Calling On Fire (Book 1)

by Stephanie Beavers

  Kessa was staring at Esset, eyes wide and watery with sympathy.

  Esset wasn’t looking at her anymore, however. He appeared intent upon his sewing; the shirt was almost mended. “There was an animator before Toman,” he continued. “His name was Eldan Atrix. He had been fighting Moloch for a long time, and he arrived in the blood mage’s wake. He helped the few survivors of the attack and ended up taking in Toman. That’s why Toman’s last name is now Atrix-Iiren. He was a father to Toman for three years.

  “Then…well, Moloch is very powerful, and he’s clever, and he’s vicious. One day he caught up with Animator Eldan. Animator Eldan managed to make it back to a safe place and returned to Toman, but he died of his wounds. Toman inherited the gloves and the ability to animate with them. He fled…and after that, I met him. I think after losing a mother and two fathers, he couldn’t stand the thought of having parents to lose again. My family adopted him in spirit, but never in name. That’s why, even now, he’s not technically my brother, not even by adoption. But…that’s never mattered. Spirit is what matters.

  “I can only imagine how he could have turned out if we’d never met. I know I would be different. In fact, I would probably be dead. But Toman… I think he would definitely be dead. Together, we might stand a chance of hunting Moloch down and defeating him. Separately…I don’t think we’d stand a chance, not either of us.”

  Kessa had been listening, a bit horrified, a bit sad, and a bit some other garbled mix of emotions. With the last bit, however, she was truly horrified. “But revenge is wrong! You can’t seek revenge!” she objected.

  “But that’s the thing… Toman isn’t hunting Moloch for revenge,” Esset explained. “Or at least, that’s not his main reason, or a major reason. We’re hunting him because so far, no one has been able to stop him. All the things he does… He needs to be stopped, so Toman and I have to try. Ever since we left home, we’ve been fighting, doing what we can to make this world safer and better. And…we’ve been fighting to become stronger. We found Sergeant Warthog, the woman Nassata went to in order to find help, so that she could help us find Moloch. As soon as we can, we’ll stop him. It has to be done, or else many, many more people will suffer and then die. You can’t imagine the amount of pain and suffering that Moloch can inflict upon people. If we can stop him, then we have to. We can’t just let him keep on doing what he’s doing.”

  By the end of his dialogue, Esset had locked eyes with Kessa, and she found herself intimidated by the intensity of his gaze. She shrank back, and gave a tiny nod.

  Suddenly Esset’s intensity vanished, and he smiled wryly. “Sorry,” he apologized.

  Kessa unwound a bit, straightening her posture.

  “Well, at least now you know why we are like we are.”

  “I… I think I understand it a little bit. Your beliefs are very different from ours,” Kessa said timidly.

  “Sort of,” Esset countered. “In many ways, they’re similar. We both strive for peace, and hold many of the same values, just to different degrees.”

  “I guess,” Kessa agreed, not engaging in the debate.

  “Why don’t you tell me some of your old stories?” Kessa suggested then.

  “Hm. Well, many of them are lengthy. They’re all written down, you see. Or they’re written as poetry. So I can’t tell you the full stories, but I can tell you about them, if you want,” Esset suggested. Kessa still nodded eagerly.

  “Well, a lot of the stories are pretty fanciful. Lots of knights and princes fighting dragons and rescuing princesses,” Esset explained.

  “Prince and princess… Those are the children of rulers, yes?”

  “Yes.” Now that Esset thought about it, he was a little surprised Kessa knew even that much. Maybe they did have a couple of human old tales. Or maybe they were educated in human government.

  “Most of the tales feature people of high social status—princes and princesses, knights and noblemen, people like that. A few are about adventurers or poor folk, but they’re outnumbered.” Esset seemed to be musing aloud, so Kessa poked him with one finger.

  “Yes, but can you tell me one?” she asked. Esset laughed.

  “Sure. Uh… how about the tale of Sir Terrus?” he asked. “It was always one of my favorites.” Kessa shrugged and nodded at the same time, eliciting another chuckle from Esset. Then he closed his eyes and tried to remember exactly how it went.

  “Long ago and far away, there lived a knight named Sir Terrus. He had fought many battles for his king, against both monsters and men, and he was esteemed across the country. His armor shone brightly in the sun, he wore a great, two-handed sword across his back, and he rode a stallion as white as snow.”

  “What’s a stallion?” Kessa asked.

  “A male, ungelded horse,” Esset replied.

  “What’s ‘ungelded?’” Kessa asked.

  “Uh…it’s not important. It was a white horse. Very impressive.” Esset figured that could turn into a complicated, awkward conversation quickly, given that the Nadra didn’t keep livestock.

  “Okay.”

  Esset breathed a sigh of relief and continued. “Well, one day, they got news that the princess of the neighboring kingdom had been kidnapped by an evil mage, a practitioner of dark magic. Sir Terrus couldn’t stand the thought of the princess being this mage’s prisoner, and the kingdom was an ally, so he immediately volunteered to rescue the princess. Everyone begged him not to go, because the mage was so powerful and Sir Terrus was much beloved, but he would not be dissuaded. Finally the king granted him leave, and Sir Terrus set out to go.” Esset paused to pin down the details of the next part in his head before continuing.

  Kessa had a slightly perplexed expression on her face, but she didn’t say anything.

  “As he was about to exit the gates of the city, however, the king’s mage stopped him. The old man came up to him and pressed two objects into his hands: a key enchanted to open any lock and a piece of chalk.

  ‘Please, take these things, and keep them with you,’ the mage begged him.

  ‘Thank you for this key,’ Sir Terrus said, recognizing the item. ‘But why do I need this piece of chalk?’

  “It’s a key of a different kind,” the mage said, but Sir Terrus didn’t understand.

  ‘Just keep it with you,’ the mage begged.

  ‘Very well,’ Sir Terrus agreed.”

  Esset paused to take a breath and Kessa interrupted. “How is a piece of chalk a key?” she asked.

  “Hush, and listen to the story,” Esset said, and she quieted, waiting for him to continue.

  “So Sir Terrus rode forth. Now, his is a pretty long story. The mage sends lots of monsters for him to fight along the way, but he beats them all and arrives at the evil mage’s tower at the top of a tall, jagged mountain.”

  Esset missed Kessa’s slightly amused expression as he skipped past that part of the story.

  “Just as Sir Terrus arrived, he heard a terrifying roar echo between the mountains. His stallion pranced in place, raring for a fight, but there was no foe to be seen. So Sir Terrus tied his horse outside and approached the door to the tower on foot.

  “‘Mage, I challenge you!’ Sir Terrus yelled at the tower, but no response came, so the knight tried opening the door. Now, obviously, the door was locked, but the enchanted key that the king’s mage had given Sir Terrus opened the door easily, and he went inside.

  “Twice more, Sir Terrus used the enchanted key to ascend through the tower until he reached the very top. The top level was one large room beneath the conical ceiling, and that was where the princess was being held. She was kept in a large cage with iron bars. Sir Terrus hurried across the room to free her, but in doing so, he crossed a series of lines on the floor.

  “Sir Terrus tried to reach the princess, but he hit an invisible barrier before he could reach her. That was when he realized he’d entered a mage trap. Drawn on the floor were a series of complex lines in a full circle around Sir Terrus. Arcane symbols
illuminated whenever he tried to cross the lines. First Sir Terrus tried each direction, then he attacked the barrier with his sword, but to no avail.

  “Now Sir Terrus pulled out the piece of chalk. This was what the mage had meant about a ‘key of a different kind.’ These lines were magic, drawn to hold him in. Thanks to the king’s mage, Sir Terrus had the means to change those lines. But how?”

  Esset paused there for dramatic effect, so caught up in his story that he still didn’t notice that Kessa wasn’t as enthralled as he was.

  “Now, being a knight also means being a servant of Bright Hyrishal, so Sir Terrus drew on the greatest power he knew. Kneeling next to the lines, he drew the sun of Bright Hyrishal. The fires of Bright Hyrishal warm and nurture all of creation, but those same fires can also burn away sin and scorch evildoers. They can also fight dark magic in the hands of the faithful, as Sir Terrus found. The sun he drew sent a flash of fire outwards and burned the dark sigils from the ground, freeing Sir Terrus.

  “Sir Terrus immediately rushed over to the princess’s cage, but before he could reach it, half the roof was torn away, revealing the sky and a terrible monster!”

  This time Esset saw Kessa’s amused expression at his melodramatic telling, and he faltered for a moment, giving her a perplexed look. Only when she coaxed him with a “go on,” did he continue. She schooled her expression a little after that.

  “The evil mage had transformed himself into a dragon.” Esset’s delivery had fallen flat. “A great battle ensued, but Sir Terrus prevailed and killed the evil mage. He rescued the princess and they lived happily ever after.” He was red-faced by the end of his telling.

  “You don’t tell stories often, do you?” Kessa asked, and Esset could still see the amusement in her eyes.

  “I usually just read them,” Esset confessed. “And never with an audience.”

  “Well it was an…interesting tale. Very different from ours,” Kessa replied.

  “What are yours like?” Esset asked. “I haven’t had a chance to see any Nadran literature.”

  “Ours are… Well, they are tales of finding or creating peace from strife, mostly, like Shaper Vorriss who led us to Salithsa, or about teaching life lessons, like the turtle who taught the bat patience. I don’t think I know any well enough to tell, but there are rarely battles in them.” Kessa didn’t wait for Esset to respond.

  “You said there are lots of stories you’ve read. What are some of the others like?” Kessa asked. Esset noticed she wasn’t asking him to tell the stories themselves, just about them.

  “Well, there are a series of stories about the seven knights of Agrimon. They fought monsters and rescued princesses too. They’re all about deeds of heroism and knightly virtues. Each of the seven stands for a virtue: courage, justice, mercy, generosity, faith, nobility, and hope.”

  Esset was so busy thinking of other stories that he missed Kessa’s unconvinced expression.

  “There are the stories of Prince Noren, who led his country in the war against the Lokrush onslaught. There are the tales of Marix the Thief and the adventures of Kuun Fletcher. There are a bunch more, but I can’t remember them all off the top of my head.

  “And of course, those don’t include any of the stories or parables in the Book of Bright Hyrishal. Those center around moral lessons, of course, teaching of justice, love, and sacrifice. Of course, Bright Hyrishal so loved this world that he created that he came down to earth to experience it in the flesh. In his fight against the Darkfires, he ended up sacrificing himself to save the world he loved.”

  Esset finally noticed Kessa’s expression.

  “What?” he asked, perplexed in return.

  “Very strange. Very strange indeed,” was all she said. No matter how Esset pestered her, she wouldn’t elaborate.

  The next day, Kessa woke them with breakfast as usual. They chowed down and started dressing, as usual, although Esset’s curiosity was getting the better of him—as usual.

  “I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I have to admit, I’m curious where you got all this food from,” Esset confessed, waving the last bite of his toast at his plate before stuffing it in his mouth.

  “There is a small town not too far away,” Kessa replied. “We deal with the people occasionally. Not often, but often enough that they do not fear us overmuch and we can trade for some items when needed.”

  “Convenient,” Toman remarked. He stuffed his hat on his head. “Okay then, I’m off. See you two later.” He didn’t waste any time vanishing out the door. Kessa and Esset watched him go, then picked up their plates from the beds.

  “Well, let’s drop these off at the kitchen, and then I’d like to go talk to Nassata,” Esset said, heading for the door himself.

  “What about?” Kessa was curious to know.

  “Well, I want to run an idea past her. I think I might be able to perform a little espionage on the Reshkin using one of my summons. I don’t use this particular one often, since it’s not useful in many situations. Now, however, I think it would be good to get some good intelligence on where the Reshkin are gathered and whether they have any new surprises planned. They were too quiet yesterday.”

  Esset and Kessa actually found Nassata in the kitchen as they were dropping the dishes off—she was just finishing breakfast herself, as Toman had gotten an earlier start than most of the city. Esset managed to convince her to put together a squad so he could attempt to get some good intelligence on the Reshkin.

  “Okay, let’s see if I can do this,” Esset said. He had his ear pressed up against the coiled snake that was blocking the tunnel. They had agreed that they shouldn’t open the tunnel—they didn’t want to chance a Reshkin invasion. He took a deep breath, then murmured a small incantation. The Nadra didn’t see anything happen, but a moment later Esset whispered a triumphant little “yes!” Unlike the other creatures that Esset called upon, this summon’s heat signature was so small they were only able to find it after looking for it.

  “Okay, I managed to summon a bat on the other side of the wall. I’m afraid this is going to be rather boring for you—I’m going to go into a trance and do some scouting through its eyes,” Esset was already sitting down and crossing his legs beneath himself. “If anything happens, give me a shake—I’m not going to react to anything else.”

  “Okay,” Nassata agreed.

  Moments later, Esset was perceiving the world through a very disorienting set of senses. The summoned bat was instantly careening around the top of the tunnel. It’s tiny, thin, ashy wings fluttered madly, narrowly keeping its tiny, ashen body from colliding with the walls. Looking through its eyes were almost useless—it could dimly perceive things with its vision, but that was at its best. No, its main sense was hearing, but it was an experience like no other, and it had been a long time since Esset had scouted with a bat summon. It took Esset a good ten minutes before he got a good enough handle on the bat’s echolocation that he felt that proceeding would be useful.

  The little bat fluttered down the tunnel, well out of range of any of the Reshkin on the floor or walls. That was just as well, since Esset knew from experience that any hostile contact at all would cause the bat to vanish from this plane immediately. The little bats couldn’t take any kind of hit, which was one reason why he so seldom used them. Esset directed the little creature along with almost no mental effort. Unlike the ferocious wolf or the utterly vicious panther, the little bat had no ulterior motives. As long as it didn’t have to be still, it was perfectly happy to follow his directions. If left to its own devices, it would simply flutter around aimlessly.

  It was grim, getting a sense of the number of Reshkin in the tunnels. Some were loosely scattered, but most of the time they gathered in large swarms. Esset actually wasn’t sure what to look for—these weren’t soldiers, with sophisticated organization and bases. They were… Well, they were bugs, for all the coordinated behavior they’d shown during attacks. And from what he was seeing, when they were figh
ting, they acted like bugs.

  The bat flitted about unnoticed. The tunnel suddenly opened up into a large cavern, and it took Esset a moment or two to realize what he was seeing; at first he was just confused by the texture of the floor. Normally the Nadra traveled on flat stone, polished by the constant wear of their own scales upon it, but this part of the cave was strangely bumpy. Then he realized what was causing the discrepancy—the ground was completely covered in eggs. The revelation was such that he lost control of the bat for a few moments. Thankfully it didn’t give itself away, although it did flutter down a side tunnel right away. It took Esset a few moments to steer it back to the cavern so he could investigate further.

  He didn’t want to risk discovery, but this was something that he wanted more information about, so the summoner had the bat swoop down closer to the eggs to get more information. They appeared to be sticky and soft-shelled. He had no idea what color they were, but that was incidental. What bothered him was how many there were—it was a massive cavern, and the floor was completely covered, without a single square inch of the floor visible anywhere. If the Reshkin wanted to go through the cavern, they navigated along the walls instead of crossing the floor. Occasionally one of the Reshkin would go up to the eggs for a moment or two to check on them, but they looked entirely too healthy to Esset. He wondered how flammable they were.

  He took him a minute or two to decide to continue his surveillance instead of seeing if he could sabotage the eggs. It was just as well, since an hour later he’d found five more identical caverns and seen far, far too many Reshkin. He’d tried to memorize a map for tactical use later, but the Nadran tunnels were far more convoluted than he could confidently organize in his head. He returned to himself with a gusty exhale and a few deep breaths to readjust to his own body.

  “No good news, I’m afraid,” he reported, opening his eyes and putting his hand on the wall to help himself up. He briefly described what he’d discovered, but he couldn’t see the reactions of the Nadra due to the darkness.

  “Unfortunately I don’t know anything about the life cycle of a Reshkin, so I can’t tell you how close they are to hatching, or how long it will take them to mature when they do,” Esset finished. “Do they have a larval stage, or…?”