Summoner: Origins - Book 0

Chapter 1

Arcturus shrank deeper into the stable's shadows, waiting for the dead of night. The clamor of the tavern next door had reduced to a gentle murmur, but it was not safe to come out yet. 

If all went as planned, his master would ring the midnight bell soon, announcing to his patrons that it was time to wend their drunken way home, or if they were lucky, to a room in the inn upstairs. Only then would Arcturus make his move.

It was a plan ten years in the making; almost two thirds of his young life. He was going to escape the beatings, the endless hours of toil and the meager rations that were his only reward.

As an orphan, his value was determined by the yield of his work, rather than the quality of his character. The ox in the stock next to him was fed better than he was, after all; it had been purchased at several times the price his master had paid for him at the local workhouse.

He was worth less than a beast of burden.

The bell chimed, disturbing Arcturus from his thoughts. There was a creak as the tavern door swung open, then the crunch of gravel signaled the departure of the drinkers, their coarse laughter fading until silence reigned once again. Even so, it was a full ten minutes before Arcturus padded from the shadows and into the night air. He fingered his pack and wondered if he had everything he needed.

Escaping was not as simple as running away, something that Arcturus had learned from bitter experience. In the early days, before he was sold to the innkeeper, children ran away from the workhouse all the time. They would always return a few days later, starving, beaten or worse.

There was no work for scrawny, uneducated children, nor did they know where to go. Arcturus knew that if he ran away unprepared, he would end up begging for scraps before returning, hat in hand, to the inn. In all likelihood he would be sent back to the workhouse. Back to hell on earth.

Arcturus knelt in the straw and checked his pack one more time. Forty-two shillings: his life savings from tips, loose coins, and charity. It would last him a few weeks, until he found a new source of income. A thick fur, discarded by a passing trader for the wine stain that adorned its center, but it was still fit for Arcturus's purposes; he would not freeze if he needed to camp overnight. Next, a serrated knife, stolen from the tavern kitchen at great risk. Although it was not much of a weapon against a brigand, it gave him peace of mind. Two candles, some bread, salted pork, and a few spare garments completed his supplies. Just enough to give him a fighting chance.

The neigh of a horse in the darkness reminded him why he had chosen that night. An opportunity, unlike any he had seen before. A young noble had arrived only a few hours earlier, exhausted from a long day"s riding. He had not even bothered to unpack his saddlebags, simply throwing the reins to Arcturus and trudging into the inn to book a bed for that night.

Arcturus knew where the noble was going. When they came of age, noble children attended Vocans Academy, to learn the art of summoning demons. The academy was all the way in the capital city of Corcillum, on the other side of the Hominum Empire. With any luck, the saddlebags would contain everything Arcturus might need for a similar journey, not to mention the fact that the wealthy young noble's possessions might be extremely valuable.

He sidled up to the horse, clucking his tongue to calm it. As a stableboy, he had a way with horses. This one was no different, nuzzling his palm as if searching for a handful of feed. He stroked it on its muzzle and unclipped the saddlebags, letting them fall to the ground.

Arcturus searched through each pocket, his heart dropping as he discovered that the vast majority of them were empty. No wonder the noble had left without them.

Still, the noble's steed was the real prize. Many horses passed through here, but this was a fine stallion, with long legs, muscled haunches, and clear, intelligent eyes. It could outpace any riders who might follow him, be they thieves, brigands, or even Pinkertons, Hominum's police force. It was not unknown for them to chase down a runaway orphan if the reward was high enough.