Robin D. Owens - Summoning 01 - Guardian of Honor

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2024-12-22 0 0 3.35MB 245 页 5.9玖币
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GUARDIAN OF HONOR
Summoning Book 01
Robin D Owens
1
Lladrana, early spring
When the Star Etalla glows bright and moves through the constellation Caen; when mists
envelop the stone circle high atop Archer's Mound; when the face of the Moon is hidden—then the
walls between worlds are thin, and you may Summon saviors—or demons— from the Exotique
Land. Send the Call. Choose well.
—Spring Prophecy
The rush of rain hit the stone pavement with hissing, tinny pings. Swordmarshall Thealia hurried
through the Castle's cloister walk, ignoring the silver fall outside the open, pointed arches. The incessant
damp weather made her aging joints ache even under three layers of robes. She'd once loved to watch
the rain. Once. Now she avoided looking at it, listening to it, and wished she could avoid smelling the
miasma that rose from it.
She'd been called the tough realist, harping on the harsh facts of Lladrana's desperate situation,
demanding action—but she couldn't face the rain anymore.
Dread gripped her. She'd just stopped at the map room. She knew it was obsessive, checking the
status of the land every morning and evening, but she couldn't help herself. She always hoped against
hope that the tide of inhuman evil wasn't creeping into her country. That morning especially she'd prayed
something had changed, so the Marshalls wouldn't have to risk the Summoning tonight.
A futile hope. She'd scanned the animated map of Lladrana, noting the breaks in the magical
boundary set by her ancestors against the Dark. She'd counted each glowing white fence-pillar. Even as
she had watched, two pillars had blackened and vanished. The loss was escalating and the new gap in
the northern defenses stretched miles.
Fingers of the first taint of evil, the small nasty poisonous creatures signified by gray sludge, slogged
to the border—and across. Stirrings of the more terrible horrors—slayers, renders, soul-suckers massed,
ready to advance to the new breach. Chill fear had penetrated her bones.
Now with fumbling fingers Thealia drew the heavy key through the slits of her robes and stuck it into
the iron keyhole of the thick wooden door made of grown tree trunks—sacred oaks ritually harvested in
bygone times. The door opened smoothly, though she hadn't said the spell or pushed her shoulder against
it. The Knight Lord of the Marshalls must be inside. She wondered if he had brought his brother—his
Shield—too.
Her lips thinned in irritation. She'd wanted a moment or two in the chamber to soak in the sense of
serenity that lived nowhere else in Lladrana. He couldn't appreciate the balm, even if he felt it.
Straightening her spine and shoulders, she set her steps carefully to glide with grace into the round
stone Temple. The scent of rosemary and sage welcomed her.
Swordmarshall Reynardus paced the sanctuary, tall, broad-shouldered, the silver streak of hair at his
right temple turned golden with age. Not even a small paunch softened the man. Lines bracketed his
mouth. They had deepened over the past year as the Marshalls realized the ancient fence was failing and
that they had no idea how to recharge the shielding posts, make new ones or lace the magical energy
between them. Inhuman evil encroached upon Lladrana with sharp, monstrous teeth.
But didn't evil always encroach? It was Thealia's job to make sure the Marshalls guarded and
defended Lladrana—even when the steps might be drastic and deadly to herself and others.
Reynardus frowned and stopped near the eastern point of the pentacle, his robe settled above the
ankles of his metal boots.
"Tonight is the time." His voice echoed through the stone room, sounding as sharp as his footsteps.
"All is ready." Her gesture encompassed the freshly incised pentacle, the altar with the rainbow of
glowing gemstone crystal chimes, the tools, the fruit and wine, the enormous silver gong. She hoped her
quilted overdress concealed the shiver of apprehension that flowed along her spine like the touch of cold
steel.
Reynardus scowled, thick black brows casting his dark eyes farther into shadow. "We will be using
a great deal of energy for such a chancy enterprise, perhaps too much energy. Some of us may die."
Thealia inclined her head and folded her hands at her waist. The peak of her coif made her nearly as
tall as he, and she was more than equal in Power. She had the golden streaks of age and Power at both
temples. "The Spring Song foretold that only a Summoning has acceptable odds of success in beating
back the horrors and saving Lladrana. We must try despite personal danger," she pointed out once again
in their interminable discussion, wishing her more patient husband were here for this final preritual check
of the spelldesign and equipment.
"I don't like the idea of draining ourselves completely or setting our lives in the hands of a stranger,"
Reynardus said.
Of course he didn't. A Summoning would be conducted by all the Marshalls, and guided by her
husband and herself—out of Reynardus's control. The results too would be out of his control.
Reynardus tromped over to the white marble, blessing-carved fireplace that heated the room. He
held his hands to the warmth and shot her a glance. "We are gifted with six opportunities to Summon
Exotiques in the next two years. Why not wait?" he grumbled.
Thealia stiffened. Because they were desperate. Because it was their only hope. Because something
needed to be done now! She'd argued so time and again. Thealia unclenched her teeth and managed a
casual lift of her shoulders. "If you insist we wait, the rest of us will expect you to pay the price of such a
gamble. We will want your Chevaliers dispersed to our lands to fight any slayers and renders that
infiltrate our estates while we wait for your approval. Will you hazard your own domain until the next time
for Summoning?"
He strode around the pentacle, his piercing gaze tracing the shining line of quicksilver. Clank.
Clank. Clank. Clank.
No, he didn't like anything out of his control. Or anyone. His treatment of his grown sons had
demonstrated that to all of Lladrana. He'd tried to control them with money and with Power, to form their
lives as he pleased—and had driven them both away.
He might not be able to bend the Summoned Exotique to his will either. Exotiques were notoriously
strange and as unpredictable as they were powerful. Thealia cheered a little.
"We Summon an Exotique female, correct?" He rubbed his hands.
"So the Spring Song advised." Thealia suppressed an urge to roll her eyes. He obviously thought
women were more easily intimidated than men. She pursed her lips. He never should have married a
spineless girl of the Chiladee family. Thealia had said so at the time. "Yes, a woman," she said.
"Hrrumph. Hopefully someone who won't want to return to their own world, like the last one did a
century ago. Wasted effort."
Thealia tapped her foot under her gown, counting beats until she could reply calmly. "Our chants and
chimes and the gong will echo through her past to compel her. The pattern has been approved by we
who rule, the Marshalls of the Castle."
She paused for emphasis. "All the other communities in our society have agreed with this
course—the Sorcerers and Sorceresses of the Tower, the City- and Townmasters, the Knights and
Chevaliers of the Field, the Seamasters. Even the Cloister—the Friends of the Singer and the Song who
guide us spiritually—advise this action.
"A fighting woman of the greatest magical power will answer our Call and be Summoned to
Lladrana to take her place as a Marshall. She will stay and help us triumph against the Dark."
"And not a female demon. There will be Testing?"
Thealia smiled coldly. "You made that a prerequisite of your cooperation, didn't you?" And won that
point. Her loss still stung. She would have much preferred to have communicated their needs and the
rewards honestly to the Exotique. "Yes, Reynardus, she will be Tested thrice as soon as she appears.
The pool is ready." Thealia gestured to a large, square ritual bathing pool on the other side of the round
chamber, beneath the lower points of the pentacle. "The next day she will undergo the Choosing ritual.
Once she is Paired with a Lladranan by a blood-bond, we are sure she will stay."
She watched as he spun on his heel and a spur scored the stone wall. He examined the chamber
with one comprehensive glance. He'd seen and evaluated every detail of their preparations in that brief
scan—part of his Power.
"Everything seems in order. I'll take my place in the ritual tonight." Without another word he exited
the Temple.
She'd thought so all along, but she was glad to see him go.
The tinkling of time-chimes reminded her of the hour. She let her shoulders slump. The moment had
come to prepare herself for the great ritual of Summoning, and the Testing afterward. She gazed wistfully
at the blue velvet pads atop the low stone bench that half-circled the room, the pillows and rugs on the
floor. She wanted to sit and close her eyes and steep her soul in the comforting, powerfully magical
atmosphere. But the Marshalls would need every particle of that calm magic to Summon the one who
would help them save Lladrana from the Dark.
Thealia closed, locked and bespelled the door behind her. She walked to a pointed arch of the
cloister window that opened into the wet-slicked pavement and verdant grass courtyard, and forced
herself to look at the pummeling rain.
As each drop clinked against the stone, a tiny scaled worm wriggled from it. Most of the worms
sizzled to death in a puff of greasy stench when they reached lush grass. The few remaining burrowed into
the earth, purpose and effect still unknown.
Thealia shuddered. She hated rain.
Alexa Fitzwalter slogged through the knee-deep snow, every step difficult. She'd thought she had
survived the worst of her grief over the death of her best friend, a friend who was more like a sister, but
here she was, doing something completely crazy. Following a dream, a song that compelled her to trek
through the mountains at night. Dangerous and mad. She couldn't explain her actions rationally, so it must
be another aspect of mourning.
Yet she trudged on, knowing that although she couldn't escape the hurt inside her, she could leave
Denver and all her problems behind for the moment.
Such sad thoughts on such a cold, perfect night. The soft feathery snowflakes were as heartbreaking
as the sharp, pristine air she drew into her lungs. A night that spoke of mystery and life and challenge, if
you dared to take it, shape it, live it.
Just that easily the image of her friend Sophie was back in Alexa's thoughts—Sophie who had been
the sister and only family Alexa had ever had. Sophie laughing and dancing through the snow-crystal
laden air, whisking sparkles of ice around her in a shimmering aura.
Sophie had been bold and vibrant; Alexa deep and brooding. But they'd both been risk-takers.
Who else would be crazy enough to start up a law firm right out of school, trusting themselves and each
other to make it work; knowing that they were both alone in the world with no family and no family
money to cushion the start of a business? They had only themselves and their friendship to depend upon.
But it had been enough.
Then Sophie died in a car accident.
Alexa's face chilled as tears froze on her skin. No use wiping them away since others would follow.
She stopped and adjusted her fanny pack, panting through her mouth, sending puffs of white vapor
into the air. The cold made the inside of her nose crackle. She squinted up the hill—no sign of a track,
but she'd hiked this area often enough to know where she was going. Odd that she was drawn to this
point, never a favorite.
It was just one more crazy thing, part and parcel of the dreams and the auditory hallucinations.
Alexa had been hearing things that weren't there, that no one else heard. Not instructions from God—she
was no Joan of Arc—but a stream of rising and falling vocal music. Ripples of a chime that brought
rainbow colors to her mind. And the gong. The gong haunted her.
It had sounded first, then the chime, then the chants. They had alternated and mixed. First the gong
had been muffled as if echoing from a great distance. Then the sound had sharpened, become insistent,
reverberating in her dreams until she woke. Awake, the memory of it would ring through her, shattering
her thoughts all day.
Finally the sound in her mind had forced her into her car and led her here.
Obviously she wasn't coping as well as she'd thought with Sophie's death.
Sophie would have expected Alexa to handle the situation better, to be more flexible. Vital, ebullient
Sophie would want her to live, not simply exist in a world temporarily bleak. She would expect Alexa to
adapt again as she had so often when her life ruptured. Instead, Alexa followed a song.
The sky was so black as to be eternal, with sparks of light pinpointing lost dreams. The gauzy veil of
the Milky Way draped across the bowl of night was so beautiful as to make her soul ache with
longing—to be a star, to be the sky, to be a night goddess.
By the time Alexa reached the summit the snowflakes had stopped. Brilliant white peaks encircled
her, as if all the starshine in the universe coated them. She lifted her gaze to the stars again and pinpricks
of light dazzled her eyes through the tears.
When she blinked them away, she saw the silver net descending, coalescing into a solid silver arch
before her. She couldn't move a muscle. Her in-caught breath was so quick and big that she doubled
over, coughing.
The gong sounded, the chimes tinkled a scale. The arch settled.
Her heart thudded fast and she heard her own gasps. She wanted to run, but before she could lift
her feet, the beauty of the arch and the stream of music coming from it soothed the ragged edges of her
mourning. The sheer relief at having her hurt gone made Alexa stay.
Reality or illusion? If she waited would it fade like all dreams?
Hunched, Alexa saw the shiver of rippling silver in the arch. Silver flowing like mercury, then parted
to send a stream of voices lifted in music to her, along with a sparkling rainbow.
Now there were words, heard more in her head and her heart than with her ears, affecting her,
feeling real, especially since the chants weren't songs of exaltation but pleas. "Help us. Come to us. We
need you here as no one there ever will."
Alexa straightened and her throat tightened at the truth. No one needed her here.
The music enveloped, the gong enchanted, the words invited. She could only stand and stare,
bemused. It went on and on until she couldn't feel her feet, and her fingers hooked around the straps of
her pack, numbed.
"Come to us." Warmth and light and sound tugged at her.
She brushed a hand down the silver arch. It was warm to her touch. Planting a hand against it, she
pushed. It was solid.
"Come to us."
The delicate scent of spring blossoms and renewal drew her to the rainbow. Most appealing of all
was the small bud of hope that unfurled within her, the hope that she could help. She could find a place
of her own where she was valued, where she fit.
At her back was the cold, friendless night.
Alexa stepped through the arch. Rainbow crystals bathed her and sunk into her skin to shimmer like
glitter all along her nerves. Her loose hat fell off. Her fine hair lifted straight out from her head. She'd look
like a brown dandelion. She threw back her head and laughed at the joyful effervescence. Hope and
excitement flowed through her. She flung out her arms and twirled into a dance.
The monster attacked.
Big, twice as big as she. Black hairy bristles all over its body. Long fangs. Claws sliced, shredding
her down coat, releasing a flurry of feathers into whistling winds.
Fear jolted her. She screamed but heard no sound. A paw-hand sporting foot-long gleaming claws
slashed at her head. She ducked, but its hair brushed her face raw.
Move! How? She had no weight.
She rammed her own arms up against the beast. They stung with shock, but the blow propelled her
and the monster apart.
Another clawed swipe. Her pack loosened and vanished. Her gloves whipped off in the wind.
Better her stuff than her.
Alexa saw an opening. Escape!
It was a bright hole with rainbow traces. Panting in terror, she kicked with all her might, connected
with the monster, ducked, rolled, spun, struggled to the hole and plunged into it feet-first. The last thing
she saw was a huge red mouth and teeth dripping yellow spit. She didn't know if the beast growled in
fury or tried to bite her head off. Or both.
The hole sucked her through.
And into a maelstrom of sound. A full orchestra rose in triumphant crescendo.
A flash swept across her vision—a pentacle? She landed hard in the center, on a pavement of
multicolored stones. The groan rattling from her teeth echoed.
Solid. Real. The music faded to a background murmur. She looked up. People in rich robes stared
at her. She was among humans. She closed her eyes in gratitude. When she opened them she was circled
by swords.
"This is our savior? The one we risked our lives for? It's puny. And ugly," Reynardus said.
Thealia stared in shock at the small being in the pentagram's center. It was partially feathered,
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GUARDIANOFHONORSummoningBook01RobinDOwens1Lladrana,earlyspringWhentheStarEtallaglowsbrightandmovesthroughtheconstellationCaen;whenmistsenvelopthestonecirclehighatopArcher'sMound;whenthefaceoftheMoonishidden—thenthewallsbetweenworldsarethin,andyoumaySummonsaviors—ordemons—fromtheExotiqueLand.SendtheC...

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