From the waist down, she was a mass of scaly coils, a dull teal in color. It was difficult to tell how…well, how long she was, due to the fact that her coils were wrapped around each other, creating a comfortable position to keep her torso upright. Waist up, she was rather less snake. She was still covered in scales, but they were smaller and finer, especially on her hands and face. Other than the scales, she looked the same as any human female. Except that she wasn’t wearing anything, not really. She had incredibly long, thick, black hair that covered her back and chest, and it was braided rather skillfully—and strategically. Her hair was basically her clothes; it was woven to cover her breasts, but the intricate pattern still left most of her chest and stomach exposed.
Technically she was decent, but Toman and Esset were still getting far more of an eyeful than they were used to, even after their stay with Erizen. And she was remarkably curvy and beautiful…if one ignored the scales and the coils below and the two black indentations on either side of the bridge of her nose. Her eyes could be slightly unnerving too—there was something not-quite-human about them. They were a bright teal, the same shade as her scales, but brighter, and they were reptilian, not human; it was clear those pupils would change into slits under the right lighting conditions. In the dim evening light in the tavern, however, her eyes could almost pass as human.
“Boys, this is Lady Nassata of the Nadra. I gather from your stunned expressions you’ve never met anyone from her race before,” Sergeant Warthog said dryly.
Esset coughed, trying to regain lost composure. “Ah, no. It’s a pleasure, Lady Nassata. I am Summoner Jonathan Esset, and this is Animator Toman Atrix-Iiren.” Esset offered his hand, intending to take her hand to kiss it as he would any lady’s, but she took it in a clasp instead. Toman took off his floppy-brimmed hat in respect as he greeted her, and she clasped Toman’s arm immediately afterwards, speaking as she did so. Her voice was soft, but not very feminine, and unusual; it rang a bit hollow, with additional sibilance.
“Gretchen is ever introducing me as ‘Lady,’ insisting it will grant me more respect here than my true title of ‘Warrior.’ Please, Warrior Nassata, or simply Nassata, will suffice,” the Nadra replied. Her tongue was briefly visible as she spoke; it split into a fork at the end and was a shade similar to her scales, but a bit darker.
“Well met,” Toman responded. “I’m Toman, he’s Esset.” He jerked a thumb at his brother. It was only then that they noticed her weapon, which she’d left leaning against the side of table. It was a long spear, forged entirely of some strange, dark metal that neither of them recognized. There was also a bag made of what looked like snakeskin on the ground beside her.
“Better,” Nassata agreed. “Now, Gretchen tells me she intends to recruit the two of you to help me and my people.” She glanced sidelong at the sergeant.
“They have a rather unique skill set, one that will hopefully be useful,” the sergeant replied. “If you describe your problem to them, I think they’ll agree.”
“I came prepared to hire a group, even a mercenary company…” Nassata objected, clearly not understanding how these two people would be of much use to her.
“Trust me, Nassata. Tell them your troubles,” Sergeant Warthog replied, placing a hand on the Nadran warrior’s shoulder. Nassata regarded them seriously for a moment before speaking.
“We Nadra are normally self-sufficient, and this tradition has made us proud. It was difficult for us to admit that we need help, and even then, it was only after I suggested we speak to Gretchen, whom we know and trust, that the others agreed to ask for aid.” She paused for a moment, almost seeming to expect a response. Esset nodded and was trying to think of something to say when she finally decided to continue.
“For as long as we can remember, the Reshkin have shared our underground living spaces. For generations, they have been pests, but nothing more. Recently, however, they have undergone changes that we do not understand, and we find ourselves in serious danger from them. Their bite has always been venomous, but never fatal. Now anyone who is bitten, no matter how strong of constitution, will die over the space of a week.
“They have always been ingenious at evading our attempts to eradicate them, but now they seem to have a kind of hive mind and exhibit far more intelligence than they ever had before. And their aggression—they used to flee at the sight of any group of three or more persons, but now they will attack any size group if they see an opportunity. Their exoskeletons have always been tough, but now they can deflect minor blows, and they are even slightly larger than they used to be.
“Something has changed the Reshkin, and now they are attacking my people. They are more than we can handle, alone. We lost many warriors when we were unaware, before all of their changes became apparent and the true war began. Now, even with full awareness, we find ourselves pushed back. There are even areas of the city that we’ve been forced to abandon to the creatures.”
She paused, and Toman took the chance to ask a question. “These Reshkin—what do they look like?”
“They are… You would likely describe them as a cross between an ant and a spider, only much larger. They are the size of your average dog, with eight legs and a body separated into three pieces and ridges on their backs. They have numerous eyes and very venomous mandibles.”
“Delightful,” Esset murmured. Then he added, “What tactics did you use when fighting them in the past?”
“Nadra favor hand-to-hand combat, but against the Reshkin we typically use our spears. Piercing attacks were always effective prior to their recent development,” Nassata replied.
“But now, with increased armor, the effectiveness of that type of attack is reduced,” Toman interjected.
Nassata nodded. “But we are ill-suited for heavier attacks. We have begun training in the use of maces, which seem most effective against them, but in the meantime, the Reshkin take more territory,” she added.
“What about fire?” Esset asked.
“They do not like it, of course. Few cave denizens do, including us Nadra.” Nassata regarded him curiously, catching something about the pointedness of the question.
“To what degree, though? I can understand not liking it, but surely you must use fire in an underground civilization,” Esset persisted.
“Of course, but only when necessary. We don’t like it, but we don’t fear it. But the Reshkin are different—they fear it, and shy from it when they can,” she explained.
“Perfect.” Esset looked at Toman, who nodded, and then both men looked at her. “I think we can help.”
“That is well and fine, but you have not yet explained how,” Nassata said, with only the slightest trace of impatience in her voice.
“Well, you need a small army, right? I can create one for you,” Toman replied. “I can animate non-living objects, and even create things to animate from scratch, if need be. I could make you soldiers of stone or earth to fight these creatures.”
“And I can summon fire creatures that should be relatively effective at combating the Reshkin as well. Between the two of us, we should be able to take care of your problem,” Esset finished.
Nassata glanced sidelong at Sergeant Warthog for verification.
“They’ve done quite the number of jobs for me in the past while, and they’ve performed admirably,” the sergeant assured her.
“With your recommendation, then,” Nassata conceded. “I have been authorized to negotiate a price.”
“Ah, yes. Well, I assume you want to get going as soon as possible, correct?” Esset asked, glancing at Toman briefly but otherwise focusing his attention on the snake lady.
“Yes, of course, but—”
Esset didn’t let her finish. “Perfect. Sergeant, if you don’t mind, we’ll leave the negotiations to you. Toman and I will go pack some things and meet you back here.”
“Of course,” the sergeant replied, giving them a little nod of permission. “The journey is two weeks on foot.” Esset flashed her
a quick smile of thanks, but the young men wasted no time in taking their leave, although they each gave a little half-bow to Nassata before retreating quickly out of the tavern. They wouldn’t be gone long; they knew how to pack efficiently. Nassata would have just enough time to settle negotiations and get a bite to eat before they returned.
“They are very young,” Nassata remarked, looking after them and only speaking once they had departed.
“Tell me about it,” the sergeant replied with a gusty sigh. “But they’re more experienced than you’d think, and…well, to be honest, you sometimes forget that we humans don’t live as long as your kind do. Few enough humans live to see sixty-five, and among us warriors, thirty is cursed old. Most Nadra see a hundred and fifty easily. They seem young, but they are being viewed through our old eyes.”
“Perhaps,” Nassata conceded. “But I do not feel so old.”
Sergeant Warthog laughed. “Well you may have seen more years than me, but you are still younger than me. But just you watch yourself—thinking others look young is a sign of old age.”
Nassata hissed her amusement.
“But they won’t be gone long,” the sergeant said, calling her companion’s attention back to business by rapping her knuckles on the table. “Fortunately, I doubt we’ll be long either. Let me order you some food, and we’ll haggle this out. I hope you know that part of the deal is that when this is all over, you have to come back for a proper visit so we can reminisce about old times and catch up on everything since then.”
Nassata gave another little hissing laugh. “Agreed.”
Toman and Esset returned with everything they needed for the trip in less than half an hour.
“Sergeant. Hope to see you soon,” Toman said, throwing her a lazy salute—none of them knew if it was habit or a standing joke that kept him and Esset treating her like a commanding officer. Nassata picked up her spear as they spoke, as ready to depart as they were.
Esset was fascinated by how she moved. Her movements were snake-like, which was as appropriate as it was obvious. She moved very quickly or slowly, with nothing he would have considered a moderate pace in between.
“Gretchen, I hope to see you again before long,” the Nadra said, leaning forward. She traced down the sergeant’s arm with the back of her first two fingers, a farewell gesture and a distinctive mark of an alien culture. In return, Sergeant Warthog placed the front of her first two fingers against her lips. Esset was curious about the history between the two women, but there was no time to pursue that line of thought or ask for clarification.
With abruptly quick motions, Nassata was suddenly slithering past the two young men who’d been waiting for her a moment before. Toman reacted first, falling into step beside and behind her—even with the back half of her tail, actually. Esset was still so mesmerized by her scales and the way her coils moved, he had to take a couple quick steps to catch up with his brother. He was glad they were traveling with Nassata—it would give him a chance to unload some questions before they met a whole lot more of her kind.
“We thought we’d make the best time with horse and carriage,” Toman was saying as they left the tavern. “If you’re not averse to the idea, we can travel nonstop. The nice thing about stone horses is that they don’t need to rest.”
Nassata stopped by the carriage and took a second look.
“I thought they were real,” she said. Toman beamed—that was a compliment both to his craftsmanship and his animating abilities. He’d intended for them to blend in, after all.
“They’re just paint, stone, and magic,” Toman said as Nassata placed her hand against the cool, smooth hard surface of the nearest horse’s flank—to the touch, it was clearly not alive. Nassata withdrew her hand as the stone horse stomped one foot, making the animated creature’s flank shift slightly beneath her palm.
“Remarkable,” Nassata said.
“That’s more or less how I can create an army, if need be,” Toman replied.
Nassata turned her face to him and gave him an unreadable, inhuman look. The sunlight had made her pupils narrow, and the change made her seem that much more alien.
“Of course,” Toman continued, “we probably wouldn’t waste time painting anything I animate. These are only painted so we don’t draw too much attention when traveling…in a more conventional manner.”
“That is probably wise,” Nassata conceded. She turned to the small carriage that the two horses were harnessed to. Of medium size, the carriage would comfortably fit the three of them, with little room to spare. It was relatively plain and made of some dark-colored wood with little shuttered windows.
With a quick, reptilian motion, Nassata propelled herself back towards the carriage door. She shifted her coils, raising her torso easily, bypassing the need for the step to reach the door. With similar ease she slithered up into the space within.
Toman noticed Esset’s entranced expression and grinned at his brother; the look on his face foretold the unleashing of way too many questions. He just hoped the Nadra were a relatively tolerant race—or at least one that wouldn’t be too insulted by too many questions.
The animator shoved Esset out of the way so he could get in the carriage first, ignoring the glare his best friend shot at his back on the way up. The summoner had smoothed his expression by the time he got in, however, and he was back to his old self in scant moments. He shut the door behind him, and Toman directed the horses to set off at a trot; the horses had enough instructions to avoid any accidents and whatnot, so he was free to leave them without a driver out front.
Esset opened his mouth to ask Nassata a question, but Toman interrupted him. “So, which direction, Warrior Nassata?”
“Follow the northwest trade road to start—when it splits, take the left branch. I will direct you after that,” she replied. Toman nodded and the horses began navigating down the streets to leave through the correct gate.
“Fair enough. I’ll give you a heads up when we’re in need of further directions so we can just keep moving forward. Unless you think differently, we were thinking we’d only stop for the, uh, call of nature,” Toman explained.
Nassata nodded. “Thank you. I would like to see us back with my people as quickly as possible, that we may end this war.” She sat back, settling herself against the cushioned seats. “Now, then, I suppose we have a long, confined trip ahead of us.”
Esset seized the opportunity. “Actually, I was hoping I could ask—”
Nassata fixed Esset with a look before he could finish his segue. “Gretchen saw fit to warn me about you. She said that you would likely ask an insufferable number of questions and that I could tell you quite clearly that I will not answer any question I do not wish to. So, let me make myself clear. I am not averse to conversation, but I will not tolerate an interrogation, however benign.”
“Ah…” was all Esset could manage in the brief pause. His intense curiosity seemed to have deflated somewhat.
“She said especially that you would be curious about my race, and our physiology in particular. Let me tell you now that there are really only two things you need to know. These,” she placed one of her index fingers next to one of the dark indentations that resided on either side of the bridge of her nose, “are called pits, and they allow us to detect heat rather accurately. This means that even with my eyes closed, I know where you are. The only other thing you need to know at this time is that no Nadra is ever unarmed.”
From outside, there was a slight but visible wobble of the carriage as there was a sudden shift of weight within. Nassata lurched forward, her one hand striking towards Esset. Her hand was open-palmed and stopped bare millimeters from his face, but the real danger lay below. From her wrist jutted a sixth digit, previously concealed. It was a very short, finger-like appendage with a conical claw at the end; the claw was tipped black, and pointed directly at his throat. Esset blinked and froze, knowing that if she’d wanted to kill him, she had him dead to rights. Toman had frozen too, clear
ly ready to act if needed, but uncertain about what, exactly, to do—Nassata was not an enemy…surely?
“Of course, had I really wanted you dead, a grip on your throat while striking with my poison claw would be far more effective.” She smiled, baring teeth that were normal except for the extended, pointed incisors. The expression was very eerie, given the context. Nassata lowered her hand and flowed backwards, away from Esset and back into her previous position. The claw sank back into her wrist with a complicated collapsing motion. Now that they knew where to look, Toman and Esset could see where it hid—it simply looked like a rather large, inwardly-turned belly-button, with the sides of the skin pressed together in a long slit.
“So ask away,” Nassata said after giving Esset a chance to shift position uncomfortably and raise a hand to rub his untouched—but recently imperiled—throat. “But remember that lesson if you ever see a Nadra begin to grow irritated.”
Now that Nassata had withdrawn, Toman smirked at Esset.
“Really though, you shouldn’t be overly concerned with Nadran physiology and abilities,” she continued when it was clear Esset wasn’t going to speak—let alone ask any questions—for the moment. “After all, you will be fighting with us, not against us. However, should the need arise, I will of course inform you of anything you need to know. And a little idle curiosity is harmless enough.” Her lips quirked in amusement at Esset.
“Y’hear that, Esset? You’ll have to pare down that list of questions you’ve got stored up in your head, and by quite a bit,” Toman laughed. Esset shot him a glare, and a degree of normalcy returned to the atmosphere.
“So you seemed to know the sergeant from previously,” Toman asked Nassata, trying to start a more normal conversation. “Do you mind me asking?”
Calling On Fire (Book 1) Page 11