“You don’t have anyone who can teach me electricity?!” he protested, mouth agape at the revelation.

  “No. Unfortunately, not. Our powers operate quite differently from yours. They are woven into the very fiber of our being. Yours, we suspect, were inserted artificially. Humans don’t even have essence, and we don’t know why Summons are any different. As such, we can’t have anyone teach you how to use your powers because no one uses their own in quite the same way.”

  He slumped to the ground, feeling deflated.

  “Now I know that this is not what you wanted to hear, but rest easy. You will overcome this block you speak of soon enough.”

  “And how can you be sure of that?” he asked curiously, with a hint of anger creeping into his voice.

  “Because every Summon we know of is immensely powerful. Far more than even our strongest warriors.” Thomas’s ears pricked up at the suggestion. Oshil had said something similar about the power of a Summon.

  “Just… how powerful?” he asked, craning his neck up to Akesh. The ekari looked down to meet his gaze.

  “It varies from Summon to Summon, but your predecessor was, for lack of a better term, a one-woman army.” Thomas’s eyes widened. How could that be possible? Was Akesh exaggerating? He remained silent, allowing him to continue.

  “Her name was Maeve. She was a fire wielder and unmatched by any in combat. Even among the humans, she had an unquenchable thirst for bloodshed, making her ruthless in battle. She took joy from the pain of those she felled, and none could stand against her ferocity. For a time, we tried, but we lost too many warriors. Ultimately, the Chief ordered us to keep our distance, hoping eventually she would burn out—succumbing to her depraved love for battle,” he said, his eyes intense.

  “It is with great relief that I can say it worked, for you are here, so somebody must have taken her life. Who we have to thank for this, I have no idea, as she and the humans stopped entering the forest years ago. I suspect she fell at the hands of one of the other human kingdoms. Most likely their Summon,” he surmised.

  “Yet even if you were not standing beside me as an ally and instead at the command of Valoria, I would be glad. Maeve was a monster,” he said firmly, “and if she had marched on this village, I am not certain we would have been able to repel her.”

  Thomas struggled to imagine a person of such might. To think that one woman could threaten the entire village—it was hard to fathom.

  “And what of the other Summons? Are they on her level?” he asked. Akesh thought for a moment, stroking his chin.

  “Maeve was an exceptional case. All Summons are mighty, but Maeve was the strongest Summon we had ever seen. There may be more powerful Summons out there, but they are spread amongst the human kingdoms, and we know little about them. It’s mostly hearsay, snippets we learn of in passing.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s right. The Chief mentioned that the Summoning Gates are dispersed across the land.” Akesh nodded.

  “Eight kingdoms. Eight Summoning Gates. Eight Summons. Fortunately, each Summon generally restricts their activity to their respective kingdom, only venturing out on occasion. Usually for conquest. I dread to think of the havoc they could wreak if they combined forces. Thankfully, that will never happen as each kingdom relies on its Summon. If they leave for too long, the kingdom is vulnerable. It’s not just the monsters they fight, but other kingdoms too”.

  An earth-shattering crack resounded to Thomas’s left, jolting him out of the conversation.

  “Whoopsie,” Krag sniggered, holding a splintered wooden handle in his hand. The remnants of his war club lay scattered across the ground. He turned to Akesh, “Don’t tell Luran!” he pleaded.

  A faint smile grew on the instructor’s lips, and he nodded. Krag quickly looked around with visible concern, as if expecting Luran to be watching. With no sight of the man, he pushed the remains of his splintered war club into a small hole in the ground with his foot and pocketed the handle as it didn’t fit.

  Frankly, the hulking ekari had done a terrible job trying to hide his blunder, for bits of wood still stuck out of the ground that would surely not escape Luran’s notice. He once again looked around to ensure Luran wasn’t observing him.

  “Tommy!” Krag boomed, spotting him. He smiled ear to ear and began pacing in his direction, “I saw your fight with Luran earlier. You did reallllly good.” Thomas looked past him to Elarissé, who hadn’t moved and was scowling at him.

  “Gee, thanks, Krag. I didn’t think I did very well, but I’m glad you thought so!” Krag wrapped his muscular arms around his shoulders and gave a squeeze. To Krag, it was probably little more than a hug, but to him, it felt like he was getting the life squeezed out of him by a 15-foot boa constrictor. He was glad it lasted but a second.

  “Hey! We’re done for the day. Let’s go and get some grub!” Krag announced excitedly. “They are serving darsilla. One of my favorites!” he said, squealing in excitement like a little girl. Before Thomas could respond, Krag began marching to the Eating Hall, guiding him along as he went. It would be nice not to eat alone for once. Suddenly, Krag stopped in his tracks, realizing Elarissé was absent.

  “Ela, come on. What are you doing just standing there?” Elarissé softened her scowl.

  “I’m making my own meal tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Thomas surprised himself by choosing to speak up.

  “I’d like for you to come,” he said, smiling warmly. Her scowl returned in full force.

  “Well, I don’t want to come,” she barked with a furrowed brow. There was an awkward silence which was promptly broken by Krag.

  “Suit yourself!” he chuckled, placing an arm around Thomas’s shoulder and spinning the pair around, “Who’d miss out on darsilla night? Silly girl.”

  They arrived to find the Eating Hall bustling. It was much busier than previously; perhaps darsilla meat wasn’t just popular with Krag. He looked up at hulking ekari, who was salivating next to him in the queue, and couldn’t help but smile.

  As the pair approached the serving area, he noted that each person received different portion sizes. The bigger the person, the larger the portion. It made complete sense, but it was strange to see it served this way, given the setting. He couldn’t shake the fact that the Eating Hall felt like a commercial establishment despite the fact it wasn't.

  Krag arrived at the meat section and received a particularly large slab of darsilla meat, yet he wasn't satisfied. He looked up at the server with puppy dog eyes, campaigning for more. She gave an exasperated sigh and placed an additional chunk of meat onto his plate, and he almost jumped for joy.

  The server placed a more reasonable meat portion onto Thomas’s plate with a solemn glare. He certainly wasn’t getting any more out of her. Not that he needed any. An ekari’s appetite was extreme, and a regular-sized meal for them would leave him absolutely stuffed.

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  Krag led the way and seated them adjacent to a large group. Upon their arrival, the group promptly left, but Krag didn’t seem to realize that they were the cause. Perhaps because he was so engrossed in his meal. He piled in great big forkfuls of something grainy that resembled couscous and sawed away at his meat with glee.

  “So, Tommy, what do you think of the place?” he asked, briefly glancing up at him in between mouthfuls of food.

  “It’s an adjustment, but it’s not been so bad,” he answered honestly.

  “Trust me, you’re going to love it here!” he insisted, “I figured your first few days would be awful,” he jested, almost choking on his food. “So if things are okay now, they’ll be awesome in the end,” he added.

  Thomas pushed around the chunks of meat on his plate before jabbing one and plopping it into his mouth. It wasn’t as rare as he liked his meat, but there was plenty of flavor. Certainly an upgrade from that tough and bland palven meat.

  “Anyway, enough about me, Krag. Tell me about you.” The mountain of an ekari smiled warmly.

  “Well, my full name is Kragetherion, but you know that much already,” he laughed, scratching the back of his head. “I’m a warrior, and the strongest of our clan,” he grinned, flexing his bicep, before quickly correcting himself. “Well, I am the strongest, but I'm not the best fighter. That would be Akesh.” He stopped speaking, but Thomas remained silent, encouraging him to continue.

  “I like to fight, eat, and lift heavy things. Those are my three loves. Ooo, actually, there's a fourth. Yishi, my pet ferret. He’s usually around, not sure where he is right now, though,” Krag said, looking over his shoulder for any sight of the animal.

  “How about you, Tommy? What do you like?” He thought for a moment.

  “I like music, television shows, reading, and carving.” Krag scrunched up his face.

  “Television shows?” he asked, spelling out the alien words.

  “Oh yes, that’s right. You don’t have anything like that here. Umm, let me think. Imagine people re-enacting a story and then capturing it so that other people can watch it. That’s kind of what television shows are.” Krag squinted for a while, trying to visualize the concept.

  “That’s super weird!” he said, “Why do you like that?”

  “Because it’s entertaining.” He racked his brain trying to think of a way to make Krag understand. “Imagine your best fight right,” he began.

  “Oh yeah. How could I forget?” Krag responded with a cheeky smile while cracking his knuckles.

  “Well, imagine there was a way for other people to see your fight who weren’t there. Anyone in the world. Even if they’re not alive yet. This… recording would last forever, so anyone can see it.” It wasn’t the best explanation of a television show, but it was one he believed Krag would understand.

  “YES!” the large man boomed, standing to his feet, knocking his chair to the ground. Diners looked around to see the source of the commotion. As soon as they realized it was Krag, they returned to eating. “Everyone watching my best fight. There is nothing more cool!” he announced, his eyes full of wonder, before floating back to his seat as if carefully set down by a cloud.

  “How do we make one of these 'television shows' as you put them?” he asked, leaning in with a studying eye. Oh dear, he’d got the man all excited over nothing.

  “Sorry, Krag, but I’m afraid the technology doesn’t exist here. Well, it might in the human kingdoms, but I very much doubt it.”

  Assuming technological progression aligned with back home, he suspected this world was a long way off from TV shows. Based on the ekari’s current capabilities, he estimated the humans were likely somewhere in the medieval period. Any further along and guns would be around. This would surely mark the end for monsters unless they adapted somehow. Krag sighed in disappointment.

  “Goodbye, epic fight,” he said, nearly shedding a tear and treating his sadness with a fresh mouthful of meat. “At least we have the other three: music, reading, and carving. We sing songs all the time. There are plenty of books in the library. And would you look at all that wood!” he gasped, pointing out the door to the forest. Thomas giggled.

  “I suppose there is rather a lot.”

  “How about dancing? Do you like that?” Krag asked. Thomas quickly responded.

  “Oh, no, no. There isn’t a dancing bone in my body. It’s strictly listening to music for me.”

  “That’s a shame. Ela loves to dance,” he said, “And she’s really good at it! She’s also great at singing too!”

  “Is she now?” Thomas responded, surprised by the statement. Dancing, he could imagine, but singing? From a brutish woman like that? He couldn’t imagine it.”

  “I’m not sure when the next song is, but I’ll come and get you when I know.”

  “Thanks,” Thomas said, warmed by the gesture. He didn’t expect much from the music of the ekari, but he was mighty intrigued. Would they sing in some strange style like the Inuits who practiced throat singing? And what instruments would they use? He hadn’t seen any around the village.

  “Hey! I’ve got an idea! As you like reading so much, why don’t you stop by the library tomorrow?”

  Thomas thought on it. The Shiver Stag horn had certainly reduced the swelling of his hand, but it was still very badly bruised—he didn’t want to make it worse by training tomorrow. On the other hand, he did want to start learning more about this world, and the library was the perfect place for that.

  “That’s an excellent idea, Krag. You know what? I think I will.” Krag sat back in his chair, arms folded, beaming at the compliment. Luran pulled out a chair beside him.

  “What are you so prideful about, Big Guy? he asked, slapping his shoulder as he sat down.”

  “Well, I,” he said, pausing for dramatic effect, “just had the excellent idea for Tommy to go to the library tomorrow.” Luran narrowed his eyes, looking at Thomas.

  “What about your training? Given up already, have we?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Thomas snapped. “But look at my hand,” he said, presenting it before Luran. “It’s badly bruised, and I don’t want to make it worse.” Luran studied the hand and turned it over to see if the bruising went through to the other side, which it hadn't.

  “Yes, it’s a nasty bruise, but this isn’t your sword hand,” Luran explained, “besides, it will be mostly healed in a few days.” Thomas grunted, withdrawing his hand from Luran’s grasp. “Relax, I’m not going to make you train with the sword tomorrow,” Luran assured him.

  “Thank you,” Thomas responded appreciatively, nodding his way.

  “We are going hunting instead.”

  “We are going hu—”

  “Ooo, hunting!” Krag interjected. “You’re going to love this, Tommy!”

  What was Luran thinking? He couldn’t fight with a sword, and his hand was injured. Throwing him into the dangers of the forest was beyond reckless. If he didn't know any better, he’d think that Luran was trying to get him killed.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he said, his voice stern.

  “Of course I am,” Luran attested. “You haven’t been out to hunt yet, and it is a vital skill as a warrior. We don’t just fight, you know. As the strongest ekari, all the most dangerous tasks fall to us: tracking, hunting, escorting, you name it, we do it. The sooner we can get you trained up, the better. Besides, I’ve noticed that you and Elarissé don’t get on. That needs to change. As a war band, we need to be able to rely on each other. Distrust will get one of us killed. And if I had to bet on anyone, it would be you.”

  Thomas scowled before looking away.

  “Don’t worry, Tommy. I won’t let you get killed! You can count on me!” Krag smiled, clenching his fist.

  “Well, thank you, Krag. It’s nice to know I can count on someone,” Thomas said, nodding at him.

  There was no denying that he and Elarissé weren’t on friendly terms—she sure as hell didn’t trust him. Yet it was glaringly obvious that Luran felt much the same way. It was silly for him to imply otherwise by focusing solely on her. Why didn’t he lead by example and start putting a little faith in him? Perhaps then, something loosely resembling friendship might form, given time.

  He stifled a laugh. He and Luran would never be friends. There was a greater chance of winning the lottery. And the lottery didn’t even exist here!

  Sighing, he thought more on the matter. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to be friends with this guy. He was conceited, cold, and took great delight in his suffering. Yet he couldn’t deny that he saw good qualities in him. Luran was strong, insightful, and fiercely protective of his friends. As such, condemning their relationship to the gutter felt a touch foolhardy.

  If he wanted their relationship to move past disdain, the first step was gaining his trust. But something as arduous as this would not be given so easily. If he wanted his trust, he would have to earn it.