Double Summon

Teok scanned the battlefield. He stood up in the saddle to get a better view over the hundreds of raised swords and spears. He squinted at the opposing army. Searching. Searching for the single enemy summoner among the ranks of orange uniformed enemy soldiers.

Teok frowned and sat back in his saddle. He wore the long blue hooded summoner’s cape, which billowed slightly behind the horse. Underneath the cape and white tunic he wore black chainmail armor. A thin gold band rested on the crown of his head matting down his brown hair. Something was wrong. He couldn’t find the other summoner.

His army erupted into high-pitched war cries that stirred the heavens and earth. Teok grimaced and pulled out his knife. He took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. And exhaled. He ignored the sounds of the soldiers around him until slowly the noise no longer mattered. He was now in the middle of nothing. His heart thumped within his chest, echoing around the black nothingness of his meditation.

He lifted his left hand to the knife. Inhaled. And in one swift movement sliced his left open palm with the blade. The familiar bite of pain was sweet to him. The sting, invigorating. He relished the moment for a second. Reliving his love, his life. A smile crept to his cheeks. An emptiness filled once again. Blood slowly crept out of the open cut.

He exhaled, now focusing his mind on one thing; the emerald atop the hilt of his knife. The one thing he knew better than everything else in the world. It was his wall. His protection. His shield.

“Khorageth.” Teok began to chant softly to himself in the ancient language. “Khorageth, shuk tal gshe. Khorageth kho.”

Instantly the dark nothingness around him was filled with the essence of the demon of light. The demon essence rushed around him sending a chill down his spine. His stomach twitched in an involuntary spasm. A wispy airy sound drowned out his heartbeats. His nose was filled with the scent of dried blood, though not his own.

The demon essence swirled all around him, over his head and under his boots. Power. An immense strength. It was there. Even though Teok was never able to see it. The demon essence was more real than the horse he was riding upon.

Teok kept his bleeding palm open as he brought his emerald studded knife to his chest. Another breath in. He stretched his own essence outwards. Searching again. Searching for the essence of any other summoner also summoning the demon of light. No other consciousness. Exhale. Finishing the summoning incantation he said; “Gshek ta yibanaie Khorageth!”

Suddenly the demon essence dove into Teok’s mind. Hate, anger, malice, fear, and lust rushed against Teok’s feelings. The demon flew lightning fast through his body causing him to unwillingly jolt to and fro in his saddle. The feeling of fear from the demon slowly crept into Teok’s heart. Fear that this summoning might be his last. Fear that Teok would loose focus and let the demon into the inner soul of his being. Fear of what the demon would do to him then.

Teok gripped the hilt of his knife harder. Focusing on the emerald. The dark green pebble. The tiny jagged crack along the base. The smooth water-like surface. The cold lifeless feel. The perfect weight to counterbalance the blade of the knife. The perfect emerald.

The feelings subsided slowly. Anger now flowed from his chest to his left arm towards the open palm. Angry that it could only take what it was given. Teok’s palm tingled as the demon essence fed on the sacrificed blood, drawing the life energy from the dark red droplets from his hand.

Teok slowly felt the power of the demon imbue itself inside of him. His arms growing in potential. More tension behind his muscles. His mind sharper. His will deeper. His courage expanded. He was invigorated.

Teok opened his eyes and focused the power of the demon to his sight. After a moment his vision clarified. He saw the very air between the two armies. He could see each blade of grass and the individual brown leaves on the ground. He gazed beyond his normal capacity to view the enemy army up close. He saw the smiles on their faces. The smirks. They knew something Teok’s army didn’t. One enemy soldier with a black beard kept glancing off towards the left.

Teok’s gaze followed this soldier’s. It was a hill that obscured Teok’s army’s view of a large group of enemy cavalry. A formidable force.

There he was. The summoner. A tall dark-skinned man wearing a long white cloak. A shady smile crept across his lips. He was holding a long thin blade in his right hand pressed against his left.

Instinctively Teok closed his left hand. The energy immediately was sucked out of his veins.

The other summoner was about to summon the power of a demon and Teok couldn’t risk a double summon. No one could.

His vision blurred, his strength waned, his heart pounded ferociously. His senses dulled, no longer able to smell neither dried blood nor anything. No longer able to feel neither heat nor cold. No longer able to feel. The demon essence left him empty. Slightly emptier than before.

He groaned. His head swam around him. A loud high-pitched ringing resounded in his ears. The world seemed to rotate slowly. Light faded in and out of color. The soldiers around him were moving forward.

“Commander.” Teok said grimacing. Or at least he thought he said it. He didn’t hear himself. “Commander. Enemy cavalry behind the hill to the left.”

He heard a mumble. His ears still ringing.

“The summoner is with them.”

A deep voice bellowed out near him. The blurs of soldiers stirred, and then began moving to the left.

Teok moaned as he pulled on the reins. His body slowly recovering. The ringing dimmed. His vision sharpened. But his stomach remained empty. Regretting that his last meal was only two fire-roasted chickens. It was never enough.

The muffled war cries changed to screams of terror. A bright fire had erupted in the first ranks of the men. The soldiers scattered in all directions. The fire seemed to grow from the ground. The earth releasing excess heat in a single focused spot of ground; right under Teok’s army. The effects of the fire demon, no doubt.

“Teok!” The commander yelled over the tumult.

Teok flipped the knife out and placed it against his left palm. He took in a deep breath. Focused. The screams around him blurred to a whisper. The demon of water would be the obvious choice to combat the flames.

Inhaling he sliced his hand just above the previous scar. The taste of cold steel shot up his arm and into his mouth. Saliva seeped around his tongue.

“Khelidd.” Teok chanted. “Khelidd, shuk tal gshe. Khelidd kho.”

He cringed. A rush of excitement washed over him. Drowning him with nothing, and with power at the same time. The air screeched. He reached outward with his mind tentatively. A finger of thought stretched over a roaring river of energy. He brushed up against a familiar feeling.

Come.

Not a feeling, but a thought. Possibly even his own. It was audible over the uncanny noise of emotion.

Instantly he closed his left palm releasing the dam of energy to wash over. It was just as he was taught. An audible thought so familiar that he could mistake it for his own. Another essence other than that of a demon; who’s being is entirely different, incapable of portraying instantly understood thoughts. It was the essence of another human. The essence of another summoner.

Teok glared his eyes open. Futilely searching for the arrogant summoner, who was overconfident enough to challenge anyone to a double summon. A suicidal duel.

“Teok!” The commander repeated. The soldiers were chaotically regrouping near their commander. “Get rid of the fire! For demonsake!”

“Shut up!” Teok yelled, pulling his knife up again to his palm. This time slicing downwards towards the wrist he called upon the demon of ice.

The area around him grew cold. Colder than ice. Colder than fire. He took an icy breath and held it. Reached out.

I’m in your head, no?

He closed his hand, feeling the power rush away.

Yelling Teok struck his horse with the side of his knife. It leapt forward galloping towards the burning ground. Soldiers parted on either side. Gritting his teeth he stabbed his palm. Called the demon of water once again. Again he was encircled by the torrent of power. The wispy nothingness of the essence of the demon of water.

Again?

This time he resisted the habit to close his fist. Still gritting his teeth he said;

“So you think you’re…?”

Of course I’m better than you. The thought interrupted.

The whirl of energy flowed around him. Encasing all else. The demon seemed to shy away from Teok. The sound of rushing energy dissipated as it attempted to encourage the mental connection between the summoners.

“No one has lived from…”

I have. The thought boomed through Teok’s mind. Echoing to and fro. And I will again.

The noise surged slightly. A spark of hope coming from the demon. It could taste the chance to devour two lives instead of one. Instead of a few droplets of sacrificial blood.

“I don’t believe…”

Of course you don’t. Was this his own thought?

Try your luck and we’ll see.

Teok paused pulling back on the reigns to a halt.

No. No. He thought. This is me.

Or is it?

He screamed, closing his fist. Finally realizing why summoners avoided the double summon at all costs. How could anyone keep a sound mind while being mentally connected to another? How could anyone protect their own thoughts against the demon they summoned when they can’t decipher which thoughts are their own?

His left arm was twitching. Two rivers of blood flowed down from his palm to the elbow. His already misshapen palm shaking next to his knife. Next to the dark green emerald his blood glowed with an unnatural red color.

The fire raged again, bursting from the ground with renewed energy and gusto. The bright flames billowed orange, and then blue as the heat seared through the air. More screams. The soldiers were dropping. Their armor glowing red, sizzling through fabric and skin. The smell was nauseating. Burnt hair, burnt flesh, boiling dirt and mud.

This summoner was by far the most powerful Teok has ever confronted. The quickest. The most cunning. And the most clever.

The terror around Teok slowed to a whisper as he closed his eyes one last time. He blocked out all knowledge of heat, encasing himself in a bubble of nothingness once again. He inhaled. Sliced his hand from the tip of his forefinger down past his wrist. The pain was nothing, though he physically felt the blood leave his body.

He knew which demon the enemy summoner was using.

“Afkhaliti, Afkhaliti, shuk tal gshe. Afkhaliti, kho!” He yelled, summoning the demon of fire. “Gshek ta yibanaie Afkhaliti!” Ignoring his instincts, which told him to stop and make sure nobody else was summoning this demon, he finished the incantation.

Immediately the essence of the fire demon blazed inside of him. Burning every crevice. Every hair. Every muscle. Joy infused itself with Teok. A joy and pleasure of inflicting pain. A demonic pleasure.

He gripped the emerald as hard as he could. Pressing it resolutely against his chest. The edges of the hilt burying themselves into his skin. His jaw crushing his teeth. His body tense, convulsing. Pain no longer mattered. Pain was no more than a thought. A thought that would weaken his defense. He focused.

The dark green pebble. The tiny jagged crack along the base.

The constant moon. White. Blank.

Confusion erupted throughout Teok’s head. Confused. This must be the other summoner because his emerald wasn’t white. It was smooth, with a water-like surface. The cold lifeless feel.

Something tried to squeeze through the tiny jagged crack in his mind.

Full. Then half. Then new.

The perfect weight to counterbalance the blade of the knife.

Then half. Then full again.

It was the perfect emerald.

Perfection. Desire. Lusts.

Then half-perfect.

Emerald-white.

An audible clap echoed over the battlefield. The fire dissipated. Two hooded figures slumped down onto the dry cracked earth. Palms open. Eyes shut.

The Hope of GODS

Richard, one of the councilmen of the Genetic Observation Department of Sociology (GODS) sat in his usual back-corner chair of the conference room. He liked his seat. He had a perfect view of everything; all 13 other councilmen of the GODS, the main podium at the front-right of the room, the second microphone to the left, and the grand scenic view of the planet Tesa in the ceiling window. The conference room was at the pinnacle of the space station Spera.

Richard sat with his arms folded. Waiting.

The entry-wall of the conference room opened revealing the prisoner. Two guards in their purple uniforms stood on either side of the tall dark-skinned man. The prisoner had dark blonde hair that reached down to his shoulders. A square chin accentuated by the scruff of a three-day old beard outlined his face. He had a large scar resembling the number seven under his left eye. His eyes were dark green but seemed to glisten with specks of yellow. Yellow eyes were a characteristic only seen in the people from the planet Tesa. A possible side effect of the memory erasure process for the Great Experiment, 1,205 years ago.

The prisoner was forced to enter the room. Richard recognized an odd smell, one that is rarely present on the space station; dirt.

The prisoner stood in a corner ten meters from the podium, five meters from the traditional defendant microphone.

Of course. He’s a Tesayan, a heathen, an animal. Not worthy of a formal trial of the GODS. Richard mouthed to himself, rolling his eyes slightly.

But the laws mandate a personal trial, or rather a hearing and sentencing, on matters concerning murder.

Eryckson, the Chief High Leader of the GODS, stood at the podium staring at his notes apparently unaware of the prisoner’s entrance. Eryckson’s suit was light gray with crayon blue lines trimming the edges. He wore a bright yellow stole across his shoulders that draped down beneath the glass podium. His hair was no longer a bleached blonde, but gray. Unnaturally gray. Probably meant to make him appear older and wiser than he really was.

“Here, my fellow members of the GODS, is the prisoner. The heathen.” Eryckson’s raspy voice was unmoved and flat.

Eryckson was still looking at his notes as if this were another simple matter; like a presentation of the population growth rate of the Tesayans, or the report of another failed sociology hypothesis. This was nothing to him. These heathens were nothing to him.

“High Leader Thom, will you present the charges?” Eryckson silently slipped around the podium to his seat at the white circular table.

Thom stood from the opposite side of the table. Thom's hair was a brilliant white, matching his usual white suit. The suit seemed to glow, drawing the light closer to him rather than reflecting it. He slowly strode to the podium, deliberately taking each step gracefully. Wrinkles lined his face as he smiled politely to everyone.

The prisoner stood motionless, still surrounded by the two guards on either side of him. Standing next to the table at his full height gave him a daunting appearance. His hands were bound in front. But I was sure that he could rip the binding with his bare hands if he wanted to. He wore a simple brown tunic with a green sash about his waist tied with two knots on both sides of his hips. Several scars speckled his bare arms and legs. A brown leather belt was draped over one shoulder down to the opposite hip. The belt was probably meant to hold a scabbard to his back, for swords were the weapons of choice on the planet.

His gaze was undisturbed, as if there were nobody in the chamber. His eyes had never left the ceiling and the view of the planet Tesa. He was staring at his home planet with a passion that Richard had never seen before. With determination. Confidence.

“The prisoner Kendor,” Thom’s voice was nothing more than a deep whisper, “is herby charged with murder of the highest degree. Two nights ago this Tesayan murdered the messenger of the GODS on the planet. Murdered with a sword.”

“Preposterous!” Greda, one of the councilwomen in the room, stood up. “Never has a Tesayan risen up against the GODS. Never!” She waved her hands in front of her, shaking her fists. “This is exactly why we should have enforced the GODS’s commandments fourteen years ago when the Tesayan began to disbelieve the GODS. Two new religious beliefs were formed in open rebellion to our commands.”

“I disagree.” Richard spoke up. He slid forward and leaned his elbows on the table moving his hands to and fro as he spoke. “We are to do no more than study and observe the Tesayans. For that was the desire of the first council of the GODS. That was the reason behind the Great Experiment, to learn by observation and experimentation what the root cause of humanity’s warlike tendency is.”

“Yes. But what will we do when the Tesyan’s warlike tendency is portrayed onto us, the GODS? Hmm? What happens when more Tesayans act like this man here and attack us?” Greda was pointing at the prisoner. “We have not only the responsibility, but the right to protect ourselves and our culture against these heathens.”

Kendor was unfazed. He stood unmoving. Unblinking.

“Councilmen and women.” Thom said raising his hands in front of him motioning Greda to sit. She did. “You are both correct. This hearing is to determine how to maintain control of the Tesayans on the planet while punishing this prisoner for his actions.”

Thom leaned forward, slowly matching eye contact with each councilman and woman. Richard shifted back into his chair.

“Any suggestions?” Thom asked.

“Exile.” Richard said. “According to the laws set forth by our first leaders of the GODS, murder is punished by exile.”

“That is true, but,” Eryckson stated leaning forward to peer at Richard in the corner, “we normally exile the prisoner to Tesa after erasing his/her memory. But since this heathen is from Tesa it wouldn’t be exile. Other Tesayans may recognize him. And besides, he’s not one of us and therefore not subject to our specific laws, but to the commandments previously given.”

Several of the councilmen and women were nodding their heads, giving mumbles of agreement. Supporting the Chief High Leader. As always.

Richard gritted his teeth softly. He’s not one of us? His mind repeated Eryckson’s words. Is he not a descendent of the Brave Thirty from this very space station who volunteered to start the Great Experiment on Tesa? A descendent of our very own ancestors?

 “We should destroy this heathen’s entire nation as an example for disobedience.” Greda said.

A small motion caught Richard’s eye. Kendor, the prisoner had moved. He was no longer staring at the planet. His gaze was now focused on Greda. His face was still calm and unreadable. No smile, nor frown. But Richard was sure he saw fire behind his eyes.

“Would that demonstrate the example we desire?” Eryckson spoke up.

Example. Richard thought, snorting softly. The example of the GODS is no better than the heathen actions of the Tesayans.

“I would disagree.” Eryckson answered his own question. “We need survivors of his nation to spread the fear among all Tesayans.”

Kendor still glared at Greda. Watching. Waiting.

More nods of approval.

“Yes.” Greda clasped her hands in front of her, smiling. It wasn’t a pretty smile. It was devious. Malicious. Hateful. “Yes. I motion to exterminate most of his nation’s population.” She paused. Glanced back and forth between the councilmen and women.

A pit formed in Richard’s stomach. An emptiness. Example of the GODS… His mind repeated. How can we uphold the study of this Great experiment? Can a frog dissect another frog and learn his own faults without bias? Without hypocrisy?

He was a part of something he no longer agreed with.

“I second the motion.” The new councilman raised his hand. His name was either Henry or Harrold, Richard couldn’t remember. He had sleek black hair with a sharp, pencil-thin beard. The bright yellow trim on his suit shouted his young ambition. A desire Richard once had when he first joined the council of the GODS 15 years ago.

“Good. Then let us vote.” Thom’s soft voice echoed through the room. “Councilman Harrold, your vote?”

“Yes.” The new councilman nodded. A smile shown on his lips. He appeared self-accomplished.

Richard couldn’t help but see himself in the young councilman. Young, ambitious, eager to satisfy, eager to be one of the GODS, but foolishly ignorant. Ignorance only cured by years of personal Tesayan research. Years of growing to understand the Tesayans and their culture. Research that already proved that human nature is always warlike. Research that already proved the Tesayans to be no different than the GODS in that aspect. In many aspects.

“Councilwoman Raelle?” Thom asked.

“Yes.” Raelle, the woman next to Harrold, folded her arms.

“Councilman Stovagesh?”

“Yes.”

“Yes!” Greda jumped in before Thom asked for her vote. Her smile had expanded. Her fingers clenched tightly in anticipation.

Richard shifted in his seat again. A bead of sweat ran its course down his side beneath his suit. He took shorter, quicker breaths. He knew he had to do something. Anything.

“Thank you Councilwoman…” Thom began.

"You’re no gods." Kendor's voice bellowed through the chamber interrupting Thom. His face calm and relaxed, but sturdy and hard. Like a boulder. A statue.

There was something different about the way he spoke besides his Tesayan accent. It was deeper and more guttural than normal. There was neither eloquence nor any hint of formal education behind it. But there was a beauty and majesty in his voice.

Thom was taken aback. Shocked as if he had never heard a Tesayan speak before. As if he believed they couldn’t speak. He fumbled with his hands.

“Hold your tongue!” Eryckson stood, finally acknowledging the prisoner for the first time.

"Let the prisoner speak." Richard yelled, startling the two councilmen next to him. All eyes turned towards him. Accusingly, as if he had already voted against the execution, against the will of the GODS. His hands trembled under the table. His heartbeat grew heavy and quick, threatening to bruise his ribs.

There was a moment of silence. One minute, maybe two. Eryckson’s brows furrowed, wrinkling his nose.

"Let the prisoner speak.” I repeated, “In a normal trial, both on Tesa and up here, the prisoner is allowed to defend himself."

“He is not subject to our judicial system and therefore has no rights as a citizen of the GODS.” Eryckson breathed vehemently. “He is a heathen. Not worthy of the …”

“I am man!” Kendor shouted, interrupting Eryckson. “As ‘re you.” He motioned his head towards all of the councilmen and women.

Something stirred within Richard. An odd feeling. He was anxious but calm at the same time. Something was about to happen, for good or for worse.

“Excuse me?!” Eryckson jerked his head back to Kendor.

"You’re no god!" Kendor repeated. "All you’re no gods." He exaggerated the word no. His mouth turned up slowly into a quarter-smile. "Gods ‘re never-ending. But I, with mine b’re hands, ended one of you."

"So you admit to murdering the messenger of the GODS?" Thom asked.

"I ended one who lied. One of many liars. One of you." He squinted his eyes and made a pointing motion with his head towards them all.

"Thom, proceed with the..." Eryckson began.

"Let me finish!" Kendor boomed. His eyes blazed at Eryckson with disrespect. "I h’ve know for m’ny seasons, the priest crafts of our very own gods. I h’ve know of their lies and deceit. I unloved them. I wished for the end to their never-ending rule. I wished for the end of the wrongs they h’ve done ‘gainst my people. Their murders, rapes and torture. Crimes we punish by death ‘ccording to my people." He paused. "Crimes upon the heads of those we used to call gods.

"And wh’t do I get for fulfilling our justice? My people ‘re to die because of me. I’m to die because I’m not to know of your mortality. Because I’m not to know how hum’n you ‘re. How weak you ‘re. How powerless you ‘re. Because I’m not to know that you’re not gods, but man.

"And wh’t ‘re we to get from obeying you? From being your followers? Wh’t h’ve we been given? Nothing. We h’ve but not ourselves ‘nd our wisdom ‘nd our experience. You h’ve promised us nothing but wh’t you call a never-ending life in the heaven called Spera. A promise I now know to be ‘nother lie.

"How much longer must we be your followers? How much longer must you foul our lives with deceit? How much longer must we endure your pride ‘nd reign? How much longer must you pretend to be our gods?"

Richard wanted to applaud. Never had he attempted to put to words what his personal research had taught him. What he learned. What knew to be right. He smiled.

"Enough! Guards!" Eryckson nodded to the guards who had brought Kendor inside. They grabbed each of his arms and started pushing him back to the entry-wall.

The prisoner’s face was still, calm, and determined. He looked at Eryckson and smiled. A smile that reaffirmed his speech. His claim that we are not gods. This Kendor was more than a heathen. More than a man.

“Stop!” Richard stood, lifting his hand up towards the guards.

They paused. Kendor looked at Richard, not with pleading eyes but trying eyes. Judging him, evaluating him.

"He is no less human than any of us." Richard strained. His head began swimming. His heart seemed to be pumping too much blood. “Give this man a fair trial. Leave his family and country out of it. Hell, don’t punish Tesa for his action.”

He started shaking slightly. His breaths were short, quick and stuttered. “This will not help the Great Experiment. Nothing will! Tesa was meant for us to rebuild humanity!” Richard pointed at the view of the planet with a quaking hand. “Not experiment on it. Not fulfill our lust of pride to hold power over others.”

He pictured himself standing similarly to Kendor, rock solid with an unalterable gaze. But his legs were shaking. His hands twitching. Lip quivering.

Richard had never before expressed his thoughts about the Great Experiment. Never before had stood against the majority of the GODS. Until now. Sweat began to drip down his brow. His stomach felt empty.

“Remove the prisoner.” Eryckson slowed his speech. The entry-wall slid open. The guards dragged Kendor out of the room. The wall closed sending an almost imperceptible gust to the back of the room. To Richard. “Now, Councilman Richard.” Eryckson turned his attention to Richard. A slight gleam in his eye.

The other councilmen and women were behind Eryckson. Why wouldn’t they? Supporting the Chief High Leader guarantees further security to keep one’s position as a councilman or woman of the GODS.

They ignored me. Richard thought. 15 years of preparing, studying, and researching. Nothing.

“Meet me in my office directly after the meeting.” Eryckson continued. “High Leader Thom, please finish.”

How could I have believed I could make a difference, a change for the better in this council? The GODS will never change.

Eryckson sat down.

“Thank you.” Thom whispered.

Thom trailed off. Richard couldn’t tell if he was just talking quieter than normal or if his ears didn’t work anymore. He saw Thom’s lips moving, only to pause once in a while. The lights seemed to increase in volume and intensity, creeping in from the peripherals of his vision. Slowly the room became a bright white light with dim fuzzy gray forms gliding across his vision.

Richard found himself sitting in his chair with his body drooped forward. Elbows on knees, head staring at the ground. At his 100% recycled rubber shoes. His hands trembled. His breathing was stuttered and uncontrolled, syncopated. In, in, out, in, in, out, out, out, in, out, out. He was sobbing. Silently sobbing.

This was his last council of the GODS. He was sure of it. But all he could think about was this prisoner. This Kendor. This stranger. This man that he stood up for. Gave everything for. And he was sure that Kendor and his people were to be executed. That the will of the  GODS will be fulfilled. The will of the GODS is always fulfilled.