Read Summoner: Book 1: The Novice Online
Authors: Taran Matharu
Summoner: Book 1: The Novice (32 page)
53
‘Fletcher. Wake up,’ Othello’s voice seemed to be far away. Someone tapped his face.
‘You did it, Fletcher,’ Othello whispered. ‘You beat him.’
‘I won?’ Fletcher asked blearily. He opened his eyes.
Othello’s face stared down at him, his green eyes sparkling with joy.
‘You put us all to shame. Tarquin hit the ceiling when his shield broke, literally. If Zacharias hadn’t caught him with a kinetic cushion, he would probably be up here with us now.’
Fletcher sat up and saw they were in the infirmary. Lovett and Sylva lay in the beds next to him, both still and silent. Sariel was curled up beneath Sylva’s bed, snoring softly. Valens had settled in the soft fur on the Canid’s back, equally oblivious to the world.
‘How is she?’ Fletcher asked, reaching across the bed and brushing an errant thread of pale hair from the elf’s cheek.
‘Dame Fairhaven said she is going to be fine. She’s going to have to heal on her own though, just like me. Her arm is broken in two places.’
Othello gazed at her with complex emotion in his face, then clutched her hand.
‘We couldn’t have done it without her, you know. She beat Isadora and weakened Tarquin, at great risk to herself. She could have tapped out, like I did. Instead, she chose to fight, even though she knew she couldn’t win,’ he murmured.
‘She’s twice the warrior I am,’ Fletcher replied, watching her chest rise and fall.
‘It was you two who did it in the end,’ Othello said, with a hint of disappointment. ‘I wish I could tell my father it was me. I wanted the Forsyths to know it was the dwarves who cost them their victory.’
‘Othello, the dwarves gave me the tools I needed to win and if it wasn’t for you, I would have used up all my mana fighting Rufus in the semi-final,’ Fletcher said, looking the dwarf directly in the eye. ‘This was all three of us. Even Seraph played his part; I bet he was no pushover when it came to his fight with Tarquin. I just wish Sylva was awake to celebrate our victory.’
‘She will be,’ Othello said, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. ‘It’s the first thing I’m going to tell her. Hell, she’ll probably be offered a commission as soon as she wakes up.’
‘I’m sure you will too, Othello. The dwarven recruits are going to need leaders. By reaching the semi-final, I think you proved yourself. Just remember why you came here: to show the world that the dwarves are worthy allies,’ Fletcher said.
‘That’s true,’ Othello replied with a grin. ‘I didn’t think about that. Scipio will definitely let Atilla join Vocans now; he is my twin, after all. The first thing I’m going to do after this is learn how the Inquisition tests for adepts. We will need battlemages in the dwarven battalions.’
‘You can count on it. I will bring the subject up at the council meeting straight away, if I can,’ Fletcher replied.
He felt a flash of anxiety as he pictured a long table in a dark room, surrounded by the most powerful men in the land. Zacharias would be there, trying to discredit him at every turn. Even with the Forsyth twins beaten, he would still have their father to contend with.
Footsteps echoed in the stairwell, until Seraph’s excited face appeared in the doorway.
‘Guys, Dame Fairhaven said it was OK for me to come and get you, if you’re able. They’re going to start handing out commissions soon. Come on!’ He disappeared from sight and they could soon hear him running down the stairs.
‘Someone fancies his chances,’ Othello laughed. ‘Help me down, would you? I can’t put any weight on my damned leg.’
‘I swear, half my life seems to be spent as a crutch for an injured dwarf,’ Fletcher joked.
He swung his legs over the bed and stood. There was a rush of dizziness for a moment, but it soon passed after a few deep breaths.
‘We must look like a right pair,’ Fletcher said, putting his arm around Othello’s shoulders. ‘I think I’m going to need your help as much as you need mine.’
He winced as he took Othello’s weight, his aching body complaining at the effort.
They hobbled down the steps and corridors, stopping to rest every few skips.
‘Come on, you can’t miss getting made a captain,’ Othello said.
At the reminder of his captaincy, the war trophies and weapons that lined the corridors took on a sudden new meaning for Fletcher. Sooner or later, an orc might be swinging one of those fearsome weapons at his head.
The atrium was milling with nobles and generals when they arrived, all of them staring at the pair as they staggered in. Some even had fear in their eyes.
‘Pure, unadulterated genius,’ Scipio shouted, striding over. ‘Tattooing yourself to skip etching altogether; using a scrying stone as an eyeglass. Huge jumps forward in battlemage technology – how on earth did we not think of them before?’
Behind him, Fletcher could see Tarquin being berated by his father, hanging his head in shame. The other noviciates were seated on the low benches brought in from the dining hall, waiting for the commissioning ceremony in silence.
‘Rest assured, I will be asking you all about this tattooing business later. Now, General Kavanagh, if you would bring over the papers so we can get Fletcher all signed up. When is the King’s council, next month? We will need to get a tutor in to teach him about Hominum’s politics before then; as a commoner he won’t know a thing.’ Scipio fussed about Fletcher like an overprotective mother, brushing the dust from his shoulders.
Fletcher stood up straight and surveyed the room, meeting the eyes of the generals and nobility with a steady gaze. With pride, he considered what he and his friends had achieved.
Sylva and Othello had proved to the upper echelons of Hominum that their peoples were a force to be reckoned with. Seraph’s elevation to the nobility would be a smooth one, now that he had demonstrated his tenacity in the arena. As for Fletcher, he was just glad to have kept the council seat from the Forsyths and secured himself a bright future. He only wished Berdon was there to see it.
He squeezed Othello’s shoulder and nudged him, pointing at the generals and nobles.
‘One of those men is going to give you a commission today. Do you have any preference?’
‘As long as it’s not Zacharias or the Favershams,’ Othello chuckled back. ‘You should have seen the look on their faces when I beat Rufus.’
The main doors slammed open, sending a gust of wind rushing through the atrium. Three figures stood silhouetted against the light outside, before the oak doors were slammed shut again.
As Fletcher’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was alarmed to see that the three men were Rook, Sergeant Turner and Sergeant Murphy. The Inquisitor smirked as he walked towards them.
Fletcher’s heart dropped when he saw Turner was clutching a pair of manacles in his hand.
‘Othello!’ Fletcher gasped. ‘The Pinkertons!’
‘What is the meaning of this?’ Scipio blustered, as the Pinkertons pushed their way through the surrounding nobles. ‘This is a private event.’
‘We’re here for him,’ Murphy said, nodding towards Fletcher and Othello. ‘We have an urgent warrant for his arrest.’
Fletcher stepped in front of the dwarf, swaying on his feet.
‘If you want him, you’ll have to go through me first.’
Murphy stepped forward and smiled maliciously.
‘Fletcher Wulf,’ he announced, snapping the manacles on to Fletcher’s wrists. ‘You are under arrest for the attempted murder of Didric Cavell.’
Fletcher froze, as the meaning of the words sunk in.
‘Get your hands off him,’ Othello shouted, trying to put himself between them. ‘This is a mistake!’
Turner gave Othello an open-handed slap, knocking him to the ground.
‘Watch yourself, dwarf, or we’ll have you on obstruction of justice,’ he spat, prodding Othello with his foot. Rook stepped over the fallen dwarf and gripped Fletcher’s collar, bringing him in close.
‘This little jaunt is over, Fletcher,’ Rook snarled, his breath hot in Fletcher’s ear. ‘You’re going back to Pelt.’
To my mother, for always being there for me
To Alice, the rock against which this story was written
And to my Wattpad readers, without whom none of this would be possible
Hodder Children’s Books
This ebook edition published in Great Britain in 2015
by Hodder Children’s Books
Text Copyright © 2015 Taran Matharu Ltd.
The right of Taran Matharu to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form, r by any means with prior permission in writing from the publishers or in the case of reprographic production in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency and may not be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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ISBN: 978 1 444 92397 1
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