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

to take his shoulder into Didric’s chest and send him to the ground. That was a mistake. As they tussled on the sticky floor, Didric managed to use his weight to his advantage. He wrapped a beefy arm around Fletcher’s neck and applied pressure. Fletcher’s vision bruised black and consciousness slipped from him. In a last-ditch effort, he sank his teeth into the bare skin of Didric’s wrist, so hard that he could feel the bones grinding. A screech of pain resounded in his ear and the arm withdrew. The relief left him dizzy as he gasped like a beached fish. He slammed his elbow into Didric’s armoured midriff and then spun into a crouch.
    Almost immediately, Didric was on him again, trying to flatten him on to the ground. This time Fletcher was ready, pulling in the same direction as Didric and using the fat boy’s momentum to roll on top of him. Then his fingers were around Didric’s throat, choking him with all the strength his hands could muster. Didric flapped at his neck, then his hand flew to his side.
    ‘Watch out!’ yelled Rotherham, and Fletcher jumped back just in time. A curved dagger sliced across his bright blue tunic and a streak of fire burned across his midriff. Beads of blood sprang up and stained the cloth red, yet Fletcher could feel it was just a scratch. Didric scrambled to his feet and swiped at him again, but Fletcher had backed away.
    Then Rotherham was there, his sword held at the base of Didric’s Adam’s apple.
    ‘What happened to “a deal’s a deal”?’ Rotherham growled, pressing forward so that Didric had to stumble backwards over Jackov’s unconscious body. Fletcher realised that the whole tavern was watching them. The only sound was Didric’s shrill gasps as he tried to speak, yet no words left his mouth.
    ‘What do you say, Fletcher? Shall we do to him what he tried to do to you? Your guts would be spilled on the floor right now if I hadn’t seen him go for that dagger,’ Rotherham proclaimed, so all the crowd could hear. This time, the murmurs were firmly on the soldier’s side.
    ‘No. I don’t think so, Rotherham. We must always be charitable to those less fortunate than ourselves.’ Fletcher’s voice dripped with disdain as he pushed Rotherham’s sword down. Before the words had even left his mouth, Didric scurried to the door, both Jakov and his sword left forgotten on the floor.
    The men in the tavern raised their voices in scorn as the door slammed behind him in his haste to leave. Laughter soon followed and the merrymaking began once again.
    ‘Come on,’ Fletcher said to Rotherham, his mind reeling with relief. ‘I’ll make you a bed in our forge. You won’t be safe anywhere else tonight.’

8
    Fletcher opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. The light that cut through his open window was glaringly bright. He sat up, shivering, and stumbled to close it, his breath pluming in the chill air. He must have left the window open in his drunken state.
    He blinked in the dark room, but could not see the soldier, only the pile of furs he had given him stacked in the corner. With a growing fear, Fletcher pushed his way outside and saw that Rotherham’s mule was gone; there was no sign of him anywhere.
    ‘Finally awake, are you?’ asked Berdon from behind him, his voice tinged with disapproval. He was standing by the forge with his arms crossed and a bemused look upon his face.
    Fletcher nodded, unable to speak as he felt the first wave of nausea hit him. He was never going to drink again.
    ‘The soldier filled me in on last night’s events before he left. I can’t say I approve of fighting, nor the rather too literal close shave you had. But I’m glad you gave that little upstart a seeing to,’ Berdon said with a rueful smile. He tousled Fletcher’s hair in rough affection, making his head shake dizzily. Fletcher retched and sprinted outside, before emptying the contents of his stomach on the cobbles.
    ‘Serves you right! Let that be a lesson to