Fire Games (Pyforial Mage Trilogy: Book 1)

by B. T. Narro

  “What about sartious then?”

  “Some.” She cleared her throat, drew her wand, and cranked her neck for a quick stretch. “It’s not easy stuff to move.” She pointed her wand between us, and a thin ribbon as green as an emerald trailed behind it, rising and falling with the movement of her wand. “I can’t make much more than that, but like most beautiful things in this world, I can destroy any sartious object with ease in comparison. I’ve seen some mages, who specialize in sartious energy, skilled enough to shape it into anything they can think of. You can do this with pyforial energy?”

  “Yes, like sartious, it sticks to itself with a little help from me. But unlike sartious, it’s difficult to see, and it doesn’t stay where I want it as soon as I let it go. It’s not heavy enough. Even the biggest clump of pyforial energy that I could force together would disperse as soon as I let it out of my control.”

  “Sartious energy is like that as well until it’s been packed against itself so hard that it becomes solid. I suppose py energy can never become solid if what you say is true.”

  “It must not be able to.”

  “If it weren’t for bastial energy, sartious wouldn’t have much use,” Shara said. “But without sartious, there would be nothing for the bastial energy to burn. There would be no spells involving fire, and as dangerous as it is, fire’s the reason I wanted to be a mage. Our survival depends on water and fire.” She raised her eyebrows at me. “The two of them representing our gods is no coincidence.”

  The two camel hump hills ahead were getting closer with each passing moment. I knew the desert was on the other side. “You never answered my question,” I pointed out.

  She pressed her lips in a tight grin. “We won’t be fighting the terrislak. It’ll be easy to avoid. I’ve studied for too long to let us get caught.”

  A stream of horsemen shot over the hills and sent my heart fluttering. They’re too far away, I told myself. They can’t do anything to us. We were headed north, so they must’ve been going southwest. Miles away, they looked as if they were emerging from the horizon.

  “My gods,” Shara muttered angrily. “Those cowards.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That’s our army, and look—they’ve gone around the desert. If they’d ridden through it like we’re going to, they might’ve made it to Cessri in time to fight our attackers.”

  They kept coming over the hills like an endless army of black ants. There must’ve been thousands. I wondered if they were riding to protect one of the already damaged cities or if they would continue south into enemy territory.

  We were prepared for the desert by the time we reached it. Our horses were well hydrated and fed, and we had two days’ worth of nuts and berries. Evening was fast approaching, though, meaning we’d have to spend the night on the cold sand because we were too behind to risk waiting until morning to enter the desert.

  My first glimpse was from the peak of its southern hills. The land was mostly flat, but that was all that matched my expectations. The sand was dark, closer to the color of dirt than the bright blond hair I had when I was a child. There were uneven streaks of grass as if someone had come through to clear it all, only to do a lazy job before leaving. Everywhere there were bumps, not tall enough to be called hills. None appeared to reach higher than my shoulders. Something had happened to this land. It wasn’t a desert, but it certainly was deserted.

  “The secret is in those mounds,” Shara said. “For every hundred of them, only eight are concealing terrislak’s fingers. Ride between the wrong mounds and you get grabbed. Then you’re dead. Terrislaks bury themselves. In a sleep state, they can wait for months until their next meal comes along. Their palms are sensitive enough to feel the vibrations of even a child walking over them.”

  “Why have they chosen this location? It’s barren.”

  “It didn’t used to be before the terrislaks came here. There are other deserts like this one, now abandoned by the terrislaks that created them. Not only do they eat people and horses, but they ruin miles of land for decades even after they’ve moved somewhere else. They’re terrible creatures with no predators to thin their numbers.”

  “You want to kill them.”

  “The world would be better off without them.”

  “You could say the same about some humans.”

  “Let’s not get into that again. I mean you’re right, but there’s still more you need to learn about terrislaks.”

  She went on to tell me she would lead us because there were patterns to watch for, rules to keep us safe. Mounds concealing a terrislak hand were shaped in an arc of four or more. They could be pressed close together, but they couldn’t be farther than a few feet apart. There could be no mounds on the inner side of this arc for at least the length of a horse, because that’s where the palms rested. For air, terrislaks made underground tunnels that opened somewhere near their faces. There were always two sets of arcs as well, one for the four fingers of each hand. The rest of the mounds were made to help hide the others, making it difficult to know which ones concealed fingers.

  “They have a white claw on the end of the first finger of each hand,” Shara added, “for piercing their victims. Though they could also crush humans to death in their palms.”

  We started across the land, riding quicker than I figured we would. “You can really see the patterns at this speed?”

  “I told you I’ve had lots of practice.”

  I imagined Shara searching through books for drawings she could study. Then I imagined her creating her own drawings, hundreds of them so she wouldn’t inadvertently memorize any of them until after weeks of practice. Then she’d make hundreds more.

  Shara’s mind worked differently than mine. This had become clear throughout our trip, but it was even more obvious now as I observed the same land that she did. There were so many mounds, I had no hope of identifying an arc of four unless I stopped every ten yards. But at Shara’s speed, we rode between a dozen mounds for each breath I took.

  Soon she halted her mount and pointed ahead. “There’s one. See the four mounds in an arc?”

  I saw fifty mounds, many of them in an arc. “No.”

  She jumped off her horse, and I did the same. “Here, look.” Standing shoulder to shoulder, it was easier to see what she was pointing at. “There’s about ten mounds in a loose line in front of us, then there’s four in a tight arc. See?”

  “I do.”

  “Its other hand is there, the other arc of four. Do you see?”

  It took me an embarrassingly long time to find the other hand, with Shara trying the whole time to describe exactly where it was.

  When we were back on our mounts, I asked, “How many terrislaks are in Talmor Desert?”

  “Based on what I’ve read, I’d guess there were twenty to thirty. The chances of missing them are in our favor even if we didn’t know what patterns to look for.”

  “Will you finally tell me what they look like?”

  “Imagine a bald baby with puffy cheeks and a fat chin. But now take their adorable eyes and turn them completely black. Shrink their nose, puff their lips, and make all their teeth pointed, good for ripping flesh. There’s no hair on their body, just like their head. They look smooth, gray overall, with a protruding gut and stumpy legs.”

  “How big are they?”

  “People say two to three times the height of a grown man. They have large hands for their size.”

  I thought about being grabbed by one of those large hands. What an awful way to die. I tried to look for patterns with Shara, but as hard as I focused, all I saw were mounds of dirt. There were just too many.

  “What if I told you there was no such thing as a terrislak?” Shara asked without looking away from the mounds ahead of us. “What if I’d made everything up?”

  “I would be confused.”

  She giggled. “It would be funny, though. Wouldn’t you laugh?”

  “Shara…did you make up the terrislaks?” />
  “Neeko…no I didn’t.”

  “I don’t know that I can laugh until we’re out of here.”

  “Once a year, the terrislaks come out to mate. The males dance and fight and display the bones of the carcasses they caught that year. They string the bones together with mucus to form an enormous necklace. The females choose a mate and take him below ground to where they’ve constructed a birthing den. Their offspring try to break the bones from the necklace as they get older. Once they can, they’re strong enough to hunt. If they can’t, their mother eats them.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” She grinned at me. “The little terrislaks get no break.”

  “Are you telling a joke?”

  “Yes! I was trying to prove you can laugh before we’re out of here.”

  “Hah. Hah,” I spoke flatly. “Is all of that true?”

  “It’s true.” She slowed her mount to a stop. “Here’s as good a spot as any to make camp.”

  All around us were mounds of dirt, but I trusted that Shara knew we weren’t going to be sleeping on top of a terrislak.

  There was a rock that looked sturdy enough to keep our horses in place and a patch of grass close enough for them to feed on.

  The blanket Shara and I had dried with was still damp. There was nowhere to hang it as the last light of the sun dimmed and stars filled the sky. The wind picked up, but Shara still lit a fire with ease. I huddled near it as we ate berries, the blanket’s dampest side at my front in hopes it would dry from the heat.

  “I’m going to try to sleep,” Shara said, “before it gets even colder. Is your blanket dry now?”

  It hadn’t dried at all and probably wouldn’t without holding it near the fire for an hour more. “It should be fine soon.”

  “If you want to share, we can. Just wake me up if you do.”

  “All right.” It wasn’t until she lay flat and said “good night” that I realized what she’d said.

  Share? The blanket wasn’t long enough for both of us unless we were cuddled close. Is that what she meant?

  “Shara?”

  “Neeko,” she grumbled.

  “Never mind.” I didn’t know how to bring it up, so I didn’t. “Good night.”

  I was still up an hour later. The wind had blown out the fire, and the dampness on my blanket had seeped through my shirt to my skin. I shivered as I tried to rotate the blanket.

  Even where it was least damp, it still seemed to do more harm than good. I pushed it off me before my shirt got any wetter. I changed into a dry shirt from my bag and tried to sleep without the blanket.

  I felt better but still shivered. The wind whistled as it blew over me. I took all the clothes from my bag and laid them over me. Finally, my shivering died down. In the dark, I imagined I looked just like one of the mounds around me, but smaller. I almost fell asleep several times, but my mound of clothes kept slipping off from the wind, or my subtle movements, or both.

  “Two hells, Neeko.” I heard Shara laugh as she pressed on my bundle of clothes. I let the mound fall apart. “Is Shara so vile you’d rather sleep like this than beside her?”

  “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “This wind is terrible. You’re likely to wake up with a few shirts missing by morning unless you put them back in your bag. Come on, I’ll help you.”

  Her tone reminded me of how much I missed my mother.

  Soon my clothes were stuffed back into my bag. “Is your blanket too damp to put on top of ours?”

  “Yes.” I shoved it under the strap on my bag. When I was done, the shadow that I knew to be Shara looked to be lying against the dirt with the blanket held high—an invitation. I crawled beside her and pulled it down behind me, tucking the edge beneath my body. I felt Shara turn to face away from me.

  “You smell like the lake,” she said.

  With just a turn of my head, my nose was in her hair. I sniffed. “So do you.”

  “Don’t sniff my hair.”

  “Oh, but it smells so good,” I said with heavy sarcasm.

  She laughed as she gathered her tangled hair and flipped it over her shoulder.

  Although I was warm and comfortable, I found it was even more difficult to sleep. I didn’t mind that I could hear her breathing or that I could feel the warmth of her back with my shoulder. But those things didn’t calm me. They stirred something in my chest.

  I didn’t know if it was because my body craved intimacy of any kind, or if it was Shara specifically. Whatever it was, I didn’t fight against my instincts to touch. I turned on my side and put my arm over her, pressing my chest against her back. I felt her hand run down my arm. She squeezed, then took her hand off.

  “Good night, Neeko.”

  “Good night.”

  I liked it in our little cocoon, enough to stay awake for a while so I could enjoy the feeling.

  Shara was rustling when I awoke. Already I could tell I’d slept well. My body felt at ease, my mind fresh. When was the last time I’d gone through the night without awaking in a stupor? I must’ve been more tired than I thought.

  I felt Shara turn toward me, slowly so as not to wake me in case I was still asleep. I didn’t open my eyes just yet. I was about to say something to let her know she didn’t need to be quiet when she planted a warm kiss on my cheek.

  Carefully, she slid out from under my arm, then stepped away. I figured she must’ve slept just as well to be in that good of a mood.

  We didn’t need a fire that morning. The sun beat down on us, and it was early enough to know it would only get hotter as the day went on.

  Later, we found a shallow lake with water as clear as the cloudless sky. “Not a lot of people come through here,” Shara said, bringing Whitspur to the edge for a drink. I followed suit with Vkar. “The water should be clean.”

  I was kneeling to fill our pouch when I heard a splash. Shara was in the water. She must’ve fallen in. Remembering she could swim, I felt my panic cooling.

  Then I noticed she was smiling. “Thought my clothes could use a bit of washing.” She scrubbed the inside of her collar, then the cuffs of her sleeves. “It’s hot enough that I should dry before too long.”

  I decided my time was better spent washing my body than the clothes I had on. I took off everything but my undershorts and walked in. Shara was out before me, leading our horses away from the water. “They’ll drink too much if we let them,” she said. I finished up quickly and came out.

  We hadn’t seen anyone, not even an animal. So I decided to ride without dressing until I was dry. Shara laughed when I got on my mount wearing only my undergarments and large backpack, but she didn’t comment.

  “I’ll put my clothes back on once I’m dry.”

  “Ride naked for all I care. It’s you who’ll be bouncing against the saddle.” She laughed at her own joke, quite hard actually.

  I quickly found it wasn’t funny as we started into a trot and I could feel the difference pants made.

  It wasn’t long before I couldn’t take any more bouncing. I was dry enough, so I put on my clothes once again. Good thing, as I noticed another rider ahead of us as we came over the next hill.

  “Looks like we caught up to someone,” Shara said.

  He seemed to be less than a mile away, going far slower than we were to meticulously investigate the mounds of dirt surrounding him.

  “Might as well help him,” I said. “He’s going north like us.”

  “Might as well.”

  We’d gotten within thirty yards of him when Shara gasped. “There’s a terrislak in front of him. Does he see it?”

  He didn’t appear to be slowing. “Hey!” I yelled.

  He turned and apparently noticed us for the first time. Something about him looked familiar, but he turned away too quickly for me to tell who he was. He kicked his horse into a gallop. He was running from us! But why?

  “Stop!” we both shouted. “There’s a terrislak in front of you!”

  He turned
back for one more glimpse, his eyes wide with alarm. He pulled on his horse’s reigns, and his steed reared up, but it was too late. For a moment, all I could see was dark sand spewing up, towering into the sky. It enveloped the man and his horse, obscuring them from view until both tumbled out backward. The cascading sand fell, revealing a monstrous thing unlike anything I’d ever seen.

  It evoked a feeling of sheer terror that nothing in my imagination could match. Without fur, it didn’t looked like an animal, but without hair it also didn’t appear human. I now understood what Shara had meant when she’d told me to picture a baby’s head. If it weren’t for its black eyes and spiked teeth, it would look similar to a fat-cheeked baby. But this monster’s head was several times larger than any baby’s, and it looked like it had emerged straight out of hell.

  Wrinkles fell down from its neck to its distended stomach. Its short legs and enormous hands were nearly the same size. In fact, it seemed to have trouble walking upright, lunging at the tumbling horse, missing, and then crawling after the animal as the steed jumped up and galloped away. The man fled in the same direction—toward us. The horse was too fast for the terrislak, so it crawled after the man instead, the ground shaking with its efforts.

  I wanted to run. Shara and I easily could escape, but I’d just told myself how I was going to leave an impression on this world before I left it, something more than footprints and forgotten acquaintances. I fought against the fear and searched for bravery.

  I looked the fleeing man in the eye as I rode toward him. He was young, about my age, and he seemed to be driven more by shock than terror based on his gaping mouth. Gods, it was the same man I’d mistaken for Eizle outside Cessri, the one with malice in his eyes. I saw it once again as his expression hardened and he turned to face the terrislak.

  He thrust out his arms, and the beast’s head recoiled in response. It rose onto its stocky legs and swatted the air in front of it, clearly perturbed by something. I came near the man’s side and jumped off my mount, for Vkar refused to get closer. Then I could feel it—pyforial energy in front of me, a massive amount between us and the terrislak. This man was a pyforial mage, stronger than I was.