The site they chose for the summoning was an old farm just outside the city. The ramshackle barn, in particular. The old man who owned the land had no sons interested in working the land and was too old to see to its maintenance himself.
The cantankerous bastard was wasting away along with his fields. His nasty attitude had long ago driven off any friends and invited the wilds to swallow the place. It was the kind of place eyes just slid over. If nothing was done, it’d be a bandit den in a decade. For now, it was the perfect place for rogue summoners to open a door to another realm.
The first person to summon a drakkon in Harvest was an independent summoner who had found an ancient summoner’s research into the existence of dragons. All knew that the majesties of the sky were unmatched but the event that sparked the Great War had driven home exactly how powerful they were. Unreasonably so. It didn’t make sense how one species could drastically outclass every other being in the world. And so, the ancient summoner had developed a theory that dragons were not of their world.
The successor to his work had scoured many realms, searching for clues about the origins of the supreme race. At the end of that search, the poor man found the first drakkon. A powerful being that resembled the dragons of their world somewhat, if not closely.
Luke had the opportunity to read the man’s record at the Summoner Hall, where it was kept under lock and key. Their contract had been the usual affair. The drakkon had used the summoner’s curiosity to build trust. Then the creature promised to make him a king if given free reign. The rest was the predictable result. The monster rampaged, claiming innocent lives, until a hero stepped forward to defeat it.
Afterwards, the summoner was taken into custody and interrogated. It was the Grimoires that had pressured the previous king to allow the man to complete his record, detailing all he knew about the creature. From it, they learned that the drakkons were violent and arrogant. Their contracts were horrendously unfair, their summoners more glorified servants than partners. No one considered them threats because to contract them was to become a slave. Summoners formed contracts for power, not a life bowing and scraping for an enormous snake, no matter how powerful.
Another reason why no one feared the coming of a second drakkon was that creating the circle was expensive. Sure, the circle could be drawn in chalk on a piece of wood but only the most desperate of drakkons would answer such a sloppy call. To get anything specific, the circle had to be enticing and what enticed a race of conquerors was blood, bone, and riches. Corpses of powerful manabeasts, gold, and gems used as embellishments on a circle painted with ink mixed with fresh blood. Luke preferred his circles carved but Ambrose’s medium was paints and it had been determined that he would be doing the construction.
Luke’s job was to prepare notes, place markers on the floor, and watch attentively while Ambrose worked. It was a boring responsibility and more than once, he found his mind wandering.
The favorite track his thoughts liked to meander down was what he would do if they failed. They had a good plan and had taken many precautions, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that royal knights would kick down the door any moment. There was nothing he could do to save himself in such an event, but he hoped he could talk them into not going after the rest of his family. The younger generation especially. Jackal’s son had refused to participate, going as far as to move out of the house after being given the faintest clues about their objective while the girls knew nothing. Letting the ambition of two old men ruin the whole Tome family wouldn’t be right.
Then again, he doubted there was anything he could do for Lou that she couldn’t do for herself. The same for Jackal. They knew that, somehow, she’d killed her cousin’s engagement before it could become more than a thought and somehow got a girl with no experience in a shop work with the Guiness Company. That showed she had connections and wasn’t afraid to use them. Normally, his worries ended in gloom as he realized his family didn’t need him.
From there, they moved onto what he would do if he really was granted a kingdom. He didn’t indulge in the musings of the others but alone, he could admit the idea was…appealing. As long as he didn’t have to do any actual ruling. Luke had abysmal administrative skills and charisma. He wouldn’t mind receiving the admiration of the masses while lounging on a throne, but all the actual work would have to be handled by someone else.
Of course, that meant his supposed kingdom would collapse in a few years, if not months. Only a fool would think they could remain in power while someone else ran their kingdom. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t see the blade before it pierced his heart. If he was really lucky, the hand wielding it would be an enemy and not someone he thought he could trust.
No, there would be no kingdoms in Luke Tome’s future. A conclusion that led him to the question of what did lie in his future. As an outlaw, he wouldn’t have many options.
Some days, he thought he would simply continue working for the cabal. Make sure they didn’t doom the kingdom once the power reached their heads. Other days, he considered traveling. If the Harvest kingdom wouldn’t welcome him, he’d find somewhere that would. Perhaps the land of the elves. His daughter had found a bride there. Mayhap he could find one as well. He had given up on matrimony a long time ago but if all the women looked like Kierra Atainna, well, he’d have to reconsider.
“Finished!”
On the evening of their fifth night together, Ambrose let out the ecstatic claim while pushing to his feet. He carefully backed out of his painting and admired it from the edge. Luke closed the record he was reading from and placed it on his chair before moving to stand by the young artist’s side. He made thoughtful noises while he examined the work. Nothing was out of place and, for all his many faults, Ambrose certainly had skill with a brush.
The goal of the summoning was to draw a female drakkon. From what little they knew of their realm, all of them were violent and driven to conquer large swathes of territory. However, there was a big difference between a general and a warlord. They wanted a female with a mind for strategy. A mind they would be able to reason with and could appreciate the summoners as possible collaborators rather than weak, hairless apes.
Normally, a summoner drew their circle with scenes from their own experience, to make it more personal. This wasn’t a circle meant for Luke. Therefore, he employed more vague imagery. Scenes of war and conquest between men, beast, and elemental, led by queens and matriarchs. The circle encompassing the measured chaos was a stylistic drakkon eating its own tail. That had been Ambrose’s idea. Luke had been skeptical but it looked good. Added a bit of elegance that might work to draw a more sophisticated mind rather than the brainless brute that was the first drakkon summoned to their realm.
“Good. We will let it dry overnight before finishing it.”
“This is really happening, huh?”
Luke looked over, taking in the other man’s nervous smile. Was he having regrets? It really was the worst timing. Even if he had finally understood the consequences of his actions and thought better of them, his role was over. There was nothing stopping Luke from killing the young artist aside from his own distaste.
“It is. I suggest you rest because the next few days are going to be busy.”
He didn’t wait for Ambrose to answer before leaving. The barn was large, which it had to be to contain a drakkon, but there wasn’t much room for sleeping. Luke had to make do with a sleeping roll against the wall. He was far too old to sleep on the hard ground but sometimes ignoble circumstances had to be endured for noble goals.
Luke walked out of the back entrance, the doors permanently ajar as they no longer sat right on their hinges. He walked a few paces to ensure he wasn’t seen before calling, “Root.”
One of his four elementals appeared before him, a barely perceptible ring of energy tinged a faint beige. The old summoner felt a wave of nostalgia as he observed his partner for over two decades. How far he’d come from the young man with nothing to lose and everything to prove. Nowhere as far as he’d thought he’d go but that didn’t bother him anymore. He would have been content to fade away into obscurity, doing research until he drew his last breath. Amazingly, his younger self had been right. He was destined for greater things.
“No creature leaves or approaches the building.”
The elemental flashed to show its understanding before sinking into the ground. Luke turned back to the barn, hoping that his precautions would prove unnecessary, but nothing could be allowed to get in their way.
The site they chose for the summoning was an old farm just outside the city. The ramshackle barn, in particular. The old man who owned the land had no sons interested in working the land and was too old to see to its maintenance himself.
The cantankerous bastard was wasting away along with his fields. His nasty attitude had long ago driven off any friends and invited the wilds to swallow the place. It was the kind of place eyes just slid over. If nothing was done, it’d be a bandit den in a decade. For now, it was the perfect place for rogue summoners to open a door to another realm.
The first person to summon a drakkon in Harvest was an independent summoner who had found an ancient summoner’s research into the existence of dragons. All knew that the majesties of the sky were unmatched but the event that sparked the Great War had driven home exactly how powerful they were. Unreasonably so. It didn’t make sense how one species could drastically outclass every other being in the world. And so, the ancient summoner had developed a theory that dragons were not of their world.
The successor to his work had scoured many realms, searching for clues about the origins of the supreme race. At the end of that search, the poor man found the first drakkon. A powerful being that resembled the dragons of their world somewhat, if not closely.
Luke had the opportunity to read the man’s record at the Summoner Hall, where it was kept under lock and key. Their contract had been the usual affair. The drakkon had used the summoner’s curiosity to build trust. Then the creature promised to make him a king if given free reign. The rest was the predictable result. The monster rampaged, claiming innocent lives, until a hero stepped forward to defeat it.
Afterwards, the summoner was taken into custody and interrogated. It was the Grimoires that had pressured the previous king to allow the man to complete his record, detailing all he knew about the creature. From it, they learned that the drakkons were violent and arrogant. Their contracts were horrendously unfair, their summoners more glorified servants than partners. No one considered them threats because to contract them was to become a slave. Summoners formed contracts for power, not a life bowing and scraping for an enormous snake, no matter how powerful.
Another reason why no one feared the coming of a second drakkon was that creating the circle was expensive. Sure, the circle could be drawn in chalk on a piece of wood but only the most desperate of drakkons would answer such a sloppy call. To get anything specific, the circle had to be enticing and what enticed a race of conquerors was blood, bone, and riches. Corpses of powerful manabeasts, gold, and gems used as embellishments on a circle painted with ink mixed with fresh blood. Luke preferred his circles carved but Ambrose’s medium was paints and it had been determined that he would be doing the construction.
Luke’s job was to prepare notes, place markers on the floor, and watch attentively while Ambrose worked. It was a boring responsibility and more than once, he found his mind wandering.
The favorite track his thoughts liked to meander down was what he would do if they failed. They had a good plan and had taken many precautions, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that royal knights would kick down the door any moment. There was nothing he could do to save himself in such an event, but he hoped he could talk them into not going after the rest of his family. The younger generation especially. Jackal’s son had refused to participate, going as far as to move out of the house after being given the faintest clues about their objective while the girls knew nothing. Letting the ambition of two old men ruin the whole Tome family wouldn’t be right.
Then again, he doubted there was anything he could do for Lou that she couldn’t do for herself. The same for Jackal. They knew that, somehow, she’d killed her cousin’s engagement before it could become more than a thought and somehow got a girl with no experience in a shop work with the Guiness Company. That showed she had connections and wasn’t afraid to use them. Normally, his worries ended in gloom as he realized his family didn’t need him.
From there, they moved onto what he would do if he really was granted a kingdom. He didn’t indulge in the musings of the others but alone, he could admit the idea was…appealing. As long as he didn’t have to do any actual ruling. Luke had abysmal administrative skills and charisma. He wouldn’t mind receiving the admiration of the masses while lounging on a throne, but all the actual work would have to be handled by someone else.
Of course, that meant his supposed kingdom would collapse in a few years, if not months. Only a fool would think they could remain in power while someone else ran their kingdom. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t see the blade before it pierced his heart. If he was really lucky, the hand wielding it would be an enemy and not someone he thought he could trust.
No, there would be no kingdoms in Luke Tome’s future. A conclusion that led him to the question of what did lie in his future. As an outlaw, he wouldn’t have many options.
Some days, he thought he would simply continue working for the cabal. Make sure they didn’t doom the kingdom once the power reached their heads. Other days, he considered traveling. If the Harvest kingdom wouldn’t welcome him, he’d find somewhere that would. Perhaps the land of the elves. His daughter had found a bride there. Mayhap he could find one as well. He had given up on matrimony a long time ago but if all the women looked like Kierra Atainna, well, he’d have to reconsider.
“Finished!”
On the evening of their fifth night together, Ambrose let out the ecstatic claim while pushing to his feet. He carefully backed out of his painting and admired it from the edge. Luke closed the record he was reading from and placed it on his chair before moving to stand by the young artist’s side. He made thoughtful noises while he examined the work. Nothing was out of place and, for all his many faults, Ambrose certainly had skill with a brush.
The goal of the summoning was to draw a female drakkon. From what little they knew of their realm, all of them were violent and driven to conquer large swathes of territory. However, there was a big difference between a general and a warlord. They wanted a female with a mind for strategy. A mind they would be able to reason with and could appreciate the summoners as possible collaborators rather than weak, hairless apes.
Normally, a summoner drew their circle with scenes from their own experience, to make it more personal. This wasn’t a circle meant for Luke. Therefore, he employed more vague imagery. Scenes of war and conquest between men, beast, and elemental, led by queens and matriarchs. The circle encompassing the measured chaos was a stylistic drakkon eating its own tail. That had been Ambrose’s idea. Luke had been skeptical but it looked good. Added a bit of elegance that might work to draw a more sophisticated mind rather than the brainless brute that was the first drakkon summoned to their realm.
“Good. We will let it dry overnight before finishing it.”
“This is really happening, huh?”
Luke looked over, taking in the other man’s nervous smile. Was he having regrets? It really was the worst timing. Even if he had finally understood the consequences of his actions and thought better of them, his role was over. There was nothing stopping Luke from killing the young artist aside from his own distaste.
“It is. I suggest you rest because the next few days are going to be busy.”
He didn’t wait for Ambrose to answer before leaving. The barn was large, which it had to be to contain a drakkon, but there wasn’t much room for sleeping. Luke had to make do with a sleeping roll against the wall. He was far too old to sleep on the hard ground but sometimes ignoble circumstances had to be endured for noble goals.
Luke walked out of the back entrance, the doors permanently ajar as they no longer sat right on their hinges. He walked a few paces to ensure he wasn’t seen before calling, “Root.”
One of his four elementals appeared before him, a barely perceptible ring of energy tinged a faint beige. The old summoner felt a wave of nostalgia as he observed his partner for over two decades. How far he’d come from the young man with nothing to lose and everything to prove. Nowhere as far as he’d thought he’d go but that didn’t bother him anymore. He would have been content to fade away into obscurity, doing research until he drew his last breath. Amazingly, his younger self had been right. He was destined for greater things.
“No creature leaves or approaches the building.”
The elemental flashed to show its understanding before sinking into the ground. Luke turned back to the barn, hoping that his precautions would prove unnecessary, but nothing could be allowed to get in their way.
