Mixed Blood

Chapter Two

When I had first met Rook, my summoner's fulfillment had been a solid nine. Four weeks before the tournament, where all summoner students fought each other and their opposing demons to prove to watching senior officers that they were worthy of a ranked commission into the army upon graduation at the end of the year, I had startled myself by being a weak - very weak - sixteen. In less than a year I had increased but almost eight. In the time after the tournament, I had gained another fulfillment point, becoming to current a solid, if slightly low, seventeen.

A summoner's fulfillment was how much mana they could absorb, how many demons they could control, and how powerful a demon they could control. My main demon Ignatius was a level five demon, meaning with my twelve that I had seven spare. I could potentially have a level seven demon as well, or a level three and a level four, or so on.

But the day before I had to leave, the day I was arrested, I tested myself again. An almost-fourteen. In a month I had gained one and a half. And weird as it sounded, I actually wished that I would slow down, because increasing this fast was absolutely terrifying.

The forest is such a peaceful place, so easy to loose yourself in. But a sharp sound that obviously did not belong in this forest woke me from my musings, just as a woman fell to the ground in front of my mount.

She was beautiful, but dressed strangely. She had long, golden locks that would have fallen thickly to the small of her back, had she been standing. She wore a forest-green billowing silk shirt that constricted at the wrists underneath an intricately carved leather vest. But her black trousers were darker and wet above the knee-high leather boots on her petite calves as she lay face down. 

At the moment I did not wonder what her face was, all I was thinking about was how I could help her whilst her leg was still impaled with that arrow.