Arcturus stabbed his dirk into the crack on the edge of the box and heaved. The wood creaked under the strain, then the nails gave way and the lid crashed to the ground.

There was a low growl from inside, before Sacharissa bounded out. Her fur stood on end and she snarled, spinning in a circle to scope out her surroundings. It was only when she saw Arcturus that she calmed, snuffling at his feet before lapping his hand with a rough, wet tongue.

"It's okay, girl. The Favershams won't hurt us here. Not if I can help it," Arcturus brandished his dirk so she could see the blade, then slipped it back into the scabbard on his boot.

A cloud drifted across the moon, casting the courtyard in a shroud of darkness. Arcturus could barely make out the doors, but he stumbled up the stairs regardless, his hands outstretched in front of him. Sacharissa followed behind, bumping against his shins in her attempts to keep close by.

Before he could knock on the doors, they swung open unexpectedly. The inside was brightly lit and he shielded his eyes as a figure stepped out, brandishing a torch. Arcturus gaped when his eyes adjusted to the glare. It was a dwarf!

Of course, Arcturus had heard of the dwarves, though they were rarely seen in the north of Hominum, where he had grown up. This one appeared almost exactly as he had imagined, standing as tall as his midriff. The dwarf was stockily built, as all his people were, with long, red hair kept in a ponytail and a braided moustache and beard. He wore a simple servant's uniform—plain green with a red sash around the middle.

"Welcome to Vocans, my lord," the dwarf said in a deep, respectful voice. "Please, come in out of the cold."

Arcturus did as he asked, speechless. Sacharissa gave the dwarf a suspicious sniff before entering, then sat protectively beside Arcturus.

"I see you already have a Canid. A fine specimen, if you don't mind me saying so." The dwarf held out a thick, callused finger for the demon to sniff. Sacharissa snorted disdainfully and flicked her tail, then walked further into the castle.

The room they were in was an enormous hall, with identical winding staircases on either side. They stopped at intervals on five levels, each one complete with a long balcony bordered by gilded metal railings. The ceiling was supported by giant oak beams, and Arcturus could see a dome of glass in the very center that would allow natural light to illuminate the room in the daytime. All around, the walls were ensconced torches, casting pools of flickering light that made the marble floor look like shifting water.

"We call it the Atrium. Beautiful isn't it?" the dwarf said proudly.

"It is," Arcturus breathed. At the very end of the hall, there was another set of doors, just as large as those behind him. But it was the archway above that took his breath away, for it was intricately carved with the twisting figures of a thousand demons. Their eyes were set with a myriad of glittering jewels, and the shifting shadows of the torchlight made it appear as if the creatures were alive. He tried to spot a Canid like Sacharissa among them, but it was near impossible, given the countless species that danced along the stonework.

"Well, come on. I have to take you to your quarters. Most of the other nobles are sleeping, but you'll get a chance to meet them in the morning. Do you have baggage, my lord?" the dwarf asked.

"No baggage," Arcturus said, spinning to show the dwarf his rucksack. "But hang on, I'm not a—"

"Follow me," the dwarf interrupted, before Arcturus could finish.

The dwarf led him up the east staircase, holding the torch aloft to light their way. They continued all the way to the top floor, though Arcturus caught tantalizing glimpses of tapestries and paintings as they passed each level. He was disappointed to find the walls relatively bare when they finally left the staircase and made their way down a long corridor, but was fascinated by the suits of armour that lined the way. The occasional crumpled breastplate or crushed helmet revealed that they had once seen battle, and he realized with a gulp that he might someday face the creatures that had broken them. Sacharissa sensed his fear and began to whine, but he settled her with a scratch behind the ears.

Once or twice he saw orcish javelins and arrowheads, preserved on velvet cushions behind glass cabinets, but the dwarf walked surprisingly fast for one with such short legs, and Arcturus could not pause to examine them further. After what seemed an age, the dwarf stopped by a door and pushed it open.

"I will let the Provost know you have arrived. Your uniform is on the bed, although I know most of you like to have a tailor make a fresh one. Still, it's there if you need it. If you need anything else, ask for me, Ulfr. I'll do my best to assist you." Before Arcturus could open his mouth, Ulfr had ushered him inside and closed the door behind him.

The room was enormous; almost the size of the stable Arcturus had worked in, with high ceilings and a chandelier lit by a ring of thin candles. The walls were lined with awnings of red and gold, and the carpet beneath his feet was a deep, white shag that Sacharissa immediately began to roll around on, rubbing her back against the fabric.

The bed was a king-sized four poster, with a mattress so thick and plush that it would be difficult to climb into. Arcturus wasted no time in diving across it, revelling in the springy bounce and the silky, satin sheets.

"Up you come, Sacharissa. There's room for both of us," Arcturus laughed, patting the space beside him. Sacharissa yapped with excitement, bounding on to the bed in one fluid leap. Her feet caught in the uniform at the foot of the bed, and Arcturus untangled it and held it up for them to inspect.

"Fancy," Arcturus murmured. The jacket was double-breasted, made from a deep blue velvet and held in place by shining gold buttons. It looked too showy to be a military uniform, but then Arcturus was no expert and Elizabeth's clothing had been just as ornate. He let his feet dangle off the side of the bed and undressed, before shrugging on the uniform. He was pleasantly surprised to find that it fit him well and the material was as soft as the bed sheets he sat on.

"I could get used to this," he murmured, rubbing Sacharissa under the chin. Life wasn't so bad after all.

The echo of footsteps from outside disturbed his thoughts, then the door slammed open. This time, it wasn't a dwarf.

A man stood in the doorway, so tall and brawny that he had to stoop to enter. He was resplendent in the red uniform of a General, with tasselled epaulettes on his shoulders and rows of medals pinned to his chest. His hair was made up of blond curls, which tumbled across his shoulders in an aureate mane. The man was smiling when he stepped into the room, but as soon as he laid eyes on Arcturus he froze. His face was handsome, with chiselled features and a square jaw, but it turned ugly as it twisted into a furious scowl.

"Ulfr!" the man bellowed, balling his hands into fists. "Come here, immediately."

"What is it, Lord Forsyth?" Ulfr asked, scurrying in behind him. He kept his eyes low and gave a half bow as Forsyth turned on him.

"Why is this peasant in Charles Faversham's room?" Forsyth's voice was deep and threatening.

"Is he ... but he ..." Ulfr stuttered, his eyes flicking nervously from Arcturus to Forsyth.

"But nothing!" Forsyth growled, grasping the dwarf by his beard and lifting him so he had to stand on tiptoes.

"Hang on a minute," Arcturus interjected, standing up. "I didn't tell him who I was—"

"I'll deal with you in a minute," Forsyth snarled, his grey eyes flashing with anger. Arcturus fell silent, lost for words. The venom in the man's voice had turned his insides cold.

"My lord, it was an accident. You told me Charles would be arriving tonight, so I assumed ..." He trailed off.

"You assumed this filthy urchin was the son and heir to Lord and Lady Faversham, did you?" Lord Forsyth said, lifting the dwarf still higher.

Suddenly, he punched the dwarf in the head, grunting with effort. There was a sickening crack of knuckles against skull and Ulfr sprawled across the carpet.

"Hey!" Arcturus yelled, rushing to Ulfr's side. The blow would have knocked the senses from any human, but the dwarf was only stunned for a moment, before cradling his head in his hands.

"A halfwit and a half-man. Though the two often go hand in hand." Forsyth laughed, rubbing his knuckles. Arcturus recognized the racist term "half-man" and felt disgusted. Sacharissa gave a low growl as she felt his anger and padded toward Forsyth, but Arcturus calmed her with a thought. He did not want to make the situation any worse.

 "When you've recovered your wits – if you had any to begin with – take the peasant to the empty room at the top of the northeastern tower," Forsyth commanded. He swept out of the room without a backward glance.

"Are you OK?" Arcturus asked, trying to lift Ulfr to his feet.

"Get off me, human," the dwarf barked. Arcturus released him as if he had been stung.

"And you wonder why the dwarves rebel against you so often," Ulfr muttered bitterly, rubbing his temple. Already, a large lump was forming on the side of his head.

Arcturus understood the hatred that dwarves felt toward humans, for even he knew of how the humans had overthrown the dwarves millennia ago, reducing them to second-class citizens in their own homeland.

"I'm not like him," Arcturus whispered.

"There's nobody like Obadiah Forsyth," Ulfr replied, hauling himself to his feet. "But he is the black to your grey. In the end, you are all stained with the evil that is the human condition."

Arcturus bit back a retort and started gathering his things. Ulfr was already walking out of the room when he had finished.

"I hope there's a bed where we're going," Arcturus said, tugging a reluctant Sacharissa behind him. She clearly didn't want to leave the plush carpet in Charles's room.

"It has all the essentials. It's where the Provost sends students as a punishment if they break the rules. Solitary confinement and all that," Ulfr replied, turning into another stairwell at the end of the corridor.

"What's a Provost?" Arcturus's voice echoed in the tight confines of the staircase.

"A headmaster of sorts. He runs the academy, decides who graduates and sets the curriculum. You might say he's the highest authority at Vocans."

"When do I get to meet him?" Arcturus asked. Ulfr ignored him and turned into an empty chamber with two doors. He took him down the left one and they entered a narrow corridor.

"Storage rooms," Ulfr grunted, pointing at the identical doors on either side. He pushed open a door at the very end and showed Arcturus a bare room with a thin pallet bed in the corner, with a simple desk and cabinet crammed against the far wall. An arrow slit allowed a cold gust of wind into the room and Arcturus felt the hair on his arms stiffen with gooseflesh.

"Home sweet home. If you need anything, keep it to yourself. I'm paid to serve the nobleborn children, not freaks like you. Common summoners. It's not natural!" Ulfr shook his head and began to walk away.

"I want to tell the Provost how poorly the servants are treated here. When do I get to meet him?" Arcturus asked again, hoping to make peace with the dwarf.

Ulfr turned and gave Arcturus a bitter laugh.

"You've already met him. The Provost is Obadiah Forsyth."

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Thanks for reading Chapter 5. The dwarves don't have an easy time of it, do they?

Did you know that ORIGINS continues with a full novel called THE OUTCAST? You can read ALL of Arcturus's story in May, 2018, coming to a store near you or available online in all the usual places! 

The sequel to this book, THE NOVICE, is out RIGHT NOW all over the world! You can pick one up in most bookstores including Barnes and Noble and Waterstones. It's also available online on Amazon, Kindle, iBooks, Kobo, Nook and Google Play, to name but a few!