The Summoning

The sound of my armour scraping against the black marble beneath me echoes in the chamber. The stone that meets my back is perfectly smooth, as was the blow that put me there. I stand as fast as I can, still winded with laboured breaths, instinctively swiping at my nose and seeing blood in my peripheral vision. Never take your eyes off of your opponent. Not even for mortal wounds, let alone a nose bleed. The chamber I am in is large and dark, illuminated by a few torches of orange flame attached to the walls. The ceilings arch upwards like a church. The only gods worshipped here are that of pain, sweat, blood, will. The man before me is a master Knight, my only tutor. He wears light silver armour upon a slim yet muscular frame, his eyes alert and empty. His green eyed gaze locks onto me beneath a low brow of bushy black eyebrows, a pointed black goatee, closely cropped hair of ashen grey.

‘Do not ever open the centre of your body to an opponent. If this was a battle that would have been a blade, not a boot slamming into your chest’ he says. The lines on his forehead are contorted into a deep frown of concentration but his eyes remain calm. I pick up my sword. We engage once more, my attack strong, well rehearsed, well trained by the man that deflects them as if he has seen the inner workings of my mind before me. In a way, he has. I improvise against his superior knowledge, feint a fundamental parrying move and then swipe upwards in a circular motion instead. His sword is thrown from his hands and my blade tip slides under his chin, controlled, barely touching the skin. He stops frowning and smiles.

‘Enough today. You are ready’ he says. I sheath my sword and smile.

Today marks the summoning. Sixteen Knights all on their first attempt. They will return in four days, journeying through the southern lands past the golden gate. Beyond here is the void, no man's land. The sixteen young men will make their way out here accompanied by six master Knights, men who have travelled and fought in these lands, slain the beasts and savages that roamed there. The young Knights they would take there were to be tested. Each Knight must pass their summoning to become fully accredited by royalty. A series of challenges against the forces beyond, a true will to do good, to remain strong in the face of darkness, the unknown. This year however, they would be accompanied by another. Until now, no one else except a master Knight and his pupils had been allowed to join the journey of a summoning. A sorcerer of the highest order, a man now sworn into the Knighthood as its ‘overseer’. The King had ordered it.

‘There are forces beyond mortals that he commands, forces that could save the bloodshed of your men’ the King had said to my tutor, the master of all Knights. He never trusted sorcerers.

‘Men who command forces beyond men should not be classified amongst them. He has made pacts with unseen things’ he had replied. In a way, I agreed with him. Although I knew little of magic. I rose from my bed an hour before everyone else, sharpening my sword just as the sunlight breached the mountains beyond the kingdom walls. My brothers in arms slept soundly beside me, no worry present on their expressions. I had been unable to shake the dreams. Flashing visions of commands, magic infused battle, screaming shouts of dying men and the roar of beasts. A nonsensical accumulation of my fears, my untended thoughts, I decided. As day broke and the rest of the Knightclan began to rise, I waited in the courtyard of grey stone as snow fell. The gates to the keep were before me, leading into the mountain valley only we had access to. This was a fortress of grey stone, its walls expansive, carved into the mountains around in some places, the towers spanning many floors high and the chambers deep below. An ancient and strange place. Only those who would fight what may come from the void beyond the gates stood here. Only us. The grey stone towers that rose up either side of the square courtyard were bathed in rising golden morning light. From the depths of the chambers below, further into the keep, someone clapped a single time. This sound echoed unnaturally, calling the attention of all those that heard it. And then from the darkness, the master wizard rose.

‘My young brothers. My pupils of the sword. You are summoned here today by the will of all those men who have strived in virtue to keep the darkness at bay. Here, on this morning, you become men’ the high wizard said. His voice was carried by his magic, deep and resonant. The air shook with his words, and my brothers listened as they rose from sleep. His robes were long and a dark royal blue colour. As he spoke, he lowered a hood to reveal a mess of ashen white curly hair, with a thick beard of the same colour. His face was old yet energy filled, his eyes expressing an eternal smile with a soft golden colour. He radiated kindness, wisdom. I could feel my brothers around me drawn into his speech, his aura of power. For some reason I could not shake the chill that drew itself down my spine.

‘I am simply here to ensure this passage reveals the strength you truly possess, unleashing it against the darkness as you finally become Knights’ he concluded, his speech short yet hypnotising. From the depths of his cloak he withdrew a sword of glistening silver, holding it aloft. My brothers cheered. The Knight masters behind began to show themselves as we prepared to leave, folding their arms, cutting themselves off from his words and yet knowing they could not refute them. After all was said and done, they were servants to the King and his word. We marched.

The master wizard rode just behind my tutor, the finest master Knight at the head of the squadron. He has passed the golden gates with no issue, the bandits that patrolled these areas making no attempt to bother us. One even tipped his hat, a golden toothed grin and beady eyes gazing back at me with a look of satisfaction on his face. He knew some of us should not make it. To him, this was a small victory. Countless bandits had been killed by us in days gone - after a while they had learnt their place. Soon we were out into the barren lands - an expansive area of black rock that cracked nearly everywhere and jutted up like the fangs of some magnificent beast. Our steeds struggled to find footing but eventually gained their rhythm, although reluctant, as though sensing something. He would drive them hard until nightfall and then grain them. First stop was the base of the black mountain. We camped here overnight, made passage through the valley, back around the mountain for two days and then home. These were where they lurked. Demonic beasts of unknown powers, humanoid clan, evil things. If you could walk the passage for two nights, returning with honour, you could call yourself a Knight. Some made it without issue, facing no challenge. Some experienced the worst sights imaginable, fighting, and perishing against evil. Only after sufficient challenge could you call yourself a Knight. Maybe we were fools, but then again, the line between fool and hero was often blurred. The dance of a Knight was to walk this line and fall on the right side, when death came to call. As twilight drew in my brothers grew cold. Most remained still, calm, gazing into the vast blackness around with looks of determination. Some faltered, weakness growing in the corners of their expressions, unable to hide their fears. Soon we moved from the great, barren planes of dark rock into the nether-woods, and these looks of fear became more frequent. The six master Knights that organised themselves in formation around us like an arrowhead seemed to grow more wary also, even with all their experience. Some had made this trip a dozen times. It never got easier, I guessed. These forests were said to house lost spirits, wandering through the trees. Gazing into the shadows they cast for too long was said to draw men into madness. Stories. I hoped. The trees around me were crooked, overarching as though a beast leaping for the kill and being frozen in time just before it could strike. The path was narrow, winding through the thickening trees. They seemed black in the light of the low hanging silver moon, its full light the only thing guiding us now as the sun had truly set.

‘Set perimeters men, we camp here, tonight’ my Knight master called, his breath fogging as his men had already begun to dismount their horses and tie them to the tree branches around. Here was a slight clearing, where moss clung to the roots of overarching trees that would protect us partially from the elements. My brothers began to make camp, setting a fire, whistling without a care in these cursed lands. The master wizard raised his hand, lowering his hood with a look of concern.

‘Quiet men, I sense unknown eyes upon us’ he whispered in his mindspeech. This was a way that sorcerers had, an ability to place their thoughts within your mind. We all obeyed, although unwillingly, unable to shake the chill that the wizard’s strange unspoken words had left on us. Our clan master was the first to break the silence.

‘This is a safe area, wizard. A full moon with clear skies, the outskirts of the forest. There are no demons here, cease worry’ he said with a deep frown, asserting his authority back over his loyal pupils. The wizard turned to him, face void of emotion.

‘You would do well to listen to my warnings master Knight. I am here only to serve you, with my heightened abilities under the King’s oath’ he replied, his words crisp heavily laden with authority. The head of the Knightclan, my master faltered for a flashing second, never having been questioned before his men in his life.

‘And you master wizard, would do well to keep your slithering voice from the minds of my men, and your head about you when I command. You will use your tricks when I speak. I know these lands. Do not mistake yourself a Knight’ he replied. A mere second after the words his men returned to their work setting the camp. They knew his authority had been set in place, and some even smirked between themselves. The grand wizard smirked as the master Knight scowled, raising his arms by his side and backing away slowly.

‘Your word is King, master Knight’ he said with the smirk never leaving his lips. Camp continued to be set, and the wizard retreated under a dark tree, overlooking it all. He then withdrew his long wooden pipe and began smoking, not speaking to the others, not eating any food. I found my best friend in the clan and a healthy sized bowl of dried meats, bread.

‘What do you think of the old warlock?’ my best friend, Armo asked. A large brute of a man, gifted in humour and pure physical conflict and not much else. He had messy red hair, bulldog-like features. He chomped his bread, slurping from his ale pouch with a deep frown also, staring straight at the wizard without seeming concern for being noticed. I looked at him with a smile. The most simple minded and strongest man I knew.

‘I’d say he’s probably confused as to why a large soon to be Knight is staring at him like a dog at a butchers bucket’

Armo turned with a smile, knocking me from my perch with his thudding hands. I laughed, gathering myself.

‘Looks like he’s plotting how to murder us all in our sleep…or worse, turn us into spectres of the great forest’ Armo continued with a look of absolute seriousness on his face, before breaking into absurd laughter. We both laughed heartily as the fire before us blazed. I looked to my Knight master and he sat sharpening his sword, his face a mask of stoicism. The wizard remained cloaked in the darkness, smoke rising from beneath the tree into the night.

I stirred in sleep, the silence of the forest calling to me. The voice that had spoken to me earlier, the one of the sorcerer's power, now whispered something in this darkness. I stood, clutching my sword as I surged upwards from sleep. Armo lay near, snoring with his head tucked into a tree root. I kick his boot and he stirs.

‘Somethings up’ I whisper. He looks up at me perplexed and then slowly begins rubbing his eyes with a sigh. He knows the look on my face, the one that will not be satisfied until I have either got us in trouble or done something foolhardy, yet valiant.

‘What in the bloody hell are you up to now?’ he asks as he reaches for his own sword. I follow the whispers, knowing something lurks, knowing I must spot it before it spots me. The wizard is nowhere to be seen. Or am I dreaming? I can’t be sure. As I reach beyond the darkness of the trees overhead, the whispering becomes stronger. It’s in my mind, the voices. A silhouette comes into vision, shrouded in mist beyond the clearing. The sorcerer kneels in the darkness away from camp. He’s muttering to himself. I kneel beside a tree in cover and Armo slumps down next to me, not far behind.

‘See! The fool seeks to slay us all, probably calling demons upon us as we speak!’ Armo whispers a little too loudly. The sorcerer stirs for a second becoming silent, and then returns to his strange work in the forest. I clutch my sword. Maybe he is right. We look at each other and clasp our swords, nodding. We must confront him, agreeing without words. Before we get the chance another figure storms right past us, silent, brushing us aside with their sword already drawn. It is our master. He raises it up above his head, surges towards the wizard and kicks him in the back, hard. Instead of revealing a dark spell, however, it looks as if the wizard has become a victim of one. His face is ashen grey, eyes rolling, mouth open. We follow our master close behind and then recoil in fear as he stands firm.

‘The darkness…he sat too close within it, the forest has ruptured his mind. Quickly. We must return him to the light’ he commands us. We each grab an arm of the shivering mage, picking up his cold, stiff body as he shakes in the strange trance that has come over him. Me and Armo look at each other briefly and his face is contorted in disgust, as I imagine mine was. We start a fire and place him by it under our master's instructions, and now he begins tossing to and fro, the colour returning to him. The Knightclan watches on, their swords at the ready, confused at having been woken from sleep by this strange sight. Soon, the wizard ceases movement and sits bolt upright, his face hidden. The Knight master watches on.

‘What comes over you wizard? Speak now!’ he shouts into the dark forest. His voice echoes and the wizard begins to cackle. Each Knight recoils in fear, gripping their swords. This is no normal sound, but hollow, carried by dark magic. When the wizard finally raises his head, his eyes are not his own, his face taken by a dark force, contorted into a spiteful smile.

‘You fools. You come here for your summoning, only to be butchered by your own demons. The very spirits you have slain, return to seek their revenge on this night. You must all die’ he cries, cackling still. From beyond the darkness of the forest, shadows emerge. Within the rising mist, the fractured bodies of the undead we have killed in battle slowly rise, enemies long perished, old and young. They stand unnaturally, both alive and not. We are outnumbered a hundred to one. I look to Armo who for the first time since I have known him as a boy, looks petrified. The calls of the dead ring all around, dissonant, haunting. We are in the middle of a battlefield, the shadows advance and begin engaging our masters who try bravely to defend us from an evil they have never encountered. Me and the rest of my brothers are stuck, some helping, some weeping. The shadows swirl around the wizard. He is protected. There is but one chance.

‘Armo! You remember when we were kids and you threw me clear over the wall to the pantry?’ I cry out. Armo nods, smiling again. I charge at him, and with one final cry he grips my breast plate, hurling me as far as he can above his head. A man mountain. I fly through the air, swiping my perfectly sharpened steel over the darkness below me in a blind rage. Blade meets skin. The wizard's head is cleaved from his body and shadows roll away into nothingness as I slam into the forest floor. Silence. Armo looks at me and we laugh. Our master smiles as our brothers celebrate.

‘Get your asses back to the keep men. You are summoned’ he says.

An early victory as a pupil, we are now Knights. I feel relief which fades quicker than expected - now a hundred more battles will surely come our way.