Read Online Summoner: Book 1: The Novice by Taran Matharu - Free Book Online Page B

die.
    With that thought, he felt the link between him and the imp, as if it were a house spider hanging from a thread of gossamer. His anger flowed through it with a potent ferocity, and he felt the demon’s consciousness fill with the same intent as his own. Didric was an enemy, a threat.
    ‘Nothing to say? That wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be.’ Didric sighed to the others, lifted his sword and stepped forward. ‘Right . . . let’s kill him.’

12
    Even as the words left Didric’s mouth, the imp came flying out of the shadows. It squealed as it dug its claws into his face, scrabbling and scratching. Didric gave a shriek and dropped the sword with a clatter, spinning around the room like a man possessed.
    ‘Get it off, get it off!’ he howled, blood streaming down his face. Jakov and Calista batted at the imp with their fists, wary of hurting Didric. With each punch, Fletcher felt a flare of dull pain on the edge of his consciousness, but the demon clung on doggedly, emitting barks of rage. Fletcher’s anger continued to radiate from him like roaring fire, filling him with righteous fury. As it reached its zenith, he felt that moment of clarity once again; Didric’s dark blood turning ruby red in his vision.
    The imp silenced, then opened its mouth as wide as a snake’s. Liquid fire burst from the creature’s maw, flowing over the side of Didric’s face and setting his hair alight. An unearthly, orange glow flared in the cavern as Didric collapsed, his choked scream cut short when his head cracked on to the marble floor. Jakov and Calista fell to their knees and beat at the flickering flames, yelling Didric’s name. As the imp scampered into Fletcher’s arms, he vaulted into the crypt and made for the exit, his heart fluttering beneath his ribs like a caged bird.
    It was black as a sinner’s soul down there, the air stale and ice cold. He ran on and on, stumbling deep into the bowels of the earth. Clutching the book under his arm, Fletcher’s hand brushed along stacks of bones as he felt his way through the darkness, held together by rusting wire and centuries of dust. He knocked a skull from its alcove, his finger catching in its empty eye socket. It bounced down the corridor, then shattered into grisly fragments. They crunched underfoot as he lurched onwards, desperate to get out of there. The air was stifling, and Fletcher felt he was suffocating with each dust-laden breath. The demon was not helping matters, digging its claws into the fabric of his shirt and hissing in displeasure.
    After what felt like an eternity, his shin cracked painfully into a stone ledge. He groped forwards and found another. Relief flooded through him as he realised he had found what must be the stairs to the chapel. He reached above and felt the flat surface of another stone tablet. With a colossal effort, he heaved it upwards and sideways, sending it to the floor with a crash.
    The dim glow of the moon was glorious as it shone through the chapel’s broken windows, bathing Fletcher in silver. He gulped down lungfuls of fresh air, grateful to be out of that deathtrap. Yet even as he began to relax, he remembered what had just happened. He needed to get back to Berdon as soon as possible. He would know what to do.
    Fletcher ran through the dark, using the moonlight to guide him down the goat path. He was sure that the others would not be far behind, probably carrying Didric with them. He would have ten minutes at most before the word got out. If the guards heard that one of their own had been attacked, whatever the circumstances, it was unlikely Fletcher would live long enough to stand trial. Even if he did, with Caspar’s connections he wouldn’t get a fair hearing, and the only two witnesses would have no problem lying.
    The village was silent as a shadow; everyone was asleep in their beds. As he jogged up to the main gates, he was overjoyed to see the gatehouse above lay empty. One of his attackers must