor.

  “I thought you said you would never wear that armor again,” Jet smiles tolerating the pain in her chest.

  “I do believe a certain circumstance called for it,” he says, activating his helmet to recede into his gear. Thomas bends down, rubbing her back as a harsh convulsion invokes her to puke clear fluids and blood.

  “What the hell are you doing in my vault?” Richard opens the vault to see the imbuing inscriptions destroyed along with everything else.

  “Richard, help me. She’s spewing blood,” Thomas yells to him.

  “Who’s spewing blood? Wait. Why are there people in my protection room?” Ilyana enters as her eyes widen. She then rushes to Jet’s side. She holds her hand over Jet’s head as light shines and Ilyana closes her eyes for a moment.

  “Hey, Ilyana. Sorry about your room,” Jet apologizes.

  “It’s fine. I do much worse, trust me,” Smiling, Ilyana’s light dims from her hand.

  “What do we need to do? Is she going to be all right?” Thomas asks.

  “Yeah. She’s already healing on her own, so just get some easy food and beverages. She’ll be fine,” Ilyana says as she looks at Jet, pondering in thought.

  “I’ll go get her some nourishments,” Richard offers and leaves the door open, heading up to the tavern side of his building.

  “What’s the matter?” Jet asks her as she gets up, looking around for something. Ilyana finds a book and starts looking for a specific page she recalls.

  “Ilyana?” Richard looks to her. Before doing or saying anything, she waves her hands. Runic symbols appear in the air and the room returns to its prior state. Ilyana kneels next to Jet with the book levitating and reads the words contained as runic magic encompasses Jet. A calming sensation rushes over her and Jet can sense an ease from the struggle now ended.

  “There, you should feel lots better now,” Ilyana smiles and collects her book, putting it away on a built-in shelf.

  “I do, thank you,” Jet sits up.

  “What’d you do?” Thomas inquires.

  “Whatever power I sensed within her was restless and out of control. I simply just put it at ease and now its resting,” she explains.

  Thomas helps Jet to her feet. Exiting the vault, she notices the basement is undisturbed from her white flash.

  How’s this possible? Did I fix this with what I did in the vault? Jet wonders as Thomas sits her at a table and Richard brings down a warm plate to her.

  “Eat up, sweetheart,” Richard smiles and begins consuming some beef.

  “Richard, a moment,” Thomas nudges his head to the side as he joins him in whispers. Halfway through her plate accompanied with bread and potatoes, Jet stares at the machine. What she thought possible to help Erryn seems folly, now. While thinking and looking around the room, she notices a workbench along one of the walls that shares occupancy with the fancy machine.

  Jet wipes her face and walks over to the workbench. There she sees unfinished pieces as gears, screws and other pieces remain scattered on the table. While piecing a gadget together, it makes her think about what Thomas proclaimed. How could someone with so much underground influence be only effective to do so little? she wonders.

  “Jet, you alright?” Thomas approaches her.

  “Yeah, it’s been awhile since I’ve been able to do something like this. But it usually leads me to a curious thought,” Jet says, moving onto a pair of goggles.

  “You’ve always loved your puzzles, but it causes you to have dangerous thoughts. What’s on your mind?” he asks, smiling.

  “Please, explain to me why someone like yourself—we’ll use these goggles, for example—who has such the impactful influence and capabilities. You have all these gears and wires I attach, but yet, there’s nothing you or rather we can do to help?” Jet inquires, finishing the goggles.

  “Jet, we’re not even in Cloud City where we could utilize the harbor. Plus, even if I were to distribute everything, not only does that leave us completely defenseless but it would be over upon our arrival,” Thomas explains.

  “God damn it! But how do you know it wouldn’t be still going on? What if they could’ve used our help? My sister could use our help,” Jet pounds on the bench with her fist, trying to search for a way.

  “And Valedent will make sure nothing happens to her. He’s more than capable of handling a situation as such. Plus, he has his roots there giving him leverage in gaining the help he’ll need to help make a stand,” Thomas attempts to assure her.

  “Perhaps. Maybe she would like to become part of the plan in hindering his efforts,” Richard suggests as Jet turns around curious.

  “It wouldn’t be a bad idea, you know. While he’s busy over there, it’ll make things easier to become more proactive over here,” Ilyana walks out of the vault.

  “Absolutely not,” Thomas refuses.

  “What’s not a bad idea?” Jet asks, leaning against the workbench as Ilyana throws her an apple. Jet takes a bite upon receiving it. Everyone but the four of them leave the room without a word being spoken.

  “It has to do with a plan on which I’ve been working for the past years which ends Vladimir’s reign. But given Richard and mine’s pasts involving Vladimir’s father gaining the trust and encouraging those to fight is our hurdle,” Thomas sighs with his arms crossed.

  “Wait, you were involved with his father? What makes you think people wouldn’t follow you?” Jet asks as she looks at both men, noticing Ilyana biting her lip.

  “Yes, he was a very honorable, commended and unified leader. Truly legendary. But as a father, he wasn’t the kindest of sorts. In the end he not only met an early grave, but the grieving son put the blame on both of us. So, since then, you could say we’re looked at as the cause of his reign beginning as such by the masses,” Richard explains, admitting to their dark hushed shadows.

  “We’re going to need all the assistance we can get. However, we’ll need a mascot to invoke a following becoming the pinnacle of the people’s strength and hope against him,” Ilyana explains, walking up to her.

  “I’d suggest going underneath a different name. Therefore, you’re not so easily found by them if you decide to make a stand,” Richard says as she sees Thomas’ disgruntled face due to his displeasure.

  Jet turns back to the bench in thought. If I were to do this, what would be the name I would choose?

  Jet picks up gears looking at it as Thomas, concerned, finds words. “You don’t have to do this. There’s no rush, so at least sleep on it. Whether you do or don’t—it’s fine.”

  “I’ll think about it. What do you think?” Jet places the goggles on and Thomas relaxes.

  “You look part human, part goblin,” Ilyana laughs until a thought passes and she heads for the vault.

  The basement door opens as a man runs down the stairs, breathing heavy.

  “Sir Richard, bandits are infesting Inbitwit again. What should we do?” he says.

  “Seriously? They are worse than the buzzing of swarming flies. Excuse me,” Richard leaves and runs upstairs, grabbing his flintlocks.

/>   “You going to be alright staying here?” Thomas asks as Jet nods and he runs after Richard.

  Jet stands at the work bench alone. The desire to help causes her pace back and forth as she fights within herself. What if that power releases and I can’t stop it? There will be a lot of people killed. Am I really the one that should be leading people? she wonders.

  With chaos brewing, she goes to look for Ilyana in her vault since she had been gone a while. She reaches the door, knocking as she calls out, “Yeah, come on in Jet.”

  “What are you doing in here?” Jet asks.

  “Looking for some-ah, here it is,” She says, pulling out a sword. It’s the sword Jet was forced to leave behind when Kosmos took her from here.

  “How do you have that?” Jet gasps.

  “Well, I knew we would get you back eventually. I just didn’t think it would’ve taken them this long. So, I’m curious if you were to choose a name what would it have been?” Ilyana hands her the sword and Jet looks at it as she remembers Osmium.

  Grabbing the gear in her pocket, Jet says, “Gears, I think.”

  “That would make sense. Here; I want you to have this. If you wear this with your goggles, I don’t even think that Kosmos guy could sense your magic.” She hands Jet a brown mask with pale veins and a built-in mouth mask hiding her features.

  “I don’t know if I’m the right person for this mascot thing about which you guys were talking,” Jet says, trying to hand back the mask.

  “Keep it. Think of it like a gift from me to you. And look, you were able to stand against Thomas. In fact, you cared enough to stop a chaotic power when you had no knowledge in how to control it. If you could do all that, then what can’t you do?” Ilyana asks her. Jet nods slipping the masks over her face, realizing its breathability is like a fishing net.

  “I think I need to go check on the old man,” Jet says, pulling on her goblin goggles. Grabbing her sword and a hooded long jacket, Jet heads outside. Stepping outside, civilians fall back to the tavern. Richard and Thomas are fighting back the bandits.

  She walks past them without hesitation and the bandits take notice. One by one they charge her. She kicks him in the stomach, and he keels over as she slices his neck from swinging upward. Jet stops walking. All the bandits stop as one walks forward.

  “How dare you kill one of my men!” he yells with crazed eyes.

  “I’m sorry. If you cared about your plaything, you should have trained it better,” Jet tilts her head to the side, realizing Ilyana’s mask’s unique ability. Not only does it hide her face, but it disguises her voice to reflect that of the opposite gender.

  He raises his arms with a great axe, charging her as she holds still until she thrusts the blade forward into the curvature of his throat. As a result, he halts on the sudden choke. In that instance as his throat floods with blood, she swings the blade left and then right, striking him.

  His neck, with shredded tissue, lies onto the ground as his body collapses face first and fills a giant puddle fast. Jet holds where she stands. The rest stand there, trying to smile as one pees himself.

  “Boo,” Jet says. They run from Inbitwit, heading back towards the volcano. Jet turns around back to Thomas and Richard, standing there and looking at them.

  “Jet?” whispers Thomas.

  “Hi,” Jet squeaks as Richard grabs Jet’s arm. He pulls her towards him, pointing to the body. A blackness that seems all too familiar to the three of them oozes from the body. Kozrot, Jet thinks.

  “Go protect Inbitwit. We’ll make way for Cloud City,” Thomas says as they run out of the town and into Storm Forrest. Looking behind them, Jet sees that it never once veered off course to attack anyone in Inbitwit. Though, it starts attaching itself to trees and chasing them.

  “Why’s it chasing only us?” Jet asks.

  “Who knows, but I can turn on our machine if we can get close enough to Cloud City’s borders. I can keep it contained till I can get word to the mayor,” Thomas says as she remembers a path leading straight home.

  “Follow me,” Jet says, deviating from the main path. They run through the woods as the Kozrot races to catch them. But then, they reach a balcony overlooking a beautiful scenery of Cloud City. Reaching into his pocket for a hand-sized box, it glitches with the Kozrot quickly approaching.

  “Come on, damn thing. Work,” Thomas hits it, trying to get it back on.

  The Kozrot jumps at them like a wave crashing onto a shore. Jet stabs her sword into the ground, yelling, “NO!” A bright white mist radiates off her, obliterating the Kozrot to ash as it crumbles back and recedes. Did I just do that? Jet wonders, pulling her sword out of the ground.

  “There we go,” Thomas says as a barrier emanates around the city and them. The Kozrot tries to penetrate but fails and returns to the trees.

  “I guess I just might have to be your mascot. Can we go home now? I miss Katty,” Jet takes off her mask and they walk into Cloud City.

  Nija : Vladimir & Kosmos

  24

  Vladimir marches out of Dragonar with a now enhanced army of an astounding mass, which could shake any witness with great terror and excitement. The king’s cavalry surrounds him intermixed with both old and new recruits, bolstering his older ranks to unprecedented levels. They journey to join Gesthal, who left the day prior. Sitting in his royal armored carriage, he ponders over the effectiveness of his latest invention. He holds a dark metal ball within the rays of daylight, watching how the sheen of black stones embedded into it. It drew in the nearby light within the carriage. Vladimir opens a window, calling to a soldier marching beside him. “Cory, instruct the driver to make a village detour.”

  “Sir, forgive my questioning, but aren’t we to head for Pinya?” Cory questions.

  “It isn’t your job to question. Now, the driver,” Vladimir waves him off. The carriage slows before changing direction along with the collective army and heads towards Nija. Arriving a short time later to the village, a red aura swirling with flames covers Nija in a giant dome shape, and guards stand at its entrance.

  Vladimir steps out as a guard steps forward. “You’re not welcome here. Leave or suffer Zaravarn’s wrath.”

  “Now, that’s no way to treat your king. But if I must, I’ll just welcome myself in,” Vladimir shrugs with a smirk across his face. The soldiers look at each other and burst out laughing at him.

  “You think you can just walk through Nija’s Blessing, powered by the almighty fire god, Zaravarn? Please, be our guest if you desire melting to death,” the soldier invites him, calming down from his laughing amusement.

  “How kind of you to allow me to show you how powerless your gods really are,” Vladimir bows and turns to Cory who brings over a bag from the carriage. He pulls out one of the metal balls as the Nija soldier immediately stops laughing. Vladimir presses multiple black stones, releasing the entrapped vacuumed air with loud hisses. Vladimir’s men step back as he throws it at the aura. As it sticks, it latches on with a black liquid to the aura, withstanding the aura’s melting heat.

  “How is that possible?” the Nijan squints his eyes, investigating the ball.

  “Being a king makes anything possible,” Vladimir boasts as the ball begins absorbing some of the aura’s energy, applying pressure inside the ball.

  “Blasphemy. This can’t be,” gasps the other soldier. Then the ball grows, harnessing its maximum capacity and explodes, disintegrating the protective aura with Kozrot while destroying Nija’s Blessing.

  “Cory,” Vladimir says as he approaches the two soldiers.

  “No, you’re not allowed.” The soldier quivers.

  “His Majesty demands admittance,” Cory says, drawing his weapon that he carried on his back. In his hands, he beholds a long scythe with a wicked curved blade and razor teeth. Chains spiral the length of the pole, connecting to the head of the weapon. The two soldiers unsheathe their swords, springing to attack but Cory deflects them without effort and leaps back. He gives a twist with his wri
st as the scythe blade detaches from the top. It dangles by the chains which now glow a daunting red.

  Cory advances, unleashing three swings in a whirl of movements. Meanwhile, the razor blade lunges forward with an intimidating reach and accuracy. Before anyone could exhale their breath, both soldiers’ limbs and heads drop to the ground. He yanks the pole, retracting the blade back to the top while pressing onward and kicking open the gates.

  “Thank you, Cory. I only hope that Gesthal is as effective as you are. I want this village under my control, now,” Vladimir orders. Dozens of armed soldiers march in as civilians attempt to suppress them by using magical techniques. The soldiers charge, trashing homes and buildings while scaring the civilians who retreat towards the temple.

  The Nijans invoke powers which manipulate the trees to throw soldiers beyond their borders and control the fires. It was working until Vladimir walked up with a new force. He marches with fierce steps as cloaked figures walk just behind him. As the casters cast their magic, his men raise their hands.

  “That’s not possible,” shouts a civilian. Many share the horrified expressions of disbelief with their magic halted and suspending in midair, trembling their firm stances. They step backward as their only defense hovers without their control. Vladimir smirks, recognizing his favorite affliction with which to stir anyone: fear.

  “Now, let me remind you who you follow,” Vladimir says, raising his hand as he halts.

  “We follow the bishop and the summoner,” shouts a little girl as the mother tries covering her mouth, shushing her. Vladimir smirks and motions to his men as they redirect, forcing the magic at the surrounding area. The guards, in turn, protect them. He goes to the girl standing in the intersection, kneeling on one knee as the mother holds her hand, quivering.

  “Dear child, you’re so right to put your faith in very powerful and capable individuals. However, only a manipulator that blinds others to a fate forced onto others could assume control as he does. Isn’t that right, bishop?” Vladimir notices the bishop standing on the bridge steps. He rubs the child’s face with a gentle touch that could be mistaken by kindness and love rising to greet the bishop.