Summoner: Origins The Prequel by Taran Matharu Page B

continued to spin.
    â€˜If it doesn’t, no matter. We’ll just stick a blade between his ribs and throw him through.’ Rook panted, his breathing heavy with effort from keeping the portal open.
    â€˜Too risky. Father said it has to look like an accident – that’s the whole point of this. Someone might find his body if they go hunting. Not usual this time of year what with the Shrikes, but still a possibility.’
    â€˜The Wendigo will dispose of the body. What other choice do we have?’ Rook hissed.
    â€˜You’re going to make it look like I tried to capture a Wendigo, alone, and it killed me ?’ Arcturus realised with disgust
    â€˜A living demon not connected to a summoner fades back into the ether, within a few hours,’ Rook laughed, glancing back at Arcturus. ‘They’ll never know what killed you, but they’ll have their suspicions.’
    Even as he spoke, the Wendigo emerged from the portal in a tumbled clatter of claws and antlers, dripping blood from scratches across its muzzle.
    â€˜Have a nice life, brother. All thirty seconds of it,’ Charles whispered.

14
    Arcturus was shoved to the floor, his nose thudding into the floor boards. The door slammed and the room was cast in pitch darkness as the portal disappeared, its power source gone with Rook.
    Salty blood gushed from Arcturus’s nose and on to his lips and chin as he struggled to get upright, ripping at his weakened bonds with all the strength he could muster. As the dirk sliced through the mana web, they dissolved into nothingness – no evidence to prove what Charles had done. They had planned his murder well.
    As quietly as possible, Arcturus shuffled back and began to work on Sacharissa’s bonds, all the while impressing the need for her silence with his mind. She barely breathed, even when he sliced her in his blind rush to get her free. Every moment mattered, for the gossamer still glowed, just enough for the Wendigo to track in the darkness.
    He could hear it now, its claws slipping and scraping on the floorboards. Arcturus could remember the way its hooked claws had dug into the earth for purchase when it had battled the Minotaur. It was a wild animal, completely new to such a smooth, hard surface. He would use this to his advantage.
    The final thread was sliced away and Arcturus helped Sacharissa to her feet, now in total darkness. The Wendigo was snorting lungfuls of air, hunting for them by scent alone. For the first time, he was glad of the stink of burning wood that polluted the air. It would help keep them alive.
    First, Arcturus tried the door. It was locked, but he could feel the keyhole, so large that he could stick two fingers through it. The lock was rough and simple, a relic of the old times the castle had been built in. If he was lucky, a bit of jimmying with the dirk might get the door open.
    As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Arcturus saw that there was dim light from beneath the door, enough to see Sacharissa’s eyes. Instinctively, he re-formed their connection. Her black and white vision would not make much difference in the gloom of the room; hearing and sound would be key.
    The scratch of claws against the wood was sickening, like nails against a chalkboard. But it was nothing compared to the smell that the Wendigo gave off. It was like rotting carrion, sweet and ripe in the air. Arcturus felt as if it coated the back of his throat, so strongly did it reek of death. In his mind’s eyes, he could tell the demon was creeping up to him cautiously. Arcturus supposed that it must have not recognised his scent, since humans did not enter the ether. It was scared of the unknown – yet it approached nonetheless.
    â€˜Get back!’ Arcturus yelled, slamming the dirk through the keyhole, twisting and scraping at the mechanism within.
    He heard the skitter of claws as the Wendigo leaped away, like a startled bird. Even so, it was but a moment before he