Summoner: The Novice (Book 1) SAMPLE OF NOW PUBLISHED BOOK

Chapter 18

Fletcher pushed the door open to find a short corridor with a row of doors on either side. The door slammed shut behind him as a draught came gusting in from a loophole at the very end of the passageway. He frowned at the sight of it; it was going to be a long, cold winter if this kept up.

He heard movement from the nearest room and knocked, hoping he was not waking them. The door opened at his touch; perhaps the wind had blown it ajar.

'Hello?' he asked, pushing it open.

Suddenly he was on his back, slavering teeth snapping at him as a heavy weight held him down. He managed to grip the creature by its throat, but it took all his strength to keep the fangs from closing on his neck. As saliva dripped on to his face, Fletcher's imp clawed across the monster's muzzle with a screech, but all that did was cause the creature to yawp in pain with each gnash of its teeth.

'Down, Sariel! He has learned his lesson,' came a lilting voice from above. Immediately the creature stopped its attack and sat back on Fletcher's chest. Still helpless, Fletcher gazed up at it, seeing a Canid almost as large as Sacharissa; the size of a small pony. Yet where Sacharissa had wiry, black fur, this demon's hair was as blond and curling as a Corcillum lady's ringlets. Its snout was longer and more refined, with a wet black nose that sniffed at him.

'Get it off me!' Fletcher managed to gasp through gritted teeth. It felt like a tree had fallen on him and was crushing his chest.

The creature stepped off and sat panting behind the door, its four malevolent eyes still fixed on Fletcher's face.

'I shall be writing to the clan chieftains about this! Put with the commoners in a room smaller and less comfortable than a jail cell, which of course is broken into by a young ruffian on the first morning. I had thought when they gave me Sariel that they were taking our peace talks seriously. Now I know I was mistaken,' the voice railed, full of bitterness and anger.

Fletcher sat up and looked at the speaker, dazed as the blood rushed back to his head. His eyes widened as he saw long diamond shaped ears that cut through silvery hair. A delicate face looked at him through large eyes that were the colour of a clear blue sky. They were filled with distrust and almost looked on the verge of tears. Fletcher was talking to a pale elfish girl, dressed in a lacy nightgown.

He averted his eyes and turned away, speaking up in his defence. 'Steady on. I was only trying to say hello. I didn't mean to frighten you.'

'Frighten me? I'm not frightened; I'm angry! Didn't anyone tell you that these are the girls' quarters? You're not allowed in here!' the elf screeched like a banshee, and slammed the door in Fletcher's face. He cursed at his stupidity.

'You moron,' he muttered to himself.

'That didn't sound like it went very well,' Rory said from behind him, a sympathetic look on his face as he poked his head through the common-room door. Fletcher felt a fool.

'Why didn't you tell me these were the girls' quarters?' Fletcher snapped, his face reddening as he stormed back into the main chamber.

'I didn't know, honest! I guess it makes sense though, now that I think about it, with Genevieve in this bit and there being a spare room next door . . .' Rory trailed behind him.

'It's fine. Just make sure you smarten up before teaching starts, or you'll embarrass us in front of the nobles,' Fletcher said, then regretted it. Rory's cheerful expression faded, and Fletcher took a deep breath.

'I'm sorry. You're not to blame. It's not every day you get a Canid trying to tear your throat out.' He forced a smile and patted Rory on the back. 'You were saying something about a spare room?'