CHAPTER 35: A Pact of Necessity - Part 3

  “Al,” Cael said after washing down his smoked meat with wine. “The person who attacked your temple, was he a true Summoner?”

  “Yes. And a Necromancer.”

  “Weren't the Summoner clans long extinct? Hunted by Inquisitors after it was discovered they were behind the Black Eye incident?”

  “His Grammatons was genuine, Kel. He really did summoning.”

  “Am I the only one who doesn’t know what a Summoner is?” Varne asked.

  “In this world, there are special powers. Unlike Prana and Mana, which can be learned, these powers are either acquired or inherited. A Summoner can call Fravash to help them in battle.”

  “Fravash? You mean that monster?”

  “The five-headed creature is called a Fravash. A Summoner has a Grammaton, a symbol of their pact with a particular Fravash. There are also Grammaton types that grant attributes, such as the Regeneration attribute.”

  “Funny thing is,” Cael added, “many people tattoo their bodies with fake Grammatons for fashion.”

  The group leader enforced a strict silence once everyone finished eating. Talking was prohibited. She, Varne, and Cael were not assigned guard duty that night, allowing them to sleep undisturbed.

  On the fourth day, the dense forest continued. While climbing steep rocks, Almyria slipped. Her hand clawing at the air. Below, sharp rocks loomed. She anticipated at least a broken lower arm, lacerations, bruises, and dislocated shoulder. However, a firm grip caught her arm, suspending her in mid-air.

  She looked up. Her savior was a young boy, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, with light green hair tied into a short ponytail atop his head.

  “Thank you,” Almyria said as he pulled her up. The boy responded with a smile, his face still marked by pimples.

  “I can't let our beautiful Healer get hurt, can I?” he said with a hint of smile, handing her bag back.

  “May I know your name–”

  “Corway,” he replied, looking back.

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  The damp forest of the past four days gave way to a narrow trail along a cliff on the fifth day. Wind-driven rain lashed against the cliff faces, making everything wet and slippery. The air temperature plummeted, causing her face to itch.

  They all walked in a single file, braving the storm. The leader's instruction for a Prana Decima to escort a Mana Decima was barely audible. Corway then volunteered to stay beside her.

  They reached the campsite late at night, drenched, but the rain had stopped. The leader allowed them to light a fire for an hour to warm up. However, an hour was not enough to dry their clothes, and she spent the night without being able to stop shivering. Corway helped again by offering his blanket.

  Half a day before reaching their destination, a group of ferocious deer-like monsters with spiral horns ambushed them. Their slender legs provided incredible agility among the trees, their golden horns glinting in the afternoon sun.

  The monsters' speed scattered the group in the forest, separating the Prana Decimae from the Mana Decimae. Several were injured. Almyria found herself alone when she realized what was happening.

  A gold flash from behind the trees barely warned her of an imminent attack. The monster charged like a streak of gold, its hooves barely touching the ground, head down and horns parallel to the ground.

  Almyria manifested a protective wall. The golden horn embedded itself, its spiraled tip stopping just short of her chest.

  “Careful!” Corway's warning made her head turn. Too late. Another monster leaped from the bushes, its horns aimed at her. No reserved spells left.

  Moments before the horn drilled physiologically unnecessary hole in her neck, Corway tackled her. The golden horn tore through the young boy's back. Blood stained the three-foot-long golden horn.

  He stood, gripping his large dagger in both hands and stabbed the second monster. At the same time, the first monster struggled to free its horn, eager to prove that it was the hand span hole in her chest that was in her best interest.

  Injured, Corway lost strength and fell to his knees. She was defenseless, but at the crucial moment an archer from a tree dispatched several arrows into the first monster, ending its life.

  “Corway!” She ran to where he sat leaning against a tree. She unsheathed her ring’s needle.

  “Stop! Don't use Heal!” the leader shouted. “Your Heal will be needed more after the battle.”

  Heal was a valuable. Limited resource not to be used carelessly. Almyria knew this.

  “You promised I could heal anyone. You have no right to stop me.”

  The leader's eyes blazed with anger. “You're defying me?”

  “Leave it, Sis.” Corway placed his hand on her shoulder. “A bandage will suffice for my wound.”

  She took out her medicines under the leader's watchful eye and treated Corway.

  “This won't do! He can't fight. His wound is too severe. Without Heal, he'll just be another victim in the attack!”

  “That's not your decision. Let's go.”

  “No. Let me Heal him.”

  Those words stopped the leader in his track. His grayish hair, stained purple by the monster blood, added intensity to his eyes. “You've defied me twice now. I’m warning you.”

  “Or...,” Almyria said, “give him supplies and medicine, then leave him here. He's of no use to you in his current state.”

  The leader's head turned, his lips pressed into a thin line.

  He probably thought that would scare her, but she consistently scared off death when saving lives and even made it her day job. Eyes, no matter how glaring, or lips, no matter how thin, are nothing.

  Eventually, the leader conceded. “Fine. Leave him. We move on, and do not defy me again!”

  The group left Corway behind. Almyria looked back at him several times, each glance met with a faint smile from him.