PROLOGUE: Summoning_Not A Hero

Declaration: This is my first attempt at fiction fantasy. English is not my native language. Any mistakes made are mostly unintentional. I would love to know about said mistakes and any other suggestions/critiques that help me write better. Please rate & review.

PS: I also have no idea how to code.

Note: single apostrophe ('......') is used to indicate thoughts or for emphasis. Just to confuse you, I have also used italics for emphasis.

That's all. Happy reading. ^^

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Prologue

“Ere yet the turmoil begins

The circle of fate yet once more spins

The world to bleed on ravenous sins

For but to pause when honor wins

So beg all your prayers hence

May heroes come, victory commence.”

The demise

He lay collapsed on a crude chair inside the gloomy room. Sparse light diffused from exhausted candles, and lost itself in the darkness, giving a sharper tinge to his despair. Silence filled the room and echoed in the hollow recesses of his mind. His face was haggardly and strained. Streams of sweat coursed through agonizing wrinkles and subdued scars, dousing his once fiery heart. His eyes emptied into darkness, unfocussed, unblinking, trying to make sense. His half-open mouth was yet to find the words he needed.

Then the chair creaked, crunching against the stony floor in its half-rotten capacity, and the shadows shifted against his backdrop. Even his shadow appeared so much larger than him; more corporeal, more powerful.

A servant bowed at his beckoning fingers.

He shifted slightly. His lips twitched to create words, his eyes to imbibe light. In his left hand he clenched a small envelope, a result of decades of thought and hard work. It would not bear fruit. Not in his lifetime. He held it before the servant, letting the light add color to its embossed seal.

“Will you pass it to her in my name?” he asked.

“But master,” the servant hesitated. He could not bear to do this.

“Please, it is our only hope.”

“As you command.” The servant bowed and left.

And the candles breathed their last, extinguishing without a wisp of wind into deep darkness. It was silence once again.

Repeating the cliché

The glyph of summoning belonged to the highest order of glyphs in Cumaria. Its use was permitted only during emergencies and catastrophes and the royal family commanded the rights to such usage. As a glyph of arcane magic, it held special importance. It could summon the unnatural and the impossible. It could summon dragons and disasters, both equally calamitous. It could summon dungeons and demons, which were a close match. It could also summon heroes and devils, both being… well, somewhat different. It could even summon other glyphs, which was absurd but very much possible.

The aim however, was generally to summon heroes, or sometimes the king’s favorite dessert, ice cream. For this matter, the arcane summoning glyphs were adapted to these two needs in particular, both of which were considered crucial to a peaceful kingdom. Neither hungry kings nor harried populaces made for prosperous kingdoms.

The glyph on the floor belonged to the former category, summoning heroes. It was painted in blue fluorescence to add dignity and charm to the circle, both being entirely unnecessary to the process. The crystal salt of Alun and the Tortonic concoction forming the base of the paint were the real ingredients needed for the magic to work, and were colorless.

The arcane glyph for summoning heroes consisted of a large triangle that encased four adjacent circles, one near the apex, two behind it and one touching the base. Three of these circles were each an attribute of the summoned heroes: courage and strength, intelligence and capacity, swiftness and dexterity. The fourth circle at the base was for what the mages called “magical balance”, to stabilize the glyph. As usual, there were other complicated runes and shapes carved into the glyph to make it perfect for summoning heroes. Only royal archimages and high mages understood such intricacies. One of them stood before the summoning glyph.

The girl, Violet, wore azure robes and a velvet hat with a golden cockade to symbolize her position. It was pointless. Her childish stature and young age themselves distinguished her. In her hand was an archimage’s staff, carved out of runewood and chrysal silk and embedded with the moon-mix orb of high purity. Her face was childish, even betraying her young age of twenty. Her eyes matched the azure of her robes and her hair contrasted it with subtle orange. She was cute, more so when she focused strongly with her brows bending inwards and twitching, while her lips pouted.

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“This time for sure,” she grumbled, placing another bag of sparkle sand at the center of the glyph.

“But little miss—” a supporting mage had barely uttered a word when he received a strong glare to which he faltered, “uh, I mean madam archimage, I don’t understand, why the sparkle sand?”

“Your puny mind cannot even comprehend that? Deplorable!” she scorned him, then added haughtily, “Of course it’s for the dramatic effects! The heroes must be welcomed with a bang.”

Seated in the audience stands, the king and his counsels grimaced in reply. The slope of their seating resembled that of a theatre. The summoning chamber itself was designed like a coliseum and half as large to account for accidents. Accidents now seemed increasingly probable, given the royal archimage’s temper.

The Maiden of Light smiled sympathetically at Violet. Others just stared. Violet did not take kindly to this reaction, despite the fact that she was attempting the ritual for the seventh time already. Daylight was eating into dawn. The celestial alignment was fading. She had very little time.

“You people think this is childish?” Violet snapped, “I will show you! Just watch!”

“I never said—

“Shut up and watch!” she cried and started chanting the arcane spell.

“%^**(#$%&#;*(^&;*)@%&;…..” or so it went. Most arcane spells made no sense but worked surprisingly well.

Once again, the glyph lit up with the spell. The soft glow scattered blue fluorescence until suddenly light engulfed the room. Once again, there was a small burst, sending glitters and sparkles among the cloud of sand dust. Unlike previously however, violent coughing broke out.

The archimage leapt with the jubilant expression, pointing excitedly at the cloud of dust and sparkles. “See! See!” she shouted.

“See what?” the king asked, unable to see anything but sparkles and dust everywhere.

“They coughed! The heroes coughed in the sparkle sand. I told you it was useful.”

The spectators gazed at the elated archimage with pity. Their curiosity soon turned towards the heroes. Silhouettes emerged when the dust began to clear, illuminated by blue fluorescence.

The king coughed customarily at their appearance. “Welcome dear heroes,” he said in the deepest voice possible, “to our world, the world of magic and miracles.” The chamber was so built that his words resounded theatrically, creating a somber atmosphere.

“It is in great need and dire circumstances,” he continued, glancing at the first of the figures to emerge, a healthy young boy with an athletic body, “that we call upon the protection of ancients to save us, the greatest of miracles and the strongest of summons… ” he uttered the well-rehearsed dialogue while peeking at the two others behind him. They were both girls the same age as the boy, even dressed similarly in some aspects. He carried on, “… the summoning of heroes, the greatest of saviors. I thank God for blessing us with such champions of justice as you… three?”

At this point, the king’s speech died down fast, as if he drowned and the air left his lungs. Reality poured a bucket of cold water over him and murmurs began all around. The dust settled down and heroes stood before them, confused after hearing the speech. The audience was even more confused.

The archimage panicked. The support mages hissed in alarm. Inside the summoning glyph stood four young people. They stared at the dumbfounded archimage and the commotion even as the king sighed and rubbed his temples. The ceremony did not go as expected at all.

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EDIT (24/5/16)

Honestly speaking, this fic was written with the aim of beginning with the usual run-of-mill story and breaking out of it. Early chapters use stereotypes for the same reason. This changes with later chapters. As to how far I will succeed, only the end of volume 1 will tell. Please give this story a chance till ch8.

PROLOGUE: Summoning

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