32
‘Where the hell have you been?’ Seraph hissed. Fletcher, Othello and Sylva had just stumbled into the summoning room, attaching themselves to the others as quietly as possible when the students made their way in from the atrium. The trio looked a mess but there was nothing they could have done. They had arrived whilst the deliveries were being made, so they were only able to sneak in after breakfast, just as lessons were about to begin.
‘It’s a long story. We’ll tell you later,’ Fletcher whispered. Isadora turned at the commotion, her eyes widening when she saw Sylva. She prodded Tarquin, who looked around and jerked in shock. Sylva stared blankly at them and then turned to face Captain Lovett, who was waiting for everyone to settle down. The tall woman was wearing a leather apron over her officer’s uniform, as well as heavy leather gloves.
‘Let’s get some light in here,’ Lovett said, releasing several balls of blue wyrdlight into the air. Unlike Arcturus, she allowed them to float around the room aimlessly, casting the room in a bright but eerily shifting light.
‘So, as I understand it, Arcturus allowed those of you who were already practised in wyrdlights to leave early yesterday. This will not happen in my classes. My motto is practice makes perfect, and considering your short tenure here, you should be making use of every second under our tutelage.’ She paced back and forth in front of them, her hard eyes ranging across each of their faces. This was not someone Fletcher wanted to cross.
‘The first order of business will be to teach you the art of infusion. I see that some of you do not have your demons with you, so I assume you have already been taught this. However, the speed at which you can release your demon from within can be the difference between life and death. Trust me, I know. Those of you who have been trained by your parents are to practise on the summoning circles on the other side of the room. I will come and check on you later.’
The nobles peeled off with smug expressions, talking and laughing amongst themselves. Lovett had split the room into two with a large curtain, so they were obscured from view once they ducked through the central parting. After a few moments, Fletcher saw bright lights flashing underneath. What manner of demons did the nobles possess?
Sylva raised her hand and stepped forward.
‘I was self-taught. Would it be possible to stay with the others and learn the proper technique?’ the elf asked.
Lovett eyed her torn dress and dishevelled hair and arched an eyebrow. After a long, hard look, she relented.
‘All right. But please note that in future, I expect you in uniform,’ she said, before turning to the rest of the commoners. ‘Go and get yourselves a summoning leather each, as well as a leather apron. There should be gloves and goggles in the compartment below too.’ She motioned at the back of the room and one of the wyrdlights shot over and hung above a row of cupboards built into the wall.
‘What happened to you?’ Genevieve muttered out of the corner of her mouth as they walked over. ‘We waited for as long as we could, but we had to go before the last carriage left.’
‘We missed the last carriage and had to walk home this morning,’ Fletcher murmured back, rummaging through several rolls of leather until he found one with a pentacle that was not too faded. He didn’t know if Sylva wanted her assault to become common knowledge.
‘Did you get mugged on the way or something?’ Genevieve asked, unconvinced.
‘What makes you say that?’ Fletcher retorted, shrugging a leather apron over his head.
‘Well, leaving aside Othello’s bandaged head, you have a goose egg-sized lump on the side of yours too,’ Genevieve pointed out as they walked back. Fletcher reached up to his temple and winced as he realised she was right. Fortunately, they had arrived back in front of Lovett again, who silenced them with a look.
‘I hear some of you have had your demons for at least seven days. They should be quite tired now, so it would be best to infuse them straight away so that they can rest. Raise your hands those of you who received your demon last week,’ Lovett announced. Genevieve and Rory raised their hands. After a few moments Fletcher raised his too.
‘What’s the hesitation? Fletcher, is it?’ Lovett asked, beckoning Fletcher to step forward.
‘I have had my demon for two and a half weeks,’ Fletcher answered. ‘Is that normal?’
‘No; it must be very tired indeed! Let’s have a look at it,’ she chided. Fletcher woke Ignatius with a mental prod. The imp mewled in annoyance and leaped on to the ground from Fletcher’s hood. He looked around with curiosity and then licked his chops. The demon must be quite hungry, having turned his nose up at the roasted corn the night before.
‘He’s been a bit sleepy, but he usually is anyway,’ Fletcher explained, feeling a pang of guilt as the little demon yawned.
‘A Salamander,’ Lovett breathed. ‘Rare indeed! Major Goodwin will be very interested in this. It is not often that he gets to examine a new species of demon.’
‘Is Ignatius going to be OK?’ Fletcher asked, still worried about the supposed exhaustion.
‘It would appear so,’ Lovett replied. ‘The more powerful a demon is, the longer it can survive without rest in our world, although it will be several months before their tiredness becomes life threatening. I had thought, as a commoner, your demon would be one of the weaker species. Although by all accounts it seems you have been a lucky bunch. Last year most of the commoners were given Mites, but you have a Lutra, a Barkling, a Salamander and a Golem.’
‘A Canid too!’ Sylva exclaimed, unrolling her mat on the floor. Fletcher smiled, glad she had put herself in with the commoners.
Rory shuffled his feet and clenched his fists.
‘I’m sick of being told how unlucky I am to have Malachi,’ he whispered with obvious frustration.
‘Why don’t you begin, Sylva?’ Lovett suggested. ‘It is a relatively simple act, once you know what to do.’ Lovett suggested.
Sylva kneeled on the floor without hesitation and laid her gloved hands on the leather mat. The goggles sat awkwardly over her long ears, but she didn’t seem to mind. Fletcher was sure she couldn’t wait to be under Sariel’s protection once again after last night’s debacle. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Sylva stared at the pentacle until it flickered with soft, violet light.
‘Watch how she pushes the mana through her hands, into the leather and through to the pentacle. She will know when it is time to push the demon through once the pentacle is glowing steadily.’
The pentacle gleamed with blue light, yet nothing happened for almost half a minute. The only sound was Sylva’s laboured breathing as she glared at the shining star. Then, without warning, a Canid’s form grew into the space out of nothingness, expanding from a pinprick of light to a large glowing shape in half a second. The figure shone white, then the colour faded and Sariel stood above the pentacle.
Her four eyes focussed on Sylva, and then the Canid leaped on to her master, sending them both tumbling to the ground. The demon licked her face and howled. Fletcher wondered whether Sariel was aware of what Sylva had gone through yesterday. Maybe she had just missed her owner.
‘Obviously your demon needs some discipline and training, but good work none-the-less! I shall summon my demon, Lysander, so that I can demonstrate how to infuse. Stand back please!’ Lovett announced. Sylva and Sariel moved aside, and the rest of the group took several steps backwards.
‘The larger your demon is, the more difficult the summoning. Of course, in the field, you won’t be able to wear protective clothing, but it is best to take precautions when we can, especially with untrained noviciates such as yourselves,’ Lovett said, kneeling on the corner of the summoning leather. ‘The main reason for all the protection is for using keyed pentacles, but we won’t get on to that until later.’
She fished a pair of black-lensed goggles and a leather cap from a pouch in her apron, then put them on firmly.
The pentacle glowed again, white sparks spitting and sizzling on the leather around it. A white orb appeared above it and, to Fletcher’s astonishment, a demon formed in just a few seconds. The creature had the body, tail and back legs of a lion, but the head, wings and front talons of an eagle. It was the size of a large horse, with tawny brown feathers that blended into the golden fur halfway down the creature’s back.
‘I too was blessed with a rare demon, a Griffin. But he was not given to me. I started with a Mite, just as some of you have. Do not be disheartened by your modest beginnings. Mites are fiercely loyal creatures, and you can control many of them at once. Lysander requires all my concentration just to keep him under control. Major Goodwin will teach you more on demon control in your demonology classes.’
Genevieve smiled and lifted Azura to her lips, kissing the beetle’s cobalt carapace.
‘Does that mean you were a commoner too?’ Rory asked, barely able to tear his eyes away from the majestic creature.
‘No . . . although I was present when the first commoners arrived at Vocans. I am the third daughter of the Lovetts of Calgary, a small fiefdom in northern Hominum. By strange coincidence, my father was blessed with several adept children. I was the youngest, so I was given the weakest demon by my father. I’m glad he did though. If he had not, I would never have specialised in demonic capture. You can all own a powerful demon such as this, as long as you work hard.’ She wrapped her arm around Lysander, who nuzzled his beak against her chest fondly. The Griffin’s eyes were deep amber, as large and intelligent as an owl’s. They flicked from student to student with curiosity, at last resting with special attention on Ignatius.
‘Now, I shall demonstrate how to infuse. It is almost a reverse of the procedure. The pentacle must be pointed directly at the demon and it cannot be too far away. This is why we have them stand on the summoning leathers. However, if Lysander were to hover several metres above the pentacle, I would be able to manage it.’
She kneeled and laid her hands on the leather once more, sputtering the pentacle into life.
‘You must first push mana into the pentacle. Soon you will feel an obstacle between your demon’s consciousness and your own. Once you feel that, pull the demon through it . . .’ She heaved with effort, and Lysander glowed, then dissipated into strands of white light that flowed into her hands.
‘That’s all there is to it,’ Lovett announced, her forehead beading with sweat. They applauded her skill, but Fletcher was filled with apprehension when she turned her steely eyes on to him.
‘Fletcher, you shall try first, as your demon needs to rest the most. Arcturus tells me you are unusually gifted at spellcraft. Let us see if the same holds true for infusion.’ Lovett pointed at the floor in front of him.
Fletcher slowly unrolled his summoning mat and sent Ignatius on to it. The demon sat there, uttering a nervous chirr as he felt Fletcher’s anxiety. Fletcher did as he had been instructed, channelling the mana into the leather mat. It glowed a fierce violet, steady and unwavering.
‘Do you feel it, Fletcher?’ Lovett asked, placing a steadying hand on Fletcher’s shoulder.
‘I feel it,’ Fletcher grunted back through gritted teeth. In his mana-charged state, the light was almost blinding, filling his vision with the glowing star.
‘Pull him through. You may struggle initially, but that is normal for the first infusion.’ Lovett’s voice sounded as if it were coming from a great distance. The mana pulsed through his veins with each beat of his heart, thundering in his ears. His link with Ignatius was blocked. He grasped at the demon’s mind, then, with a colossal effort, drew him in. For a moment, he strained, hissing between gritted teeth. It felt as if Ignatius was caught in an elastic web. After what seemed like an age there was a gentle snap, and the demon’s consciousness merged with his own. It was like sinking into a warm bath.
‘Well done, Fletcher! You can rest now,’ Lovett whispered in his ear.
Fletcher pressed his head into the soft leather, breathing in deep lungfuls of air. He could hear the others clapping and yelling incoherently. His mind was filled with extraordinary happiness and clarity, as if he were drugged to the gills.
‘What Fletcher will be feeling now is the temporary exhilaration of merging consciousnesses with another being. His demon is within him, yet he will be barely aware of it in a few minutes. Ignatius will see everything that Fletcher is seeing, though he will understand very little of it. This can be extremely useful should you need to summon in the midst of battle, as demons are prepared for the situation as soon as they reappear,’ Lovett lectured, pacing back and forth behind him.
‘Some summoners experience flashes of demonic memory in the months after they first infuse their demons. This too shall pass, but is an important part of how we learn about the ether. If this happens to you, make sure to take note of every detail and tell myself and Major Goodwin all of it. We need every bit of information about the life of demons we can get,’ she continued.
Fletcher stood with difficulty and walked back to the others, his head still spinning. Seraph patted him on the back with a jealous grin on his face.
‘Well done. I guess you’re the one to beat,’ he whispered.
‘Not likely. I think that almost killed me,’ Fletcher replied, feeling the warm glow of Ignatius within him. It was strange, he could barely distinguish between Ignatius’s consciousness and his own. The thread no longer connected them; they flowed into each other like the meeting of two rivers.
Othello gave him an encouraging smile and even Sylva touched him lightly on the arm before turning her attention back to Sariel. The elf buried her face and hands in her demon’s golden fur, clinging on to the Canid as if her life depended on it. Fletcher suspected it would be a long while before she would want to infuse Sariel again.
‘Now. Othello and Fletcher, let’s have a look at those heads of yours,’ Lovett said, beckoning them forward. Once they were in front of her, she whispered under her breath, ‘Is there anything you boys need to tell me? You and Sylva look like you’ve been in the wars, and I should know.’
‘It’s nothing we couldn’t handle,’ Fletcher assured her, looking to Othello for support.
‘We dealt with it,’ the dwarf agreed.
Lovett eyed them for a moment, before inclining her head in acceptance.
‘Well, if you ever change your minds, you can talk to me,’ she murmured, looking them in the eyes. ‘You don’t have to fight your battles alone.’
Then she stepped back and raised her voice.
‘Gather round, everyone. I’m going to use the healing spell; you might as well watch.’
The rest of the commoners approached them, chattering with excitement at the opportunity to see another spell. Othello removed his bandage, revealing a jagged cut across his temple.
Fletcher winced at the sight of it. He hadn’t realised how bad the wound was.
‘Watch closely now,’ Lovett announced. She etched a heart-shaped symbol in the air with wyrdlight, then pointed it at Othello’s gash.
‘The healing spell is perfect for cuts, bruises and even internal injuries, although it won’t do anything against poisons and diseases,’ Lovett declared, knitting her brows together in concentration. ‘It requires a lot of mana and takes a while to perform, especially for deeper injuries.’
She exhaled and golden light flowed from the symbol to Othello’s head. Nothing happened for almost thirty seconds. Then, to Fletcher’s astonishment, the wound began to stitch together, sealing itself until the skin was completely healed, leaving nothing but a crust of dried blood.
The group clapped, cheering at the feat. Lovett turned her eyes to Fletcher’s forehead, but shook her head.
‘You’ll have to let that heal on its own, Fletcher,’ she explained, pointing at the swelling. ‘You may have a fracture. The healing spell can cause broken bones to fuse incorrectly, leaving you permanently disfigured. Best not to risk it.’
Fletcher nodded in agreement, fingering the lump on his head with a wince.
‘Right, let’s get the rest of you trained up. Once you’ve mastered infusion we can move on to the fun stuff,’ Lovett exclaimed, clapping her hands.
‘What happens then?’ Rory asked as he unravelled his summoning leather on to the floor.
Lovett removed her goggles and smiled at them mysteriously.
‘We’re going to enter the ether.’