A Summoner's Calling Read online

  “Yes. Why is that so strange to you?” Drotonic asks.

  “Well, I didn’t grow up in a place like this. This is like a heaven filled with happiness, love, and life. I’ve never known anything like this. No, what I was ‘blessed with’ was a childhood rich with pain, torment, and scars.” Erryn sighs as her stomach grumbles louder.

  “Pain, torment, and scars? That doesn’t sound like a childhood at all. More like a nightmare. Come on. I can tell you’re hungry. Let’s get some food,” Drotonic leads the way to the building they first passed while entering Nija. He can see the fascination on Erryn’s face. The luminescent lights circulate on the trees, and the columns of the buildings grow brighter as the sky becomes darker. Walking up to the building, paved stones illuminate the ground around her feet as she steps forward.

  “How does this place do that? It’s so neat. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Erryn says.

  Drotonic laughs, “I’ll explain after we get some food.” Upon entering, Drotonic waves to familiar faces, including a waitress. He nods his head, signaling Erryn to follow as he directs her to a seat at the back. Drotonic feels her grab onto his robes, pressing herself close to him. Is she afraid of people? he wonders.

  He ushers with a wave of his hand offering her a seat before sitting himself, “Now, what would you like to eat?”

  “Whatever you don’t eat,” she says.

  “Excuse me? What do you mean?” Drotonic pauses. There’s a string of drool on the side of her mouth as she gazes across the room at the other tables.

  “This is your home, so you get whatever you want. I’ll eat whatever scraps you don’t,” she explains.

  “What have you eaten in the woods this entire time?” Drotonic asks, concerned for her well-being.

  “Berries and wild mushrooms. When I can hunt, rabbits. That’s the usual,” she shrugs, and Drotonic shakes his head in disbelief.

  A waitress walks over, ready to take their orders. She nudges him with her hip winking, “Evening Drotonic. I see you brought a friend with you today.”

  “Yes. I’ll have my usual, please,” he requests.

  “And what about your new friend?” She turns to Erryn who is discomforted by a decision on what to do.

  “She’s been sleeping in the woods and living off berries,” Drotonic speaks up.

  “Oh, my stars. No worries, honey. I know just the thing.” Having taken their order, she moves away. Drotonic stretches, relaxing in his chair. He watches Erryn twirling her hair while she waits. He reaches over, getting her attention and stopping her twirls.

  “Something wrong?” he asks.

  “Is living off of berries that bad?” she asks.

  “Alone, it’s not enough to sustain you for a long time, especially since we’re just nearing spring,” Drotonic says.

  “Oh, I didn’t know. My sister would have. She was always the more resourceful and the smarter one,” Erryn says.

  “Hey, it’s no big deal. Now I told you I was going to explain to you why this place g-” Drotonic stops as people walk through the door.

  “What is it?” she asks as Drotonic stops her from turning her head. How did they get in here? he thought. Four Black Razors wearing the signature black and red armor enter. They scrutinize the customers, searching for something. Drotonic can only guess it’s Erryn.

  “Looks like your friend tattled about his adventures today. Now there are more here on the prowl,” Drotonic says as he raises his finger for a waiter.

  “Can you let the kitchen know they should send the meals for Drotonic and party to the temple?” he whispers. The waiter nods and makes his way to the kitchen, attending others on the way. Erryn’s leg becomes jumpy as she bites her lower lip. He taps her hand and nudges for the door behind them.

  The door locks behind them as they exit. Drotonic struggles to think of their next move. Bring her to dinner, says the bishop. What could possibly go wrong with that? He rebuts the bishop. Leaning against the wall, he tries to figure out what to do.

  “Are we going to be okay?” Erryn looks up the alley.

  “I want to say yes, but right now I don’t know.” Drotonic is nothing, if not honest. Erryn starts for the end of the alleyway. He pushes off the wall, increasing his pace to catch up to her. At the end of the alley, Erryn peeks around the corner and extends her right-hand back, signifying Drotonic to stop.

  “That’s not good,” Erryn whispers, returning to the alley as Drotonic takes a quick peek.

  “What were you thinking? You realize you could’ve been spotted,” Drotonic whispers.

  “Well, how else would we know ten more soldiers plus two more Black Razors are outside the tavern?” Erryn says.

  “I get that, but it’ll only cause more trouble if you’re seen. Like the issue you brought with you to our gates,” Drotonic says as Erryn stops in thought.

  “So-rry, not like I asked for this, you know. What do you suggest we do then? At this rate, running into them again is inevitable. What we need is a place which will grant us safety, regardless if we are in the same room as them,” Erryn says. Drotonic takes a moment to think, noting Irba’s home is off-limits since she’s not even there. And, her place is supposed to remain a secret to outsiders.

  “I may know of a place, the temple,” Drotonic says. What could go wrong? It’s not like I have a choice. I hope the bishop isn’t going to be too mad at me.

  “Alright, don’t look at them. If we act normal, we should be fine,” Erryn takes his hand, calming his spiking tensions as they exit the alley. Drotonic can feel the unease of the locals. He catches a curtain being pulled back a fraction, as a blanched face tries to be unobtrusive in looking out the window. He knows of what they are afraid, which is a repeat of the past. Drotonic and Erryn’s steps crunch on the pea gravel, their legs striding forward to a metal-clang. Oh, no. That’s not from us. It’s a group following us, Drotonic realizes.

  Passing the farm and following the bend to avoid Irba’s home, he sees stairs to a massive bridge that crosses the wide river. Its unwavering gray clay structure gives Drotonic hope, reminding him of the temple, which is now only a short distance. Even in Nija’s founding, the rushing waters pouring from a nurturing waterfall couldn’t deteriorate its formidable foundation. Drotonic fights to hasten his steps in reaching the bridge. He plans to distance the soldiers from them; although their unknowing numbers cause him to remain at a walking pace.

  “Hey, relax. You got this.” She nudges him with her elbow and whispers, “Relax. I figured some would follow.” He starts at her assumption. Their steps start to lose some of the accompanying footfall. Drotonic takes the first couple of steps onto the bridge, expecting her to follow. When she doesn’t, he turns to her and stops with a squinted funny face.

  “Something up?” he asks, seeing three guards approaching in his peripherals.

  “Yeah. I’ll meet you there. Good luck,” she smiles, nodding her head, signaling for him to continue.

  “Are you sure?” he asks, taking a step down, conflicted by his promise.

  “Yes, now go. I can handle this.” Erryn turns right, following the bank of the river beside a fisherman’s house.

  “Alright, but you better not be too long.” Drotonic continues up the bridge. Two soldiers follow her, which leaves one still following him. He walks fast until the soldier can’t see him cresting onto the bridge flat and makes haste to find the bishop. Please don’t be cross with me, He says sending up a silent prayer.

  Drotonic reaches the temple doors and sees the soldier making his way there.

  He accosts a temple guard. “Where’s the bishop? It’s urgent!”

  After the guard says the bishop is in his quarters, Drotonic runs to find him, knowing time is not on his side.

  Drotonic barges into the bishop’s room. “Bishop, we have problems in the village.” Drotonic pants, trying to draw breath-. “The Black Razors have entered the village with some soldiers. Now they’re searching the entire place. ” The bishop
pauses, interrupting his deep conversation with Irba and two high clergymen.

  “I feared as much. We’ll have to continue this after cleaning out the village.” The bishop calls in the captain of the guard. “Captain, assemble the temple guards and push those soldiers out to our gates. I’ll join you shortly.”

  The captain salutes and is about to leave. But just then, a temple guard sprints up.

  The guard salutes. “Sir, there’s a soldier at the temple door demanding entrance.”

  “Captain, you have your orders,” the bishop says. The captain leaves with the guard.

  “Lord Bishop, I beg for your forgiveness, but there’s another matter I must tell you about urgently.” Drotonic’s face pales and his breath shudders.

  “What is it?” The four occupants of the room watch him, waiting.

  “It’s about the girl, Erryn,” Drotonic says.

  “Where’s she?” Irba stands fiercely. Drotonic scratches his head, fearing repercussions and divulges that there were soldiers following her down the riverbank. Irba walks quietly over to him and smacks him across his face.

  “You’re a fool. I love you very much, dear, but of all the things you could do,” Irba scolds.

  “I didn’t know what to do. She seemed sure of herself with how she carried on. I’m almost certain she wouldn’t budge either way. I swear, if I knew she could be persuaded, she would be here. But that look told me otherwise-” Drotonic rubs his cheek. He didn’t know which hurt more—the slap or the dent to his pride.

  “Irba, if you would, please take some priests and whatever else you need to prepare a room for Erryn. Who knows what state she’ll be in,” the bishop says.

  The bishop takes Drotonic down to the lobby. The unearthly shadows cast by the flames flickering next to the prayer doors unnerve Drotonic. He jumps as the prayer doors rattle. Then, the flames explode into life.

  “Bishop?” Drotonic stands bewildered, never witnessing anything like it.

  “Zaravarn?” The bishop says in a hushed voice. “Can it be?” He flings open the doors as all the flames dance from a whipping wind, and a dark shadow moves out the temple doors.

  “Sir?” Drotonic asks.

  “Stay here,” the bishop demands and leaves for the river. Drotonic paces back and forth, panicking over what his decision to help Erryn had caused. The temple doors then fly open.

  “Oh, my goodness, Erryn!” Drotonic exclaims and grasps for her hand as the bishop carries her in.

  “Come here.” The bishop signals a guard. “Be very careful and bring her to Irba.” He hands her off to a guard who carefully carries Erryn away.

  “Will she be okay?” Drotonic asks, looking down the hall until she’s out of sight.

  “She will be,” the bishop says, lifting his worry for her life but not the haunting of a failed task.

  “What was that, sir? That shadow; I’ve never witnessed such abnormalities of such a caliber,” Drotonic asks. The bishop’s clergymen arrive as they whisper with the bishop. They keep looking over to Drotonic while speaking.

  “You three—after the four us enter, no one is to enter ’til we exit,” the bishop orders the guards.

  “Sir, what’s going on?” Drotonic asks.

  “Drotonic, join me in, commune, please.” The bishop requests Drotonic to walk in first. After they all enter, the doors seal behind them as they proceed toward the front of the prayer room. Drotonic still remains lost .

  “So, what’re we communing today, sir?” Drotonic asks.

  “Drotonic, this is the real thing. It’s not a practice or a test anymore. We’re communing with Zaravarn.” The joy on the bishop’s face was unmistakable. Drotonic is filled with warm jitters and excitement. The high clergymen light candles around the room with hand gestures, retuning to specific positions diagonally across from where the bishop and Drotonic share front points.

  On their knees, they pray the ritualistic communion using a sacred language once spoken by the ancients. Their words draw a power which causes the lit candles to enrage their flames as the coloration changes from the burning orange red to a white blue. Then a rift opens, revealing a monstrous beast wearing a king suited armor with a helmet that exposes his fanged mouth. Bandages fly within the brimstone air, catching on the armor’s edges. He sits on a volcanic throne as a fiery smoke permeates from him.

  “Good evening, Bishop Oxford,” Zaravarn speaks.

  Drotonic disbelieves his senses as they receive Zaravarn.

  “I take it you predicted this situational communion,” the bishop says.

  “Yes, for your time moves much slower than mine. How’s the child?” Zaravarn asks.

  “Asleep and wounded, but she’s in Irba’s care now,” he says.

  “Ah, how’s Queen Irbessa?” Zaravarn asks.

  “Well. She’s always entertained by my pupil, but well nonetheless.” He gestures to Drotonic.

  “I was wondering who you invited to our little convention. Welcome.” He looks at Drotonic.

  “It’s an honor, your Greatness,” Drotonic bows to him, trying to retain his composure.

  “Now, I must jump to the matter for which we’ve joined here. This girl; can you help us in understanding who she is? Irba informed me that she can see magic down to the speck, which is unheard of given the growing strain on magic,” the bishop asks.

  “There’s a familiar powerful bloodline that runs through her veins. Its origin hails from a lost village, Cinx,” Zaravarn says.

  “But that was destroyed over a decade ago by Vladimir,” Drotonic does the math. It could be her.

  “Indeed, but she somehow survived without knowing the power which sleeps within. Her magic signature radiates of a pure Redwood bloodline,” Zaravarn says.

  “Redwood? The legendary summoner bloodline?” the bishop asks.

  “The same. To balance the planet and lifting the strain on magic, through which only a summoner can do,” he explains.

  “That would explain why she didn’t melt to death when she was given your power,” the bishop says.

  “If she’s as unknown to magic as she is to the world, there may be training needed before she can begin as a summoner,” Drotonic says.

  “I’ll ask: how did she come to our village?” Zaravarn inquires.

  “Your Greatness, I found her outside our gates being attacked and harassed by goblins and a Black Razor. I saved her and brought her inside our walls,” Drotonic answers.

  “Bishop, I can assume you know what comes next. Train well scholar, until our physical meeting,” Zaravarn says. He closes the rift, returning the surrounding flames to a settled state. The bishop rises and heads to the door, unsealing it as everyone follows. Upon exiting, Drotonic sits against a wall as he bends his knees. He’s astounded by everything which has transpired. He sits quietly, processing his overwhelming thoughts of mind-blown facts.

  “Leave us,” the bishop says.

  “A physical meeting, really? Is it even possible?” Drotonic asks. Receiving the bishop’s affirmed nod, Drotonic expenses a weighted breath.

  “My son, to remember you once so small and underwhelming, but only to witness the reveal of your true destiny as the next upcoming divine sage. It fills me with pride.” the bishop says.

  “But I screw things up all the time. Now I have such an important role. I don’t want to shame you,” Drotonic says.

  “You’ve always had a good honest heart to guide you. I think after your final training you’ll have the knowledge needed. Who knows what’ll lay ahead.” The bishop rubs Drotonic’s head.

  “But what if Erryn doesn’t want to become a summoner?” Drotonic asks.

  A commotion is taking place down the corridor. People are getting thrown out of a room, pushing the ruckus back up into the lobby. Drotonic hears a girl yell.

  “What in the blazes is going on here? Hasn’t there been enough commotions for one night?” asks the bishop. Drotonic walks with him to a frazzled nurse down the hall.

  �
�It’s the girl. She’s gone crazy. She woke up punching and kicking. I had a couple guards trying to hold her down, but a purple aura pushed everyone back. I was only trying to change her bandages,” the nurse breathes heavily.

  “You restrained her? Geez. She doesn’t know anyone here. Hold on. Erryn, are you alright?” Drotonic rubs his brow, shaking his head.

  “Drotonic, is that you?” she asks.

  Drotonic walks into the doorway. The nurse tries grabbing his arm, as she tries to stop him.

  “Nice to see you awake. You know, she was just trying to change your bandages,” he says, seeing the purple aura recede back into her body. He smiles. Erryn sits back on the bed, crossing her legs. Drotonic seats himself on a chair.

  “Where’s the miracle lady? Can’t she just do it instead?” she asks.

  “The miracle lady is right here. You didn’t need to get so rough with everyone.” Irba enters with the bishop right behind her.

  “With the past I’ve lived, trust me. You would, too. Who’s this guy?” She asks as Irba sits on the bed, the nurse hands her materials.

  “Erryn, I think it’s about time you met the guy who’s actually helped you twice today,” Drotonic says.

  “Really? I don’t remember seeing him,” she admits.

  “I’m the bishop of Nija. Bishop Simon Oxford. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m glad you’re doing well.” He shakes her left hand.

  “Wish I could remember where we met, but I don’t recall you at all to thank you properly,” Erryn says.

  “That isn’t a problem, I promise. But I do have some questions. I feel you could help me answer them, if it’s not a bother,” he says.

  “Oh, sure. I’m not sure with what, but I’ll do my best to help since you’ve been so kind to me.”

  A soldier comes in with a chair for the bishop, and the bishop draws close to Erryn. He wants to keep the conversation confidential.

  “Do you know why you were chased in this direction?” he asks as she looks to Drotonic with a concerned expression.

  “You can trust him. He’s here to help,” Drotonic assures her.

  “After escaping pleasantries in my first encounter, a friend of mine named Oracle said there was a village nearby. He had passed on his travels before. They just wouldn’t leave me alone,” she explains.