Calling On Fire (Book 1)

by Stephanie Beavers

  “Yes, thank you,” Francis echoed. “I don’t know what I would have done without you three.” The rest of them knew that he probably would have gotten himself killed. Arabella too, probably. But none of them said it—he probably knew it already too.

  “Well, it’s been a long day—more than one day, for Francis and me. If no one objects, I think we should retire for the night.” Arabella got to her feet and the rest of them rose only a moment behind her. Everyone bade their goodnights, and the princess and the merchant’s son departed to their room.

  “I should be heading out too,” Sergeant Warthog said once the pair were gone. Toman was slowly sitting back down, trying to hide a wince as he did so. Both Esset and the sergeant noticed anyways, but they pretended not to.

  “I’ll show you out,” Esset offered, stepping forward. “I know this place can be a maze.”

  “It might be small for a castle, but it’s still plenty large,” the sergeant agreed, accepting his offer. As it turned out, she had more than one motive for getting him to come along, but she waited until they were a ways down the hallway before speaking.

  “I know you two are set on catching that mage, but I can’t see you being okay with how things have turned out for Toman recently.”

  “No,” Esset conceded, avoiding eye contact.

  “I trust you’ve been giving this particular trajectory of yours some thought?”

  “Of course,” Esset replied, slightly defensive. He looked at her then, but only very briefly, with barely a glance.

  “Just remember that you don’t have to go after Moloch. Revenge is a dumb reason—” Esset tried to say something, but Sergeant Warthog forestalled him. “I know that’s not why you’re doing this, let me finish.” She waited for a nod before continuing.

  “And it isn’t your responsibility to go after him either. I know you both feel it is, but there’s still plenty of good you can do in this world without going there. You have to decide if this is worth your lives. I know you both think you’ve made that decision already, but you need to re-examine that choice and make sure you’re sure.

  “I hate to say this, but going after him will probably cost you your lives, or more, without any guarantee that you’ll take him down. Plenty of powerful people have tried to get the better of him before and made not so much as a mark. Now, I’ve agreed to help you two if that’s what you want, but… I’m asking you to reconsider. Don’t answer me now—give it some thought. Promise me you will, and promise that you’ll talk about this with Toman.”

  The sergeant physically confronted him then, forcing him to look her in the eye until he nodded.

  “Good. Now, the main hall is just through that door, yes?” Sergeant Warthog pointed at the door up ahead, and Esset nodded.

  Sergeant Warthog turned to go, but suddenly stopped.

  “Oh, I nearly forgot. This came for you and your brother a week or so ago.” The Sergeant pulled a thin, slightly crumpled envelope out of her vest pocket; it was marked with her courier’s address, but had their names on it.

  “Thank you,” Esset said, curiosity piqued.

  “I know the way out from here. Get some rest—you look like you need it. I’ll see you two when you get back.” With that, the sergeant resumed her quick pace, leaving Esset behind. Esset let her, slowing to a stop instead.

  “Bright Hyrishal keep you.” He automatically spoke the farewell at her departing back. She just lifted a hand to wave backwards before vanishing through the door.

  Intrigued, Esset pulled the envelope from his pocket and opened it.

  Jonathan, Toman,

  Trouble at home. Please come.

  Dad.

  Home.

  Toman and Esset landed before the city gates to briefly check in with the guards before walking towards the Essets’ home. This was Sedina, the capital city of Symria, a small kingdom that shared a border with Namara, where the Staggering Tankard kept shop. They both forgot their fatigue and Toman forgot some of his pain as they walked quickly down the streets to their childhood home.

  Esset nearly ran the last few steps, so he was the one to tap on the door. Mrs. Esset answered the door, and she immediately flushed and beamed and flew out to greet her boys.

  “Ed! Ed, our boys are here!” she shrieked. Esset was closer, so he was attacked with a massive hug first. Esset had a couple inches on his mother, but Mrs. Anita Esset’s torso-crushing hugs were legendary. Mrs. Esset wasn’t a very tall woman, but she made up her mass sideways. As usual, she wore a plain dress and the floral apron that she was rarely seen without.

  Mr. Edric Esset was thin as a rake, but despite the few extra creases on his face and the spreading grey hair at his temples, he was looking well. The scholar was only a few steps behind his wife, but he couldn’t greet his sons properly until they actually came into the house, given the small size of the entryway. He was beaming as he looked over his spectacles and down an overly long, thin nose at them. And he was always looking down—Esset came closest to his height, but still failed to meet it by a couple inches.

  Mrs. Esset suddenly spotted Toman’s arm in the sling as she pulled away from that first hug, and Esset found himself abruptly shifted aside and completely ignored by his mother as Mrs. Esset started fussing over their unofficially adopted son. Her eyes were wet as she hugged him very delicately.

  “Good to see you, son,” Mr. Esset greeted Esset, standing beside him and giving him a one-armed hug around his shoulders.

  “You too, Dad,” Esset said back. Both of them were watching Mrs. Esset and Toman as she made a large deal over the latter’s state while also shuffling him towards the living room and into the comfiest chair there. There was much to be said between the two men, but little need to say it. Right then, it was enough for all of them that they were home.

  Esset had intended to ask about his father’s letter immediately, but he found himself taking a moment and just appreciating the feeling of home. Mrs. Esset was the kind who loved her creature comforts, and as a result, the house was always cozy and welcoming and there was always a large surplus of food to be eaten. It was a miracle that Mr. Edric Esset was still as thin as he was—that any of them were less than rotund.

  “Come on, son,” Mr. Esset finally said when Mrs. Esset had bustled off to the kitchen to prepare snacks. Esset flopped onto a chair while Mr. Esset sat more sedately on a couch and adjusted his glasses.

  “So what was with the letter, Dad?” Esset asked. “I’m not sure I’d prefer the tome Mom would have written, but your note wasn’t very enlightening.”

  “For a few weeks now, there have been attacks across the city. People have been vanishing. The city guards are stumped. I hate putting this on you boys, especially with everything that’s happened—” Mr. Esset’s eyes locked on Toman’s injured arm.

  “Toman might be injured, but I’m fine, I’ll help,” Esset said immediately. Toman just frowned.

  “I’ll help too,” Toman said just as Mrs. Esset reentered the room with a plate of sandwiches and cookies.

  “You’re going to eat good food and get good sleep,” Mrs. Esset said in her best Because-Mother-Says-So voice.

  “Mom—” Toman began to object.

  “Listen to your mother,” Mr. Esset said. “We’ll hear all that’s happened and see how you’re doing tomorrow.” Toman frowned again but fell silent. Esset avoided looking at him.

  “Does no one have any idea who’s behind the attacks?” Esset asked.

  “We’re not even sure it’s a ‘who,’” Mr. Esset said. “They look a lot like animal attacks.” A crease formed between Esset’s eyebrows. Mr. Esset shook his head.

  “But really, there’s nothing to be done tonight. First thing tomorrow, we’ll go to the city guard headquarters. They’ll have all the particulars. Tonight…we’ll just put aside what worries we can tonight, and you two can catch us up,” Mr. Esset said. A long silence bespoke Esset’s reluctance to let the topic go.

  “Come, tell us what’s happe
ned,” Mrs. Esset coaxed.

  Esset started his monologue from the last time they’d visited their parents: several uneventful jobs before they’d met Nassata. Mrs. Esset fussed happily in the kitchen, planning meals and preparing even more snacks to stuff her family with. Even from the kitchen, she listened, and both she and Mr. Esset kept quiet while their son spoke.

  Esset had only just begun describing Salithsa and their Reshkin problem when Mrs. Esset returned with food and caught Toman head-bobbing as he tried to stay awake.

  “Enough!” she exclaimed, bouncing to her feet. “Toman, it’s time you got some rest. I’m sure Esset can tell us the rest, or you can tell us in the morning.” When she patted her hands against her apron, a little puff of flour poofed outwards. Toman waved away her help as he got to his feet.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “I’m sure Esset can tell you everything.” He walked normally, if slowly, towards the bedroom with Mrs. Esset in tow, offering everything from bedtime snacks to extra blankets to make sure her boy would be taken care of.

  “I’m good, Mom, no thanks, Mom,” came the mumbled replies.

  Esset nibbled on a cookie while waiting for her to come back. He couldn’t help but wonder if Toman had chosen his moment to excuse himself. Esset also wasn’t sure if he was thankful for Toman’s absence or wishing he’d come back.

  As soon as Mrs. Esset returned, Esset told them about the Reshkin biting Toman. His mother sat down next to Esset then and wrapped her arms around him. Mr. Esset pursed his lips and a crease deepened between his eyebrows as he listened, but he still didn’t interrupt. When Esset told them about Ateala, both parents shot multiple, worried glances towards Toman’s room. Esset found it to be a relief to get the narrative off his chest and over with, but he still felt ashamed to tell his parents that any of it had happened at all.

  “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect him,” he finished, throat tight.

  “Oh honey, you did,” Mrs. Esset comforted him, cuddling him as though he were still ten years old and not over twice that. “You did protect him.”

  “You boys are strong, Jonathan,” Mr. Esset said to him. “We know you’re both strong enough to keep coming home to us.”

  “You’re home now,” Mrs. Esset reminded Esset. “Just rest now, we’ll take care of you.”

  “That’s a relief,” Esset admitted. He knew better than to think everything would be okay just because they were home, but just for tonight…he believed it anyways.

  “Good. Now, I think we’ve all stayed up late enough. Time to go to bed,” Mrs. Esset said.

  “I’m not ten anymore,” Esset reminded his mother fondly, teasingly.

  “Tsk. Neither is your father, and I still have to remind him to eat and sleep most of the time. He’d spend all his time with his nose in a book otherwise,” Mrs. Esset complained happily, rousing her menfolk and ushering them to their respective bedrooms.

  Esset jolted awake as a large crash sounded next to his head. He bolted upright in bed and blinked frantically, adrenaline working to clear his muddy thoughts but failing. Toman sat on the bed across from Esset’s, head in one hand, his stump dangling uselessly.

  “What?” Esset asked muzzily. Then he spotted the wooden arm on the floor next to a knocked-over stack of books. Ah.

  “I have HAD it,” Toman growled. He looked up at Esset, eyes burning with anger. He tore his hat off his head, mangling the top of the floppy fabric in his fist. He almost threw it on the floor, then reconsidered and shoved it roughly back on his head.

  Esset swung his feet to the floor and picked up the discarded attempt at a new arm.

  “Sorry for waking you up,” Toman muttered, still sounding more angry than sorry. Esset yawned.

  “S’all right. Almost morning anyways. Did you sleep?” Esset asked. If Toman had, it hadn’t been restful, judging by the dark circles under his eyes.

  “Too much. I should be getting this arm made,” Toman said.

  “That’ll be hard with your arm still sore. Maybe you should take a break, rest up for a bit,” Esset suggested.

  “I’ve been resting,” Toman retorted.

  “We have to wait until you’re healed completely before we head out again anyways,” Esset reasoned with a shrug. “And that will take weeks yet. You’re not getting anywhere with this now, but if you just relax and ruminate on it, maybe something will come to you. Practice some other things, maybe. But right now, it’s just going to take longer for your injuries to heal if you keep prodding at them like you have been.”

  “I hate being injured,” Toman hissed vehemently.

  “I know,” Esset sympathized. “But that doesn’t change the facts.”

  Toman exhaled loudly, his posture relaxing at least a bit. He nodded—he knew that, but he didn’t have to like it. “I just feel like I’m wasting time,” Toman vented a bit, but without the same degree of vehemence as before.

  “I know,” Esset said again. “But there’s nothing pressing us to get back out there right away. We agreed to wait until we were strong before going after Moloch, remember?” Esset waited for Toman to nod before continuing. “So, rest. Heal, and get stronger again. You don’t have to have your new arm ready for the second you’re healed enough to head out again.”

  “I guess,” Toman finally admitted, although he still didn’t like it.

  “And Toman…” Esset began, but then he let the words trail off. He wasn’t sure it was a good time to bring this up. Then again, he wanted Toman to have plenty of time to think about it.

  “What?” Toman prompted him when he didn’t continue.

  Esset sighed. Well, he had to bring it up at some point anyways. “Just… give some thought to what I have to say. Promise?” He didn’t really wait for Toman’s response before he continued. “Remember that this isn’t something that we have to do at all—we don’t have to go after Moloch. We can still do good in this world—perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, even more other good things—if we don’t go after him.”

  “What?” Toman exclaimed, shocked. Esset could see the hint of betrayal in his eyes at the mere suggestion. “Esset, stopping Moloch is something we—I—have to do! You know that! Aren’t you with me on this?”

  “Of course!” Esset snapped so quickly there was no way that Toman could doubt the sentiment. “You know that.” That was a reprimand, no denying it, but this one Toman accepted. “But I want you to think, Toman, and not just act. I want you to be sure that this is what you want. You and I both know that one or both of us could die trying to stop him. If you want to go after him, I will be with you every step of the way, but I want you to be sure.”

  “I’m—” Toman began, but Esset cut him off.

  “Toman, just think on it.” Esset was far more subdued now. “Get better, keep working on your arm. We don’t even have to talk about it again. You know I’ll follow you no matter what you decide, but just think on it. Okay?”

  Toman was taken aback by the fire in his brother’s eyes, but after a long moment, he nodded.

  Having said his piece, Esset withdrew from the room, fairly certain that Toman would keep his word. He’d think on it, and even if his decision remained the same, that would be a good thing.

  “Ah, Jonathan, there you are,” Mr. Esset said when Esset stepped into the hallway. “Are you ready to go?”

  Esset glanced back at the bedroom, but “yeah” was all he said. He saw his father notice his tone and choose not to say anything as they grabbed their jackets.

  “Jonathan!” his mother called as they were about to step out the door. They paused and waited for her to come bustling up the hallway.

  “I packed lunches. And here’s your breakfast.” She pressed fried egg sandwiches into their hands. “Don’t forget to eat! I know how you two get when you’re working. Take care of each other.”

  “Yes, Mom,” Esset said long-sufferingly, accepting the non-optional package and tucking it in his bag.

  “Thanks, hun,” Mr. Esset kissed his
wife and the two men escaped to Sedina’s cobbled streets.

  Esset looked in the university’s direction but it was hidden behind the tall roofs of the modest homes that cramped the narrow streets. He could, however, see the royal castle that the university nestled against, its fortifications towering over the city.

  “So what’s been going on at the university?” Esset asked as they left the house behind.

  “Hm… The usual, mostly,” Mr. Esset began. “Korf is away, tracking a rumor that there’s a traveling merchant with a rare scroll in the next town over. Haesher’s daughter is getting married, and he’s still in a tiff about the soldier who courted her.” He lifted a hand to wave to a smiling neighbor.

  “I thought they’d managed to convince him being a soldier was okay?” Esset asked.

  “They had…until Haesher found out that the soldier’s father was born on the Islands.”

  Esset winced. “And now Haesher thinks he’s an Islander spy.” Haesher was notoriously paranoid. A pair of children darted past, shrieking and giggling madly in play.

  “And the drama continues,” Mr. Esset actually looked rather amused by the whole situation. After all, the Islands were trade partners with Symria.

  Esset shook his head. “Speaking of paranoia, what’s up with Forris? Last I heard, a maid accidentally let a cat into his lab and it went after his test rats.” Esset wondered if Forris had managed to get the maid fired. He hoped not; it was an innocent enough mistake.

  “Forris…went missing. He was one of the first, actually. We haven’t found his body, but he’s not the only one.” Mr. Esset looked away and Esset went silent. Forris had always had many radical ideas, and his paranoia, like Haesher’s, had always been a source of drama and entertainment, but Esset had liked the man. Sedina’s university had collected an eclectic assortment of rather brilliant scholars, and Forris had been among them.

  “What about his work?” Esset asked after a long silence.

  “The church officials still want it destroyed, but we’re trying to get his research archived. After all, he revolutionized the study of healing. Who would have thought of generating and curing disease in animals and using the results to cure ailments in humans? Brilliant. Sure, results were only repeatable when magic healing was used, but it’s only a matter of time before some of the results can be used to aid herbalism as well.”