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

Chapter 22

The moon was full and bright in the cloudless sky. Fletcher shivered and pulled at his uniform's collar; it was the only clothing that hadn't been taken away for cleaning. Still, he had to wear something; it was freezing in the room and the tattered blanket on his bed did little to keep him warm. He leaned out of the glassless window and into the cold night air, thinking on the day.

The elf had remained in her room, which had suited Fletcher just fine. The rest of the group had been cheerful during lunch and dinner, eager for tomorrow and what wonders it would bring. Fletcher found that he enjoyed the company of the others, although the tension between Atlas and Othello left a strained undertone to the otherwise cheerful evening. He was particularly drawn to Seraph, whose clear charisma and knack for storytelling had everyone hanging on to his every word. Rory's happy-go-lucky attitude had also endeared him to Fletcher, and although her efforts at salvaging his uniform had been in vain, he had found Genevieve to be a kind person with a dry sense of humour.

It was strange to know that they would all be risking their lives in the hot jungles of the south in just a few years. Although Fletcher tried to avoid thinking about it, the others were eager for battle. Genevieve was the only one who did not openly flaunt her wish to fight, although she spoke of the orcs with a dark fury that belied tragic experience.

Fletcher knew he should go to sleep, yet he felt too exhilarated to do so. Even the usually lazy Ignatius had caught his mood, playfully chasing his tail in the darkness of the room.

Fletcher held out his candle for Ignatius to light, then went out into the common room. As he entered, he saw a fading light in the stairwell, with the sound of hasty footsteps echoing from below.

'Come on, Ignatius, looks like we aren't the only ones who can't sleep,' Fletcher said. If it was going to be a restless night, he might as well have company.

The corridors were eerie at night, the chill draughts of air whistling through the arrow slits that peppered the outside of the castle. Fletcher's candle flame flickered with each gust, until he had to cup it with one hand to keep it from going out.

'I could do with one of those flying lights right now, don't you think, Ignatius?' he whispered.

The shadows shifted unnaturally as he moved down the corridor, the dark slits of every suit of armour staring at him as he walked past.

It seemed strange that whoever was ahead was moving so quickly, their pace closer to a jog than a midnight stroll. Fletcher hurried to keep up, his curiosity getting the better of him. Even when he reached the atrium, all he saw was the dim light and a swish of cloth as a figure darted out through the main entrance.

The courtyard was silent as a grave and twice as eerie when Fletcher set foot outside, but there was no sign of the mysterious person. He walked to the drawbridge and peered out at the road, looking for the candlelight. As he stared into the wavering gloom, he began to hear the steady clop of hoofbeats on the ground, coming towards the castle.

Fletcher darted into a small room built into the drawbridge's gatehouse, blowing out the candle and pressing himself against the cold stone wall. Whoever it was, Fletcher didn't want their first impression of him to be that of someone who liked to sneak around in the dead of night.

He quelled Ignatius's excitement, impressing on him the need for silence with a stern thought. He remembered what happened the last time he had been in a cold stone room, hiding in the dark. At that memory, the imp responded with agreement and even a hint of what felt like regret. Fletcher smiled and scratched Ignatius's chin. The imp understood more than he thought!

The chirr of spinning wheels and the crack of whips announced the arrival of carriages, rumbling as they crossed the old drawbridge. Fletcher peered through a chink in the stone of the room, hugging his arms to his chest for warmth. Was it the nobles? Perhaps one of the teachers was arriving early?