Calling On Fire (Book 1)

by Stephanie Beavers

  Once they were past the seal, Esset looked up at Tseka. Even that fierce, vibrant warrior was looking weary, her red scales stained with Reshkin blood.

  “Warrior Tseka, haven’t your people been working on a cure to Reshkin venom? Why did you kill your comrade this morning?” he asked. That terrible scream, brutally cut short, echoed in his mind.

  “There is no cure—we have been unable to devise anything. We even gave some of the venom to the healer in the nearby human village, but she said the chances of finding a cure were slim. Besides, he would have died before reaching the city, even if there had been something waiting. Better to end his suffering early.” Tseka sounded angry despite her weariness.

  “But—” Esset began.

  Tseka suddenly rounded on him, raising her torso up and looming down upon him menacingly, momentarily forcing the group to stop. “Don’t argue with me right now, summoner,” she warned.

  Esset bit his tongue and nodded, and she moved away from him, as far as she could get without breaking formation.

  There was no more conversation before they reached the city.

  The next two days were spent combing the tunnels for Reshkin. Toman guessed they’d destroyed over half their numbers in the first day, not counting the larvae. Over the course of the second, he estimated the deaths of half of the remainder. By the third, the Reshkin were far less aggressive and more interested in hiding, which meant Esset spent most of his time looking through the eyes of a wolf or a panther to track the creatures down. They were far less thickly distributed, and most of the ones they found were individuals, not groups.

  “How much longer do you think it’s going to take to get them all?” Esset asked as they slogged their way back through the tunnels towards the city. The real question was one they were all wondering: whether it was possible to get them all. All it took was for a few to escape, and within a year they could easily be back up to their old numbers.

  “Not less than a week,” Toman replied with a shake of his head. He was thinking about the real question, but not responding to it. No one wanted to ask that question out loud—the thought was too bleak, and hunting in the tunnels every day was tough enough as it was.

  “We’ll just have to look forward to the celebration,” Nassata said instead. “Once we reopen the entire underground city, we have a celebration planned, and you will both be invited.”

  “Well then… We’ll just have to finish this all up as quick as we can,” Toman said, rubbing his hands together with a wolfish grin, evoking smiles from those looking at him. Esset shook his head at his brother, needing the laugh, however brief.

  “I gotta admit, I’m most looking forward to having open sky above me again and seeing the sunshine,” Esset confessed.

  “Oh come on, everyone knows you spend all your time inside anyways, with your nose stuck in a book,” Toman teased. Everyone smirked—Esset had asked on a number of occasions about the Nadran library and when they might be able to visit it, but so far they’d decided to leave it sealed to protect it from the Reshkin.

  “I like reading outside too,” Esset said, raising his nose in a mock-superior fashion. “I am—look out!” He was the first one to notice the movement above them, but he wasn’t fast enough. Part of the ceiling collapsed, and they all raised their arms to protect their heads from debris.

  Toman felt something that wasn’t a rock hit his shoulder and start to slide down his arm. His belts started unwinding from under his coat to defend him, but the thing snagged on his coat sleeve, and then he felt something cut into his arm underneath. It felt like a couple of knives stabbing into his arm. A second later, his belts were wrapping around the Reshkin, forcing its deadly mandibles away from him.

  Toman stood and swayed for a second—the tunnel was chaos around him. Something glowing red narrowly brushed past him, and he felt the heat of its passing at the same time as he felt his blood run cold. Stone soldiers were making quick work of the few Reshkin that had attacked them, as were the warriors. Esset’s wolf darted in and out between the fighters, catching those that were being driven back or trying to flee. Toman took in everything as a cold wave washed over him, then became distantly aware that he was falling. He didn’t hear Esset yell his name, but he returned to himself when he hit the ground.

  Suddenly the immediacy of the situation rushed back to him—every cell in his body screamed at him and it felt like his skin was on fire. His head throbbed, and he didn’t know if it was from striking the ground or from the venom poisoning his body. One thing was for sure: the Reskin had bitten him, and now he would suffer the consequences.

  “Toman! Toman!” Esset had seen his brother start to fall, but he hadn’t gotten there in time to catch him. Now he was kneeling beside the animator, screaming his name. The Nadran warriors stood back, knowing he was already as good as dead. The ambushing Reshkin were all vanquished already, but the damage had been done. Esset briefly considered having his summon bite Toman’s arm to cauterize the wound, but it wasn’t really bleeding, and the poison was already in his system, so there was no point in making his injury worse. They needed an antidote now—they needed to move Toman, get him to help. He turned towards the warriors, only to see Tseka right there beside him with her spear point leveled at Toman.

  “Hey!” the summoner yanked the spear aside and imposed himself between the red warrior and his best friend. “What do you think you’re doing?” he raged, stepping forward and forcing her to put up her spear or stab him with it—she opted to pull it up.

  “Summoner, he’s as good as dead already. Don’t make him suffer before the end,” Tseka responded levelly, physically moving back but not shifting her position on Toman’s condition.

  “No! We do not stop fighting for him,” Esset raged—his ire was impressive, but in the eyes of the Nadra, futile.

  “We have not been able to make a cure, Esset,” Nassata said quietly from the side. Her words only gave Esset pause for a scant second.

  “What about the human healer you gave the venom to? Anything she makes will be useless to you, but it could save Toman. We’re taking him there.” His eyes were too bright, and he twitched when he heard Toman groan and writhe in pain behind him.

  “Esset, he won’t make it that far—” Nassata said, trying to reason with him.

  “We do not stop fighting!” Esset roared. There was no arguing with him, but he calmed enough to add, “You owe it to us to try.” Nassata looked at him for only a moment longer.

  “Tseka, Eska, get the animator, we’re making time back to the surface,” Nassata ordered them. Tseka shook her head at the foolishness but did as she was ordered.

  “I just need help getting him onto horseback,” Esset clarified. “I can travel fastest that way.” He chanted an incantation and a fire horse materialized next to them. He mounted himself easily enough, but it took the help of two warriors to get Toman up in front of him. They passed the belts up too, using them to strap the animator to his brother so he wouldn’t fall off. Esset didn’t say another word and didn’t waste another second—the moment Toman was secure, he set his summon into motion, leaving Toman’s floppy hat on the ground behind him. Nassata picked it up and brushed it off sadly, and by the time she looked up again, they were gone.

  The fire horse was a blur, streaking down the passages and leaving only ashy hoof prints and the faint smell of smoke where it passed. They had to pause briefly at the seal and wait for the snake to get out of the way, but there was nothing to stop them after that. They breezed past sentries like they weren’t there until they reached the last set at the surface. At that point, Esset banished the horse, dropping the two young men to the ground, still strapped together. The sentries came up to them, looking very concerned as Esset undid the belts.

  “The closest town, which way?” Esset demanded.

  The next syllables off his tongue were an incantation. The sentries just pointed and Esset nodded his thanks. A massive, fiery bird of prey had materialized next to him, i
ts massive wings fanning tendrils of flame in the air. Esset climbed onto its back, leaving Toman on the ground this time. The bird sidled over to the stricken man on the ground and delicately took him up in its talons before launching itself into the air. It circled once, high above, then turned in the direction of the town.

  The fiery bird cut through the gusty night wind, but that didn’t stop Toman’s cries from reaching Esset. He couldn’t close his ears to his brother’s pain. Toman thrashed, unaware of the world around him, but the summon held him fast as Esset gritted his teeth and willed the bird to go faster. He told himself repeatedly that they had to fight—there was no giving up, they’d sworn it. The healer would have a cure, an anti-venom of some sort. They would make it in time. The things he told himself became like a mantra as he repeated them, an attempt to convince himself that he was doing the right thing. Tseka’s way was never right; they had to fight for life. Toman wouldn’t die. He couldn’t die.

  The cold night air whipped around him, but the heat emanating from the summoned bird was enough to keep him warm. The crescent moon didn’t give off much light, but it was easy enough to see the village anyways. There were a few windows with candles, and the smoke from home fires betrayed it from a distance. Esset had feared that Nassata was right, that it would take too long to reach the town, but Toman’s cries reassured him in a sickening fashion that at least he was still alive. Toman was human, not one of the Nadra; they only knew for certain that Reshkin venom was lethal to Nadra. Maybe Toman would live, even without an anti-venom.

  Thanks to the bright, fiery wings of Esset’s summon, everyone knew he was coming. They didn’t know who or what was coming, however, so they hid. To them, it looked like a beast born of the Darkfires was coming to their town; a fiery demon swooped down below rooftop level and then back-winged to land lightly in the middle of the street. It stood upon a man crying out in pain—clearly a tortured victim of the winged beast. Those watching from behind curtains were bewildered when the fiery predator suddenly vanished, and another young man was visible for the first time.

  “Healer!” he yelled at the cowering village. “Someone fetch a healer!” He knelt next to the body of the man crying out in pain, clearly very concerned.

  Esset put his hands on either side of Toman’s face and spoke, hoping his brother would be able to hear him through the fire of his agony.

  “Toman, we’re here, hold on, help is coming.” He looked up again.

  “Healer!” he yelled again before leaning back over his brother. This time, however, he stripped the gloves from Toman’s hands. It was a promise he’d made a long time ago, one he had never wanted to make good on. If anything happened to Toman, Esset had promised that he would take the gloves and keep them safe, at least until Toman was able to look after them again. The gloves were too powerful to chance having them stolen when Toman was unable to understand what was going on. Fortunately, all of his animations would continue on as they had, unless a new animator donned the gloves and countermanded past orders. In the meantime, the gloves were safe in Esset’s bag until the healer cured him. Esset forced himself to think in those terms—the healer would come, and the healer would help Toman. He would get better, and he’d get his gloves back. That was how things would go.

  “Where is the healer?” Esset screamed again. Finally there was movement, with the nearest front door opening and a man rushing out. He was a common enough looking fellow with overalls and a scruffy beard.

  “We’ll have to take him to her,” the man said, kneeling down to help. Together they ducked their heads under Toman’s arms and carried him towards another house at the villager’s directions. The door was already open for them, but they were a few steps inside before anyone greeted them.

  “Oliver, right this way, set him on the bed,” came a pleasant female voice. Esset looked to the side and his gaze followed the woman as she led them into a bedroom.

  “We were helping the Nadra fight the Reshkin—he’s been bit. They said you were working on a cure. Can you help?” Esset asked her as he and the villager—Oliver—laid Toman out on the bed.

  “I hope so,” the woman replied. “I’ve been working on a cure—one for humans, at least—but I haven’t had a chance to test it.” She walked quickly to a cabinet and opened it, her hand finding a vial without error before quickly closing the cabinet again. A moment later she had a syringe in her hand and she was drawing a pale liquid into it.

  “Oliver, please hold him still,” she requested. Esset stepped back out of the way. He was uneasy about the anti-venom being untested, but he was glad that there was an anti-venom at all. Since there was a good chance that Toman would die without any help… Well, it was all too likely that an untested cure couldn’t hurt. He kept a close eye on her as she shoved Toman’s sleeve up so she could get at the vein on his arm. Or rather, he was keeping a close eye on Toman to gauge his reaction. There was no immediate reaction, but then Toman’s breathing began to pick up speed. Then he began screaming and thrashing, and Esset and Oliver had to pin him to the bed so he didn’t hurt himself. It was pure torture for Esset to see his brother in so much pain. He couldn’t say how long it was before Toman finally stopped fighting them and fell into a fevered sleep.

  “Will he be okay?” Esset asked the healer after he and Oliver stepped back.

  “I don’t know,” she replied, her eyes fixed upon her newest patient. “The anti-venom is untested. Tonight will be telling.”

  Esset was silent, staring at Toman until the healer spoke again.

  “And even if he does make it through the night, it will be a long recovery.”

  “That’s fine, I can wait for him,” Esset replied. There was a chair beside the bed and he suddenly found it difficult to stand, so he sat down heavily on it. Exhaustion was crashing down on him now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

  “You look like you could use rest. I will get a cot—” the healer began.

  “No. I’ll stay right here,” Esset said. The healer pursed her lips but didn’t seem inclined to argue.

  “Very well. I have another patient I need to attend to—call me if his condition changes,” she said. Esset just nodded, and she began to turn to leave the room.

  “Healer?” Esset forestalled her. She looked back at him over her shoulder.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you. For saving his life.”

  The healer smiled—Esset was only distantly aware that it was a beautiful smile—and left the room.

  Esset came to with his forehead on his arms on the bed beside Toman. The summoner blinked owlishly and studied his brother, but nothing had changed—Toman was still asleep, not completely peaceful, but passably calm. Esset wondered how long he’d been out—he knew he’d kept himself awake at least an hour, keeping an eye on his brother before he’d put his head down beside him for just a moment, giving sleep the opportunity to ambush him.

  Now Esset sat back and let the events of the past day wash over him. No—Esset noticed the window, and it was still very dark out. So it hadn’t been the past day—probably still more like a matter of hours. Esset looked around the room then, the first time he’d truly paid attention to their new location. He was surprised to see the quality of his surroundings—this was no mere healer’s house, it seemed. This looked more like a manor, the home of a minor noble or some such. The chair he was sitting in was very comfortable indeed, and the bed Toman was on was quite nice. The furniture was all of very fine quality, a combination of fanciness tempered with sturdiness.

  It made Esset wonder—what was a noble doing in a tiny town like this? Was the healer the noble? His memory was too foggy to make an educated guess, he’d been so fixated on Toman’s condition. Healing was an uncommon vocation for nobility; they didn’t typically need vocations at all. Esset wrote off the question for later thought.

  In the face of the luxury of the room, Esset was suddenly aware of how dirty he felt. Glancing around, he spotted a basin of warm water and a wash cl
oth, props that were fairly common in a patient’s room. Esset went over to the washstand, and after washing his hands, he dampened the cloth and mopped his brother’s fevered brow. There wasn’t much else to do, so Esset washed his own face after that, then sat back down in the chair by the bed. Ten minutes later his face was planted on his arms again, and he was fast asleep.

  Esset woke a few more times that night, but he didn’t see the healer again until morning, although he had a feeling she’d checked in a few times. When she came in just after dawn, she woke him with the small noises she made taking away the basin and returning it with fresh water. Esset opened his eyes, then sat up slowly, his gaze finding her as she looked over at him and smiled.

  “Good morning.” He greeted her a bit groggily; she returned the greeting in kind. Esset glanced briefly at Toman—he was sleeping peacefully now, Esset was glad to see, so he turned his full attention to the healer. Now that he actually looked at her, he guessed that she was, indeed, the noble, her presence and vocation as odd as the house they were in.

  She was a rather beautiful woman, with high cheekbones and lovely blue eyes. Her dark brown hair was very well-cared for and done up atop her head in a loose but pristine arrangement. Her clothes seemed simple for a noble, but too fancy and of a quality too good for her to pass as a commoner. Esset was guessing she was either minor nobility or the wife of a very rich merchant. He glanced at her hands, but there was no wedding ring on her finger. He took all that in in a second before realizing he didn’t even know her name. He got to his feet and executed a little bow to her before introducing himself.

  “I’m sorry, I just realized I never introduced myself. My name is Jonathan Esset, and the man you saved last night is my brother, Toman Atrix-Iiren.”