Three days had passed without contact.
Jackal didn’t think of himself as a man prone to panic. Rather, he thought of himself as a patient man. He needed to be. Otherwise, he would have been driven mad growing up under the harassment of the Grimoires. He could take any insult with a smile. Could take a beating and get back to work without bothering to wipe away the blood. All because he believed that if he endured long enough and tried hard enough, it would be worth something. He would be worth something. The Tomes would be worth something.
Finally, it seemed his patience was paying off. The summoners had a plan to take back their esteem and he would be at the head of it. The name the independent summoners united around. The man with the king’s ear. At least for a while. Maybe. If everything went according to plan, which it certainly wasn’t.
Three days ago, the last of the group meant to handle the summoning had left the capital. Securing a contract, especially with powerful elementals, wasn’t an easy task but it shouldn’t have taken so long. Not with Luke present.
For all his younger brother’s many faults, he was an exceptional and experienced summoner. Jackal wouldn’t go as far as to say their success was guaranteed but it certainly wasn’t in doubt. More importantly, if something had gone wrong, he should have gotten a message. Reassurances, if not further instructions.
There was no communication and no sighting of the five men. Also, no sighting of the drakkon. That was the worst part. Without any word, Jackal spent every second of the day waiting for a calamity to come from the sky.
The first day, he’d been filled with nervous energy, alert and ready to capitalize on the situation at any moment. The second day, the excitement was polluted by anxiety as his focus waned. Now, on the third day, having gotten very little sleep over two nights and eating two bites of every meal, his anxiety had smothered the last of his excitement.
A small, insecure part of him that he went to great lengths to bury whispered that the others had abandoned the plan. That the drakkon had made them an offer they couldn’t refuse or, more likely, conned the fools and taken them away. Leaving him alone in an empty estate twiddling his thumbs.
He had plenty of doubts but the biggest was what to do about them. He could ride out to the derelict farm, but they had good reason to be so careful about their movements. The Tomes were a notable summoning family. After the awesome collapse of the Grimoires, perhaps the most notable. It wouldn’t be strange if agents of the crown had eyes on him.
They could also have agents investigating the independent summoners. Jackal was meant to present himself as an opposing force to the radicals. If he was spotted going to the place where the summoning was taking place, it would ruin their whole strategy. Not a risk worth taking when he could walk into their negotiations only to be kicked back out.
He could flee the capital. His instincts told him something was wrong. Very wrong. A cautious man would leave the city with haste and not look back. He had yet to do anything wrong so there was no reason for anyone to come after him. His absence would give the summoners pause but he was easily replaced.
When they first discussed the plan, Jackal had eyed Emerett warily, waiting for the man to take the chance to elevate the independent summoners. He would be just as good, if not a better, figure to unite around. After all, the Tomes’ reputation had been thoroughly ruined by the Grimoires. They were hardly a respectable family.
He’d been pleasantly surprised when Emerett had been the first to suggest he take the role of the reasonable summoner the crown could rely on to reign over the others. He immediately wondered what the man could gain from it. On the surface, it looked like nothing, and Jackal didn’t care to look deeper.
Emerett struck him as the passionate type willing to die for what he believed in. That happened to be summoning. Surrendering a bit of prestige didn’t register as a sacrifice in his idealistic mind. And if he did have secret plans, Jackal felt he would have a better chance fending them off with the king’s trust.
Now, with things veering off plan, he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t Emerett springing some trap. The best way to avoid it was to get out of the way by getting out of the capital.
The only problem was that Jackal was loathed to relinquish the little prestige he did have. He spent all his life as a nobody. Was willing to risk everything to be anybody. He could accept death. He could accept embarrassment. What he couldn’t accept was disappearing to the ass end of the kingdom where he was no better than farmers and stable hands.
There was also a third option. Improvise. With or without a drakkon, he had valuable information. Simply informing the king about the possible consequences of his bans should be enough to make him wary of the summoners and appreciate the willingness of someone ready to unite them against rash action. It wouldn’t even be a betrayal, as it was the original plan. He would only be showing a little initiative.
The door to his study being thrown open jolted him from his thoughts. Jackal looked up with no small amount of surprise as Fen strutted into the room, followed by her pet, Gordon Mason. A delicious turn of circumstances that they were usually discrete about but the thrall, looking more human than usual, didn’t appear to be interested in their usual games.
Jackal hoped every Grimoire patriarch, down to the first upstart that had changed his name and ground the Tomes into the dirt with their own benevolence, was rolling in their graves. He normally couldn’t stand the sight of a succubus but her treachery against her summoner meant Jackal was willing to forgive Fen the sins of her race.
That didn’t keep him from frowning at the rude entrance. “It’s about damn time! Could you people not be bothered to send a message—"
“Quiet.”
Despite being from a famed family of summoners, Jackal did not have a contracted elemental. He wasn’t interested in the elementals that would be interested in someone of his mediocre abilities and didn’t have the patience for the intensive research needed to form a contract with something worth his time.
He could have taken the road of the traditional caster. Had, for a time. Splitting his time between study and political maneuvering proved too much. Magic was not a discipline one tackled with half of one’s focus. He had to choose one. Having no talent or need for magic, he gave it up without a care.
Rarely did he have chance to regret his decision. Few parties cared enough to threaten a noble with few connections and less money. However, he couldn’t help a touch of bitterness as Fen’s mental compulsion forced his mouth shut with a click.
The mental affinity largely worked on mana intrusion. The more mana a caster had, the greater their natural defense against intrusion of any kind. That meant someone who neglected their core like Jackal had pitiful defenses. There was of course the artifacts Emerett had provided when they first approached Junior to ask for his cooperation but they were collected afterwards. Understandable for such expensive assets. His understanding didn’t alleviate Jackal’s anger as he realized how vulnerable he was.
“I apologize for my abruptness, Javarius, but this is not the time for your usual bluster and performance. We bring grave news. Something went wrong with the summoning. Your brother is dead. I do not know what has happened to the others, but I assume the worst. Our plan has fallen apart and so the only thing left is to disappear. The Mason family has removed all its assets from the capital. I suggest you do the same with all haste.”
As Fen turned to leave the room, the compulsion keeping Jackal silent abated. “Wait!” he shouted, jumping to his feet. They didn’t and he was forced to run after them. “Wait a minute!” He reached out for Junior’s shoulder, but his hand was shrugged off. “What do you mean? I need details! What happened? What do you mean my brother is dead?”
“We aren’t here to hold your hand,” the thrall said mercilessly. “You have all the pertinent information. Your future is your own now, Javarius Tome. Make of it what you will but we no longer have anything to do with you.”
Realizing it was fruitless to stop them, and getting tired following their quick pace, Jackal stopped, panting heavily as he leaned against a wall. His mind raced as his guests disappeared around a corner. The summoning had failed. His allies were gone, presumed dead. The Masons had backed out of the alliance. He had no sway with independent summoners.
Luke was gone.
He pushed aside the tangled swell of emotions that thought caused. There was no time to grieve or even process it. He had to make a decision about his future. Relying on their cabal was no longer possible. That left improvising or running.
Jackal closed his eyes in thought for several moments.
Then he hurried toward his bedroom to change clothes. He couldn’t be seen in the palace in the same rags he wore to lounge around in his home.
Three days had passed without contact.
Jackal didn’t think of himself as a man prone to panic. Rather, he thought of himself as a patient man. He needed to be. Otherwise, he would have been driven mad growing up under the harassment of the Grimoires. He could take any insult with a smile. Could take a beating and get back to work without bothering to wipe away the blood. All because he believed that if he endured long enough and tried hard enough, it would be worth something. He would be worth something. The Tomes would be worth something.
Finally, it seemed his patience was paying off. The summoners had a plan to take back their esteem and he would be at the head of it. The name the independent summoners united around. The man with the king’s ear. At least for a while. Maybe. If everything went according to plan, which it certainly wasn’t.
Three days ago, the last of the group meant to handle the summoning had left the capital. Securing a contract, especially with powerful elementals, wasn’t an easy task but it shouldn’t have taken so long. Not with Luke present.
For all his younger brother’s many faults, he was an exceptional and experienced summoner. Jackal wouldn’t go as far as to say their success was guaranteed but it certainly wasn’t in doubt. More importantly, if something had gone wrong, he should have gotten a message. Reassurances, if not further instructions.
There was no communication and no sighting of the five men. Also, no sighting of the drakkon. That was the worst part. Without any word, Jackal spent every second of the day waiting for a calamity to come from the sky.
The first day, he’d been filled with nervous energy, alert and ready to capitalize on the situation at any moment. The second day, the excitement was polluted by anxiety as his focus waned. Now, on the third day, having gotten very little sleep over two nights and eating two bites of every meal, his anxiety had smothered the last of his excitement.
A small, insecure part of him that he went to great lengths to bury whispered that the others had abandoned the plan. That the drakkon had made them an offer they couldn’t refuse or, more likely, conned the fools and taken them away. Leaving him alone in an empty estate twiddling his thumbs.
He had plenty of doubts but the biggest was what to do about them. He could ride out to the derelict farm, but they had good reason to be so careful about their movements. The Tomes were a notable summoning family. After the awesome collapse of the Grimoires, perhaps the most notable. It wouldn’t be strange if agents of the crown had eyes on him.
They could also have agents investigating the independent summoners. Jackal was meant to present himself as an opposing force to the radicals. If he was spotted going to the place where the summoning was taking place, it would ruin their whole strategy. Not a risk worth taking when he could walk into their negotiations only to be kicked back out.
He could flee the capital. His instincts told him something was wrong. Very wrong. A cautious man would leave the city with haste and not look back. He had yet to do anything wrong so there was no reason for anyone to come after him. His absence would give the summoners pause but he was easily replaced.
When they first discussed the plan, Jackal had eyed Emerett warily, waiting for the man to take the chance to elevate the independent summoners. He would be just as good, if not a better, figure to unite around. After all, the Tomes’ reputation had been thoroughly ruined by the Grimoires. They were hardly a respectable family.
He’d been pleasantly surprised when Emerett had been the first to suggest he take the role of the reasonable summoner the crown could rely on to reign over the others. He immediately wondered what the man could gain from it. On the surface, it looked like nothing, and Jackal didn’t care to look deeper.
Emerett struck him as the passionate type willing to die for what he believed in. That happened to be summoning. Surrendering a bit of prestige didn’t register as a sacrifice in his idealistic mind. And if he did have secret plans, Jackal felt he would have a better chance fending them off with the king’s trust.
Now, with things veering off plan, he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t Emerett springing some trap. The best way to avoid it was to get out of the way by getting out of the capital.
The only problem was that Jackal was loathed to relinquish the little prestige he did have. He spent all his life as a nobody. Was willing to risk everything to be anybody. He could accept death. He could accept embarrassment. What he couldn’t accept was disappearing to the ass end of the kingdom where he was no better than farmers and stable hands.
There was also a third option. Improvise. With or without a drakkon, he had valuable information. Simply informing the king about the possible consequences of his bans should be enough to make him wary of the summoners and appreciate the willingness of someone ready to unite them against rash action. It wouldn’t even be a betrayal, as it was the original plan. He would only be showing a little initiative.
The door to his study being thrown open jolted him from his thoughts. Jackal looked up with no small amount of surprise as Fen strutted into the room, followed by her pet, Gordon Mason. A delicious turn of circumstances that they were usually discrete about but the thrall, looking more human than usual, didn’t appear to be interested in their usual games.
Jackal hoped every Grimoire patriarch, down to the first upstart that had changed his name and ground the Tomes into the dirt with their own benevolence, was rolling in their graves. He normally couldn’t stand the sight of a succubus but her treachery against her summoner meant Jackal was willing to forgive Fen the sins of her race.
That didn’t keep him from frowning at the rude entrance. “It’s about damn time! Could you people not be bothered to send a message—"
“Quiet.”
Despite being from a famed family of summoners, Jackal did not have a contracted elemental. He wasn’t interested in the elementals that would be interested in someone of his mediocre abilities and didn’t have the patience for the intensive research needed to form a contract with something worth his time.
He could have taken the road of the traditional caster. Had, for a time. Splitting his time between study and political maneuvering proved too much. Magic was not a discipline one tackled with half of one’s focus. He had to choose one. Having no talent or need for magic, he gave it up without a care.
Rarely did he have chance to regret his decision. Few parties cared enough to threaten a noble with few connections and less money. However, he couldn’t help a touch of bitterness as Fen’s mental compulsion forced his mouth shut with a click.
The mental affinity largely worked on mana intrusion. The more mana a caster had, the greater their natural defense against intrusion of any kind. That meant someone who neglected their core like Jackal had pitiful defenses. There was of course the artifacts Emerett had provided when they first approached Junior to ask for his cooperation but they were collected afterwards. Understandable for such expensive assets. His understanding didn’t alleviate Jackal’s anger as he realized how vulnerable he was.
“I apologize for my abruptness, Javarius, but this is not the time for your usual bluster and performance. We bring grave news. Something went wrong with the summoning. Your brother is dead. I do not know what has happened to the others, but I assume the worst. Our plan has fallen apart and so the only thing left is to disappear. The Mason family has removed all its assets from the capital. I suggest you do the same with all haste.”
As Fen turned to leave the room, the compulsion keeping Jackal silent abated. “Wait!” he shouted, jumping to his feet. They didn’t and he was forced to run after them. “Wait a minute!” He reached out for Junior’s shoulder, but his hand was shrugged off. “What do you mean? I need details! What happened? What do you mean my brother is dead?”
“We aren’t here to hold your hand,” the thrall said mercilessly. “You have all the pertinent information. Your future is your own now, Javarius Tome. Make of it what you will but we no longer have anything to do with you.”
Realizing it was fruitless to stop them, and getting tired following their quick pace, Jackal stopped, panting heavily as he leaned against a wall. His mind raced as his guests disappeared around a corner. The summoning had failed. His allies were gone, presumed dead. The Masons had backed out of the alliance. He had no sway with independent summoners.
Luke was gone.
He pushed aside the tangled swell of emotions that thought caused. There was no time to grieve or even process it. He had to make a decision about his future. Relying on their cabal was no longer possible. That left improvising or running.
Jackal closed his eyes in thought for several moments.
Then he hurried toward his bedroom to change clothes. He couldn’t be seen in the palace in the same rags he wore to lounge around in his home.
