Chapter 4 ~ What Was Called

Ireae was unable to suppress a shiver as the Great Spirit touched her.

The sensation of its misty tendril grasping her arm was a breath of cool air against flesh. It was nothing like what she had been expecting, yet still a welcome relief from the oppressive heat. Though it’d been Ireae’s hope to summon the Great Spirit of Storms, like the ancient princess had done, she’d still succeeded in calling forth something. In defiance of her every expectation this spirit was not one of fire, storm, or any of the other prime elements. Rather this creature was something else entirely. What gently held her arm, consuming her blood, was a cloud of darkness and shadow. A sense of awe filled her at the sight, for a small voice in the back of her mind whispered doubts. Ireae had feared she’d erred or lacked the power to call a savior from beyond the bounds of this world. Yet the form that savior had taken filled her with disquiet. Its appearance tugged at a memory of something else…something that left a knot of worry in the pit of her stomach.

“Quickly,” shouted one whose voice she recognized, jolting her from her daze. “Seize her!”

“Did you not see what it did to Sir Porvis,” another retorted, as Ireae turned to see the knights dragging back the man whose throat had been slit. In the waning light, she saw a darkly stained coat of mail and blood drenching the ground as his life slipped away. He’d meant to kill her. If not for the Great Spirit, it would be her bleeding out. Swallowing, she wiped the dying knight’s blood from her face.

The others hesitantly moved forward, doubts slipping from their mouths.“We’re no match for that thing!”

“It made the shadows come to life!”

“How can we face such a monster?”

“She’s summoned a demon!”

There it was. That word; demon.

It made Ireae’s heart beat a little faster while calling to mind cautionary tales of misery, death, and destruction. People spoke in frightened whispers of demons, the malevolent spirits of Erabyss, beings far more dangerous than the undead. Such creatures were inhabitants of the dark realm where the souls of the damned dwelt after passing on. Unlike elemental spirits conjured by normal summoners a demon was something unnatural and altogether more frightening. Every story she’d heard of them painted demons as powerful monsters full of cruelty and capable of widespread devastation. As with the creation and command of undead, calling forth a demon was something only one of the outlawed abyssian mages could do.

Have I really summoned something so terrible?

“A demon,” rumbled a deep, gravelly, voice. It was rough but the pronunciation of the words was perfect. “Is that what you think I am?”

“It can speak,” one of the knights stuttered. “It speaks our tongue.”

Ireae was just as surprised as she looked up at the Great Spirit. Only moments before its voice had been an unintelligible, bone grating, whisper that shook the narrow room. Each word it spoke was accompanied by an oppressive pain such that she’d clutched her chest in fear of her heart bursting. It hadn’t been speaking Elouenese, Elven, Dwarven, Ancient Azeryian, or any other tongue known to her. But now…

A small ‘oh’ escaped her as the Great Spirit’s form began to glow softly with a darkling light. The blood it was so greedily lapping directly from her injured forearm was causing a reaction. Is that why? Did my blood give it the ability to speak? The final sparks of white light sputtering up from the fading the circle were consumed by the black fog, mixing with her blood and the Spirit’s shapeless darkness. What was formless mist just a moment prior began to take definite shape. With the circle no longer providing any illumination her vision was poorer, but through her good right eye she could still see it, if only just.

Something more human like knelt atop the symbols she’d poured her efforts into. Instead of soft smoke, there was now a tongue, wet, soft lips, and the barest hint of teeth. It had a face, though she could barely make out any features. What Ireae could see were the purple flames that suddenly ignited where eyes should have been. “The Mark of the Summoned,” she breathed, as something tugged at her inner world, the place where her Essence gathered.

Her studies had revealed that all higher tiered spirits would have eyes identical in hue to that of their summoner once they’d become bound together. Gazing at the violet flames, Ireae felt a pang of longing in her heart for it had been nearly a year since she’d last seen eyes that color. Her mother was the only person she knew who shared that distinguishing feature. This was undeniable proof that the Spirit was hers. Anyone with the right knowledge would be able to connect the two of them together.

As these thoughts ran through her mind, the Spirit tilted its head slightly. Ireae had a strong feeling that the flames, this spirit’s eyes, were gazing into her own as the sensation of the hand holding her arm became more physical and firm.

“Child,” the voice of the Great Spirit spoke against her flesh; deep, rumbling, and male. It raised its head and she felt her heart leap as her eye fell upon the rows of sharp, pointed, teeth in its impossibly wide mouth. “Why did you call me here?”

For the first time since beginning the ritual, Ireae felt a rush of fear. This…thing before her was different, a league of power beyond anyone or anything she’d encountered thus far. In no world could she hope to match the strength held within whatever she had called forth. She could sense that much through the bond that had just been formed between them. In that moment, she was terrified that her answer might somehow anger this creature of shadow and flame. What would it do to her? And yet, it was too late. She’d come too far already.

There was no other choice than to be brave.

Ireae swallowed. “Save me,” she declared, meeting its gaze. “I ask you Great Spirit, no, I command you as your master and summoner; protect me from all who mean me harm.”

“Now!” commanded one of the knights. “Strike swiftly!”

The eyes of the spirit flicked to whoever had spoken and a chorus of noise, like a small crowd scraping metal against stone, rang out behind her. “Quiet,” it, he, snapped. “No interruptions from the peanut gallery.”

“What’s this?” Someone questioned.

“Back away!”

“Don’t touch it!”

Ireae would have looked back but her attention was ensnared by the figure of the Great Spirit. Its jaws, what she could see of them, had curled into a snarl. He seemed incredibly displeased.

“Now,” he continued, gaze returning to hers. “You want me to protect you from these men. They’re the ones who mean you harm. Correct?” 

“Yes,” she said, trying to force her body to cease its trembling. “But there are others who wish me ill. You must protect from them as well.” Her summoned spirit observed her for a moment, as if considering her order. But why? It has to obey me, doesn’t it? The texts said - - 

“Very well,” it responded at last, taking one final lap of her blood before pulling back. It stood, almost dragging Ireae to her feet. The Spirit’s eyes rose up to a height not quite as great as before, but it was still at least six feet tall. A soft tug on her hand gently repositioned Ireae to the Spirit’s rear. “Get behind me,” it said.

“You,” her Spirit intoned, pointing at the gathered knights. “Attempted kidnapping and attempted murder. Where I’m from…well I guess that doesn’t matter anymore.”

What Ireae saw from behind the tall figure of the Spirit had her pondering just how powerful it was, and, only furthered her suspicions. The purple light of its burning eyes reflected off of a semicircular wall seemingly made of black metal. It rose up from the floor to a height just slightly taller than she was. She quickly realized that she wasn’t looking at a normal wall, but a cordon made of blades. It was as if the very darkness pervading the space around them had been shaped. That’s what that sound was. Just beyond it stood the figures of the knights of Ariak vaguely outlined in shadow. Violet light from the Spirit’s eyes eyes reflected off their weapons and armor. They’d already dragged the dying one out of the room and replaced him with someone else. It was hard for Ireae to determine what expressions they wore, but they seemed to be bracing themselves.

“You tried to kill a little girl,” continued the Great Spirit, voice hardening. “And as much as I hate everything from that book, the saying ‘he who lives by the sword dies by the sword’ seems pretty f*****g appropriate right now.”

It was a saying she’d never heard before but even Ireae understood its meaning. Judging by the way the knights all flinched, she gathered they had as well.

“Close your eyes,” the Spirit ordered.

Ireae glanced up at her protector and then closed her eyes, clinging tightly to the arm that still held her injured hand. In the next moment, she heard gasps and grunts, quickly followed by shouts. Metal clanged against metal and for a moment Ireae could almost imagine the knights were merely training; the way they had on those times when she’d stopped to observe them from the castle courtyard. But the illusion was shattered by their screams. The ground beneath her feet vibrated with the thud of multiple, heavy, objects falling and then lying still. “Flee,” commanded that familiar voice. “D****t, retreat! We cannot overcome this! Retreat!” Panicked boot steps followed as the Eagle Knights ran away.

Accompanying the chorus of the dying was the strangest feeling, a sensation akin to warm air rushing over her body. At first Ireae thought it might have been a gust of seasonal heat, but she swiftly dismissed the notion. The Flamecrest night remained without breeze or a gust of wind. Odder still, the warmth lingered on her body, seeped into her skin and seeming to be coursing through to her core. It settled there in the place where Ireae’s magic, her Essence, was kept. A moment later, the warmth faded and she felt a little less exhausted.

What was that, she wondered.

Soon after, when all grew quiet, the scent of blood and voided bowels rose around her. Ireae gagged a bit from the stench, and peered up at her savior, refusing to look upon what it had done at her command.

“That was…a lot easier than I thought it would be,” the Great Spirit remarked in a cold voice, head set in the direction of the bodies. “Think six got away though, give or take a couple.”

Ireae swallowed audibly. Six men had just been slain in less than a handful of breaths. And not just any ordinary men either, they were knights. She, like many of the young maids, often paused to secretly watch the knights training back at Castle Ariak. They were skilled combatants and the primary force the Count employed in battles with monsters and soldiers of his rival lords. The exploits of the Eagle Knights of Ariak were a topic of gossip among the servants and locals.

And the Spirit I summoned killed them like they were nothing…

The sudden realization that she had summoned a being capable of such swift, overwhelming, violence made her stomach churn. Unable to calm her rising gorge, Ireae turned and vomited up the meager meal she’d taken only an hour before.

Something brushed her hair as she retched. Her first instinct was to flinch away from the touch. Far too often in recent months such things had only brought pain. But she couldn’t quite control herself in this instance. So Ireae was unable to resist. It occurred to her a moment later that it was keeping her hair out of her face.

“Hey, hey,” the Great Spirit said, its voice sounding less grave. “Ah f**k, I mean, s**t. I didn’t mean to…f**k. Listen, little girl, it’s gonna be okay. They were bad men. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” A gentle hand rubbed her back. “Let it out. Breathe. You’re gonna be okay. Everything is gonna be alright.”

Ireae shakily wiped her mouth and face with the sleeve of her filthy tunic as she heaved in air. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. The Great Spirit’s demeanor and attitude had changed so suddenly it was a bit jarring. Gone was the imperious tone of indifference and intimidation. The spirit she summoned was now trying to comfort her?

She raised her head to look up at the Spirit. “Why?”

“Why?” Those violet flames gazed down at her. Something in them reminded her of… “Cause I’m here? Just…” It embraced her, encircling Ireae in a pair of strong arms. The comforting hand at her back remained and the other patted her head, softly stroking her hair.

I don’t understand, she thought. When was the last time anyone touched me without trying to hurt me? When was the last time it didn’t… The image of her mother rose in her mind; soft hands and gentle voice quietly singing a lullaby while she lay in bed, soothing Ireae as she fought to recover from illness. “Oh,” she breathed. A sob escaped her throat as she turned and buried her face against its chest.

“Shh,” he, repeated. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

For a long moment they stayed like that. He continued to console her until she stopped trembling and the tears ran dry. Ireae fought hard to stay awake as exhaustion swept over her. Weakness clawed at her limbs, twisted her stomach, and blurred what little vision she had remaining. The ritual had sucked away most of her Essence, nearly everything she had cultivated these fifteen years she’d lived; any more and she likely would have died. It would be grueling to rebuild what she’d poured into calling the Great Spirit to this world. But that was a worry for another time. She couldn’t allow herself to fall unconscious, not yet. Steadying herself, she pulled away and wiped at her face once more.

“What’s your name?” His voice had become much softer, more human.

She looked up at the Great Spirit and blinked in confusion. Where there was once a grotesquely wide mouth filled with sharp teeth, was now a more human proportioned one. Said teeth were smaller and barely visible, covered as they were by shadow. Adding to her shock, the size of its violet fire eyes had decreased. No longer large and ominous, they had shrunk and reformed slightly. Her spirit’s eyes were now nearly human in shape and appearance, save for the tongues of flame that licked at the air from their corners. And they contained a familiar emotion, the sight of which made her finally realize why she’d been reminded of her mother.

His eyes held kindness.

“Ireae,” she breathed.

Reviews

[Dewella~Vintella]

Sorry it took me so long to get to this! Along with being incredibly busy, I am also very lazy. Anyways, very well done as always, pacing and everything were good. I am interested to read what happens next and also curious how his character was feeling/thinking during this bit and how things will be moving forward. With two intertwining stories unfolding into a bigger picture I am excited to keep reading.

[Caradoc]

No worries! I actually rewrote this chapter recently and updated it to version Two. I feel like this version adds a lot more depth and layers to the characters and their interactions. Additionally, Chapters 1-3 have also been revised and updated. So thanks again for reading my stuff!

- Cara