“You’re in my light,” Sosen said. Abashed, Esset went back across the room to stand by Tseka.
“What if we can’t remove the geas?” he murmured to the scarlet Nadra.
“We will,” she replied simply.
“But what if we can’t?” he pressed. Tseka sighed, a little of her confidence sagging from her posture.
“Then we keep him here. Without his gloves, he can’t fight us enough to get away. We would keep him here until we find another way. We will get Toman back, one way or another.” Tseka had noticeably not looked in Toman’s direction since they’d reached the room. Esset nodded, trying to draw strength from her words. She was right; he had to believe that things would turn out. He found himself praying as he walked over to his brother.
Kessa was fussing almost as badly as Esset. She was stuck to Toman’s side like glue, and when she’d found out there’d be a wait while Sosen prepared, she’d found a pair of scissors and started trimming Toman’s wild hair.
The beard was trimmed first, then the hair; once again, Esset was struck by how unhealthy Toman looked. His hair had gone flat and straggly in the way of those who never saw daylight. It made him look even more gaunt. Of course, it also didn’t help that they had stripped Toman of his rags, down to just his smallclothes, and that showed off how skinny he’d really become. Even his fake arm, made from animated metal, was scrawnier; intellectually, Esset knew it was because it was designed to imitate and fit in with the rest of his body, but even so. Esset knew the others noticed too, but no one said it aloud; it would take some doing to get Toman healthy again.
“Okay, Tseka, Nassata, if you could please get Animator Toman into the tank,” Sosen said. Esset immediately stepped back to let the two Nadra access his brother. It was no trouble at all for the two warriors to pick Toman up and carry him up to the ledge overhanging the crystal container.
They lowered him into the water and Tseka held his head above water while Nassata fitted a breathing device over his face. The breathing device consisted of a cup-like shell that fit over Toman’s nose and mouth; there was a reed jutting out the top so that Toman would have air from the surface. After all, they didn’t want to free Toman from the geas only to have him drown. Once the device was in place, they let Toman sink below the surface of the water.
Esset heard a hum and looked at Sosen; the Nadran Shaper had his eyes locked on the tank and his hands raised. A low hum issued from his throat as his magic kept Toman from sinking too far under the water. Then Sosen looked at Nassata and nodded. Nassata took the small bag of salt she’d carried up and poured it in a stream into the water.
Sosen’s tailtip rose in front of him and he made a twisting motion with it; the salt obeyed the motion and Esset could see the white grains spiral around his brother. The Shaper’s magic kept the salt from dissolving; instead it held each grain in precise position. But for a long time after the salt had spread out, it seemed like nothing was happening. Esset watched, every muscle tense, wishing he could better tell what was going on. Sosen was moving individual grains into position around Toman, trying to invoke that special arrangement that would use the natural energies of the world to tear apart the geas.
Esset jumped when Kessa came up behind him and placed her hands on his arms and her cheek against his shoulder. It was only a momentary distraction—a second later they were both staring at the tank again, waiting for something to happen. A glow began to emanate from the tank, so faintly at first that Esset wasn’t sure he was seeing it. But the glow grew in intensity until Esset knew exactly where each grain of salt was. Toman began to glow then too, faintly at first, then brighter.
Toman’s eyes snapped open. Shock, fear, and pain wrote themselves across his features as his pupils turned to mere pinpricks. He tried to move, but found the water was holding him in place. Reflexively, he tried to struggle, but could only wiggle the slightest bit, like a body-wide shudder. Bubbles escaped from around the mask and a muted sound came through the water.
Esset’s heart ached, but he couldn’t order a stop—this was all or nothing. Sosen continued working, and the glow kept growing. Toman kept struggling until a bright flash of light suddenly issued from the tank. Esset blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision; the glow was gone, and Toman’s eyes had closed and he’d gone limp.
“The geas is gone, get him out!” Sosen called to Tseka and Nassata, who still waited above. Sosen raised Toman in the water using Shaper magic, but once his head broke the surface, Tseka and Nassata had him and hauled him out of the water. Esset would have rushed up the ledge if it had been big enough to fit him, but it was thoroughly full with the two Nadra carrying Toman. Still, Esset hovered at the bottom, then followed them as they laid Toman out on the makeshift bed again.
“Relax, he’s still breathing,” Tseka said, pulling the breathing mask from Toman’s face and setting it aside. Esset hovered anyways and wasn’t satisfied until he saw Toman’s chest rising and falling for himself. Sosen came over too, to survey his handiwork.
“Thank you so much, Shaper Sosen,” Esset said, remembering his manners belatedly and resting a hand on the elementalist’s shoulder.
“But a small portion of our debt repaid,” Sosen demurred.
“More than you know,” Esset replied, but left it at that.
The Nadra efficiently bundled Toman in a blanket and began carrying him to a proper bedroom. Esset didn’t realize how long he’d been running on adrenaline until he found himself stumbling repeatedly as he almost fell asleep while walking. Nassata kept him from falling over the lip of a walkway once, and that was when she began to steer him in a different direction from Toman.
“What?” Esset said, his mind muddled. “No, I’m staying with him.”
“No, Esset, stop and think a moment,” Nassata said, physically stopping him and putting both hands on his shoulders so he’d look her in the eye. Tseka and Kessa carried on without them.
“Toman has thought that you’re dead for two years. Plus he’s been in captivity and no doubt tortured. He’s going to be fragile when he wakes up; we need to minimize the shock. We need to let him wake up and adjust to things first. Then we’ll tell him that you’re alive, and you can see him,” Nassata said.
“No, I—” Esset objected, but his sleep-deprived mind was failing him. Part of him knew she was right, but he wanted to be there.
“Come on,” Nassata said, taking him by the arm so he couldn’t object any further.
“But—”
Nassata tugged him along until they reached a room with a human bed on one side and a Nadran bed on the other. Nadran beds were basically smooth depression in the stone floor, filled with pillows and blankets in no particular order.
Nassata positioned Esset in front of the human bed and shoved him down onto it with no respect for his dignity.
“Sleep,” she ordered, her hands on her hips. She had to have picked up that gesture from her time spent among humans, Esset thought blearily. He found he didn’t have the energy to object. Sleep took matters into its own hands and stole him away.
Toman awoke, and it was a day like any other day. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. It took several minutes for him to realize that the ceiling had changed. He blinked, then quickly looked around; this wasn’t his cell. Memories, fuzzy and unclear, trickled back to him then. Blurry figures everywhere. Water? And before that, the flask of liquid he’d drunk. So he was somewhere different, but where? He rolled his head to the side and saw a painted violet Nadra curled in a pile of cushions next to his bed.
A dream. This had to be a dream, if he were back with the Nadra. Toman studied the Nadra on the bed. She was contorted in a seemingly impossible position, with her tail wrapped around herself and her face buried in a pillow. He studied her for a long while before realizing that it was probably Kessa—she had grown, and she’d changed the painted pattern on her scales. If this were a dream, why didn’t she look exactly as he remembered? So…probably not a dream.
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br /> Then how had he gotten here? Toman didn’t want to wake her just yet; even the simplest facts were taking a long time to sink into his mind and make any kind of sense. How had they managed to rescue him? He was grateful, certainly, but the Nadra hadn’t had the resources to rescue him before. And what about the geas? Toman suddenly realized that he felt no compulsion to try to return to Moloch, or to do anything at all. For a moment, hope fluttered inside him; was the geas gone?
Very slowly, so as not to wake the Nadra, Toman sat up and placed his feet on the floor. In moving, he noticed his gloves were gone—maybe the geas wasn’t gone after all. Then again, taking the gloves was a wise move regardless. It still made him feel naked. He noticed he’d been stripped down to his smallclothes—again, not surprising—so he wrapped his blanket around his shoulders. It was a comfortable temperature in Salithsa, but he didn’t have much in the way of natural insulation at the moment, and he was self-conscious besides.
Holding the blanket bunched at his throat with his good hand, he ran his metal one through his hair. He noted that it was shorter and ran his fingers over his face next, noting that his beard was shorter too. Part of him wished they’d left his grooming alone, but the other part of him wished they’d finished the job and shaved his face clean. He could feel a split running through himself, between that part of him that hoped the unending horror was over and the part that was dead and damaged within him.
The violet Nadra mumbled in her sleep and shifted. Then one eye cracked open to reveal a brightly colored iris, and her head jerked upright in surprise.
“Toman!” It was Kessa after all.
“Hello, Kessa,” Toman replied. His voice sounded course and wrecked, which didn’t surprise him at all. It hadn’t sounded the same since he’d gotten the scar on his throat, and even without the injury, he hadn’t used his voice in days…possibly weeks. Kessa unwound herself and came towards him, then hesitated just short of touching him.
“May I?” she asked timidly, as if unsure whether he would let her touch him. He nodded. That was all she needed; she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, and her tailtip came and wound itself around his ankle. She let him go after a moment, but kept her tailtip around his ankle.
“What happened?” Toman asked. Then he realized that if the geas were still in place, getting an answer to that could be a very bad idea. Yet he was almost afraid to ask. “…The geas?”
“Gone!” Kessa confirmed happily. Toman couldn’t believe the relief he felt. Tears began to roll down his cheeks, alarming Kessa, and she hugged him again. Toman hugged her back with his metal arm, absorbing comfort from the first friendly physical contact he’d gotten in two years and reveling in the news that he was free.
After a long while, Kessa finally twisted so that her forehead pressed against Toman’s.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I will be,” Toman replied hoarsely. “Now, I will be.” But the damaged part of his soul still wondered if this was a dream, or some sick hallucination, or some new trick and torture of Moloch’s.
“Thanks, Kessa,” Toman said, finally letting her go. Kessa let him go too, but kept a hand on his arm this time.
“Of course,” she replied. “Are you hungry? I can get you food. And water.”
“That would be great,” Toman replied. He wanted to ask how he’d been rescued, but his stomach was empty and protesting.
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” Kessa promised. She slithered to the door, pushing aside to the curtain to exit.
Toman took in a deep breath, then exhaled it. In this brief moment of aloneness, he became more aware of the split within him; he tried to shove the part borne from his torment away. He wanted to believe this was real, he really did, but part of him was struggling with it. He’d learned, in his two years with Moloch, that good things didn’t happen anymore. He was still wrestling with his inner demons when Kessa returned.
“Good food,” she chirped happily, carrying a tray with human food on it. The wonderful smells nearly broke him right then—he hadn’t eaten anything but bland mush for two years. This was mostly plain fare, but it smelled like heaven to him. He probably even would have enjoyed Nadran food just then, in comparison to what he’d been eating.
Toman ate a few mouthfuls, and Kessa seemed content to remain silent, her tailtip once again curled around his ankle; Toman doubted she was even consciously aware she was doing it. Toman forced himself to eat slowly, not wanting to shock his system with the sudden abundance of good food.
“How was I rescued?” he asked between bites, unable to quell his curiosity any longer.
“I’m not supposed to say,” Kessa replied frankly. “The others will tell you later. Right now you’re supposed to rest.” Toman wasn’t sure what to say to that, but he was saved having to think of something by Tseka’s arrival.
“I heard you were awake,” she said, grinning. She came and gave him a sideways hug with one arm, her coils flopping over Kessa’s so they leaned again Toman’s legs too. Toman resisted the urge to move his legs away; this was just a display of the very tactile Nadran culture, after all, but he couldn’t help but associate all physical contact with pain after his captivity. If Toman found he could handle it, he supposed hanging around the Nadra would help train him out of that association fairly quickly.
“It’s good to have you back,” Tseka replied. “But really, you need to stop being injured and whatnot every time I see you. I still want to spar with you, and test my abilities against you. I can’t do that if you’re not at the top of your game.” She prodded him in the arm, and he had to stifle a flinch. He wasn’t sure he was entirely successful—a sharp expression flickered across her face that suggested she was reading him, but then her careless demeanor returned.
“We’ll see,” Toman replied. No wittier response leapt to mind as it once would have.
“We will,” Tseka retorted. “Now eat your nasty human food. I have guard duty.” She flicked her coils away and slithered imperiously towards the door.
“She hasn’t changed,” Kessa told him with a smile. “But I’ve learned a lot about her. She cares a great deal more than she lets on.”
Toman nodded—he already knew that. Then he realized that Kessa had matured to have realized that for herself.
“What happened to the naïve little Nadra I first met?” he asked.
She met his eyes levelly. “We all reacted differently when we were told you and Esset were dead.”
“Yeah,” Toman replied, casting his eyes downwards and retreating into his thoughts.
“But we’re all glad you’re alive and free now,” she added. After that, Kessa let him eat for a while without making him talk. When he was done she smiled and took his dishes. She left without a word, and there was something about her smile that left Toman curious. And since he was looking at the beaded curtain when Kessa left, he saw who ducked into the room next.
“Sergeant!”
“Wow, you look like the Darkfire took you and dragged you around to the dark side of the moon and back,” Sergeant Warthog replied. She walked straight to the single chair in the room and sat down in it next to Toman’s bed. Nassata followed the sergeant in.
“Nassata,” Toman greeted her too.
“Toman. It’s good to see you up,” Nassata replied. She went up to him and put her hand on his arm, giving it a quick squeeze. Toman was prepared this time and didn’t give away how uncomfortable it made him feel.
“Likewise.” That, at least, was genuine. “I never thought I’d see any of you ever again.” Also true, and all he was really willing to say at the moment.
“What are you doing here, Sergeant?” Toman asked next. He wondered if she’d been the one to scrounge up whatever—or whoever—it was that had rescued him.
“Oh, it was all a coincidence,” she grumbled. “I did what I could, but I couldn’t even determine if you were still alive or not. In fact, I was the one who reported the two of you dead. Glad I was wrong.�
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“Half wrong,” Toman replied; he knew Esset was dead—the phoenix had made sure that he’d known that when Esset had summoned it, pushing the knowledge into his mind and Moloch’s, leaving no doubt as to Esset’s fate.
The sergeant just shrugged. “Shows what you know.”
“What do you mean?” Toman asked, unable to puzzle out what she meant.
“Your brother is alive, Toman,” Nassata replied, her eyes keenly upon him.
“Impossible,” Toman replied. No, he knew Esset was dead. He knew it with bone-deep certainty.
“Huh. Guess we were wrong, then. I guess it was Esset’s ghost that rescued you,” the sergeant said. She looked over at Nassata.
“Y’think?” the gruff sergeant asked.
“He seemed awfully solid to me,” Nassata replied.
Toman felt anger surge through him. “Where is he then?”
He didn’t believe them; why were they tormenting him like this? They wouldn’t, so this had to be a dream, another cruel trick from Moloch like he’d feared.
The sergeant arched an eyebrow at Toman’s sudden aggressiveness. Toman didn’t even realize that he’d come to his feet until she gestured for him to sit again. Nassata reached out a hand to place on his arm, but retracted it when he sat again.
“I guess there wasn’t a gentle way to do this,” the sergeant said obliquely. “Oy, Esset!” she called. Toman looked towards the entryway, still angry. His anger evaporated when Esset actually did step through the curtain.
“Hey Toman,” Esset said, standing awkwardly just inside the room and scratching the back of his neck. Toman stood abruptly and stared at his adoptive brother.
“You’ve been alive all this time?” he asked.
Fire Within: Book Two of Fire and Stone (Stories of Fire and Stone 2) Page 11
