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

Chapter 32

'Where the hell have you been?' Seraph hissed. Fletcher, Othello and Sylva had just stumbled into the summoning room, attaching themselves to the others as quietly as possible when the students made their way in from the atrium. The trio looked a mess but there was nothing they could have done. They had arrived whilst the deliveries were being made, so they were only able to sneak in after breakfast, just as lessons were about to begin.

'It's a long story. We'll tell you later,' Fletcher whispered. Isadora turned at the commotion, her eyes widening when she saw Sylva. She prodded Tarquin, who looked around and jerked in shock. Sylva stared blankly at them and then turned to face Captain Lovett, who was waiting for everyone to settle down. The tall woman was wearing a leather apron over her officer's uniform, as well as heavy leather gloves.

'Let's get some light in here,' Lovett said, releasing several balls of blue wyrdlight into the air. Unlike Arcturus, she allowed them to float around the room aimlessly, casting the room in a bright but eerily shifting light.

'So, as I understand it, Arcturus allowed those of you who were already practised in wyrdlights to leave early yesterday. This will not happen in my classes. My motto is practice makes perfect, and considering your short tenure here, you should be making use of every second under our tutelage.' She paced back and forth in front of them, her hard eyes ranging across each of their faces. This was not someone Fletcher wanted to cross.

'The first order of business will be to teach you the art of infusion. I see that some of you do not have your demons with you, so I assume you have already been taught this. However, the speed at which you can release your demon from within can be the difference between life and death. Trust me, I know. Those of you who have been trained by your parents are to practise on the summoning circles on the other side of the room. I will come and check on you later.'

The nobles peeled off with smug expressions, talking and laughing amongst themselves. Lovett had split the room into two with a large curtain, so they were obscured from view once they ducked through the central parting. After a few moments, Fletcher saw bright lights flashing underneath. What manner of demons did the nobles possess?

Sylva raised her hand and stepped forward.

'I was self-taught. Would it be possible to stay with the others and learn the proper technique?' the elf asked.

Lovett eyed her torn dress and dishevelled hair and arched an eyebrow. After a long, hard look, she relented.

'All right. But please note that in future, I expect you in uniform,' she said, before turning to the rest of the commoners. 'Go and get yourselves a summoning leather each, as well as a leather apron. There should be gloves and goggles in the compartment below too.' She motioned at the back of the room and one of the wyrdlights shot over and hung above a row of cupboards built into the wall.

'What happened to you?' Genevieve muttered out of the corner of her mouth as they walked over. 'We waited for as long as we could, but we had to go before the last carriage left.'

'We missed the last carriage and had to walk home this morning,' Fletcher murmured back, rummaging through several rolls of leather until he found one with a pentacle that was not too faded. He didn't know if Sylva wanted her assault to become common knowledge.

'Did you get mugged on the way or something?' Genevieve asked, unconvinced.

'What makes you say that?' Fletcher retorted, shrugging a leather apron over his head.

'Well, leaving aside Othello's bandaged head, you have a goose egg-sized lump on the side of yours too,' Genevieve pointed out as they walked back. Fletcher reached up to his temple and winced as he realised she was right. Fortunately, they had arrived back in front of Lovett again, who silenced them with a look.