“So…you fight for peace?” Kessa asked.
Toman laughed again, but it wasn’t at Kessa or the essence of the question. “Don’t ask that when Esset is around,” he laughed. “He’ll engage you in a philosophical debate about what peace is.”
Kessa frowned, clearly thinking the definition obvious.
“But it’s something like that,” Toman continued, to answer her question. “We fight because there many people who can’t fight for themselves.”
“But you hate fighting, right?”
There was a long pause before Toman answered that question. The growth of his creation had slowed considerably as his attention was drawn away from it.
“I wouldn’t say that. I don’t like the necessity of what we do, but I love the rush of running into battle. I love animating, even it’s for war, and I know Esset loves summoning, even though half the creatures he summons are the blood-thirstiest creatures I’ve ever seen.”
After that, there was a very long pause. Preoccupied as he was, Toman didn’t realize how long it was until it had drawn on very long indeed. When he finally noticed the silence, he paused to crack an eye and read Kessa’s body language. He’d had trouble reading Nassata, but Kessa was an open book. Assuming Nadran body language was mostly like a human’s—and so far that seemed to run true, once you adjusted for anatomical differences—she looked mostly uncertain, perhaps even afraid, or…disappointed?
“What’s wrong?” Toman asked, closing both eyes again and resuming his work.
“Wouldn’t you rather not fight?” she asked after a moment.
“I would rather not have to,” Toman replied. He had a feeling he was missing something, because he wasn’t entirely sure where she was coming from. She’s not human, he reminded himself. You’ve seen already how different their culture is, are you surprised there are other differences?
“Isn’t peace the most important thing?” she asked.
Toman had to stop and think about that one; even without an unknown cultural context, it was a difficult question. There was something else he remembered then, something Nassata had said: “We warriors are set apart from the others.” It seemed that, perhaps, peace was held as an ideal to the Nadra. They recognized the necessity of warriors, it was clear, but they seemed to hold peace as far higher a value than most human cultures.
“No,” Toman finally replied. “Peace is something that we should strive for, but I wouldn’t say it’s the most important thing. I know I wouldn’t trade this life for one of peace where I never met Esset.”
“But war is wrong! Fighting is wrong! Every Nadra knows that,” Kessa persisted.
Toman was finding it difficult to carry on this conversation and animate at the same time. It was making work go very slowly.
“Yet the Nadra, as a people, have warriors,” Toman pointed out, slitting one eye open in time to see Kessa scowl. He waited for a few moments for a response, but she seemed to be mulling over what he’d said, so he let her. He concentrated on his creation again, and the stone that had swollen up from the ground now began to take on some rough approximations of arms and legs.
After a minute he was completely consumed in his work again, and he had almost forgotten she was there. As such, he received an internal jolt when Kessa suddenly spoke again almost ten minutes later.
“What’s it like, having legs? It seems terribly unstable,” Kessa finally asked, eying his semi-human work-in-progress.
“What’s it like having coils instead? It seems terribly cumbersome,” Toman asked back with a slight smile. He cracked an eye in time to catch a flash of body language and facial expression conveying embarrassment.
“Well?” she persisted. He liked her boldness.
“It’s not something I’ve really thought about. I haven’t known it any other way, so anything else seems odd. That’s why I asked you an equivalent question. Can you really answer my question any better than I just did yours?” Toman asked, without aggression.
“Hm… I suppose not,” Kessa replied. “But it does seem unstable.”
“I guess, compared to Nadra,” Toman admitted. “But there are convenient things too. For example, Esset and I argued about how to get here fastest with Nassata along. After all, could a Nadra ride on the back of a horse or a giant bird? It didn’t seem likely, or at the very least, it seemed impractical or inefficient. Not to mention uncomfortable.”
“I guess,” Kessa echoed. “There are pictures of ancient times where Nadra rode in chariots. Mostly we just travel on our coils, without aid of beast or machine.”
“And that works for you,” Toman pointed out. “Especially with the society you’ve built here. And our ways work for us. Both our races have adapted ourselves and our surroundings to our needs.”
“What’s human society like, then?” Kessa asked.
“That’s an awfully broad question,” Toman replied. He was enjoying the conversation, but at the same time, he was thinking that his work wasn’t going to move very quickly if they kept up like this.
“Well then… what’s the place you grew up like?” Kessa compromised.
“That’s better. We humans have a lot of cities, and a lot of different societies, even. That being said, going north to Baliya wasn’t nearly as different from home as this place is. Hm… Home.
“Well, for me, things were a little different. Esset grew up in the city, but I wasn’t from the city. I…kind of inherited a castle when I was quite young, and I lived partially there and partially with Esset while I was growing up, so things were a little different for me. Still. The city was a pretty good place to grow up. It was a good place in general. The king lives in the city, and he is a good king. Laws protected and even helped the people, so it was a relatively safe place for kids to grow up. We played all over that city when we were young. Outside it too, since we were at peace with our neighbors.
“The church was also a big part of our lives—it governs the school system, so we had classes there, and of course once a week were the main services in the church, and then every day there were other optional services to attend, almost no matter the time or day or night. The thing with cities is that there seems to always be something happening somewhere.”
“What’s church?” Kessa asked. The word was easy—unlike “mercenaries”—but it was clear that it sounded very odd to her.
“Oh dear. Religion?” Toman tried.
“Of course I know what religion is,” Kessa responded, sounding almost contemptuous.
“Sorry. A church is a building or organization that runs a religion, or is a religious center…that sort of thing. Sort of. You’d get a better answer from Esset. Although it would be a very long answer…” Toman replied, trailing off at the end.
“Oh.” Kessa seemed to think that odd.
“What about the Nadra? You must have some kind of religion, or at least a set of beliefs, a faith,” Toman asked. He figured it was his chance to find things out. At least Kessa couldn’t justifiably threaten him for asking too many questions—not with the boatloads she was asking.
“We believe in the energies that flow through the world.” There was a bit of an unspoken “of course” tacked into the tone of her response.
“Energies?” Toman asked, encouraging her to continue. This didn’t sound familiar to him.
“Yes.” It took a second for her to realize that these concepts, so obvious to her, eluded him. “Um… well…” She suddenly stuttered, realizing she was going to have to explain something she’d always taken for granted. “It’s like our city,” she finally said.
“How so?” Toman asked.
“Well, you can see the energy, the way heat and magic flows in the city,” Kessa said with the slightest hint of impatience.
“Kessa, I can’t see heat and magic. There aren’t many magics that I can sense, and even then, I can’t see it. I wasn’t born with the ability to sense magic, and I don’t have your…” Toman placed his fingers on either side of his nose where hi
s heat-sensing organs would have been if he had been Nadran.
“You can’t—oh.” Kessa peered at him, realizing what was obvious to her wasn’t necessarily clear to him. There was another pause as she struggled to think of a new explanation.
“Kessa, I’ll tell you what. How about you take your time and think for a bit. I work really slowly when I’m dividing my concentration between working and talking, so how about I keep at this while you think, and when I stop to take a break, we’ll talk?” That didn’t come out quite as tactfully as he’d hoped, but at least it got the point across without being too harsh. He opened his eyes to regard her as he spoke this time.
“Oh! I’m sorry,” she immediately apologized, raising her hands to her mouth.
“No worries,” Toman replied easily with a smile. “I’ll talk to you in a bit. Keep thinking.”
Kessa nodded vigorously, and he just smiled and closed his eyes again to continue his work.
“Okay, looks like we’re ready to go,” Nassata said, taking the last spear off the rack and handing it to Tseka.
“Excellent,” Tseka replied. She fingered a chip on the haft, and then adjusted her grip as she eyed Esset thoughtfully. There was a predatory gleam in her eye that Esset found disconcerting.
“Say, what color do humans bleed?” Tseka asked. “I heard somewhere your blood is black, not a proper red at all.”
“Er, no, our blood is red,” Esset replied.
“Huh.” Tseka was still eyeing him, looking like she wanted to poke him with her spear to find out for sure.
“Come, we must go,” Nassata urged them. Like a prayer answered, she moved between him and Tseka as they headed out of the small weapons room.
“What’s our first target?” Esset asked.
“There’s an armory we need to recover. As you saw, that one is a little sparse.” Nassata waved a hand back at the room of empty weapons racks. “We barely have enough weapons to arm our warriors. If a weapon is lost or damaged, we have no replacements. This armory was also mostly storage for spears. While we specialize in that weapon, they’re not terribly effective against the Reshkin. The armory we seek to recover is plentifully stocked with a variety of weapons. It will be good to be better equipped.”
Esset turned that information over in his mind. He, Nassata, Tseka, and a small group of warriors headed towards the guarded perimeter of Salithsa’s core.
“It’s too bad you’re not better armored,” Esset remarked. The most clothing they seemed to wear were belts or weapons harnesses. “Even just metal gauntlets and bracers would help.”
Nassata grimaced and opened her mouth to respond, but Tseka jumped in.
“And how do you propose a people of peace and isolation obtain such tools of war? Or did you think we were too stupid to think of using armor?” Tseka challenged him.
Esset nearly tripped over his own feet. “I—what? No! I mean, I was fairly certain you had thought of it, I just—” Esset stopped talking as Nassata put a hand on his shoulder and shot a glare at Tseka. Tseka shrugged nonchalantly, looking away without a hint of apology.
“We know you meant no offense,” Nassata said. “Such did occur to us, but we don’t have the means. We don’t have the skills or tools to make metal armor, nor the funds to buy them in sufficient numbers. We tried some tough leather gloves for protection, but the Reshkin can bite clear through them. We are also unaccustomed to wearing gloves, and they compromised our grip on our weapons.”
Nassata nodded to a sentry at the mouth of the tunnel they were headed down.
“This is the edge of the safe zone,” the teal warrior volunteered. “We keep sentries at the entrances to all far-reaching tunnels, especially the ones connecting to other cave systems. If anything goes wrong further down, they can relay the alert to the city and act as a final barrier, if necessary. There are other sentries further ahead yet, so it should still be safe, but we must remain alert. We haven’t lost any noncombatants since we withdrew into the center of the city and set up the sentry system.”
“How do your sentries sound an alarm?” Esset asked. He hadn’t seen any carrying alert horns or anything like that.
“Cries carry far down these tunnels,” Tseka replied in Nassata’s stead. “And if the sentries are overrun, the screams carry even further.”
Esset felt a chill.
“Do you know what happens when a Reshkin bites a Nadra?” Tseka asked. Esset felt disinclined to meet her blood-red eyes, but he did so for a moment anyways.
“Reshkin venom is lethal.” Esset remembered that much.
“It is more than lethal,” Tseka replied. Esset realized it was getting dimmer in the tunnel, but Tseka had caught his eyes again, and this time he couldn’t look away.
“If a Nadra is bit,” Tseka continued. “We don’t simply die. Even if the wound is superficial, we will soon writhe in agony. In fact, small bites are worse than large ones, for it takes the venom longer to kill. If a Nadra is bit, you will learn how these tunnels and caves carry sound.” The red Nadra broke eye contact and looked forward. “That is why most of us have agreed to a pact. If I am bit, the others will kill me before I go mad with the pain. They will end my suffering, as I would do for any of them.”
Her pact ran counter to his beliefs, but Esset kept his mouth shut and let silence fall. The tunnel was almost black now, and there was no sign of light ahead. The wall sconces no longer cast illumination in the tunnels.
Esset had a feeling it wasn’t going to take him long to start missing the sky. The dark didn’t bother him much, nor did the close rock walls around him. No, it was a combination of both those things, the soft sounds of scales on stones, and the knowledge that those disturbing, deadly Reshkin were out there. At least the ground was so perfectly smooth that he knew he wouldn’t trip, and the swish of scales on stone let him know that he hadn’t fallen behind.
“Should I have brought a lantern?” Esset asked, his voice low.
“What’s the matter, can’t see in the dark?” Tseka’s hissing laughter came from behind him now.
“I realize you can’t see as well as we can,” Nassata said, ignoring the other warrior. “But you’ll have to rely on us to navigate. We are almost to the sentry—ah, yes, there he is. Greetings, Warrior.”
“Greetings, Warrior. And good luck,” the sentry replied. Esset couldn’t see him, but he roughly located his direction by his voice.
“Thank you,” Nassata replied. “Now, Esset, I am at your side, as is another warrior, with the others behind. Before you is clear if you need to summon something.”
“Good,” was all Esset could think to say. He found himself wishing Tseka hadn’t come along. He was sure she must be a skilled warrior for Nassasta to have chosen her, but he wondered if he’d be as unnerved right now if she hadn’t just painted such a vivid picture of an excruciating death. Then again, these tunnels did remind him of that job they’d taken on early in their career where they’d eradicated an infestation of giant scorpions, so maybe he only had his own, overly productive imagination to thank.
Suddenly a very solid arm jarred him to a stop and back to reality, and he realized he’d fallen prey to his very bad habit of woolgathering in the field again. He mentally kicked himself as he rebooted his senses to gather every bit of information from around him that he could without using his eyes—it was still pitch black. He couldn’t gather much, unfortunately. More fortunately, the Nadra were willing to help.
“Thirty of your paces ahead is the armory we lost. There are a great many Reshkin inside,” a warrior whispered in his ear. Esset barely managed to keep from jumping—the Nadra were extremely quiet and he hadn’t realized how close the nearest was—his mouth had been almost right next to his ear. The summoner nodded, realized it was dark, and almost replied verbally before remembering that the Nadra could “see” him anyways. He briefly wondered how the Nadra would normally proceed with an attack from here, but he saved the question for later. Instead he concentrated very specific
ally on the incantation that would summon him a battle cat.
The creature exploded into existence before them with the thick smell of charcoal and ash. Esset wondered what it looked like to Nadran heat-vision. Esset knew that the core temperature of his summons was incredibly high. A wolf could superheat any metal placed between its jaws until it was as malleable as dough. A panther could melt metal in its jaws. Right now the panther would be blazing like a small sun to the heat sensors of the Nadra.
The ferocious fire-cat whipped down the tunnel and into the armory, tearing into the Reshkin ahead. It was an unstoppable force of unspeakable rage and tangible menace. Since its jaws could melt metal, Reshkin exoskeletons would be no match for its ferocity.
Esset had barely released the first to attack before summoning the second and sending it down the tunnel as well. The two of them ripped into the Reshkin swarm and the stench of their opponents’ burning bodies flooded the tunnel. Some of the Nadra even covered their noses against the smell, and it would have bothered Esset to realize how little the smell had come to bother him. He barely noticed the smell at all; he was so used to summoning and fighting with the fiery creatures he called upon.
In the darkness, Esset was forced to rely on his ears, and they conveyed a horror-story to him. Only the bestial, vicious nature of the Reshkin could allow him to withstand those sounds. He never could have been responsible for the similar decimation of a sentient species—or a gentler one. For all that their clacks, chatters, clicks, screeches, and hisses were totally inhuman, it wasn’t difficult to discern between those that were enraged, those that were terrified, and those that were screaming in agony. There was no mistaking the cries that were cut short as lives, no matter how monstrous, were ended. And those weren’t the only sounds. They could clearly hear the crack of exoskeletons, the snap of flames, and the squelches as the innards of the Reshkin were spread across the floor by scorching paws and serrated claws alike. Esset had learned a long time ago that there was no glory in battle, only horror. In darkness, the sight of the horror was spared, but it seemed to only amplify the monstrosity of the sounds. It was sometimes too little comfort to know the necessity of such battles.
Calling On Fire (Book 1) Page 14