Date: Fri, 2 Feb 2001 07:44:46 -0500 (EST)
From: Rune Therain <mist_dark@yahoo.ca>
Subject: Powers of the mind: 2

Hello all, it's me again.  I'm here with another chapter.  I'm hoping that
you'll enjoy it and write me about it.  (Yep, that would be shameless
begging for e-mail.  If you read my works backwards you'll see the message
that tells you to e-mail me).

I want to thank the people that have e-mailed me over the last little
while.  Of course I have my devoted Kenitra (but I've drugged you so
there's no escape) and Shade, Aeoros, and my beloved Apples.  And of course
David, great guy.  Most recently there was Mirage.  Thank you to everyone.
If you want to drop me a line you can send mail to either
Mist_dark@hotmail.com or Mist_dark@yahoo.ca I check both and will respond
as quickly as possible.

The disclaimer has to happen now.  I don't know anyone in this story.  If I
did I very much doubt I would be writing it.  In fact none of the people in
this story are real.  Five people in this series have a passing resemblance
to five real people, but they're not the same.  They have the same names,
appearances, and at one point, the same jobs.  That's it.  Everything else
I made up.  If homosexual themes offend you, I'd leave.  If you are too
young or it's illegal in you area to read this, it'd probably be easier if
you left (of course you don't have to, just don't get caught).  Parts of
this story are based of the RPG Rifts.  All trademarks belong to Kevin
Siembieda and Palladium books.

That's it from me for now.  Enjoy the story,
Until next time,
Rune


			CHAPTER TWO

	The runes of the magical circle glowed in the dim light of the
stone room.  They flared to life and a red-haired man appeared in a flash
of magical energy.  He slumped to his knees when the residual energy had
started to fade.  He had been a fool to assume the newcomer hadn't been a
threat.  Had he not spent hours before creating circles the psychic would
have been no trouble.  As it was he had been forced to flee.

	"No matter," he murmured to himself.  "He is in my realm now, and
he won't be leaving it.  At least his body won't."

	Summoning reserves of strength, the Summoner pulled himself to his
feet.  When he had composed himself completely he snapped his fingers.  A
moment later an avian elven maiden appeared.  Her golden hair was pulled
away from her face to reveal her pointed ears.  She wore a simple white
gown, her feet were bare.  Her wings were folded neatly behind her.

	"Yes Master," she asked timidly.

	"I will be visiting a number of the villagers in the morning," the
Summoner told her.  "I wish to leave them with an impression.  An hour
after first light I wish to have my horse saddled and a variety of my
creatures prepared to leave.  See that it is done."

	The elf bowed her head.  "It will be done Master.  Is there
anything else I can do for you?"

	The Summoner presented his injured left hand.  "Heal this."

	She didn't ask any questions.  Instead she took his hand and closed
her eyes.  The wound stopped bleeding and closed in on itself.  In a moment
there wasn't even a scare to show that there had been any injury at all.
When she finished healing her master's hand, the elf let it go.  She
curtseyed once before leaving the room to fulfil her tasks.


	By the time the sun had climbed to its zenith the Summoner had
visited seven of the ten villages in his domain.  Each had been
sufficiently cowed by his arrival and hadn't offered any resistance to his
demands.  He doubted any would.  His minion had chosen the creatures that
were to accompany him well.  She would have been punished otherwise.

Above him flew two Yema.  Winged reptilian creatures that would blindly
follow whatever orders a mage gave them.  The Yema were one of the few
creatures under his control that he hadn't summoned.  Beside them flew
three demonic harpies, each appeared as a normal harpy, but glowed with the
brimstone they could spit.  One either side of him trotted a manticore.
Their spiked tails whipped back and forth when they walked.  Their lion
heads stared straight ahead.  Behind him walked a minotaur.  The creature's
bullhead took in everything around it, while seeming to ignore everything.

Even his horse struck fear.  A shadow horse was a rare creature indeed.  It
had a jet-black coat with leather wings, similar to those of a bat..  Now
and again its hooves would strike up sparks from the rocks.  This was
another of his creatures that he hadn't summoned.  It had cost him a small
fortune to buy the horse, but since he'd sent a few assassins after the
buyer, he'd gotten his money's worth.

	These creatures terrified the villagers, but the real source of
their fear was him.  He represented a force that could kill them on a whim.
If they insulted him in the slightest, they could pay for it with their
lives.  It had taken very little to point this fact out to them.  Showing
them how his magic was fueled was more then enough to stifle any
rebellions.  All rebels met the same end.  The power source for his
circles.


	The villagers scattered in front of him as he rode into their
village.  The mayor came out of his house.  He was an aged man, bald and
fat.  The Summoner would have killed him years ago, except that he was
easily subdued and did his job well.

	"Call a meeting," The Summoner snapped.  "I want every man, woman
and child there.  Regardless of age.  Don't gape at me.  Do it."

	The Mayor nodded and went scurrying away to follow the Summoner's
demands.  Within moments everyone else in the village was making their way
toward the townhall.  Though no one would admit it to anyone else, they
were afraid.  Very afraid.

	He waited until the streets were cleared and then dismounted.  He
raised his arm and waved it forward.  Wordlessly the manticores and the
minotaur moved to follow him.  His horse remained where it was.  The Yema
settled next to it, as did the demonic harpies.

	The hall was quiet when he entered.  A few people were whispering
here and there.  Most of it was parents telling their children to be quiet.
The moment he stepped into the hall though, all noise ceased.  The Summoner
strode forward with the manticores following right on his heels like
well-trained hounds.  The minotaur closed the doors and remained by them.

	When he reached the front he motioned to each of his `pets'.  They
lay down on either side of him, eyeing the assembled villagers.  The
Summoner had instructed them to do just this.  Manticores were not the most
intelligent of creatures, but simple commands were within their grasp, and
he wanted them to make the villagers think they were about to eat the
entire lot.

	"I will not waste your time or mine by formalities," the Summoner
told them.  "Recently a man has entered my domain.  He has proven more
difficult then I originally thought.  This man is dangerous and I wish him
eliminated.  However, I will deal with that myself.  All you need do is
avoid him.  Anyone caught helping him in any way will be dealt with."

He paused to let that sink in.  For an instant silence descended upon the
hall.  Then one of the harpies shrieked.  It was a cry full of hunger and a
desire to bring pain to any other creature.  The sound had the appropriate
effect on the villagers.  They were even more terrified.  None of them
would disobey his commands.  The effects were worth the time it had taken
to instruct his various minions on timing.  A cry given at the proper time
was far more powerful then any display of magic.  Let scholars think what
they would, he could do more with a well-staged performance then most could
with a grand display of magic.  Of course his display had more effect,
because he could back it up.

"As I was saying, this man is dangerous.  Very dangerous.  He is traveling
with a small boy, about ten years of age.  I will leave complete physical
descriptions with your mayor.  If you should see either of them, notify
your mayor at once.  I will be in touch and will see that this threat is
dealt with immediately."

Without waiting for any sort of response the Summoner and his manticores
left the front of the hall and worked their way toward the back.  When he
was about half way down the aisle a young girl dropped her doll in front of
him.  She slipped out of her seat to retrieve it before he could step on
it.  The Summoner fixed her with a stare and the girl froze in fear.

"Whose child is this?" he demanded.

An elderly man that had been sitting next to her stood.  "I'm her
grandfather.  Her parents were killed by.."  The man appeared to be about
to say something, but changed his mind.  "Were died last year.  I've been
taking care of the girl."

"Are you aware of what she has done?"

"She didn't mean it," the old man groveled.  "She's only a child."

"Perhaps I will be lenient then," he said.  He waited for the sigh of
relief to run through the assembly.  "Take them both."  He took the girl by
the arm and lifted the child off the ground.  With dizzying speed the
minotaur left its post by the door and picked the old man up.  "Once the
threat has been removed I will return these two to you.  In the mean time,
consider them my assurance that you will follow my instructions."




	"What have you done with the old man and the girl?"  The Summoner
sat in a large chair facing a fire.  Standing beside him was a Drow.  The
dark elf's black skin made him seem ethereal in the flickering light of the
fire.

	"They have been placed in one of the cells on the third level of
the dungeon," the Drow told his master.  "What do you plan to do with
them?"

	"Kill them of course," he said calmly.  "They'll be able to power
one of my circles.  At least they'll be able to help.  They're as close to
non-magical as it's possible to be."

	The Drow nodded.  "There are two matters of importance Master.  The
first is the missing Forest Born."  The dark elf pronounced the words as if
they were a curse.  "We have been unable to locate her in the jungle.  If
she leaves the safety of the trees she won't be a problem."

	"Don't worry too much about her.  She's the last of her tribe.  She
won't be able to muster much of a resistance."  The Summoner absently toyed
with a small bottle of grayish crystals.  "What is the other matter?"

	"A warlock has entered your domain."  The tone of the Drow's voice
left no doubt about which he thought was the more important of the two
matters.

	"What measures have you set in motion to deal with him?"  The
Summoner asked.  "And what is his life sign?"

	"Her," the elf corrected.  "I've dispatched a few of your capable
creatures to deal with her.  I haven't heard anything back yet.  As for her
life sign, I don't know that either.  I would guess that it isn't air, the
weather has been too calm for that."

	"I'm sure you'll be able to deal with a single warlock," the
Summoner told his servant.  "Was there anything else?"

	"Just one last thing," the Drow said.  "The priests of Tark seem to
be restless."

	"The spider goddess?"

	"Yes.  Large numbers of the priests have been leaving their main
temple and entering the jungle.  It's almost impossible to track them, but
from the reports I've been getting, they're all over the place.  I'm not
sure what they're up to, but I doubt it has your best interests in mind."

	"I believe you're being paranoid.  The spider goddess bares me no
ill will, and she has no reason to send out so many priests to confront me.
If she desired to do that she'd simply appear to me herself."

	"Of course Master," the elf said.  It was obvious that he didn't
share his master's beliefs about the actions of the priests.  "If there is
nothing else I have my duties to attend to."

	The Summoner waved his servant away.  The door made almost no sound
as the elf left the room.  The man didn't even notice.  His attention was
focused completely on the bottle in his hand.  A smile crossed his face.

	"I'll have you yet Night-child.  Your friend won't be able to help
you once the true reality of the situation sinks in.  I doubt he is skilled
in the arts of surviving in a jungle.  Eventually you'll run out of food.
I'm content to wait until then."









	The art of summoning is indeed a rare practice.  There are several
reasons for this.  The first of which is that this form of magic leaves the
wielder very open to surprise attack.  Even a Diabolist is not as exposed
as a surprised summoner is.  However, a prepared summoner would be, and is,
a horrible thing to behold.

Another reason for the rarity of this art is the fact that all magi are
secretive by nature.  This is particularly true of the more evil magics.
Necromancers rarely, if ever, accept more then a few initiates each year.
And over three-quarters of the numbers that are accepted as initiates are
destroyed in the process.  Of the remaining quarter no more then ten
percent will achieve the full rank of necromancer.  Summoners are very much
the same, except far more so.  There are few teachers of the art and since
they often fear persecution they are usually unwilling to take an
apprentice.  Those that are accepted by a summoner must face many years to
learn the basics of the art.  Months will be spent studying one symbol
(it's actually a boring study unless you enjoy the complexities of art and
literature).  This study is necessary for the young summoner.  One symbol
can make the difference between life and death.  Between a successful
summoning, and a total disaster.

That brings me to the third reason summoners are so rare.  The chance of a
summoning gone wrong.  In most spells it is possible to make mistakes when
you are unfamiliar with the spell.  The effects vary from spell to spell.
But generally a miscast spell will simply cause minor discomfort and rarely
cause any amount of damage (though once I did make it rain for two months
straight while trying to conjure a small breeze).  Summonings carry much
more danger.  If the summoner incorrectly creates the circle then the
creature he wishes to summon may not appear (that is the best case
senario).  Worse the desired creature could appear and not be under the
mage's control.  Or the creature could appear and attack before the mage
has time to bind its will to his.  If the creature is not under his control
then the summoner is in very grave danger.  This is the main reason why
this art is so rare.  Few men and women are willing to put themselves in so
much danger for power.

The other circles that a summoner can make, that aren't summoning circles,
carry their own dangers.  Though the dangers of incorrectly making one of
these circles are generally nothing compared to those of a summoning
circle.  If one incorrectly makes a teleportation circle then the thing
will probably just not work, or at worse teleport you somewhere other then
the desired destination.  These circles are the safer ones to use because
if incorrectly made they will just not work, or will work in an incorrect,
but annoying manner.

Perhaps another reason summoners are so rare is due to the links they have
to their minions.  It takes a great deal of mental control to keep those
creatures from ripping themselves free of your will.  And all it would take
is one minion to free itself.  Summoners are powerful mages, but an arrow
is just as lethal to them as it is to any other man.  If a creature escapes
control it will do one of three things.  It may simply return to its native
world (not all the summoned creatures are creatures of this world, but few
actually possess the ability to return by themselves).  If it cannot
return, or does not wish to, it has two choices.  One is to kill the mortal
that dared summon it, the other is simply to leave.  The latter of these
choices is rarely the one picked.  More often then not the creature will
kill its former master before either returning home or wondering the world.

A great many summoners have been killed in the past, much like witches are.
Of courses witches have willingly sold their souls for power, whereas the
summoners are only flirting with death.  I suppose in a way casting any
magic is flirting with death.  I mean, you are taking a force far behind
your comprehension and making it do what you want.  Of course it isn't a
living force, but it is a force none the less.  We've been using fire for
thousands of years and we still haven't mastered it.  Granted we can
control it, but if we get too cocky it will get loose and do things that we
don't want it to do.  Almost anyone can learn to cast a spell and almost
anyone can start a fire.  The trick is not to burn the house down, or turn
your neighbour to stone by accident.  I guess it's the same with summoning.
Be careful.  Always be careful, and you might just live long enough to try
the circle again.


The musings of Doren, a dwarven summoner.
Written two days before his death.



TBC

Hope you enjoyed.  I'll have the next part out early next week, most
likely.  Let me know what you think of it.  I really do want to hear from
you.

Until next time my friends,
Rune