Summoning Ch. 1

Chapter One

“General Trent summoned me to see him at once,” Alia stated to the guard, who stood rigid before the large, oak doors. She looked the man over briefly. He was not the usual human guard who stood post at the her brother’s office, but he seemed intent on taking the job of guarding seriously, which was satisfying enough. Recognition was evident in his expression as he looked her up and down briefly, likely recognizing the crossed sword emblem on the right arm of her black and crimson uniform. He nodded silently and stepped aside to open the door for her.

“Alia of the Ironhelm, sir,” the guard announced. Alia stepped in to the familiar room filled with ironwood furniture, a roaring fire in the hearth, and an innumerable amount of scrolls and books lining the shelves of the walls. Of all the rooms in the palace garrison that she visited frequently, this was by far the most welcoming. She quickly made her way to the broad, ironwood desk in the middle of the room and sank into one of the chairs across from where the general sat with his head bowed over a scroll intently. His shoulder-length dark brown hair hid his face from view.

“That will be all, Haddock,” he said in his deep, authoritative voice. His head stayed down, and Alia waited patiently.

“Yes, sir,” the guard replied, closing the door quietly behind him.

Alia kept her gaze locked on her brother, tempted to just blurt something out and break the deafening silence that had already begun to grow between them. She didn’t have to have the gift of Empathation to feel the tension that enveloped the room. A feeling deep down in her gut told her that this was more than her usual visit to the general’s office.

Finally, just before she lost her patience, her brother sighed audibly from across the desk and ran a hand through his hair to push it back. What she saw when his face lifted nearly took her breath away in shock. His usually confident, firm green eyes were bloodshot, and exhaustion lined every inch of his face. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.

“Hello, sister,” he said. His voice tone sounded just as authoritative and confident as usual, completely challenging his physical appearance.

“What is wrong, Trent? You do not look well,” she exclaimed. Her last words were a major understatement, but she knew that he would get defensive if she said anything more.

“It is nothing,” he said quickly. “I led a mission last night was all.”

That would explain part of it. He always looked worn and tired after a night mission, and from what she had heard from those who had experienced them, the night missions were some of the worst kind, though no one would tell her why. Yet, never in her life, had she seen him as exhausted as this before, on any occasion. There had to have been something more to that mission than he would let on. She would have to investigate into it later.

“I did not summon you here to talk about anything of that nature, though,” he stated. His eyes turned from glazed to determined in a heartbeat, and he spoke with the authority of a general, instead of as a informal brother. She hated it when he treated her just an average soldier like that, but she had a feeling that putting up a fight with him over it was likely not the best idea at the moment. “Prince Bram has declared that, after his observation of your training the past few weeks, you are ready for your first mission.”

Alia gasped audibly and sat up straighter in her chair. She had trained for this moment ever since she could remember. Finally, she would be able to prove herself and find out the mysteries of the missions that the Ironhelm was subject to.

“When?” she asked, trying to hold back her eagerness. Obviously, she didn’t do a very good job of hiding it, because Trent let out a disappointed sigh at her reaction and averted his eyes to his lap. He hesitated for a moment, as if conflicted.

“Tonight,” he replied in little above a whisper. As soon as he spoke the answer, she saw a flash of something she had never seen in his eyes before- unguarded, selfless fear. She kept her eyes locked on him even as his head stayed bowed, and a brief bolt of fear shot into her heart. Something was very, very wrong.

“He is quite right,” a thundering, deep voice said from behind her. She jumped from her chair and spun around toward the door with a hand on her hilt. Prince Bram himself stood just inside the door with three bodyguards just behind. As always, he was clad in silky, regal pants, shirt, and cloak of the country colors, black and crimson. The clasp of his cloak was the things that truly set his identity apart, though. It was an intricate emblem of the eight sword of the gods carved out of iron.

As recognition set in, her face flushed, and she bowed low with her right hand over her chest in reverence. Rising to the rigid soldier’s position, she turned her expression blank to keep the anger that flared inside her from showing. He may be the prince, but that shouldn’t give him the right to barge in on any private conversations without announcing himself.

Knowing that the longer she stared at the prince the harder it would get to hide the anger, she glanced over at her brother as he spoke.

“Prince Bram,” Trent acknowledge, sweeping into a low bow with hand on chest. When he rose, his expression had completely transformed. Even with his red, weary eyes, his whole persona now characterized the hollow, emotionless general that he was supposed to be. In her whole life of being raised around deceptive soldiers in this garrison, she had never met anyone who could wear a mask as well as her brother. She hoped that he own mask was as equally persuading as his.

“Unfortunately, yes, General Trent,” the prince said with irritation in his tone. He strode over and collapse in a desk chair, glancing down nonchalantly at the scrolls laid out on the desk with his intense brown eyes which stood out against the light blonde hair that hung to his shoulders. “Until tomorrow night, I am still a prince. However, after the coronation takes place, I will expect to be addressed as Lord Bram Rathkan, the High King of Munítus.”

“Yes, your highness,” Trent replied. The prince nodded in satisfaction, before glancing between the two of them. “Well, are you ever going to sit?”

“Yes, your highness,” Trent and Alia both said in unison. Alia glanced at her brother briefly and followed his action in lowering himself into the chair. He likely felt awfully awkward sitting in a seat that put him in the position above royalty. It was improper to put yourself above anyone in the royal family, especially the heir, but her brother was too dedicated to the rules and rituals of his position to speak to the prince without being first spoken to about it.

Once they were all seated, other than the three bodyguards who stood against the walls, Prince Bram crossed his arms and legs and eyed her with a skeptical, almost greedy, stare. She maintained eye contact with him and focused on blocking off any emotion that might be visible in her eyes, but inside every sense screamed for her to shrink or run under the intensity of his gaze. Thankfully, it only lasted a few seconds before the prince averted his narrowed eyes to her brother and began to speak.

“Now, back to what we were talking about before,” he began. She had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from reminding him that he wasn’t part of the previous discussion. “You were just telling Alia that she would have her first mission tonight.”

“But I haven’t even gone through the mission training program,” Alia blurted without thinking. Her brother kicked her foot from under the table and gave her a stern warning look. She quickly added, “Forgive me, your highness for speaking out of turn.”

“All is pardoned, but I suggest you not make that mistake again,” the prince said nonchalantly with a wave of his hand. His eyes spoke of serious consequences of making that mistake again. It was incredible how mistakes so small could cost so much at the hands of another with more power. “As for what you said about the training. Mission training programs are made for those of the human race and the average Elithin. However, just as your brother, you are gifted with one of the five Elithin giftings. You have the gift of Sensance and are able to sense things and react to situations, especially in combat, at much higher level than almost any other on our world. Besides that, those programs are for those soldiers who can be easily persuaded from the ways of our people, seeing as many of those that you go against on your missions are quite persuasive. However, you seem to have no problem hold to what you believe and speaking your mind.”

Alia flushed and sat quietly. It was all she could do to not fidget or show signs of her uncomfortableness. There were a few moments of silence as the prince met her eyes again and seemed to be searching her for something. She remained behind the emotionless mask that she hoped was nontransparent enough to conceal the vast mixture of emotions that wrested inside her. No one spoke for a prolonged moment. Just as she began to think that perhaps this awkward conversation was finally over, the prince saw fit to speak once again.

“One thing that the general had failed to mention was the fact that before your mission tonight at twilight, you have another task. It will be a test of sort. You may even think of it as a mission training program. Last night, your brother directed a mission to capture a small group of renegades.” Alia shot a glance toward her brother. He averted his gaze as if somehow ashamed of it. They must have been truly a strong group of renegades to cause her brother to become as exhausted as he was. She maintained eye contact with the prince as he continued. “After much trouble and a run in with that treasonous snake of a renegade that has been interfering as of late in so many of our affairs, the men rounded up the original group of renegades and put them in the palace dungeon. Your job is to interrogate them. They have been deprived of food and water for a full day and several have wounds that you can promise relief for. It is quite a simple taks”

“Yes, your highness. It shall be done,” Alia replied. It sounded simple enough when he laid it out for her with words, but she had a feeling that the real things wasn’t exactly going to be quite that straightforward.

“Good,” Prince Bram said with a curt nod. “Now, if General Trent has nothing further to say on these subject, you may be dismissed to begin your task. You will find two other soldiers at the dungeon entrance who will guide you around that maze of a place and answer any further questions that you may have.”

Alia nodded and turned to her brother, who flashed her a warning-to-take-caution look before shaking his head.

“I have nothing further to add,” he said, maintaining his role as general and mask of confidence. “You may go.”

She stood and strode to the doorway. Just as she was closing the door behind her, she glanced back and saw the prince stand with crossed arms and summon one of his bodyguards over with a short whip. Were they going to threaten him? Punish him? What could he have done wrong? A sudden realization came upon her as she nearly slammed the door behind her, causing the guard to jump in surprise. Her brother had let his guard down when they were alone and had been pained and hesitant to inform her of both missions. She gasped remembering his look of fear and his hesitancy to tell her of the mission. He was about to be punished for looking out for her and being her older brother. Anger welled to an inferno in her chest as she made her way to the dungeon. Was there no chance of to escape this power that seemed so determined to control every part of her life? Was there no hope to ever control this life that she falsely called her own? Was freedom even possible for someone like her?