Calling On Fire (Book 1)

by Stephanie Beavers

“We haven’t even started this thing, and I’m already doing things I’m too old for,” the sergeant muttered under her breath, remembering her previous flights on stone mounts. Francis had actually started clambering up the bird’s neck first. Sergeant Warthog was only a couple moments behind him.

  The moment they were mounted, the birds launched into the air. Pumps of their fiery wings sent them upwards with lurching jolts. Esset winced empathetically as Toman braced himself and bent over at the pain the rough flight caused. Fortunately their mounts’ motions evened out once they reached a sustainable altitude; long glides were interspersed with swoops, lifts, and dives as the birds slipped from thermal to thermal and the scenery passed below.

  Esset could see the castle as they approached, but he knew Francis and the sergeant would only see an empty patch of land. Esset kept his eye on the two, watching their expressions as they studied the “featureless” landscape below as they descended—and then the surprise when the walls of the castle abruptly appeared around them when the bird’s feet touched the ground.

  “Whoa!” Francis exclaimed suddenly—the sergeant started in surprise as well, but she bit her tongue. She, at least, had more practice at hiding her reactions.

  Their mounts landed swiftly with a surprisingly gentle touch-down. Toman was well-used to Esset’s summons, so when the bird crouched to lower its neck closer to the ground, he knew to brace himself. When the bird vanished, it was only a couple feet to the ground, which wasn’t too bad if one was prepared. Esset purposely made his and Toman’s bird vanish first for that reason. Sergeant Warthog and Francis were able to watch them and at least try to mimic the pair’s movements. Francis staggered forward and windmilled a bit before the sergeant grabbed his collar to stabilize him. She let go as soon as he had his balance again, and he mumbled an embarrassed thank you. His near spill kept him from noticing the stone mastiff approach.

  “Greetings, Master. How can I be of service?” Arxus asked.

  Francis stared at the stone creature nervously after glancing uncertainly at everyone else. Toman and Esset, of course, were totally used to the animated statue, but the sergeant had never actually seen the castle. She’d known, at least approximately, where it was, but it had never been visible to her, and she’d certainly never been inside.

  “We’ll need supplies for four for a few days. We’ll be flying, so keep it light,” Esset replied. The mastiff didn’t look at Esset, but since Arxus had been ordered in the past to treat the summoner’s orders as if they were Toman’s, he nodded and would obey. Arxus was the kind of creature to follow an order to the letter, but not necessarily in spirit. In a way, that was to be expected of a creature that was animated but not necessarily alive.

  “That’s—” Francis started, pointing at the stone dog. They waited for a second for him to continue, but he appeared dumbstruck.

  “Francis, Sergeant Warthog, this is Arxus. He’s… Well, he’s the castle,” Esset explained. It was an adequate explanation for the sergeant, who knew most of the story, but Francis looked a little confused. Since it was somewhat irrelevant to him, Toman and Esset didn’t bother explaining further.

  “Well, Sergeant, you’re the senior officer here. What’re your thoughts?” Toman asked. He was looking a little pale, which wasn’t at all lost on Sergeant Warthog.

  “I think I’m too old for this,” she grumbled. “You boys take the lead, and I’ll lend a voice if I think you’re missing something. You know your own skills better than I do, so I’ll leave this mostly to you. For now, we should take this inside and sit down. I want to talk to the two of you alone for a minute too and get a quick briefing on your last job.”

  “Of course,” Esset replied. They started to walk towards the keep, and the massive wooden doors swung open to admit them without any apparent order or aid.

  The hall glowed with majesty, each torch and chandelier placed to illuminate perfectly every tapestry and relief carving adorning the walls while still accenting the throne-like seat at the end of the room and the portrait that hung behind it.

  Francis was all gape-jawed, which gave Toman, Esset, and the sergeant a chance to converse without him listening in. Three plush chairs waddled over to huddle together so they could sit down while they talked. Francis wandered a bit into the hall to admire the tapestries.

  “Impressive place you’ve got here,” Sergeant Warthog commented.

  “Thanks,” Toman said. He didn’t elaborate, since this wasn’t the conversation they were there to have.

  “Okay then,” the sergeant said, taking charge of the discussion. “First, Toman. If this weren’t obviously time-sensitive and if I had someone else to take this job, you wouldn’t be involved. You look like you’re two heartbeats to passing out.”

  Yeah, that sounds about how I feel, Toman thought, but instead he said, “I’ll be fine. I can take a back seat on this one, or at least a distant one. I don’t have to be right in the middle of things to animate—that’s just best for good reaction times if my creations need new orders. For something like this, I should be able to keep a good distance away. I can animate things to participate and keep out of the way myself. Getting there will be the worst of it for me.” Sergeant Warthog narrowed her eyes at him—he wasn’t fooling her, but both of their statements were true, so he was going along even if she disliked it.

  “Okay, tell me what happened with the Nadra,” the sergeant ordered. Esset summarized the entire ordeal in under five minutes, including the extent of the damage Toman had taken. It was a little glossed, but the sergeant was good enough at listening to briefings to get the full picture. She knew how close Toman had come to dying—twice. And it explained a lot about their condition and behavior now.

  “The both of you are lucky to be alive,” she warned them. “Just remember, this is what comes of messing with Moloch—except with him personally, it’ll be ten times worse.”

  “We know,” Toman replied, rock steady. For just a moment, Sergeant Gretchen Warthog’s gaze flickered away from his. She was unnerved by his gaze. Yes, they did know what they were getting into, and not only were they prepared to look death in the eye, they knew what it meant to do so.

  “That’s why we’re going to lay low until Toman’s healed. Well, we will after this now,” Esset amended.

  “We probably won’t even get paid for this,” the sergeant grumbled, looking over at Francis, who was admiring a tapestry at the other end of the hall.

  “Yeah, but look at him. He’s pathetic. We have to help him,” Toman pointed out. The sergeant harrumphed but didn’t contradict him.

  “Well then boys, you ready to rescue a princess?” she asked. The three of them exchanged looks for a second, then busted out laughing simultaneously. Like a traditional fairy tale, this wasn’t.

  “Oi! Martin!” Sergeant Warthog shouted to the young man. At least she called him by his last name, Esset thought. That indicated that she at least respected what he was trying to do. Francis hurried over, and they commenced planning. Half an hour later, they were in the air again.

  “Darkfires take it, I was hoping for something more open,” Toman cursed. They’d just found the bandits holed up in a large cave. Snatching back the princess would have been easy if they’d been in a field or canyon or under any open air at all—Esset could have simply had one of his fiery birds swoop down and snatch her up before the bandits knew what hit them. In a cave, the princess was that much more vulnerable to being used as a hostage.

  “So we all were,” the sergeant responded. “But we prepared for this too. We all know our parts. Let’s do this.” The three young men nodded and got into place.

  “Foolish thieves.” Toman was hiding at the mouth of the cave with a funny contraption that looked like a metal cone. When he spoke into it, it amplified his voice—and he was bellowing to begin with. He was also having a grand time with his allotted job. Francis sat in stony silence, letting the bandits assume that he was using magic to speak instead of deigning to speak with
his physical voice.

  “Return what you have stolen.” Toman demanded.

  Just as he finished speaking, the “Dark Sorcerer” and his “minions” suddenly “appeared” in the cave entrance. In reality, Francis had used his illusion magic to briefly mask their approach and then dropped the false image when they were in place. Francis and his “minions” needed no help looking fierce, however. Toman had animated three massive gargoyle-like quadrupeds for them to ride. They snarled silently and pawed the ground menacingly, leaving shallow furrows in the stony floor. Astride the lead beast was Francis, in all his black-clad, pasty-skinned glory. Somehow, he was actually managing to look somewhat menacing atop his fierce steed.

  To either side of him were mounted matching suits of armor. Inside one suit was Sergeant Warthog—the other was simply animated metal borrowed from Toman’s castle. Altogether, they made a fierce sight. They were all hoping to get the princess back without having to fight, but those wickedly curving claws and fangs on the stone beasts weren’t all bluff.

  Meanwhile, Esset was hiding behind rocks and slowly making his way around the side of the cave so he could get behind the bandits. At best, he would be able to extract Arabella with a fiery horse and a quick exit. At worst, he would be in a better tactical position to send some kind of fire creature into the fray if it came to that. Given the terrified expressions of the bandits at the moment, it was looking like it might not be necessary.

  “You will pay for your hubris, puny men!” the voice bellowed. “Return my prize to me now or suffer the consequences!”

  For a moment, it looked like their plan would work flawlessly, and the bandits would turn over the princess without any fight at all. Then the leader managed to regain his courage and rally his men.

  “You bluff!” he yelled back. He waved a hand at one of his men to get him to grab Arabella and draw a sword on her threateningly.

  “Bluff? You will pay for this insolence!” Toman roared into the voice amplifier. The stone beast with just the suit of armor lunged forward. It snatched up the nearest bandit in a clawed hand and raised it up into the air. The man screamed, a high-pitched squeal of terror, and uselessly battered his sword blade against the creature’s stone arm. The gargoyle snapped at the man’s face menacingly and shook him like a doll. The man dropped his sword and it clattered towards his mates. They drew back as if it were a poisonous snake. The gargoyle crashed back down to the ground and pinned the bandit to the ground under one gargantuan foot, its claws scraping the rocks gratingly. The bandit was slightly flatter under its weight, but he was otherwise undamaged.

  “Stop! Move again and she is dead!” the bandit leader frantically ordered.

  “Who is bluffing now?” Toman roared. “Know this—I am Dark Sorcerer Zaren, and you know not the territory into which you have wandered. This is your last warning: return my property or I shall destroy each and every one of you. If you damage my possession, death shall be the least of your fears.”

  Despite the seriousness of Arabella’s situation, Toman was having far too much fun. In fact, that shred of seriousness was all that was keeping him from busting out laughing and ruining the entire thing. Not that this was a bluff—far from it. Still, they were hoping to avoid bloodshed. Meanwhile, Esset was almost halfway around the cave, level with the bandit leader.

  “What kind of guarantee do we have that you won’t kill us anyways?” the bandit leader shouted back. He looked worried—very worried, and his fear was legitimate. After all, Dark Sorcerers weren’t exactly known for keeping their word.

  “I will give you this guarantee only: return my possession in the next minute or you will all die. I can replace any possession I choose, but your lives are irreplaceable to you.” Toman managed to growl menacingly while still amplifying his voice. It was quite intimidating.

  The whole thing was a bit melodramatic for Esset’s taste, but it was coming across as genuine to the bandits—at least half of them immediately threw down their various weapons and raised their hands in the air. The rest of them looked around at their comrades and quickly followed suit, the bandit holding Arabella included. Arabella immediately began running forward, but she had to pass the leader, and he snaked an arm out to grab her. She shrieked in surprise as he gained a harsh enough grip on her arm to bruise.

  Esset was close enough—the simple syllables of the incantation rolled off his tongue and a fiery wolf materialized behind the bandit leader. The summoner didn’t anticipate Arabella’s next move, however. She balled her hand into a fist and punched the man square in the mouth. She wasn’t strong enough to do serious damage—she was still a relatively small woman—but she startled everyone, including her captor, and he let go of her in surprise. The flaming wolf lunged and snapped its jaws around the bandit’s now-empty outstretched hand. The bandit screamed in pain as his hand was simultaneously burned and crushed in the creature’s jaws. The wolf vanished within a moment, but the damage remained.

  Princess Arabella ran right up to the feet of Francis’ gargoyle and flung herself onto the ground before him. She shook and wept so hard that Toman was worried that the woman had been permanently damaged by the experience. Then again, she had mustered up the spirit to punch the bandit leader. Was she this good of an actress?

  “My lord, please forgive me my absence!” she wailed. “These men stole me away—I never would have dreamed of stealing myself away from you! Have mercy, my lord, please!” She groveled in the dirt as Sergeant Warthog dismounted and walked woodenly over. Then the sergeant picked the princess up and unceremoniously slung her over one shoulder.

  “You okay?” the sergeant murmured, almost inaudibly, to the princess.

  “Fine,” the princess peeped back, equally quietly.

  “You are foolish, puny men,” Toman roared. As he spoke the armor-bearing gargoyle reared up and clawed the air, freeing the bandit that had been trapped under its claws but menacing the rest of them. The bandits drew back, and some began pleading for their lives. Meanwhile, Esset was using the distraction to sneak back towards the rest of the group. The giant stone beast lunged forward and swiped at the air, causing the bandits to scramble back. Toman was fairly certain that they all thought they were about to die. He let them think that for a few moments before putting their fears to rest. Sort of.

  “You are fortunate, you imbecilic meat-sacks, that I have other, more pressing matters to attend to. You may keep your lives, this time. If I grow bored later, perhaps I will seek you out for my entertainment,” Toman added, making his tone almost bored. Francis and the sergeant turned their beasts away a moment before Francis put up an illusion of their absence, so they seemed to simply vanish. The other gargoyle menaced the bandits a moment or two longer before lunging out of the cave after the others. In that time, Esset had snuck past the illusion as well, leaving the bandits completely alone. In reality, Esset paused at the mouth of the cave so he and Toman could mount the gargoyle-like stone beast before all three of the beasts carried the princess and her rescue party away.

  “Hey Esset,” Toman said as soon as they were out of earshot—that wasn’t difficult, since the bandit leader was still raising a fuss over his injuries.

  “Yeah?” Esset responded, leaning into his brother’s back to hear and be heard better.

  “We just rescued a princess!” Toman laughed back.

  “I know! I doubt this story will ever end up in the tales!” Esset laughed too. It was all totally absurd, really. The old tales were totally formulaic, and they definitely hadn’t followed the formula. Yet at the same time, rescuing a princess did make them feel like a couple of giddy little boys living out a tale of heroes and dragons, good and evil. This little incident restored their faith in the world—just a little bit.

  “Imbecilic meat-sacks?” the sergeant stated skeptically. Esset howled with laughter and almost fell out of his chair. They were back in the castle, in a small room sporting some comfortable chairs and a card table that they were seated around, having a
bite to eat. After leaving the bandits far behind, they’d stopped briefly to make sure Arabella was okay and wait for the sergeant to climb out of the uncomfortable suit of armor. They’d introduced themselves to the princess but waited until they’d reached Arxus to give her the whole story. By then it was evening, and Toman and Esset had offered to put up Francis and Arabella for the night. At the moment, they were razzing Toman for the bits of his performance that they perceived to be overdone.

  “I can’t believe you used the word ‘hubris,’” Arabella put in. “I’m fair certain they didn’t know what it meant.”

  “Haha—I can see them now! ‘Please, tell me what that means so I can avoid doing it again!’” Francis joked.

  “Hey, that one was all Esset. When we planned the first bit, he said to say that!” Toman said, pointing at his brother.

  “Oh come on, who doesn’t know what hubris is?” Esset said.

  “Not everyone likes to be up to their ears in religious literature, Esset,” Toman pointed out. “And you don’t find that word anywhere else.”

  “Nonsense,” Esset huffed, pretending to be snooty about it. Only the glint in his eyes gave him away.

  “Regardless, I’m sure they’re still shaking in their boots,” Francis put in proudly. “We owe you a great debt.”

  “Indeed we do,” Arabella agreed, snuggling into her beau’s side. “Thank you for helping this lug come get me.”

  “Lug?” Francis put in woefully before Toman and Esset could respond.

  “Loveable lug,” Arabella amended, sneaking a kiss onto the tip of Francis’ nose. He was entirely appeased.

  “It was nothing,” Esset interjected, shifting awkwardly in his chair and deliberately looking away from the couple.

  “Don’t worry about paying us anything,” the sergeant put in. She was in the business of favors, after all, and she knew that a favor could be worth more than any payment. Not that she expected to ever call in a favor on these two, but one never knew.

  “Thank you so much. You are too generous,” Arabella thanked them sincerely.