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The Summoner (Chapter One)

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This is a Halloween commission for :iconguri: dealing with some suitably spooky themes...and I hope you enjoy reading it! I shall look forward to your comments, votes and faves - remember that they will also help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!

Cheers!

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The gathering clouds began to spout lightning when midnight grew near.

The solitary shape crossing the empty moors hurried his steps with the first crash of thunder. The rising wind flapped the hems of his cape and created an especially spooky impression of someone moving along the rolling landscape without one’s feet touching the ground at all. That seemed like an appropriate image to hold, even though the lone person trekking through the heathered, wet ground did not have anyone to bear witness to his travels.

Micah was excited, scared, and elated. Perhaps it was the electricity crackling through the air, or the exhaustion that burned in his legs, or the weight of the bag that swung against his hip with every step.

How long had he toiled, alone in his chambers and boring through the countless mouldy books, in the arboretum, in the mustiest, most forbidding shops in the dank quarters of town?

It must have been three years ago that this obsession had grown to the point that he could barely think anything else. His displeasure with his current life as bookmaker’s apprentice had been growing, his life mostly spent between the shop and the nearest meadhouse to sink his sorrows in, until his master had been tasked by that mysterious figure who needed a precious manuscript rebound. Micah had not been allowed to work on it, of course, not in an official capacity at least. His master was too paranoid to let his apprentice to touch it.

Micah had felt drawn to the book, and on a dark moment when he’d been sweeping the workroom, he had looked...spent hours working through the barely legible handwriting on vellum, and he had gotten his first taste of magic.

The desire for power had grown up to lustful levels. It consumed his mind, and made him dream about the time when the powers of clairvoyance, of healing, of holding the arcane secrets in his heart would become reality. The old book had been the first step of many, and they had finally led him to this nameless corner of the moors.

Another cracking lightning lit the sky momentarily before Micah stopped, panting, and pulled out his compass. He held up the little oil lantern so that the could read the needle in the darkness that was rapidly overtaking the moors, the air growing colder.

What a perfect night for great magic, he thought, as the needle he spied on intently made another aimless spin about the face of the compass.

“Splendid,” Micah whispered. The auburn-haired boy pocketed his compass with jittery fingers. The darkness had not led him astray when searching for his place, and the behavior of the compass proved that he had reached his destination.

The young man climbed on top of the nearest hill with some difficulty, and decided that he would not walk any further. Another glimpse at the compass clutched in his fingers showed the needle moving erratically still, a sure sign of the invisible force that was affecting its course.

“Here I shall make my stand,” the boy declared, solemnly, into the breezy air.

The top of the hill was windswept and covered in long, yellowed grass. It would suit his purposes, Micah thought, and felt his heart race anew. He was not entirely sure of the exact time, but did not consider it to be quite essential. He would only have to reach the faultline at the hours surrounding the deepest night, to perform his incantation.

“My God, forgive me for what I am about to do, for my purposes are noble,” the boy whispered between tightly held lips.

Micah knelt onto the wet grass. He swung the bag off his side and placed it upon the ground by himself, still murmuring a few words of personal encouragement to himself. He had no doubts that what he was doing was the only thing he could do to finally get to the aim of his years of research and sacrifice.

Tonight, he would have magic.

True magic.

He opened the clasp of his bag, and began to create his hard point. The basic form was the five-pointed cross, drawn of imaginary lines between the tips of the points that would be stones he took out of the bag and carefully placed onto the ground. They were black, polished rocks he had carefully carved with symbols that would attenuate the magic he hoped to channel through himself and into himself tonight.

The wind was something of a worry, but Micah pressed on. It was not strong enough to scupper his plans, the careful procedure he had gathered from a number of sources. Ancient words had suggested that the knowledge was too dangerous to be written down in a single volume, and hence the details had been scattered over several old, crumbling books he had managed to get his hands onto over the past three years. He had gone through the whole thing so many times in his head...and now...now it would become reality.

A small copper he brought out next - one his master used for melting soft metals for making new letters for the press - and placed it upon what was the center of the star he had created for his spell.

“Great unknown,” Micah recited, “hear my call for my path. My path is clear and I seek guidance. Show me the path on this hallowed ground where I make my offer.”

Out of the bag came a bottle, uncorked and poured into the copper.

“The water of a fast flowing river, of life and motion.”

A small leather bag, which he upended onto the water.

“Earth from a fertile field, of permanence and new life.”

Micah raised his hands towards the storming sky.

“Air of the heavens, of change and chaos.”

Thunder clapped and made his ears ring. Micah brought out a small bottle full of strong-smelling liquid that he poured down into the copper. The scratch of a match lit it up with a blue flame that whispered against the sides of the copper.

“The hottest Fire, of destruction and renewal.”

Micah stared into the flickering flame. It burnt strong enough that even the wind could not affect it, not now.

He drew a deep breath before the blade came out, flashing in the light of the flame and the lantern that now appeared dull in comparison.

“My blood, of me, of my life, freely given in sacrifice.”

He cut across his thumb, gasped with the pain, and then smelled the metallic stench of boiling blood while the droplets still dribbled from his slit finger into the copper.

“On this holiest night I give my sacrifice. On this night, I call for the covenant of magic, of the mundane and arcane,” he chanted away, the pain insubstantial while he clasped his hands into fists and rocked back and forth over the burning copper.

“I ask for this covenant, for the show of magic and light, to become carrier of this might, I call for the mightiest before me and after me, to accept my gifts to the Nature.”

The thunder crashed.

“Air, Fire, Water, Earth, Blood, my sacrifice, show me the paths unseen, give me the wisdom that I need to follow the path I am destined to follow.. Let me reach out and find my path.”

The wind howled.

“Air, Fire, Water, Earth, Blood, Life, World, I.”

He chanted.

Air.

Fire.

Water.

Earth.

Blood.

Life.

World.

I.

He rocked back and forth, and let his mind set into thoughts of the arcane, the secrets he craved to learn on this magical night. He imagined the path, the secret ways into the arcane, how he could follow them.

Air.

Fire.

Water.

Earth.

Blood.

Life.

World.

I.

He spoke the words in tune with his thoughts. He concentrated on them and nothing else, uncaring of the wind that tugged on his clothes and the coldness that ensued. He felt warm, burning with internal heat now that the moment was finally upon him.

Air.

Fire.

Water.

Earth.

Blood.

Life.

World.

I.

Air.

Fire.

Water.

Earth.

Blood.

Life.

World.

I.

So did it go.

Air.

Air.

The awareness began to grow.

Fire.

Fire.

Water.

Water.

Two voices, speaking as one.

Earth.

Earth.

Blood.

Blood.

His hair was standing up on its end.

Life.

Life.

It felt like falling.

World.

World.

The heat was growing.

I.

I.

At first Micah thought that it was a simple flash of lightning that blinded him, but it lasted for much longer than a regular bolt from the skies. He could not see, and all he felt was heat that did not burn and the sensation of falling through the ground that he had previously felt under his knees.

Air.

Air.

Time and place became meaningless. He did not think nor feel, everything that existed was magic, flowing through the body of the young man who had summoned these forces...and succeeded.

*

“Fire…”

Micah felt cold. Something very cold and hard was pressed against his cheek and his hip. Everywhere, really. His skin was tingling despite it all, the islands of cold on his body. His head was swimming. It felt like he was moving even though he was quite sure he wasn’t.

“Water.”

He felt thirsty. And the cold...was he lying on the ground at the hilltops at the moors? Had something gone wrong.

“Aahhh…” the boy moaned.

“Earth.”

He felt strange. Was this what magic felt, Micah thought. Shivering, thirsty and cold? The books had had so many warnings about magic, how it could corrupt even the best prepared mind only intending to do good. Micah’s aspirations had been good, he was sure of that. He just wanted to expand his knowledge, to tune himself into the invisible force that would allow him to tap into the magic that would let him to do great things.

“Blood.”

He coughed. Perhaps something had truly gone wrong with the spell and he had simply injured himself. Would his end come, lying there on the windy moor under the crashing thunderous sky? On All Hallow’s Eve of all times, too, when the night felt especially dark and magic seemed to be lurking in every shadow, even where it couldn’t be found during normal circumstances?

He had done it all right, according to the instructions. Magic circle, elements, blood sacrifice, the spell, the tribute, the promise to do only good...recited on top of a magical fault line during the most magical of all nights during the entire year? He had not done a single mistake as far as he could tell..but the knowledge in the manuscripts was hard to decipher. Perhaps a smudgy word had been read wrong and he had spoken the magical power words in the wrong order...or maybe he’d have to speak them a certain number of times to truly tap onto them. There were so many options -

‘

It took the shivering boy a moment to realize that it was not raining, not windy. The air around him was still, and carried a smell he was not accustomed to. It was not the burning blood he had spilled off his own vein. The scent was not something he could describe.

“Agh…”

He stroked against his sore hip. He was surprised to feel bare skin under his fingers. Micah brought his hand up to his face and forced his eyes open. He blinked several times and had trouble focusing onto what was in front of his very eyes, but eventually, five fingers came into view in the low light that was present.

Daylight?

He could see his hand, and he saw smooth stone that his elbow was resting on and turning more and more sore by the moment. He adjusted his position, and the movement caused a twinge of pain along his hip and his back. He let out a grimace.

“Augh…”

He looked upwards, and saw tendrils of stone reaching away from what seemed to be an arched rocky ceiling. Micah blinked again, in confusion. Now there was a twinge of fear, too.

“What is this…” the boy whispered.

For a moment he thought that the magic had somehow caused the hill to collapse - that the magic had sent him plummeting down into a strange underground cave that existed beneath the heather-covered turf of the moors. Maybe he had simply managed to blast himself a hole through the ground, and he’d simply fallen through and he had laid unconscious until he had finally come to. That sounded like an almost rational explanation to what was taking place. It didn’t tell why he’d lost his clothes, or why there was a roof of solid stone on top of him, and the source of the light that seemed to be coming from somewhere behind him.

It took him massive effort to roll onto his backside, to sit up, finally. For a moment he thought he was going to faint, and had to press his face against his palms and lean forward to catch a few deep breaths. He saw sparks of light pass through his closed lids, but slowly that passed, and he dared to look again.

The tunnel-like portion of the cave sloped down for some way before it spread into a roughly oval-shaped space with a higher ceiling that was lacking in the stony protrusions Micah had seen above him. The source of light that also emanated into the tunnel was some kind of a burner on the ceiling that cast the glow upon the entire murky interior of the cavern.

What Micah saw in the light gave him a stop, and a thrill.

The cave was filled with the paraphernalia of a mage, he could tell as much. Magical patterns painted upon the walls and the floor, kettles, bottles, rolled parchments of enormous size that must have taken the entire hide of a cow to produce. There were crystals, spheres of glass glowing with mysterious inner light, wreaths of dried herbs. It was a true cornucopia of magical items, more than Micah had ever seen in one single place. His own haphazard collection was nothing compared to all this.

Was this what the spell did? Micah felt excitement, when the thought hit him thoroughly. Perhaps it gave him magic by transpositioning him into some place where he would be provided with all the means to perform real magic? Those scrolls probably contained very powerful spells that would let him do everything he had always wanted to. The boy shivered thoroughly at the thought. No wonder the books were vague about the effects of the spell he had cast on the hilltop. Surely the fact that it gave one access to all this magic was something only few were meant to know, those cunning enough and careful enough to pursue with all the diligence he had done.

“My God,” Micah gasped.

He moved very slowly, and carefully, remembering his previous near-swoon. He even forgot the fact that he was naked. It didn’t seem to matter in this cave that was void of other occupants. Surely he would find something to wear from somewhere in the cave. That could wait for the moment. Right now, what he really wanted was to see everything, to touch everything….to learn everything.

Micah walked slowly down the slope and into the cave. He found out that the floor was warm under his bare feet. a fact that he found curious. The walls on either side were covered in intricate patterns of magical symbolics. He longed to touch them, to study them, but Micah held himself back. Even laying his fingers on them might release power, let alone reading aloud the words of power they signified.

The floor became level when he entered the cave. Even the smooth stone of the floor had something drawn on it, a few angled lines in a somewhat wavy red paint. He was careful not to step on it, either, moving on careful steps upon the strange ground. He could feel his trepidation growing as he moved deeper into the room. His skin occasionally tingled, little sparks of it going along his limbs and his back. The room grew warmer, he could tell. He no longer felt cold.

“Magnificent,” Micah whispered. “Beautiful…”

He felt such elation. Everything he had ever dreamed of, within the reach of his very own fingers. His own magical laboratory, perfect for experimentation and dwelling into the deep reaches of magic. And he had dared to take the chance to reach it. It didn’t even matter that most of the items seemed oversized for him to use, with coppers that looked he could take a bath in them, and the ceiling high above. Could that too had been made with magic.

Micah stepped on something and almost slipped on it. He glanced down to see that he’d stomped onto a piece of pottery, one of several strewn across the floor, along with a sticky substance he couldn’t identify immediately. It had left a brownish stain onto the stone, in a kind of a splatter pattern, as if the pot that had held it had been dropped onto it.

“Strange…”

Micah crouched down enough so that he could brush his fingers against the stain and then stood up. He rubbed the dark substance between his fingertips and tried to get a proper idea of it. He brought it close to his nose and took a sniff, but could only smell metal, and a hint of something else he couldn’t tell.

“What is this…”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmr.”

Micah shivered. The noise was indescribable and dark, and coming from nearby. It echoed off the walls and became even more impressive as a result.

“H-hello?” the boy whispered. “Is there someone in here?”

“Animal.”

Micah gasped loudly. The voice was not one he heard with his ears, but rather it just happened somewhere inside his head. His mouth fell open with surprise and fear.

He realized that he could hear further things. Scratching, shuffling, and what sounded like a steam engine but what must have been breathing.

“Success.”

“Who...who is this?” Micah yelped. His eyes darted from side to side, trying to see the source of the noises, and most importantly, the voice that wasn’t voice, in his head.

“New animal.”

“A-animal? Where?” Micah stuttered.

He heard an odd cracking noise from the far side of the room. This darker area was moving, all of it, really, like a strange ripple in the very air itself.

“H-hello? Hello?”

It was a hideous..something, and it almost made Micah wet himself with fear. It was shapeless and a shade of dark purple, made of folds that moved through the air on their own accord and continued making the rumbling noise he had heard earlier.

“My God protect me!” Micah staggered backwards and found himself crashing onto a pile of stacked firewood. Pain lashed through his lower back from something scratching on his skin and he gasped. “Aaahh…”

The horrible purple monster moved and shuddered rhythmically, looking like it was about to burst.

“Cursed!”

“My God - “

Suddenly the purple monster was no more - the purple skin withdrew and flew into the air and it was revealed to not be skin at all but some kind of a cloth, the size of a sail of a ship - that was Micah’s hysterical thought - and fluttered through the air before it landed on the feet of a creature Micah could have never imagined that he would meet face to face.

The dragon stood tall, scaled in shades of green and red, its head horned and glimmering like precious stones. It stood on two huge legs, carried large leathery wings and possessed clawed hands that held numerous jeweled rings. The eyes were huge and golden, slitted like those of a cat.

It came closer.

“God, oh my God, forgive me for I have sinned - “

“New animal has arrived. I have succeeded.”

Micah’s eyes were fixed on the huge maw of the creature, as if expecting the lips to move along to the words that rang in his head. Obviously the dragon could speak in a way that did not require the transmission of thoughts through spoken words. It was such powerful magic that Micah could not help but feel impressed despite the fact how vulnerable, exposed, and likely doomed he was on that very moment, standing eye to eye with this monstrous creature from Hell.

“Welcome, pet.”

“Aaahhhgghh….” Micah shuddered. “Don’t…don’t eat me!”

The dragon’s neck craned as it stared at the shivering, pale thing partially sprawled on his pile of firewood. He even sniffed the air, to sample the scent of this apparition. It snorted loudly and lifted its head. Micah wondered whether it was preparing to swallow.

“I did not expect one like you.”

“I don’t know what I was doing, I probably wasn’t supposed to be doing what I dud but please, I will never ever try to cast magic again if that will save me - “

“Hssshhhhhh!” the drake hissed.

Micah fell quiet.

“You have less magic than I expected, too.”

Magic...the creature was speaking about magic. Micah looked warily at the monster in front of him, dominating the room. What did the creature know about magic, besides its ability to speak without words?

“Be - begone, devil!” Micah muttered.

Another head tilt.

“What is this...devil?”

“Y-you are!”

“That is not my name!”

“Stay away from me, Satan!”

The dragon did not come further.

“I can tell you speak words of power. I do not recognize them. They must be familiar magic. I will learn. Like you will learn from me.”

“M-magic…”

The dragon shuffled its wings.

“Magic has been cast to bring you here, pet. Now we get to know one another.”

“I...I don’t understand,” Micah breathed. “Did my magic bring me here?”

“Magic brings magic.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Magic was cast there,” the dragon swung its head towards the center of the cavern. “Elemental forces together. Water, air, earth, fire, blood, I.”

Micah gasped.

“Did I hear you...during the spell?” he asked. “I heard a voice...no...I felt it! Was it you?”

“Magic was cast. The magic found magic. Magic brought you here, pet.”

“You...you heard me too?”

The drake kicked the ground. Micah flinched.

“Magic was cast and you are here. You will help me to become more powerful in magic. We will be bound together through it. You will serve me.”

A thought dawned on Micah. It was a fearful one, yet tinged with hope.

“You are going to teach me magic?” he asked. “Is that true?”

The dragon growled.

“You will help me become more powerful when we are bound. I will begin.”

“But I don’t understand - “

“Elements of magic bind us together. The Master and his Familiar, forged in the arcane, growing together in power and magic. Elements of magic bind us together. Elements of magic bind us together.”

The dragon’s horns were beginning to glow. Micah felt the same tingling sensation he had experienced before, going down along his spine and causing prickles all along his skin.

“What are you doing?” he yelled. “What is happening?”

“You will become my familiar instead of an animal, pet. That is my magical gift to you. then we will be together in magic and arcane. Elements of magic bind us together. Elements of magic bind us together.”

Micah clutched his head. The dragon’s voiceless chanting was causing a painful throb somewhere behind his eyes. He gasped in terror.

“Oh...oh no...what...I didn’t ask for this!” he moaned.

“Elements of magic bind us together.”

“I’m not an animal!” Micah groaned. “Stop it!”

“Elements of magic bind us together. Master and familiar, dragon and pet.”

“AAHH!”

He felt like he was burning all over. His skin crawled...his bones crawled, he could not describe the sensation that overtook his body. It was not exactly painful, but it was intense, and it was overwhelming, coming from every pore of his skin. Mical collapsed onto his knees and then stumbled upon his hands as well, groaning and panting, barely unable to see with the sparks flying across his field of vision. In the middle of it was the dragon, his voiceless words still murmuring their way through Micah’s head.

“Aaaaaaaaaah!”

It started with fingers and toes, glowing with magic that flowed into them from the dragon, channeling the very arcane to bring this forward. The nails melted away onto the flesh of the digits, which themselves shortened, became stubbier and changed their shape to something inhumane. Micah did not see this happen, rather he felt it, the burning of his skin while it grew thicker along the palm upon the hand that was twisting itself into a position it had never meant to take.

“Nnnnnoooo!”

His chin broadened with a CRACK! when the bone suddenly grew, and the teeth only followed afterwards when there was enough room for them, although they too were rapidly changing shape as they were. His gasping tongue exploded in length and lolled out of his malformed mouth before his jaw grew longer and his tongue slurped back into its place inside his mouth.

“How beautiful you will be!”

A vestigial bone grew out of the boy’s backside, swinging back and forth rapidly. The boy growled, a sound that he was not accustomed to making. The blinding light of the magic made it impossible to perceive anything but the sensations of the unholy thing taking place throughout his body. He trembled and shivered, still on all fours and moaning under the unadulterated magic striking itself along every nerve of the boy’s body.

“Magic embodied in flesh!”

“Aaahhohhh…..ooheehhh…”

The mop of hair on his head grew shorter, yet at the same time spread along his neck. Auburn hair burst over his face way beyond the normal patterns of growth and then down his back at prodigious speed and overtook the boy’s limbs and body within moments. The new hair...fur...was shiny and covered his body in a sparse coat from head to toe...toes that had leathery pads like those of a dog, and had black nails not unlike claws.

“Arise, familiar!”

Micah let out a truly inhumane howl, and fainted upon the warm ground of the magical dragon’s lair.

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Thank you for reading! I hope you had a fun time, and I look forward to your feedback! More to come!