Fire Within: Book Two of Fire and Stone (Stories of Fire and Stone 2)

by Stephanie Beavers

  A missile of pure mage-energy sped from among the trees to strike one of the plague beasts from behind. The missile flashed and enveloped the creature upon impact, immolating it. Another followed, striking a second beast, and then five figures in mage-robes appeared at the treeline. One of the five leaned heavily against his companion, but the other four kept the blazing white missiles speeding towards the plague beasts, decimating their ever-replenishing population.

  Toman took a chance. The mages were too far to hear his theory about the totem, so the animator sent his dragon to crush the double cross atop the boulders. It left him and Lors terribly exposed, but they’d never win this battle if the plague beasts could keep respawning infinitely. Toman could see the looks of alarm on the mages’ faces when the dragon lurched up the hill, barreling through the sea of plague beasts and leaving Toman and Lors’s side unprotected. Fortunately two more of Toman’s giant stone birds arrived to help fill the gap, but they were no replacement for the dragon.

  The mages made their way towards Toman and Lors. The one supporting their exhausted companion kept the shield up while the other three kept up the offense. Their progress towards the two was steady, if a bit slow. A plague beast managed to slip past Toman’s animations and charged at them from the side where Toman was supporting Lors. Toman spun Lors off to the side and thrust his metal arm out. The plague beast’s jaws closed on his forearm, jerking Toman away from Lors. A stone bird plummeted from the sky and sank its talons into the plague beast’s back, and it snatched the creature from the ground. Toman was jerked forward for a second, but then the plague beast’s jaws loosened enough to rip down Toman’s arm, shredding his coat and tearing the glove from his hand as it was carried upward. Toman cried out, but the glove was carried beyond his reach to fall somewhere among the rocks, too far away to retrieve.

  I can still animate with one glove, Toman reminded himself, stepping back to get closer to Lors. He’d slumped to the ground, but he was still hanging onto consciousness. Toman reached down to help him up, but Lors jerked away from him.

  “No!” Lors shouted, falling backwards from his violent reaction. His face tilted upwards and Toman saw his face; it was flushed red, and even as Toman watched, a rash began to spread across Lors’s skin.

  “No,” Toman whispered, staring at his childhood friend.

  “Don’t touch me,” Lors begged. The merest touch from the plague beast had infected him—both knew what would happen if Toman touched Lors. A shudder passed through the mage, and Toman heard him hiss through his teeth in pain. A massive snap and crunch drew Toman’s attention away a moment later as the stone dragon reached the totem atop the boulders and smashed it into kindling.

  For a moment, Toman felt a rush of victory—now that the beasts couldn’t replenish their numbers anymore, he and the mages stood a chance of winning. Then, as one, the plague beasts turned and rushed back down the hill. Before, they had been concentrating their attacks on the stone dragon, trying to stop it from reaching the totem. Now the totem was destroyed, and they turned their attention instead to destroying anyone in reach, and Toman and Lors were closest.

  “Toman, go! Leave me!” Lors urged him. It would be difficult but doable for Toman to reach the mages if he didn’t have to worry about moving Lors too.

  “No, I’m not going to leave you to die alone,” Toman growled. He couldn’t look at Lors—he was forced to keep his eyes on the battle, to better direct his stone creatures and keep an eye out for any threats that might slip past them. In a moment, that would be a wall of plague beasts.

  “Go!” Lors yelled with a strangled cry. Toman risked a look at him and froze; a spasm passed over Lors’s face, which was already ravaged almost to the point of being unrecognizable by a plague of boils. Then Lors collapsed backward and began convulsing. Toman tore his eyes away back to the oncoming storm, but intention to flee or no aside, it was too late. Toman tore off his other glove, uncovering the black gem embedded in the back of his hand.

  It didn’t take long for a plague beast to break past Toman’s defenses, given their more concentrated attack. Toman’s skin, starting at the hand with the black gem in it, began turning to a texture of black granite. Toman threw up both his arms to protect himself—one black and rough, the other smooth and silver—just as the plague beast reached him. Acting on past commands, two of his belts unwrapped themselves from around him and snaked around the creature, hobbling its legs. The protective coating over Toman’s skin continued to spread as more plague beasts came. Toman could hear Lors screaming even as he could feel himself slowing; the protection the tough skin provided him with came at the cost of speed. It came at the cost of being able to protect others. Lors was already a dead man, but Toman had hoped to spare him some pain before the end—a futile hope.

  Toman felt himself fall, tackled by a plague beast’s lunge. Rancid jaws closed around his arms and legs, but they pierced no further than his clothes. Toman closed his eyes, and it was like the doors of a vault closing; nothing could touch him. Nothing could harm him now. He had essentially turned to stone himself. All he could do was wait for the battle to end and hope that the mages were strong enough to defeat the plague beasts with the help of the stone creatures that battled yet.

  Tseka breathed in the fading day, closing her eyes so she could imagine she was in the comfortable underground caves of Salithsa instead of this bright, exposed land aboveground. She was coping well, but she still missed home. Every so often she had to escape for a moment and fortify her resolve. She’d never admit it aloud, but Moloch scared her scale-less. Even with her new abilities, she knew she could never survive an encounter against him. That was why, every so often, she had to stop and remind herself why she fought.

  In escaping Lady Ateala’s sadism and in helping Toman and Esset, the Nadra had ensured that sooner or later, Moloch would try to come and force their extinction. Tseka was here to fight for her people. Even if she herself didn’t survive—although she hoped she would—she was determined to help bring the evil mage down. Her people valued peace above all else. She hoped to bring peace to them.

  Having once more achieved some degree of inner peace herself, she went back into the Staggering Tankard, where she’d left Erizen. They’d been staying at the inn and tavern since they’d arrived. They’d tried to convince the local monarchy of the danger, but to no avail. They’d had similar ill luck with the more local authorities. The only welcome reception they’d gotten was from the innkeeper, who knew Sergeant Warthog and had seen her with Nadra before.

  Tseka pushed open the doors to the Staggering Tankard, and as she took in the scene, her inner peace evaporated. There were few people in the tavern—it was still early, and with the sergeant absent, the tavern’s custom was lessened. Erizen was right where Tseka had left him—but not how she’d left him. He had a buxom redhead sitting on his lap and both of their intentions were blindingly obvious. Tseka slithered across the room in a heartbeat.

  “Scram, tart,” Tseka ordered the woman. The redhead was thoroughly cowed by the snake-woman’s ferocity and slid off Erizen’s lap and out of the tavern in a hurry.

  “Really?” Erizen asked, somewhere between irritation and resignation.

  “We just spoke to Toman and Esset, and we all agreed Moloch is up to something,” Tseka hissed.

  “Yeah, so?” Erizen said.

  “So, maybe we should be doing something about it?” Tseka hissed.

  “I am doing something. Well, I was, but thanks to you, I’m now bored again.”

  “Erizen, so help me, I will gut you where you sit,” Tseka threatened.

  Erizen ignored the threat. “Look, I scried for Moloch and anything else I could think of that might betray him, and I found nothing. Then I set up spells that’ll let me know if anything sets foot anywhere near here, so really, all we have to do is wait. And since you’re not willing to get your freaky on with me, I found someone more willing. Until you scared her away.” Erizen actually looked irritated.
Tseka clenched her teeth. Tseka stared at him with baleful eyes, and Erizen stared right back, his gaze unwavering.

  “I don’t understand why Gretchen ever had anything to do with you when she had a choice not to,” Tseka finally said. “I respect her greatly, so I assume there is something that she knows of you that I do not.”

  “Must be,” Erizen said. Tseka’s eyes narrowed.

  “Sometimes I think you are too similar to the foe we face. You are—or were—one of the Dark Mage Lords.” Tseka knew perfectly well why they were allied with him now, but like Esset, she still had reservations even beyond how irritating she found the mage to be.

  “You aren’t convinced of my allegiance?” Erizen asked.

  “I’m not convinced of your character.”

  Erizen shrugged. “Does that matter?”

  “It always matters.”

  “Many would disagree.” Erizen studied his fingernails.

  “Many would be wrong.” Tseka had yet to look away. Erizen shrugged again, showing disinterest in the conversation. Silence fell between them for a brief time as Tseka studied him up and down. Erizen watched the bartender wipe the bar.

  “What does Gretchen see in you?” Tseka asked.

  “Ask her.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  Now Erizen met her gaze with humor in his own. “You think I know a woman’s mind? Let me tell you something, sweetheart, no man—at least no human man—knows the mind of a woman.”

  “Nonetheless, you have an idea,” Tseka pressed. “You are too clever not to.” Pride, that was Erizen’s weakness, and she played the card boldly.

  Erizen gave an annoyed huff. “Fine, if it’ll shut you up, it’s because she knew me when I was younger.”

  Tseka waited, but no more came. “I will keep asking questions if you don’t tell me this story,” she threatened.

  Erizen shifted in his chair. “I suppose I have to pass the time somehow.” He sighed, but then he began to talk. “As a boy, I had magical ability in spades, but my family was dirt poor and I had nothing else. I was untrained and stupid.”

  Erizen paused and shifted again. He averted his eyes. “I wasn’t an only child. I had a little sister. When I was nine, bandits raided our village. My little sister was out playing and was trampled by their horses, and the bandits just laughed. I went crazy, but I didn’t have the training to use my magic to lash out at them. Instead I set half the village on fire while the bandits rode away unharmed.”

  Tseka bowed her head, feeling pity for that poor child so long ago. Maybe, with this formative moment, there could be some understanding of who and what Erizen was, but she kept her silence and let him continue.

  “After that, I left my parents and the village to find someone who could train me,” Erizen said. “The only person I could find was a blood mage. I needed the power to hunt down and take my revenge, and he was the only one who could teach me. Long story, he used me, I used him, and I learned from him until the day he forced me to kill him. From there I made my own way in the world, including joining the mercenary company that Gretchen was also a part of.”

  Tseka was quiet until she was sure he was finished. “I suppose…I don’t entirely agree with your actions, but I can start to see your perspective,” she said.

  “And here I thought I lowballed my age at nine,” Erizen said.

  Tseka looked up and blinked. “What?”

  “Nine isn’t too young to be believable?” Erizen asked.

  “What are you talking about?” Tseka couldn’t help but notice that he seemed far too happy.

  Erizen grinned. “You know, for all your tough exterior, you really are a bleeding heart. I’m sure the sappy summoner would have been just as gullible, but I’d wondered about you.”

  “You made that up,” Tseka accused. Erizen gave a little bow.

  “I thought it was as good a performance as it was a story,” Erizen said immodestly.

  “You’re disgusting.” Tseka’s voice was muddled by a hiss.

  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Erizen said, raising his hands, placating. “Do you want to hear the real story still?”

  “Will it really be the real story?” Tseka asked.

  “No, but it’s another good one!” Erizen said.

  That was enough for Tseka. She lifted her torso up on her coils, shoving a chair over in the process. For a moment, she considered striking him, but then she backed down.

  “Tseh, you’re not worth it,” she hissed. She slithered back to the doors again. The fact that she had such a short temper just made her angrier, this time with herself, and she knew it would take more than a few minutes to calm down. Maybe she’d make a loop of the town. She’d have to put up with the stares from the townspeople, but she needed the exercise to work off this angry energy.

  She took her spear with her, more out of habit than concern. It felt familiar and therefore comforting in her hands, and while it probably wouldn’t help against Moloch himself if he showed up, that didn’t mean it was useless in all situations. At the moment, she didn’t care that carrying it would make the locals even more nervous.

  She held the metal spear horizontally, holding it high up the haft with the back end resting atop her coils. She found carrying the spear like that served two purposes; these bipeds were less likely to step on her coils, and it seemed to make them think she was less ready to attack them. The assumption was, of course, that they always thought she was about to attack them. That was why she didn’t immediately pay any heed to the increasing tension of the people around her. It was only when a kind of vibration caught her attention that she stopped to identify the source.

  Tseka lifted her weapon to plant the spearbutt on the ground as she scanned around, first at the people and buildings nearest, then further. Some of the townspeople were looking around as well, and a few were looking in a particular direction. Tseka followed their gaze and saw a dark cloud on the horizon—a very strange cloud. Tseka kept her eye on it as she began to slither back towards the Staggering Tankard. Something was wrong, and while she didn’t yet know what the cloud was, her instincts were telling her that it was very bad.

  Tseka kept her face turned towards the strange cloud as she slithered back to the tavern. It swelled strangely. The wind was quiet and the rest of the clouds were still in the air, and this one seemed restless by comparison—it didn’t make any large movements, but it almost twitched; its borders were far from static and it was definitely growing. Tseka had lived most of her life underground, so she didn’t know much about weather, but judging by the attention the cloud was garnering from the townsfolk, she wasn’t the only one who thought it odd.

  Tseka picked up her pace, even though it meant she had to watch where she was going. Warriors listened to their instincts, and hers screamed danger. She made it back to the tavern in short order and threw open the doors with the tail end of her coils; she didn’t bother looking in but kept her gaze on the fast-approaching cloud.

  “Erizen! Get out here now!” Tseka pounded her spearbutt against the floor for emphasis. A few moments passed, but for once, Erizen did as he was told.

  “What?” The mage glanced up and down the street idly, then noticed the tension and upward gazes. It didn’t take long to locate the object of interest. Tseka glanced at Erizen to see his grey eyes unfocused and she knew he was working magic. She turned her gaze back to the cloud, but a moment later she felt Erizen’s hand clamp onto her arm. Her vision zoomed in crazily and she swayed before she realized Erizen was working magic to allow her to see longer distances. Steadying herself, she looked towards the cloud again.

  Had she been human, she would have paled, but Tseka’s scarlet scales could turn no other color. The dark mass on the horizon was no cloud—it was a swarm. Thousands of small, grotesque creatures flew en masse towards the town. They were hideously disproportionate, like insects that were all mouth and wings. Their eyes were tiny black specks above a mouth so full of overlong teeth it couldn’t
close properly.

  Tseka gasped when Erizen released her arm and her vision returned to normal.

  “We’ve got to protect these people,” Tseka said as she darted into the street.

  “Hey! Everyone listen! We’re about to be attacked! If you gather close to the tavern, we can protect you! Gather everyone to the tavern!” Tseka yelled to the nearest people. They looked at her nervously before hurrying down the street towards their homes. One man standing on his doorstep went inside and locked the door behind himself; Tseka knew that wouldn’t be protection enough against the swarm.

  “Can you shield the whole town?” Tseka called back to Erizen, who was walking sedately to her side.

  “Not for long. Not against that,” Erizen replied. He didn’t look as concerned as she would have liked, but at least he was cooperating.

  “I’m not confident I can either,” Tseka confessed. “But how do we get these people to listen? They’re not going to listen to me. Can you show them? At least a few people to get them to convince others?”

  Erizen frowned.

  “That sounds very inefficient,” he stated.

  “Erizen! This—” Tseka began to hiss at him, but he flapped a hand in an irritated, dismissive gesture. She nearly throttled him, but she managed to restrain herself, since he closed his eyes and was obviously trying to concentrate on a spell. She’d have to kill him later.

  Tseka was studying the swarm again when she felt a wave of emotion wash over her—that was the best she could describe it. She felt a dose of fear and a sudden, desperate need to get to the tavern. Only when she looked over her shoulder at the Staggering Tankard did the compulsion dissipate.

  “Oh good, it worked,” Erizen idly remarked as people began scurrying towards the tavern. Tseka decided to debate the ethics of tampering with emotions—and potentially free will—later and concentrate on how they might protect these people.

  “My shields won’t be terribly effective against a concentrated swarm like that,” Tseka said aloud to the mage. “They’re strongest in the first second I create them. Sustaining them will be a problem.”