Where the Demons Hide (A Summoner Fanfic)

To Vocans

The citadel loomed into sight four days after Malika's departure - marking the fifth day since she had last taken a bath, the fourth day since she had eaten anything but stale bread and cheese, and the third day since she had last seen her pony, Hermes. She had sold the pony as soon as she had entered the city to avoid looking suspicious - which a lone girl riding atop a beautiful steed would surely appear to be. The absence of her pony drained the energy out of her; her only thought for the past few days had been to reach the citadel, which was home to Vocans Academy, as she had discovered by examining a map that had been inscribed on the back of the summoning scroll. Every step seemed to equal a sprint, and by the time the citadel's glorious walls came into view, she was on the brink of fainting. Only through Phoenix's assurance was she able to keep vigilant.

 There it is, Malika thought as she summited the hill and, for the first time, saw the huge building up close. As she stared at it, the outline of the citadel grew fuzzy and spots appeared in her vision. She dropped to a knee and held her hands in her head, trying to regain control of her facilities. When she returned her gaze to the citadel, it had come back into focus, and she could see every facet of the crumbling, ivy-draped fortification.

As Malika marveled at the impressive building, she soon realized that entering it would pose a problem: the drawbridge was in place, but it was blocked by a tall, thick gate, and she saw no gate keeper around whose job was to open it. Groaning, she slumped back down onto the crusted earth and wiped away the sweat that had collected on her forehead. All of this...for nothing? She refused to accept her predicament. "Come on, Phoenix," she said fiercely, dizzily rising to her feet. "We're going to solve this problem once and for all."

"You needn't worry, really," a voice assured her. "The key is right here."

Malika whirled around to behold a strange-looking man clad in the ill fitting clothing, his hair a carroty mass bound by ineffectual strips of cloth. He had the lean musculature of ballerina and the size of one too. Tightly clutched in his hand was a small bronze key apparently able to unlock the gate that impeded access to the drawbridge. "Looking for this?"

"As a matter of fact, I am," Malika said calmy, trying to leech her voice of the desperate hope that she felt. She fingered Olympic, which was belted at her side.

The movement did not escape the man. "Oh, I know a sword fighter when I see one, my dear!" he exclaimed happily, unsheathing his own blade. It was short and thin, like the man, but it was died a vicious red, as if bloody carnage was in its very nature. "You want this key. I want a good fight. Tell you what, I'll let you pass to Vocans if you win a duel against me. Blades; no fists or magic, if you can use it. And no using that Felid demon on your shoulder either." 

Swallowing her surprise that the man had recognized Phoenix, Malika said, "All I want is to pass, and I want no blood to come of it." 

The man laughed, a childlike giggle that, while high-pitched, was not unpleasant. "Neither do I. Surrender, and I shall not draw one drop of your blood." 

Malika's own blood heated. "Never," she growled, removing Olympic from its shield. It sparkled in the midday sun, its black blade gleaming like a starry night. If she was going to save Hominum from her father's evil plans, a little jesting imp could not dream of stopping her.

"Good to hear," the imp in question laughed. He stepped forward, blade held at the ready. "We fight for blood, but not for death. Do not strike if one of us surrenders. If one has fallen, the same rule applies. Understood?" Despite his diminutive appearance, he spoke with a strong, royal authority. 

Nodding in response, Malika lifted her sword and assumed fighting position, testing her weight on the ground as she did.

"Not bad form," the child-man remarked, mimicking Malika's stance. "But I think it could be better...here." With that, he leaped out at Malika with his blade outstretched. His target was apparently her forearm, but she deflected his swing with little effort.