Summoner: Origins The Prequel (7 page)

12

They trooped out of the room in silence, leaving Scipio to recover on his own. Prince Harold threw some wyrdlights over his shoulder on the way out, allowing Arcturus to catch a glimpse of him embracing Kali with tightly closed eyes. He understood the feeling – if Sacharissa had almost been lost to the ether, he would likely be in tears.

‘So, dog breath. Are you off to hide in your room, like you did yesterday?' Charles asked, stepping in front of Arcturus. Rook and Zacharias crowded close to him, but he ignored them and met Charles's gaze with as much confidence as he could muster.

‘I wasn't hiding,' he replied, lifting his chin. ‘But you don't seem to enjoy my company, so I chose to avoid yours. Maybe you're scared of me.'

‘We're of different stock, you and I. A thoroughbred and a mongrel. Blue blood and yokel. Upper crust and pigswill. It wouldn't do for us to mix.' Charles sneered.

Arcturus resisted the urge to punch the boy in his smug face, which was just as well, for Sacharissa's chest was rumbling with a deep growl.

‘Oh, leave the boy alone,' Prince Harold called out in a bored voice. ‘Zacharias, don't you have better things to do? Edmund and I are going to Corcillum. Will you join us?'

Zacharias dug his elbow into Arcturus's ribs, before following the Prince and Edmund through the Atrium's entrance doors. The others were already making their way up the stairs, except for Elaine, who was watching their exchange with open curiosity.

‘Not invited?' Arcturus asked innocently, noting Charles's disappointed look.

‘Shut up,' Charles hissed, shoving a finger in Arcturus's face. ‘The prince likes me well enough. Zach and Edmund are his childhood friends, just like my father and the king were. If I was a bit older and didn't live so far north, things would be different.'

‘Sounds like I hit a nerve,' Arcturus said, goading the boy. It wouldn't help matters, but Charles already hated him and it felt so good.

‘I'll hit you in a minute,' Rook snarled, grasping Arcturus by the collar and raising his fist. A warning bark from Sacharissa was enough to stop him going any farther.

‘Don't worry, Rook. This is my fight,' Charles grunted, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder.

‘Yeah, tell your lapdog to stand down,' Arcturus said, smiling at Rook. The boy's face reddened with anger, but he obeyed Faversham without question, releasing the collar and stepping back.

‘How about it, Arcturus? Tonight, just you andme. We can meet right there, in the summoning room. Nobody will hear us.'

Arcturus knew he was being baited, but he could feel Sacharissa's eagerness to fight fuelling his own. He remembered Charles's new demon was the Faversham family's second choice, an Arach. Surely Sacharissa was more powerful? And it was Charles's first year at Vocans too. He only just had his first lesson at performing battle spells, so it was unlikely he would be able to do one yet. They would be evenly matched.

‘What time?' Arcturus asked, clenching his fists.

‘When the second morning bell rings, open the summoning room door,' Charles said, barging him in the shoulder as he and Rook walked away. ‘Don't be late. Again.'

Arcturus gave it ten minutes before he followed them up the stairs. He would have liked to go sooner but Elaine took what felt like an age to leave, lounging around the Atrium until he pretended to head to the washroom. He wondered if she had heard what they were discussing, but dismissed it offhand. What difference would it make if she had?

He knew where Charles's bedroom was. It didn't take long for him to arrive outside the door. Sure enough, they were inside, for he could hear muffled voices behind it. Too muffled.

He tutted with frustration and pressed his ear against the wood, but still the voices were indistinct. He hadn't anticipated that. There was always the possibility that Charles would cheat. That maybe Rook would come at him from behind as soon as he stepped into the room. Maybe they would simply attack him together. If that was the case, there was a good chance they would be discussing it at that very moment.

Sacharissa nosed under the door, as if she could smell the plush carpet she had enjoyed just two days ago.

‘I wonder if you can hear what they're saying,' Arcturus murmured. ‘You seem to understand me well enough.'

She licked his hand, then cocked her head to one side. Arcturus knew she didn't really understand him. She could simply sense his intentions. Still, her snuffling had given him an idea.

‘Look at me, Sacha,' Arcturus murmured, lifting her head with his hand. He stared deep into her eyes, trying to catch that brief moment they had shared in the corridor. In the dim torchlight of the corridor, they shone like shards of blue ice, never wavering from his own.

The world started to shift, the blue becoming a cold grey, the flickering orange replaced by pale shadows. He could smell the oil in the lamps, suddenly bitter and pungent in his nostrils. Most importantly, the voices in the other room came through clear as day, as if he were standing right beside them.

‘. . . he will find out soon enough. We need to get rid of the evidence, or all will be lost. My father has spent years currying favour with the king. Never has our future been so threatened.'

It was Charles, his voice low and rapid. Arcturus could even hear his panicked breathing.

‘Are there others?' Rook asked.

‘How should I know? There might be!' Charles snapped.

‘What good will it do then, if there are others?'

‘They won't know where to look for them . . . yet. My father has already taken care of the innkeeper and his wife – they were the only others who knew where the urchin came from, before he was a stableboy. Father sent word that Provost Forsyth will return tomorrow, to interrogate the boy. We cannot let that happen. A few words from him and all might be lost.'

Stableboy? They had to be talking about him. As he tried to make sense of it all, Arcturus's concentration slipped and the world turned colourful again. He gritted his teeth and grasped Sacharissa's head in his hands, forcing the connection. He had to know more.

‘. . . tonight. I'll tell dog breath what he is before we begin. I want to see the look on his face,' Charles snarled, followed by the sound of cracking knuckles.

‘There's a chance he might win, you know that right?' Rook warned. ‘Your demon is the same level as his and neither of you can cast any spells.'

Charles laughed scornfully,

‘Don't you worry about that. The battle we witnessed today has given me an ide—'

Sacharissa whimpered. Arcturus realised he was gripping her head, his fingers tightening like a vice as he concentrated on the connection. He could suddenly feel her pain, fierce pulses of agony that she had borne stoically.

‘What was that?' Rook hissed. There was the sound of feet thudding to the ground.

Arcturus released Sacharrissa and they sprinted away, dodging around the corner just in time. The door slammed open, the bang echoing down the corridor.

‘Nobody here,' Rook grunted.

‘Well close the door, it's freezing out there,' Charles called.

The door closed and Arcturus breathed easy once more. He let himself slide down the wall, until he was sitting on the cold paving of the floor.

‘I'm so sorry, my darling,' Arcturus whispered, gently stroking Sacharissa's back. ‘I didn't mean to hurt you.'

She gazed at him with pain in her eyes, but lapped at his hand, as if to say she still loved him.

‘I wasn't so sure if I was going to go tonight; if I do it will put us in unnecessary danger. But now I know I have to. Lord Forsyth will interrogate me tomorrow, and we already know what that's like.' He remembered the pain from when Sacharissa was whipped. The darkness of the cell.

‘Charles said he would tell me what I am before the duel. I won't even fight, I'll just hear what he has to say and then we'll leave Vocans. Maybe we can make it to the Elf lands. It'll be safer than this place.'

Sacharissa yawned, and rested her head in his lap. Arcturus laughed as she began to snooze, half closing her eyes.

‘You're right, you lazy thing. Let's get back to the room, pack our bags and rest up. We've got to be ready at the second bell and as far away from Vocans as possible by first light.'

13

Arcturus didn't sleep. His bag was packed, his meagre possessions in the satchel and ready to go. He would take it with him when he went to the summoning room. As soon as he was out of Vocans, he would need to change into his old clothes. His military uniform would be too conspicuous. Then again, with Sacharissa by his side, it wouldn't really matter what he was wearing, they would stand out like a sore thumb. Once he had put a few miles behind them, he would need to somehow teach himself infusion.

For a while he had debated whether to keep the dirk strapped to his boot or to stash it in the bag for his meeting with Charles. He had been wearing it over the past two days, but nobody seemed to mind – it was a military academy after all. If it did come to a fight, he would prefer there to be no weapons involved. At the same time, if Charles planned to use one, it would make no difference if Arcturus was visibly armed or not.

‘I'd rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it,' Arcturus reasoned to Sacharissa, listening for the dull sound of the second morning bell. His mouth was dry and the evening meal Ulfr had brought him remained untouched beside his bed. Even Sacharissa had refused to eat it, although that might have had something to do with it being a salad. Arcturus suspected that to her, it might as well have been a pile of grass.

The knell of the bell echoed down the corridor, leaving his heart thundering as he realised the moment had arrived.

‘Come on, Sacha,' Arcturus murmured, opening the door. ‘Let's hear what he has to say and then leave as soon as possible. We'll run back to the room and lock ourselves in for half an hour, then make our escape when the coast is clear.'

They hurried down the corridors, feeling their way in the darkness. Arcturus didn't risk a wyrdlight, for they would be too bright against the pitch black of the castle interior. If any of their teachers caught him out at night, his chances of meeting Charles would be scuppered, not to mention any possibility of escape.

It felt like an age until they reached the atrium, and for a moment Arcturus was worried that he was too late. It was only when he saw a bright light flickering beneath the summoning room's door that he realised that Charles was waiting within.

‘OK, Sacha. This is it.' He took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy door.

For a moment Arcturus didn't understand what he was seeing. After being in darkness so long, the light within half-blinded him, so bright was it in his vision.

It was a portal, the blue orb hanging in the air like a miniature sun. Rook was kneeling beside it, pulsing mana into the violet pentacle beneath. This wasn't right.

Arcturus turned to run, but Charles was standing in the doorway, a nasty smile on his face. He swung the door closed with a kick of his heel.

‘What's going on here, Charles,' Arcturus growled, gripping Sacharissa by the scruff of her neck. She was preparing to pounce on him, driven by equal parts of fear and fury.

But before Charles could answer, Arcturus felt something wet and sticky whip around his body, trapping his arms to his chest. Sacharissa leaped, but Charles was already rolling out of harms way as the Canid's attack slammed against the door. Another thread hissed through the air, glowing like a shield spell. This time, it wrapped around Sacharissa's hind legs.

‘Trussed like a chicken, ready for the kiln,' Charles cackled as more threads shot out of the shadows, swathing Sacharissa as she scrabbled at the oak floorboards. Another lashed around Arcturus's neck, tighter than a hangman's noose.

Arcturus fell to the ground, bringing his knees up to his chest. He gripped the dirk in his hand and eased it from the scabbard, even as he became entangled by more of the deadly strands. Soon he could barely move, only watch as Sacharissa howled and snapped at the strange fibres that constricted her. A few moments later, a last thread encircled her muzzle and tightened, reducing her noise to a strangled growl.

‘Beautifully done, Anansi,' Charles called. ‘You can come out now!'

Charles's Arach crept out of the shadows, the strange glowing fluid dripping from the back of its abdomen, beneath a deadly stinger. It was an enormous black spider, with a body as large as a human head and long spindly legs that scuttled along the floorboards. It had a cluster of beady eyes set in the centre of its forehead and a swollen body peppered with stiff brown hairs. The mandibles that served as its mouth clicked menacingly as it circled around Arcturus to return to its master.

‘You know, I think you did me a favour, stableboy, by taking that pathetic Canid from me,' Charles sneered, hunkering down to bring his face close to Arcturus's. ‘The Arach is a glorious specimen, able to trap its prey with a mana web, inject them with its stinger and then consume them at their leisure. Anansi can even scratch away at his hairs, which float into the air to blind and irritate his victims – as his owner, I'm immune, of course. He is versatile, agile and deadly. I couldn't ask for a better demon.'

‘Thanks for the demonology lesson,' Arcturus said sarcastically, though the tremor in his voice revealed his fear. ‘Why don't you tell me what all this is about. You're taking a great risk, trapping me like this. When the king finds out—'

‘The king won't find out,' Charles interrupted gleefully, slapping Arcturus lightly on the face, just because he could. ‘You won't be in a position to tell him, or anyone else for that matter, what with you being dead and all.'

Arcturus's heart lurched as Charles's eyes bore into his, their murderous intent as plain as the words he had just spoken. Twisting his hand beneath the webbing, Arcturus began to gently scrape at the gossamer with the dirk's blade. It was hard to tell if it was having any effect, but it would not do to reveal his weapon to Charles. His only chance now was the element of surprise. He had to keep the young noble talking until he was free.

‘How's it looking, Rook?' Charles called, for the pentacle was spitting and sizzling behind them. Arcturus twisted his neck to see Rook's kneeling figure, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.

‘Five more minutes. I've found the Minotaur's corpse. The Wendigo only took the heart, liver and kidneys. The flesh must have been too tough, it will still be hungry. There's a trail of blood.'

Arcturus saw a shard of scrying crystal on the ground between Rook's hands, flashes of green reflected in it as his demon hunted in the ether. Why on earth were they hunting for the Wendigo, and now of all times? Even Scipio had been afraid of it.

Arcturus turned back to Charles, who was gently stroking the Arach's abdomen.

‘Why am I here if I did you a favour by taking Sacha. I've caused you no other offence.' Arcturus felt the first strand of gossamer part, leaving him more room to manoeuvre the blade.

‘It's not what you've done, but what you are. In more ways than one.' Charles plucked a patch of hair from Anansi and stroked it along Arcturus's bare arm. It raised a welt of red as it stung the skin, as if he were being stroked by a nettle. ‘Commoners should not be summoners. It upsets the natural order of things. Any commoner planning a revolt against the ruling classes knows they are doomed to failure. But throw common summoners into the mix and suddenly our spellcraft and demons aren't so scary anymore. That alone should be enough reason to kill you. But it's not the only one.'

‘Enlighten me then,' Arcturus said, gritting his teeth as the pain in his arm began to throb. He didn't want to think how much it would hurt if a hair found its way into his eye.

‘Do you remember, how a firstborn child of a summoner will always inherit the same gift?' Charles asked, allowing the patch to fall to the ground.

‘I do,' Arcturus grunted.

‘Well, a summoner can have several firstborn children with different partners, as long as it is the first child of that partner. For example, a man might father several firstborn children with various women, if it is each woman's first child. As long as one parent is a summoner and one has never had a child before, the offspring will inherit the gift.'

‘I understand, get on with it,' Arcturus snarled, redoubling his efforts with the dirk. The blade scraped along his skin painfully, but he didn't care. He had only a few more minutes to make his escape.

‘So eager to die, Arcturus?' Charles laughed. ‘Don't worry, you'll hear the whole story before you're dead.'

Arcturus wondered what he would do when his arms were free. Would there be time to release Sacharissa, or would he have to kill the Arach first? Sacharissa was quiet now, as if she could sense what he planned to do. Another thread parted, and Arcturus felt like he could tear himself free if given enough time. But he needed it to be fast.

‘I see it!' Rook shouted from behind. ‘Not long now!'

‘All right, looks like I'll have to make this quick,' Charles snarled, taking a handful of Arcturus's hair and drawing him closer. He took a deep breath and began to speak.

‘I don't like the rumours going around.'

‘What rumours? I don't know what you're talking about.'

‘Don't you see, Arcturus. You grew up in Boreas, the same city my father lives in. Born with the power to summon. Abandoned as a child at an orphanage. You are proof of my father's infidelity. You are his bastard, and it won't be long before someone else comes to the same conclusion.'

‘No . . .' Arcturus stammered, his escape forgotten as understanding began to dawn on him. Could it really be true? He pictured the beady eyed man who had imprisoned him in that cell, without food or water for days. He shuddered with horror. He had always wondered who his father was . . .

‘Your mother was nothing but a common courtesan, who whelped you and abandoned you for the state to raise. If only she had left you out in the elements to die. But no matter. I will take your life instead, before Obadiah has time to find out where you came from.'

Sacharissa was struggling now, grunting as she strained against her bonds. Her claws scratched on the wood, but all she managed was to shuffle a few inches closer to them.

‘You're my brother!' Arcturus cried. Charles planted his knee in Arcturus's stomach and began to twist his head. Arcturus felt his spine creak under the pressure, as if Charles were trying to snap his neck.

‘Half-brother,' Charles hissed in his ear, pointing at the floating globe. ‘I guess this only makes this half-fratricide. Now look. See what fate we have planned for you.'

The portal spun in the air, crackling with energy. Rook had stabbed a leather tie into the pentacle's edge and was standing just a few feet away from them now. He looked exhausted, yet he was in a sprinter's crouch, as if ready to run from the room at any moment.

Suddenly, a demon hurtled from out of the portal, gliding out in a flutter of wings. It looked like a large, red-feathered owl with four legs. Arcturus caught a glimpse of round black eyes before it flew over him. A spatter of blood struck his face, and he realised the bird must have attacked the Wendigo with its talons before coming through.

‘Will it follow a Strix? They aren't known for being prey,' Charles wondered out loud, as the portal continued to spin.

‘If it doesn't, no matter. We'll just stick a blade between his ribs and throw him through.' Rook panted, his breathing heavy with effort from keeping the portal open.

‘Too risky. Father said it has to look like an accident – that's the whole point of this. Someone might find his body if they go hunting. Not usual this time of year what with the Shrikes, but still a possibility.'

‘The Wendigo will dispose of the body. What other choice do we have?' Rook hissed.

‘You're going to make it look like I tried to capture a Wendigo, alone,
and it killed me
?' Arcturus realised with disgust

‘A living demon not connected to a summoner fades back into the ether, within a few hours,' Rook laughed, glancing back at Arcturus. ‘They'll never know what killed you, but they'll have their suspicions.'

Even as he spoke, the Wendigo emerged from the portal in a tumbled clatter of claws and antlers, dripping blood from scratches across its muzzle.

‘Have a nice life, brother. All thirty seconds of it,' Charles whispered.