Beyblade Fan Fiction ❯ Amulet of Life ❯ Summon ( Chapter 1 )

This is the first chapter in the first fic of this trilogy. If you have any questions you can email them to me at mulherin@nbnet.nb.ca. I would greatly appreciate it if you review me. This is also an AU fic.

Disclaimer: I don't own beyblade even though I wish I do.

Chapter One- Summon

The temperature of the room dropped fast. Ice formed on the curtains and crusted thickly around the lights in the ceiling. The glowing filaments in each bulb shrank and dimmed, while the candles that sprang from every available surface like a colony of toadstools had their wicks snuffed out. The darkened room filled with yellow, choking cloud of brimstone, in which indistinct black shadows writhed and roiled. From far away came the sound of many voices screaming. Pressure was suddenly applied to the door that led to the landing. It bulged inward, the timbers groaning. Footsteps from invisible feet came pattering across the floorboards and invisible mouths whispered wicked things from behind the bed and under the desk.

The sulfur cloud contracted into a thick column of smoke that vomited forth-thin tendrils; they licked the air like tongues before withdrawing. The column hung above the middle of the pentacle, bubbling ever upward against the ceiling like the cloud of an erupting volcano. There was a barely perceptible pause. Then two blue staring eyes materialized in the heart of the smoke

Madison's P.O.V

Hey, it was his first time. I wanted to scare him, and I did too. The dark- haired boy stood in a pentacle of his own, smaller, filled with different runes, three feet away from the main one. He was as pale as a corpse, shaking like a dead leaf in a high wind. His teeth rattled in his shivering jaw. Beads of sweat dripped from his brow, turning to ice as they fell through the air. They twinkled with the sound of hailstones on the floor

All well and good, but so what? I mean, he looked about sixteen years old. Wide- eyed, hollow cheeked. There's not that much satisfaction to be had from scaring the pants of a scrawny kid (1).

So I floated and waited, hoping he wasn't going to take too long to get round to the dismissing spell. To keep myself occupied, I made blue flames lick up around the inner edges of the pentacle, as if they were seeking way to get out and nab him. All hokum, of course. I'd already checked and the seal was drawn well enough. No spelling mistakes anywhere, unfortunately.

At last it looked as if the urchin was plucking up the courage to speak. I guessed this by a stammering about his lips that didn't seem to be induced by pure fear alone. I let the blue fire die away, to be replaced by a foul smell.

The kid spoke. Very squeakily.

"I charge you … to… to…" Get on with it! "T-t-tell me you n-name."

That's usually how they start, the young ones. Meaningless waffle. He knew, and I knew that he knew, my name already; otherwise how could he have summoned me in the first place? You need the right words, the right actions, and most of all the right name. I mean, it's not like hailing a cab- you don't just get anybody when you call.

I chose a rich, deep, dark chocolaty sort of voice, the kind that resounds from everywhere and nowhere and makes the hairs stand up on the back of inexperienced necks.

"Madison."

I saw the kid give a strangled kind of gulp when he heard the name. Good- then he wasn't entirely stupid; he knew who and what I was. He knew my reputation.

After taking a moment to swallow some accumulated phlegm, he spoke again. "I-I charge you again to answer. Are you that Madison who in olden times was summoned by the royal family to repair the walls of Prague?"

What a time waster this kid was. Who else would it be? I upped the volume a bit on this one. The ice on the light bulbs cracked like caramelized sugar. Behind the dirty curtains the window glass shimmered and hummed. The kid rocked back on his heels.

"I am Madison! I am Sakhr al-Jinni, N'gorso the mighty, and the sorceress of Silver Plumes! I have rebuilt the walls of Uruk, Karnak, and Prague. I have spoken with Solomon. I have run with the buffalo fathers of the plains. I have watched over Old Zimbabwe till the stones fell and the jackals fed on it's people. I am Madison! I recognize

no master. So I charge you in your turn, boy. Who are you to summon me?"

Impressive stuff, eh? All true as well, which gives it more power. I wasn't just doing it to sound big. I rather hoped the kid would be blustered by it into telling me his name in return, which would give me something to go on when his back was turned (2). No luck there.

"By the constraints of the circle, the points on the pentacle, and the chain of runes, I am your master! You will obey my will!"

There was something particularly obnoxious about hearing this old speech coming from a weedy stripling, and in such a foolish high too. I bit back the temptation to give him a piece of my mind and intoned the usual response. Anything to get it over with quickly.

"What is your will?"

I admit I was already surprised. Most tyro magicians look first and ask questions later. They go window-shopping, eyeing up their potential power, but are far too nervous to try it out. You don't often get small ones like this squirt calling up entries like me in the first place, either.

The kid cleared his throat. This was the moment. This is what he'd been building up to. He'd been dreaming of this for years, when he should have been lying on his bed thinking about racing cars or girls. I waited grimly for the pathetic request. What would it be? Levitating some object was a usual one, or moving it from one side of the room to the other. Perhaps he'd want me to conjure an illusion. That might be fun: there was bound to be a way of misinterpreting his request and upsetting him (3).

"I charge you to retrieve the amulet of life from the house of Tala Ivanov and bring it to me when I summon you at dawn tomorrow."

"You what?"

"I charge you to retrieve---"

"Yes I heard what you said." I didn't mean to sound petulant. It just slipped out, and my sepulchral tones slipped a bit too.

"Then go!"

"Wait a minute!" I felt that queasy sensation in my stomach that you always get when they dismiss you. Like in someone sucking out your insides through your back. They have to say it three times to get rid of you, if you're keen on sticking around. Usually you're not. This time I remained where I was, two glowing eyes in an angry fug of boiling smoke.

"Do you know what you are asking for boy?"

"I am neither to converse, discuss, nor parley with you; nor to engage in any riddles, bets, or games of chance; nor to-"

"I have no wish to converse with a scrawny adolescent, believe you me, so save your rot learned rubbish. Someone is taking advantage of you. Who is it- your master, I suppose?

A wizened coward hiding behind a boy." I let the smoke recede a little, exposing my outlines for the first time, hovering dimly in the shadows. "You are playing with fire twice over, if you seek to rob a true magician by summoning me. Where are we? London?"

He nodded. Yes it was London all right. Some grotty town house. I surveyed the room through the chemical fumes. Low ceiling, peeling wallpaper; a single faded print on the wall. It was a somber Dutch landscape-a curious choice for a boy. I'd have expected pop girls, football players…. Most magicians are conformists, even when young.

"Ah me…" My voice was emollient and wistful. "It is a wicked world and they have taught you very little."

"I an mot afraid of you! I have given you your charge and I demand you go!"

The second dismissal. My bowels felt as if they were being passed over by a steamroller. I sensed my form waver, flicker. There was power in this child, though he was very young.

"It is not me you have to fear; not now, anyway. Tala Ivanov will come to you himself when he finds his amulet stolen. He will not spare you for your youth."

"You are bound to do my will."

"I am." I had to hand it to him, he was determined. Very stupid too.

Anyway some people will not understand this fic but I'll try to help, so here are some

His hand moved. I heard the first syllable of the Systemic Vise. He was about to inflict pain.

I went. I didn't bother with any more special effects.

That was longer than any of my other fics on ff.net listed as Skya if you want to read them. They are all in the beyblade section. I'll warn you if you want to read them… They SUCK!

Anyway some people may not understand this fic but I'll try to help, so here is some help for the numbered parts.

Not everyone agrees with me on this. Some find it a delightful sport. They refine countless ways of tormenting their summoners by means of subtly hideous apparitions. Usually the best you can hope for is to give them nightmares later, but occasionally these stratagems are so successful that the apprentice actually panic and step out of the protective circle. Then all is well- for us. It is a risky business all the same. Often they are well trained. Then they grow up and get revenge.

I couldn't do anything while I was in the circle, of course. Later I'd be able to find out who he was, look for weakness of character, basically things in his past I can exploit. They've all got them. You've all got them.

One magician demanded I show him an image of the love of his life. I rustled up a mirror.

So expect the next chapter soon and remember to REVIEW if you like this fic.