The Gilded Gaze
Leaning down, she unwrapped the cloak away from its hidden treasure. The black
book inside came unearthed like an obsidian stone, so dark it seemed to soak in the light around it.
“Okay,” she breathed. “Now, let’s see what you-”
Her hand moved towards the chain. When she touched it, a small tingle raced up her arm, soft and fleeting like the wind from a bee’s wings. If not for her concentration she wouldn’t have noticed it at all.
A ward. Small and so very subtle. Not a defensive ward; those were loud like fireworks. This was…something more subdued. More sophisticated. She didn’t sense danger, but more like…deception.
She unraveled the chain around the book, cracking it open. A small plume of dust erupted as it spilled its contents, the weight of both sides of the tome hitting the cloak beneath it with every ounce of its weight.
Blank.
The pages were empty. She tossed the pages, one after the other in a search for anything. Every page, yellow and void.
A brief thrill of panic shot her. Had she wasted her time? What did-
The ward.
It was still there, the barest whisper. But it was there. Floria was amazed she could detect it all. A small sense of pride bubbled up within her; if there was one bit of magic she had any true talent in, it was picking up on small, subtle enchantments like this. A knack she’d had even before her first spell.
A parlor trick most of the time, but now…
Floria touched a finger against the golden chain of the tome, where the ward felt strongest. With closed eyes, she concentrated on its center. On its thrumming, buzzing heart of power. In her third eye, she saw the ward coiling around the essence of the tome like a snake, thin and gilded.
Her soul tugged against it. It snagged, then recoiled in a writhing, warbling hiss that sent waves of heat across her core.
“What the…”
This was old magic. Old and subtle. Old and sophisticated. Something from an era long forgotten. A line of power that wound itself around the pages, a puzzle begging to be solved. Almost an invitation, extended only to those that could see it.
She thought on the solution for five seconds. Then banged on the cover of the book with a balled fist of magic.
The thread snapped. She could almost sense the astonished panic of the ward as its long body reeled into itself, singing a song of pained defeat. It collapsed inwards into an ugly knot of mana, shrinking in moments.
With a final puff, it was gone. Vanished. The ward was gone, so small it felt like nothing had changed at all.
But when she opened her eyes, she could see what had changed.
The pages were full. Very, very full.
Almost black with ink, dense instructions and charts coating the parchments. She pumped her fists in the air with a shout of triumph, flipping through the pages with manic glee to take in everything she could in a blind skim.
Mana-
Summon-
Offer-
Portal-
Her eyes flew across the pages, scooping up choice words. As she races through the book, a picture began to emerge in her mind.
This wasn’t a normal book about magic. It was a grimoire. A true magician’s index.
She turned to the last page. There, the same eye that lay on the cover stared back at her. Only this time, wreathed in circles of runes and glyphs. Of powerful wards, and secret symbols.
A few she didn’t recognize.
A few she was pretty sure nobody recognized.
It struck her speechless. Not only a grimoire. It was a summoner’s guide.
Floria leaned back, blinking in unbelief. She couldn’t believe it. True grimoires were rare, and rarer still were the ones that detailed the rituals to summon a being of real power. Any yokel could summon an imp and interrogate it. But these were the words and notes of a mage who had summoned true entities of wisdom and lived to tell about it.
Wisdom like this was the most secret of the secret. The hardest of the hidden.
And she had one sitting in front of her.
With a newfound sense of resolve, she began to turn her fingers across the book, mind spinning from the possibilities. If this was a summoner’s book, the beings within could tell her so much! Teach her so much! And with that they revealed, she would have to know enough to-
She stopped turning, shaking her head. “No,” she breathed. “Don’t get too excited, Floria.”
Her rational mind remembered the downside to summonings.
They were dangerous.
Very dangerous.
And even from a cursory glance, she knew some of the entities here were powerful.
Beyond powerful.
Powerful and strange. She expected to see the names of Princes of Hell or the names of great spirits, but all the names she saw were alien to her.
She was in foreign territory, that much was sure. But that didn’t dissuade her, and she fluttered back to the start of the tome. She moved over to her desk, returning with a journal and quill. Placing a finger on the first line, she began to scan the notes for something useful.
— — — — — — — — — — — —
She had it.
It’d been four days.
Four very, very long days.
Four days of working her shift, then coming back to the tome of mysteries and poring over its contents. Squinting at the dense chicken-scratch and the riddles that led to greater discovery. Over four sleepless days, her journal had grown fat with names.
Names of beings. Prospective summons.
And one-by-one, lines across them.
Some were too dangerous. Some too alien. Some demanded offerings far beyond her capability to provide.
In four days, she’d narrowed it down to two.
The first, Vawwi the Lesser Demon of Judges. If the notes were accurate, he could tell her many secret things about the laws of the gods. As an offering, he demanded a lump of gold and the promise of a favor.
The second, a being of only one name. A being known only as Ssaalka There was no sketch of him. Only the symbol of that eye, surrounding by an ouroboros. Unlike Vawwi, the notes seemed to imply the author had never actually summoned him. Only theorized how.
For offerings, Ssaalka demanded…
The book.
It made little sense, but the notes were clear. Ssalka would only respond when the book itself was offered as payment. Only then could he be pulled from the realm beyond and bound.
She sat on her pillow, munching on an apple as she pondered over her options. Vawwi seemed like a “safe” bet; she had a bit of gold she’d been saving up, but it was the promise of a favor that bothered her. The idea of owing a favor to a demon, any demon, was something that made her mage’s instincts scream at her that it was a terrible idea.
But Ssaalka…the notes described him as wise, for sure. Crafty and sly. As knowledgeable as Vawwi, if not more. But if she gave up the book, that would be the end of her studies.
She took another bite, bitter water from the apple’s juicy flesh dribbling down her mouth. Maybe…
Three heavy knocks came at the door. She stood up straight, hair on end. With a hurried scramble, she threw her cloak onto the book and stumbled over to the door, forcing the wards away and poking her head outside.
“Hello…?” she blurted.
It was Lay’sa. Looking rather concerned.
“Lay’sa…?” Floria mumbled. “What are you-”
The elf grimaced with grit teeth, a look of deep concern weighing her brows. “Florry!” she whispered.
“What?” she replied. “Something happen?”
Lay’sa looked over her shoulder, then back to Floria. “No, not yet! Look! A few days ago, Ms. Praa’ta-
“Caught you sleeping. Yeah, I was there.”
“No, no that! She was looking up the library index and found out a book was missing! She thinks it was stolen!”
Floria’s blood went cold. “Um. Stolen?”
“Yeah! I’ve never seen her so mad! She went to the Chief Librarian and everything! She’s on the warpath, Florry!”
“…What did this book look like?”
Lay’sa squinted in deep thought. “I think she said it was red? Had a bird the cover.”
An icy dread pulled away. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. It was called like, The Tides of Magic or something. She thinks one of the librarians took it, Florry! They’re checking everyone’s rooms on our wing!”
Floria’s face went blank. “What.”
“Yeah! They already checked mine! They didn’t find anything, but I think you’re next, Florry!”
She stood up straight. “When?”
“Tomorrow, I think!”
“How do you know?”
Lay’sa dug into her pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper, messy handwriting scrawled across its wrinkled surface. “Ms. Praa’ta had a schedule. Copied it when she wasn’t looking.”
Floria closed her eyes with a heavy sigh. “Of course she’d have a timetable. And I’m up next?”
Lay’sa held out the note in front of her. “Hmmmm. Yep. Noon tomorrow. Even wrote yours twice to make sure.”
This complicated things. Floria could only stare at the elf, squinting at her own handwriting with one closed eye. Her curiosity forged a question.
“Why are you telling me this, Lace?”
The elf shrugged. “I mean. You’re kind of on thin ice as it is, right? Ms. Praa’ta wants to catch whoever stole the book but I think she’s also just looking for an excuse to get rid of you.”
She tapped the ends of her fingers together sheepishly. “And, you know. We assistant deputy librarian girls gotta look out for each other, right?”
Her words planted a seed of ease in Floria’s mind. She nodded in genuine thanks. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Need help cleaning up?” Lay’sa offered.
“No thanks. Just gotta…move a few things.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Because I-”
Floria leaned forward, pulling the elf into a hug. “Thanks, Lace. I mean that.”
The embrace was brief. She let go in only a moment, pulling back into her room.
“Do me a favor, okay?” she intoned, pointing to the crumpled note in the elf’s hand. “Do not let Ms. Praa’ta catch you with that. Burn it, please.”
Lay’sa faked a salute. “Yes ma’am, Floria ma’am!”
With a final nod, Floria sent the elf off. Lay’sa turned, walking down the hallway and rounding the corner out of sight.
She slammed the door, back against the wood.
Noon.
Noon
tomorrow.
She could try to hide the book in her quarters, but she knew Ms. Praa’ta. There was nothing to hide from her. It was only by a fluke that she managed to smuggle in the book at all. She could always return it. Put it back where it was, but that would mean risking another venture to smuggle it back in. And the book could always be found by someone else.
“Crap.”
She weighed her options, walking over to the coat and ripping it off. She stared down at the eye symbol in the center of the page.
“Alright,” she started. “You win, Ssalka.”
A gamble. There was always the chance this demon or whatever he was would tell her nothing, or gods forbid, she messed up the seals.
But this was not a time for caution. This was her magical career she was dealing with, something any sane wizard put above even their own safety.
Especially their own safety.
She sat down, picking up her half-finished apple, and stole another bite.
Time to get to work.
— — — — — — — — — —
Over the hours, the complex shape of the summoning circle had taken form on the bare wall of Floria’s room.
One large perfect ring, a smaller circle straddling its top. Five rings of sealing magic, humming with idle power. Wax seals, straddling the lines of power as flat, crimson nodes. Five outer ringers for safety, and more wax seals outside of those.
Better safe than sorry.
A smaller circle lay on the floor, where the book lay open, settled between the glyphs she’d traced.
With a final flick of her wrist, the last spell seared itself into the shape of the circle. In the blank space of the central ring, an eye drew into glowing existence. The eye of the book. The central nexus. It would draw the one named Ssalka from wherever he lurked.
She stepped back, hands on her hips. Admiring her work with a small smile. It hadn’t been easy. There’d been a few false starts. But now, she’d outdone herself.
“Not bad, Floria,” she said to herself. “Not bad at all.”
The only thing left now was the summoning. She glanced at the small clock on her nightstand. It was near midnight now.
Perfect.
She turned towards the door, extending her hand and squeezing taught on the wards within it. Checking to make sure all the wards of privacy yet remained, to seal the noise and the presence of intruders.
And if something should go wrong…shield the library from her stupidity.
“Nah,” she whispered. “I got this. I got this.”
One step, two. Stepping around the smaller circle that lay under the book. Sitting down cross-legged onto the cushion that lay in front of it.
It was ready.
Her eyes fell shut, a breath of anticipation rising in her chest. A deep breath in, long and slow. Out, longer and slower.
“Okay, Ssalka. Let’s see what you know.”
She lowered herself in a steady bow, placing her hands on both sides of the book. From within, a spark kindled deep in her soul. A whisper of her true power, filling the circle underneath the book. Her hands pulsed blue, auras of power engulfing them like flowing curtains as she began to pour her energy into the circle.
The summoning had begun. The circle on the wall pulsed, the dull glow gradually growing brighter.
So far, so good.
She waited. More energy. More prodding. Instinct and theory both guiding her through the veil of spirit. In her mind’s eye, something beyond the words of men. A feeling of loneliness. Of pride.
Floria wasn’t alone. Then she was. Legions of spirits flew past her, then voids of utter nothing.
A door. A hole. It opened. It closed. She journeyed for a thousand miles in the desert in seconds, then stopped to drink at an oasis where the water ran silver with learning. The oasis melted into the sand, and from them appeared a shining black gate.
There.
She spoke aloud, calling out in reverent tone.
Ssalka!” she cried. “I, Floria Alwinday, demand your presence! I bring what you seek, so you may bring to me what I must know! Ssalka of the Rivers! Ssalka of the Coiling Truth! I summon you!”
Silver water crashed into her soul. A gasp escaped her, drowned in quicksilver mana as something in the abyss turned its attention to her. Something big.
Something…interested.
“Ssalka! By the Mage’s Pact and Contract Offered, I summon you here! In this time! And in this place!”
A blue glaze came over her eyes. Glowing blue with the power of the summon, arcs of electric charge crackling off her arm. She forced a hand, her palm glowing with a sapphire blaze. Focusing and willing on the presence she could feel beyond the circle’s gate.
It began to glow. Brighter. A swelling surge of light, sealed in the lines of the runes that built in their mighty blinding brilliance. Bright as the sun, then bright as the birth of a nova. Bright as the beginning.
Her glowing eyes remained fixed, arm steady and shaking as she drew the presence. Goading it, coaxing it. Even an offer wasn’t enough; this was a battle of wills. To show this thing that she was serious.
“Ssalka,” she hissed. “Come. Out.”
At all once, the light of the summoning circle blinked out. Blinked out and drew inwards, filling the empty gaps between the glowing wheel. A shimmering blank slate appeared in the center, growing outward until it bulged against the circle’s seals.
A portal.
It was open.
And it was coming through.
The light died in her eyes, fading away to her normal blue. She froze, her mind reeling from the fatigue of the summoning and from what lay ahead of her. A fell wind filled the room, blowing open book covers and journals. Stray paper notes filled the air in tiny cyclones as the full circle began to change.
Began to move.
She watched with wide eyes as something moved against the glow of the portal. Moving from it, pushing forward like something under heavy blankets.
A sizzling sound tickled her ears. She jerked her down, gasping out in surprise as the heavy book in the smaller circle began to dissolve. It simply…disintegrated, golden pieces of it fluttering away like ash on the wind.
Her breathing quickened, triumph and fear smashing together in a whole new emotion that gripped her body in a warm-cold embrace. She’d done it. She’d done it!
Her summons had been accepted, and the price paid.
“I did it,” she muttered. She jumped up, celebrating with a tiny hop.
At that moment a hand broke through the portal’s light.
She froze, mouth going slack.
Not a hand. A…claw. Five fingers with golden rings, ending in sharpened claws.
Scales. Coal-black yet shining. An arm, long and muscular.
Floria stepped back. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but…
Another hand broke free of the light. This one curling around the portal’s edge, the long talons tapping against the hard concrete of her room. The index finger tapped once, twice.
The other hand moved, its palm pressing against the edge of the portal. Bracing.
Her summons revealed itself, dragging their body in a single, long movement. A snout emerged first, with those same black scales. A serpentine mouth, where a golden forked tongue flickered out in a testing taste. A snakelike head, with eyes of alluring yellow and black slit pupils. And underbelly of dark-gray, winding up to the bottom of its mouth.
The head of a naga, but none like she’d ever read about. A hood flared on both sides of its head, and golden lines traced its face. And across one eye, the golden tattoo of the book, stark against the black of its skin.
And finery. All of it gold. Thick rings attached one of its hoods, a nose stud shining above one nostril. A necklace, so thick with gold it was nearly a curtain.
More of it emerged, slithering out in a predatory prowl. The torso was attached to a tail, long and heavy.
It was a naga. A hooded naga of black and gold.
And every part of it radiated royalty.
It moved forward, the back half of its body still stuck in the portal. Rose, head nearly touching the ceiling and looked down on her, its gaze demanding a reply.
They met. Human and summons, locking eyes. It regarded her with a cold stare, its tongue flicking out again in her direction.
Its gaze…
It…
Her knees dropped beneath her. She stumbled, then caught herself and stood up straighter than before. Raising an arm, she bravely pointed at the being, clearing her throat for the most authoritative voice she could muster.
“Ssalka!” she barked. “I’m the one who summoned you!”
The being craned its head, raising one brow.
“And I’m the one you’ll obey!” she continued.
So long as the seals hold…
The being tilted its head to the other side, flicking its tongue once again. It was silent for a moment, studying her with scrutinizing glare.
And then, it smiled.
A small, sly grin. It moved, lowering its body from the near-ceiling down to her. Until its head was nearly level with her, gazing into her eyes with those fiery…
And then, finally, it spoke. A tempting, cool voice; a poetic hiss, easy like noble’s music. Breathy, yet inviting.
“And so. We come to terms.”
She stepped back. “You. You can talk. My language.”
He raised one hand, miming the act of gabbing. “I can now. Just needed to hear a few sentences in your lovely voice.”
It edged his head forward, sly grin growing cocky as his tongue flickered. “And I must say. Someone finally found that book. I must…thank you. Sincerely.”
“Remember the rules, Florry,” her memory reminded. “Never, ever trust a summons. They will bargain, they will seduce, they will tell half-truths. Anything to fool the summoner and escape.”
The naga moved back, holding out his bangled arms in a diplomatic shrug. “The price is paid, and I’ve accepted.”
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