Where the Demons Hide (A Summoner Fanfic)

A Sword and a Scroll

Clang!

Malika cursed under her breath and withdrew into the shadows, swivelling her head to see if anyone had heard the sharp noise and was coming to investigate its source. A minute went by and not a sound louder than her own panicked breathing-which sounded like trumpet calls in her ears- pierced the night. Malika relaxed and staunched a bead of sweat that had rolled down her cheek, and then cautiously continued to run down the hall, her footsteps muffled by rags she had tied to the bottoms of her leather boots. The source of the loud report had been her prized schiavona, a sleek double-edged sword with an intricate, embellished basket hilt; a beautiful masterpiece named Olympic that she had won from an opulent trader who had been visiting the castle during his travels. No doubt he expected to filch it from her soon after, but to his surprise, Malika had kept close guard of it, rarely removing it from her belt. Such a luxurious sword likely deserved to be kept on a shelf to admire from a distance, but Malika trusted no other blade to accomplish what lay ahead of her that night. For she, the only princess of Hominum, was about to run away from the castle and never return.

As Malika passed by the many doors that lined the long hallway, many of which were unused, she contemplated her task: to exit the royal castle where she, her father, her brother, and dozens of servants lived, in a matter of minutes-or before the clock struck one o'clock-and in no more than an hour, travel upon the back of her pony, Hermes, to a cottage she had discovered at the age of twelve within the depths of the deep Chaelid Forest, where she would change into a peasant's outfit. From there, she would abscond to the port of Chaelid and leave the Kingdom of Hominum behind her on a ship that was arranged to leave that very day and soar through the waters to Yework, a small country wherein lived Malika's only other relatives besides her father and brother: a poor group of settlers, who, for some reason or another, opposed her father's rule. Though she knew they would not entirely agree with her reckless escape, she had met them before and was certain that they would include her in their family. If not, she would forge life anew by her lonesome, like the settlers of old, who had travelled to Hominum in search of land many centuries ago. Once there, she planned on becoming a knight to protect the country's citizens, keeping her gender a secret if she must. Whatever awaited her in her new life, it had to be better than her current one, a life of constant attention from everyone except her father, a life of twiddling thumbs; a life not worth living.

So intent was her concentration that Malika did not hear the voices until they were loud enough to identify. At once her hand flew to Olympic's hilt and she dove into the shadows. Paled and shaky, Malika ignored the raucous beating of her heart in her ears and strained to make out what the two voices were saying. With a start, she realized that one of the voices was her father's.

"-the entire force of summoners must be rounded up," her father was barking to the other person. "Post the word upon every tree in Hominum if you must. Invade villages and test every person for adeptness, I don't much care how it is achieved but that it is achieved. Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes sir, certainly. It shall be done, sir." The second voice was less calm and more frightened, like a rabbit trapped in a corner by a lion. It was also male.

"I want no variation in my plan. In three months at the earliest and eight months at the very latest, I must have the entire host of Hominum's summoners in the palm of my hand. The rest of the plan: enslaving them and forcing them to corrupt their demons and scour the ether, et cetera, shall be done on my part. Is this clear to you?"

From her corner, Malika paled and gasped in disbelief at what she thought she had heard.

"Yes, sir..." His voice, however, seemed hesitant now. "But if I may sir, it's cruel, what-"

"Are you opposing me?"

"No sir, not in the least!" Malika could tell that he was scared half out of his wits. "I shall perform my duty to the best of my ability! Yes indeed; no one can say truthfully that Fedwey the Fast ever tarried in following his noble master's words, no sir!"

Apparently satisfied, her father replied, "Good. Then I bid you good night and good luck."

The door was thrust opened and Malika's heart skipped a beat as Fedwey scrambled out of the room, tripping over his feet as he scurried down the opposite end of the hallway, away from where Malika hid. Soon after, her father exited the room, a self-satisfied smile upon his lips and a skip in his step. Casting only a fleeting glance in Malika's direction, he departed for the west wing of the castle, where his bed was located.

As soon as the clop-clop of his polished leather boots faded away in the distance, Malika jumped out of the shadows, hand instinctively around Olympic's hilt. A huge lump in her throat, she pondered what she had heard: the orders to round up hundreds, if not thousands of summoners to serve the King as slaves. She realized that the King was probably using the room he had just exited as the headquarters for the plan. Brushing aside all of her initial doubts, she drew a deep breath and step hesitantly towards the door of the room her father had just exited. Should she tarry in order to investigate and risk being caught by the servants, or escaped while she still had the time? The possibility of letting such a dangerous secret simmer here was fleeting, and without a second doubt, the King's only daughter crossed the hallway and entered the small room.

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