The King's Summons Read online

  It felt like he’d dumped a weight of stones from his chest. There. He’d said it. He’d shown how vulnerable he was. He was in their hands now.

  The woman considered this. “And so you seek a Hero from our ranks to find what you have lost.”

  “A Hero, strong in body and powerful in magic,” King Jasper said.

  “It is a difficult thing Your Highness asks of us,” said the Archmage. “Our Ember Mages are already deployed fighting the scourge of spawning points. And we of the council are too aged for such a long and dangerous journey.”

  “I make a royal request.” King Jasper stood. “Upon your honor as Crystalians.”

  The Ember Mages erupted in conversation again. They spoke furiously back and forth to one another. Their debate lasted longer this time. And the minutes stretched on. This time King Jasper caught a few of the words. Hero. Rejected. Staff. Broken. Eyes of crimson. Then a mage with a braided beard cried out, “He wants a mage—give him one. You know of whom I speak.”

  The circle of fire crackled all around them.

  “We can’t. Not her,” cried another.

  “She has promise . . .” said a thin man, his eyes bulging, “And prophecy is at stake . . .”

  There was more arguing.

  Finally, the Archmage rapped her staff once more on the stones. They were silent.

  “The king has spoken! So it shall be granted.”

  King Jasper bowed his head.

  “Though I warn you, your Hero may not be what you expect,” said the Archmage.

  The eyes of the council stole glances back and forth at each other. Was that guilt in their faces? Or uncertainty?

  “Not what I expect?” asked King Jasper. They were hiding something. They all were.

  “We say no more. You shall have your Hero. May she complete her quest and may the Prophecy of the Five be fulfilled. Goddess protect you and hold back the darkness.”

  Chapter 2: Crystalia Castle

  The summons smoldered in Blaze’s burning hands. It was the king’s fault. What else could she have done? Blaze was an Ember Mage, the most powerful wielder of fire and brimstone in all of Crystalia, and she came and went as she pleased.

  Now the king was forcing her, by royal summons, to his castle.

  Of course she had lost her temper! Of course her hands had smoldered with rage, burning away more than half the parchment until the scrawling script of King Jasper III’s hand was no longer legible. Even his official wax seal had melted into a blue smear.

  Better to send messages etched in stone to an Ember Mage.

  At least Blaze had read most of it before it had burned away. “By royal decree, I, King Jasper the Third, summon you to my throne in the inner keep of Crystalia Castle before the sun sets in two days’ time.” That had been the most important part, right? The rest was just details.

  The messenger had found her on the edge of the Fae Wood two days ago.

  So, Blaze had made her way, however reluctantly, to the sprawling city which was Castletown. It was a sight to see, with its shining white walls and towering blue minarets.

  If she was honest with herself, she was curious. What did the king want with her?

  Did he know about her being expelled—her leaving the Order of Ember by choice? She hadn’t meant to burn that apprentice so badly. They were sparring. Blaze’s fire got out of control. That had been an accident.

  It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault.

  And now they’d taken away her staff. What good was an Ember Mage without a staff?

  But none of that was the king’s business, was it? She might have to talk her way out of this one.

  She picked her way through the winding streets of Castletown, her face hidden beneath her blue hood.

  Crystalia Castle was more than just a castle now. It had grown into a sprawling city over the years, the kings building concentric walls of protection to accommodate the steady flow of races and cultures that sought refuge there. There were dangers in the lands outside Crystalia Castle’s walls. Blaze knew all too well of the monsters one could find in the woods.

  “Dwarven horns! Silk gloves! All at a very good price!” called the merchants from their carts. Towers reached skyward above the streets, their blue spires seemed almost to pierce the clouds.

  A bent old woman sidled up to Blaze and whispered in her ear, “I’ve got some lemon crystals, or fizzy potions! Take your pick. Maybe some bottled sand from the Blasted Tombs?”

  Blaze ignored her. Blaze had no time for alchemists today. Such strange things they sold here. Perhaps some adventurers would consider them good luck charms. She couldn’t see the point. Blaze didn’t need luck. Not with her powers.

  Blaze skirted a pack of gnomes who were muttering back and forth to each other over a scaffolding they were building in the middle of the street, their pointed hats all aimed to the center of their huddle, their beards covering their squat bodies, tools and explosives clanking and dangling from their belts, their goggles pulled down over their eyes.

  “It won’t send that much shrapnel—just light it off,” cried one of the high-pitched voices.

  Blaze picked up her pace.

  A lone freyjan brushed past Blaze’s shoulder, her feline tail curling out from beneath her cloak, her furry ears twitching this way and that. She hissed at the gnomes. Deep bass dwarf songs bellowed out from the taverns. An elf bumped her shoulder as he rushed past. There were just too many people here. Like they were pressing in on her from all sides. It set Blaze on edge.

  And when she was on edge, she could feel the heat begin to rise from her back up toward her neck. Too much heat turned to flames. Calm, she told herself. You’ve got to keep it together. She couldn’t afford another mistake—not here.

  Then she was at the edge of the castle drawbridge at the center of the city. It was lowered over the moat. Crystalia Castle’s blue banners whipped in the wind high above her.

  “Halt!” cried one of the five guards blocking the entrance to the keep. They were all clad in gleaming armor, with blue sapphires embedded in their chests, helmets pulled low over their eyes, the sunlight glinting off their polished iron spears.

  Typical. They would be a majestic sight, were they not standing next to an Ember Mage such as herself. Her combat power far outmatched theirs. But it needn’t come to that. She held up the summons. Or what was left of it.

  “Hello, handsome fellas. The king has requested my presence,” she announced. She couldn’t help but add a hint of superiority to her voice. It felt so good to say that.

  The lead guard raised the visor on his helm. He focused his eyes on the singed scrap. “By this pitiful shred of parchment?”

  The four guards at his flanks broke into laughter.

  “He did not tell you of his summons?” asked Blaze. A thin wisp of smoke rose from the scrap and curled into the air, as if betraying her. She could feel her neck heat up again. Her anger started to fuel the fire within.

  “No, rogue. Nor would we believe it if you held it in your hand,” said the lead guard.

  “A summons by King Jasper the Third to Blaze, an Ember Mage,” she started to read. At least that part was still intact.

  “An Ember Mage?” called one of the guards. “Then where is your staff?” At this, the guards bellowed in laughter, slapping each other on their backs.

  That stung. It stung so deep that the spark within Blaze caught, and the fire inside began to smolder red-hot. Good. Feed the anger.

  The lead guard turned serious. “I don’t know who you are, or what you’re playing at, but there have been enough imposters in our midst as of late.”

  The four guards lowered their spears at Blaze.

  “Be gone from here,” said the lead guard. They advanced in unison, taking a single step toward her.

  Blaze threw back the hood of her cloak. “I think not,” she said. Her hands were glowing hot. Suddenly, she really, really wanted to see the king.


  The guards rushed her all at once, charging over the dozen yards across the drawbridge between her and them, their long iron spears pointed at her heart.

  The audacity! She, being summoned here to see the king, and given this reception? The fire within flowed out from her chest and into her fingertips. Her hands glowed. The guards would pay.

  She threw out her hands, flinging brimstone toward the guards, flames shooting from her fingertips. The brimstone slammed two guards full in the chest, knocking them backward. The other three skidded in their tracks.

  “She is an Ember Mage!” shouted one.

  “That’s what I said!” shouted Blaze. These guards were so frustrating!

  The other two guards flanked her from behind, their lowered spears cutting off her escape. Two more guards with spears rushed from out of the gate. Then another pair appeared atop the castle walls. They lifted crossbows and hastily cranked the hoist mechanisms to load the deadly steel bolts into place. That would be a problem. Ember Mages controlled fire, but they couldn’t dodge crossbow bolts.

  In unison, the guards at her sides thrust their spears toward her. She stepped in past the sharpened tips and caught the shafts in either hand. She held them there.

  “Her . . . eyes!” called the guard on her right. His face went white with fear.

  So it was happening now, just like it always did when her power peaked. Her eyes glowed red.

  Fire erupted from Blaze’s hands like a forge as she poured her heat into the metal. In less than a second, the iron shafts were glowing red hot.

  The guards with the crossbows took aim.

  Blaze squeezed handfuls of molten iron from the center of the poles, cutting the weapons in half. She spun, hurling the smoldering iron at the crossbowmen. One dodged, only to lose his footing and tip from the drawbridge into the moat. The other was struck in his chest plate, the lava melting through and igniting his clothing underneath.

  The lead guard rushed Blaze, desperately stabbing his spear at her chest. She sidestepped, and pulling a large marshmallow from her pouch, slid it onto the tip of the guard’s spear.

  “You’re going to need that,” she said, smiling. The guard’s mouth dropped open as Blaze shot a column of flame from her left hand, roasting the marshmallow to a crisp and wilting his spear like a wildflower.

  “Oh sorry. You wanted golden brown?”

  “Surrender?” said the guard weakly.

  “How about golden black!” she said, blasting a fireball at the lead guard. He fell over backward, his armor smoking.

  The other two shuffled two steps back. “Ember Mage! Ember Mage!” cried one. He was shaking. “Call for the king’s Tabbybrook!”

  Blaze froze for a moment. She’d heard of Tabbybrook Mages before. But where?

  One window in a line of a dozen small windows on the face of the castle’s keep swung open. With a hiss, a catlike freyjan—much like the one she’d seen in town—leapt onto the window sill. She looked like a furry human, with a catlike face, claws, and even whiskers. She held a wooden staff with a glowing blue orb fixed to its end. A single brass bell fixed to the end of her tail tinkled as she twitched her tail.

  “Meow,” she said carefully, narrowing her eyes at Blaze. Then she tossed her staff into the air and leapt down onto the drawbridge, landing nimbly on all fours. She caught the staff easily behind her head without so much as a glance.

  “A cat?” asked Blaze. She smirked. “You send a kitty cat to fight me?”

  Blaze formed a fireball in each hand. Making fire drained her—it could feel like she’d walked for a full day without food after a fight. And without a staff of her own to store her fire in, she had to summon it all from inside her. It put her at a disadvantage.

  No matter. This would be over soon. She still had enough flame left before she’d have to recharge the fire within. She flung both fireballs at the Tabbybrook.

  They smashed into the castle wall and dissipated as the Tabbybrook leapt over them, her cloak flapping in the wind.

  Oh. This was bad.

  The Tabbybrook extended her staff toward the moat. The blue orb glowed, and a purr welled up inside her until it grew into a deafening roar.

  Blaze didn’t like the look of this. She dug deep and mustered another fireball. This one flickered in her hand. She was running out of heat.

  A jet of green, putrid water curled up out of the moat and smashed into Blaze, hitting her with the full force of a charging bull. It burned as it slammed into her chest, blasting her backward like a rag doll, her limbs wrenched at their sockets.

  She hit the ground hard, the cobblestones scraping across her back.

  She looked up as another jet of moat water smashed into her face. She choked on green liquid. It tasted like dwarf socks. Sputtering, she tried to rise as another jet of water shot toward her.

  She managed to roll out of the way, when a fourth jet of water smashed into her from the side. She hadn’t even seen it coming. Now she remembered—Tabbybrook Mages controlled the elements. This one could harness water, whatever its form.

  Blaze was out of her element here. She had to think.

  The Tabbybrook landed lightly in front of Blaze, its little brass bell tinkling as she twitched her tail behind her. “Meow,” purred the Tabbybrook. She looked down at Blaze with such self-importance. This was humiliating.

  The Tabbybrook raised both arms, her staff glowing as two columns of water rose up from the moat and converged in an arch over Blaze’s head. The Tabbybrook smiled sweetly, baring her little white fangs.

  Blaze tried to form one last fireball, but it poofed into nothing in her hand. She was Blaze. How could she be bested so easily?

  But she was so tired, her bones were starting to ache with a dull chill. She barely had enough heat left to roast a sausage.

  A thought struck her. Maybe she wouldn’t need any more than that.

  The arch of moat water formed into a giant fist above the Tabbybrook. The king’s mage closed her eyes in concentration. Were that fist to smash down, it would extinguish any spark Blaze had left.

  Blaze reached out, forcing everything she had left on a single point a mere arm’s length away . . . the little brass bell on the Tabbybrook’s tail.

  The Tabbybrook’s eyes flew open. She howled painfully and shot into the air.

  The fist of water broke, splashing down on the Tabbybrook until she was soaked through, her ears sagging and her whiskers trembling.

  Blaze poured her last spark into the bell. The metal sizzled as it burned the water away into nothing.

  The Tabbybrook leapt into the air once more, howling and swatting at her tail, darting back and forth across the drawbridge until she finally leapt into the moat, screaming.

  Blaze heard a loud and satisfying sploosh. She tried to chuckle, but she had nothing left.

  The two remaining guards closed in on her, their swords drawn.

  This was it then. It was all over.

  Suddenly the portcullis flung upward, and an old white beard with a man behind it dressed in stately purple robes stepped out onto the drawbridge. He was flanked by more guards.

  “Stop!” he cried. It was King Jasper III. His Royal Highness himself. He chuckled, his belly rumbling under his enormous white beard. “I suppose you didn’t read my summons, did you? The part about using the secret side entrance so that no one would know you’d come?” Was that a twinkle in his eye?

  Blaze was too tired to shake her head.

  “Our meeting here was supposed to be a secret,” said King Jasper.

  “What shall we do with her?” asked one of the remaining guards.

  King Jasper waved the guards back. “Let her alone,” he said. “She’s about to embark on a very dangerous quest.”

  Chapter 3: Quest Revealed

  The inside of Crystalia Castle’s circular war room was exquisite, if not intimidating. The ceiling was a carefully fitted stonework dome high above their
heads. Only a few shafts of light pierced the dim room through drawn curtains.

  “A quest?” asked Blaze. At least she wasn’t in trouble.

  “Of the most dangerous kind,” said King Jasper, his eyes fixed on Blaze as he said it. He had locked the doors and sent the guards away so they could speak in secret.

  He leaned over a diorama of the hills, valleys, and cities of Crystalia. They were displayed in shockingly accurate detail, with scale models of every major landmass and landmark set in their rightful places. There were the Arcadian Dunes to the north, the Clockwork Cove in the south, and the Glauerdoom Moor to the west. Even the Midnight Tower’s obsidian spires rose from the center of the model. Blaze couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding at the sight of the Tower.

  “And so you need an Ember Mage,” Blaze said. Of course he did.

  “Not just any Ember Mage,” said King Jasper. “I went to great lengths to find just the right one.”

  “Then I accept!” cried Blaze.

  King Jasper smiled. “And yet, perhaps I made the wrong choice, if my Tabbybrook defeated you,” he said.

  Blaze stiffened. She smelled like brimstone, though her body ached with a bone-numbing chill. It would be hours before she could get her spark back. And she had no staff to store her fire in. King Jasper looked her up and down. Did he know what disadvantage an Ember Mage was without a staff?

  “Your Majesty, need I remind you who fell screaming into the moat?”

  King Jasper chuckled. “I suppose so. I suppose so.”

  “There will be orcs,” said the king.

  Blaze narrowed her eyes. Rage smoldered inside her at the very mention of orcs. Oh, how she hated orcs. “Then I accept! Bring them on,” she said. She’d love a chance to fight them.

  She looked over the landmarks on the map.

  “And to where is this quest?” asked Blaze.

  King Jasper stabbed a finger at a glistening ice mountain on the diorama. “The Frostbyte Reach,” he said.

  Blaze soured. “Then I decline!” She growled. An Ember Mage, in the freezing mountains of the Frostbyte Reach? Snow and ice and cold were not the way of an Ember Mage. The freezing temperatures would make it even harder to summon her fire.