Eyes didn’t usually linger on the chair, however, for behind it was an impressive tapestry of an imposing man. He wore a strange, full-face mask; it was white and had threads of color that spread around the eyes and up the forehead and then fanned down onto the cheeks. He also wore a cape and a pair of gloves that were heavily embroidered to match. The rest of his clothes seemed to be of fine make also, but they weren’t notable like the mask, cloak, and gloves. He was known as the First; he had created three castles like Toman’s and two other artifacts besides Toman’s gloves, which endowed Toman with his animating abilities.
The abilities that Toman felt he had to use to make this world a better place, just as Esset did. When had that become so complicated?
“Arxus, please round up any rope or chain we’ve got around and leave it by one of the winged horses. We’ll be needing it for our next job,” Toman said.
“Yes, Master.” The stone mastiff didn’t move, but in other parts of the castle, the stonework was coming to life to fulfill the request.
“It’s a good thing we restocked before the last mission,” Toman said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Toman, you’re avoiding—” Esset began.
“I know. Fine, whatever, ask him. It won’t make any difference,” Toman said. He headed off down a side passage towards the armory, hoping to brainstorm more tactics to use against a dragon-like creature—and leaving Esset behind.
“Hey!” Esset called after him. Toman knew his brother had intended that he stick around for the “debate,” but Toman was taking advantage of the fact that he hadn’t actually agreed to that. He wanted to think things over. He heard Esset mutter under his breath, but since his brother didn’t follow him, he didn’t stop.
Two fiery birds swooped low before depositing Toman and Esset on a remote hillside around noon. The birds vanished in a small spray of sparks, and the two young men pulled travel rations out of backpacks and sat down for lunch.
“I never asked—what did Arxus have to say about all this?” Toman asked before tearing into his meal.
Esset mumbled under his breath.
“What was that?” Toman asked through a full mouth.
“He agreed with you. But really, how can you expect a magical construct to understand ethics, especially when he has no emotions.” Since Esset’s words weren’t intoned as a question, Toman didn’t answer, but he did grin.
“I still have reservations about this,” Esset said. Toman swallowed and sighed.
“I know. And I do too, but I think this is a risk we need to take.” Toman took another bite, and they both ate in silence.
“Oi, there they are!” Esset said, pointing with what was left of his sandwich. Two dark specks were visible in the sky, back the way they’d come.
“Right on time. Finish your food and we can get going,” Toman said. He stuffed the last of his own in his mouth and stretched.
“We should reach that town tomorrow, right?” Toman asked.
“Midday or so,” Esset confirmed. “We should be crossing into Erizen’s territory today though, so we should switch mounts now. No need to announce our arrival any more than we need to.”
Toman just nodded and watched as the two specks in the sky grew larger. Within a minute, they were clearly recognizable as a pair of stone, winged horses. Each was laden with supplies—one mainly with chains, the other with rope and a harness bristling with sheathed daggers. Toman had figured these would be the most effective weapons against the dragon—or whatever it was.
The twin horses descended, and Toman hung onto his hat. They landed with plunging hooves and thrashing wings that blasted the area with their own wind.
“You’d think that since magic enables their flight, not their actual flapping wings, that they could land with less of a stir,” Esset said dryly when the horses were still. Toman shrugged. Gripping the harness of the knife-bearing horse, he swung up on its back with practiced ease. The stone was cool to touch, but the stone shifted like the muscles a real horse would have. He’d found, with his animations, that the more detailed he made them, the more nuanced their animated behavior was. Fortunately, even with their enhanced appearance, he never had to worry about misbehavior from his artificial companions.
Esset was still mounting when Toman cued his own mount into the air with a thought. The winged horse leapt skywards, pumping its wings for altitude and gaining height despite the fact that its solid stone weight should have prevented such a creature from becoming airborne—Esset was right about them being moved by magic rather than nature.
Toman glanced back to make sure Esset was following—he was, and only a few wingstrokes behind—before setting his eyes on the horizon. His stone creations were slower than Esset’s summons, and they weren’t as warm, so they couldn’t fly as high without freezing their riders. On the other hand, if his concentration slipped, they would just keep doing whatever they’d last been told to do. If Esset’s concentration slipped, the summons would do anything they pleased. Usually that just meant they went off course or got up to some antics, but they could also choose to turn on their riders and burn them or dump them. Toman was never quite able to relax when astride Esset’s summons. But stone—stone was reliable. It was also far less obtrusive flying overhead than the glowing monstrosities Esset called upon, which was why they’d switched mounts.
Toman closed his eyes and focused on the physical sensations: the wind grasping at his hair and battering his face; the worn leather of his hat, firmly held against his torso so it wouldn’t be ripped away; the living stone beneath him, replicated muscles shifting and straining in the rigors of flight; and the two rigid lumps against his knees where they pressed up against daggers sheathed on either side of his mount.
Toman opened his eyes again, and the first thing he saw was flashing stone wings close on his right; Esset was flying far too close to him for comfort. Instinctively, he steered his mount a couple feet further away, but then he noticed that Esset was waving wildly at him. Toman cast his eyes ahead and then at the scenery before him. He nearly fell off his mount.
The world ahead was grey. Although there were a few clouds in the sky, it wasn’t overcast. The greyness was not due to weather. But even had it been, it would have been remarkable. It wasn’t as though they were traveling through a wasteland; there were copses of trees about, and although the vegetation was sparse, there was still some that should have been colorful.
But instead, everything was grey. The sky was grey, and the clouds in it. The earth was grey, with no brown or other hint of color tinting it. Only the plant-life had any color at all, and it was faded, greens or browns or yellows heavily tinted with grey.
Toman looked down at himself, half wondering if something had gone wrong with his eyes, but his own clothes were still their usual brown, his skin its proper color. Toman looked back. Just the land and sky were grey. Ahead was a stream; the water was grey too. Something had turned this entire area grey.
Toman pulled up his mount to hover in place before the grey line on the terrain. Esset did the same and they both hovered there and stared in disbelief for a time. Finally Toman waved to Esset, and they both descended to a small hill on the greener side of the line. Even then, they stared at the grey line on the scenery for a good stretch before speaking.
“Magic. It has to be,” Esset asserted. Toman nodded slowly. That much was fairly obvious.
“But how? And why?” Toman asked.
“And who? I’m willing to bet Erizen,” Esset added.
“Considering that I’m pretty sure we just passed into his kingdom, that line of reasoning would make sense. But we shouldn’t jump to conclusions; this could be the result of an attack or something directed at him,” Toman said. In all fairness, they didn’t have enough evidence or facts to come to Esset’s conclusion with any certainty.
Esset’s silence spoke volumes.
“I do admit that I’d like to know for sure, though,” Toman said. “Whatever this is, it does
n’t look good.”
“Should we avoid it?” Esset asked, his uncertainty clear in his voice.
“Maybe… No, look,” Toman said, pointing. A herd of deer, distinctly not grey, browsed on the colorless vegetation. A fawn frolicked around one of the does.
“Hm.” Esset said. He didn’t look convinced.
“Well, let’s stay along the border for awhile, but if we don’t see anything dead or unnatural, we should probably see what happens when we cross,” Toman said. “After all, the village we’re supposed to be rescuing is going to be inside the grey area, if it does in fact cover all of Erizen’s territory.”
“We’ll see,” Esset said, and his mount leapt skywards.
With an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Toman followed suit.
It was morning of the next day. They’d lost a little time detouring around the grey area, but not too much. Now they stood just at the edge of the grey border, their mounts still beneath them.
“Well, the village is in there somewhere, so we’ll have to cross eventually,” Toman said, waving at the grey expanse. “We’ve seen plenty of wildlife in there, and they didn’t seem to suffer any ill effect, not even greyness,” Toman said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself as well as Esset.
“No people, though,” Esset replied.
“We haven’t exactly been near anywhere people would normally be,” Toman pointed out.
“Maybe I’ll summon something and send it across. See if anything happens,” Esset said.
“That’s a pretty good idea,” Toman said. Toman and Esset looked at each other and laughed, realizing that neither of them wanted to go first.
“Okay, here goes,” Esset said. He muttered a quick prayer to Bright Hyrishal that everything would go fine, and then he incanted a summon. A tiny bat appeared in the air by his head, then zipped across the grey border.
Nothing happened. Toman and Esset exchanged looks again. Esset sent the bat a little farther in, then banished it.
“Okay, so the summons seem fine,” Esset said. “I guess I’ll go first, so you can haul me out if need be.” Despite his words, he spent a few moments steeling himself. Thankfully, Toman didn’t tease him about it. Finally, he urged his mount across the line.
Esset had expected something to at least feel different when he crossed the border, but everything felt exactly the same. He looked down at his hands and his clothes, but they all retained their original color. Turning in the saddle, he looked at Toman and shrugged.
“Your turn,” Esset said.
Toman crossed with less hesitation than Esset had shown and drew even with his brother’s mount.
“Your gloves!” Esset noticed immediately; normally Toman’s gloves were brown and black, but the second they’d crossed the grey line, they’d gone grey.
Toman kicked his mount and it pivoted and leapt back across the line. Instantly, Toman’s gloves turned brown again. Toman breathed a sigh of relief and edged back up to the line. He stuck one gloved hand across it, and the glove turned grey—the other was still brown.
“I think it’s their camouflage thing,” Toman said after moving his hand back and forth across the line and watching the glove consistently change colors. He rejoined Esset.
“What?” Esset asked.
“Remember that one time, when that lord insisted we get all dressed up for his celebration, and loaned us those ridiculous outfits?” Toman asked. “And my gloves changed color to match that ridiculous shade of blue? They were changing to fit in, I think, and I think that’s what they’re doing here.”
“Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that,” Esset said. “That had explained why the gloves in the picture of the First look slightly different too.”
“And they’ve changed size to fit my hands since I was a kid, so why not color?” Toman asked.
“True,” Esset said. He hoped that was all it was.
“Why do you think nothing else has changed though? The rest of our clothes are still normal.” Esset said. Toman just shrugged.
“I don’t know, but we have a village to get to,” he said. Even had Esset wanted to object, he couldn’t have, for Toman had urged his mount skyborne again.
As he followed, Esset acknowledged that they had probably lost enough time already. He knew his reservations were well-known, so he resolved to hold his own council unless something new cropped up.
Still, Esset kept a close eye below as they sped over the landscape. A distant smudge of smoke grew clearer, until it was distinguishable as multiple plumes from a few chimneys: a forge, a smokehouse, and a couple homes. The village was small, but necessarily self-sufficient. By the time they were close enough to make out individual people, they’d been spotted themselves, and all of the residents fled indoors and hid.
Toman and Esset landed in what could have been a ghost town.
“What do you think? Do we play hero, or pretend we’re exotic hunters only, tracking a rare beast?” Esset asked, keeping his voice low so only Toman was near enough to hear.
“My abilities are well-known to Moloch, thanks to my predecessor,” Toman said. “Any deception on our part will only point to conspiracy if Moloch catches wind, and we want to keep Erizen clear if we can.”
Esset nodded; that made sense. It was just as well, since he preferred simply being who he was.
“Think we can persuade them to help us help them?” Esset asked. Toman looked around the seemingly deserted village.
“Tough to say. We can’t tell them Erizen sent us, and they may fear his reprisal for speaking to outsiders,” Toman replied. It was too complicated a situation for his taste.
“I guess all we can do is try,” Esset said.
Since no one seemed to want to come greet them, they finally dismounted and approached the biggest house in the village—odds were good someone important lived or worked there.
Toman knocked. Esset thought his knock was a little overly assertive, but then, that was probably why Toman was doing the knocking. When no one answered, Toman knocked again, even louder. Finally, the animator pounded on the door and yelled into the house.
“Hey! We hear you have a dragon problem!”
Still nothing.
“I really hope they’re not going to make us drag them out of there,” Toman muttered. Esset eyed him; they wouldn’t really do that. Probably.
Toman raised his fist to pound on the door again.
“Hey—”
The door opened. Toman froze, fist in the air. He slowly lowered it. The man in the doorway was short with a frizzled grey mustache and a sagging belly. His clothes and everything on and around him were grey, but his skin was still the proper color.
“Good noon, m’lords,” the man said.
“Good noon, but we’re no lords,” Esset said, taking the lead now. “I’m Summoner Esset, and this is Animator Toman. We heard you’re having some trouble, and we’ve come to help.”
“Beg pardon, m’lords, but only the dark lords have magic in these parts, and our Lord wouldn’t take kindly to us talking to you,” the man said with a bow. He was sweating profusely. Toman and Esset exchanged looks.
“What’s your name, sir?” Esset asked.
“Kerby Carver,” the little man replied, his eyes shifting from side to side almost in time with his feet.
“Be at ease, Mr. Carver,” Esset said. “All we want is to hunt your monster. You don’t have to say a word else to us, if you’re worried we’re spies. Just tell us what you know about the monster only. How could that hurt your lord? It could only help him, by us getting rid of your monster so your fine village can thrive again.”
“Er, I suppose just telling you about the dragon can’t hurt, m’lords,” the man said, but he still shifted nervously from foot to foot.
“Good. Tell us what you know, and we’ll leave and only come back if we kill the monster,” Esset promised.
“Okay then, m’lords.” Despite Mr. Carver’s agreement, he still glanced around before conti
nuing. “Well, it’s a dragon, sure enough. It’s massive, especially its head and jaws, but its forelegs are tiny, not useful for much of anything. It doesn’t need them though. It just swoops down and picks up whatever it wants in its jaws—livestock, people, deer, it makes no difference,” the man said. Toman and Esset exchanged looks again. “Massive” was a fairly general term for describing size, but it had to be big to carry off livestock without a problem.
“How big, sir?” Esset asked.
“The size of my house, m’lord, easily! We’ve all seen it. We’ve lost three people and over a third our herds since it first came.”
“And you say dragon—can it breathe fire or anything?” Esset asked.
“Not that I’ve seen, m’lord, despite all the old tales saying they can,” the man admitted. Esset was certainly glad to hear that.
“But you should know, m’lord, old farmer Erikson tried to shoot the beast and the arrow bounced right off him. Scales of steel, he has,” Mr. Carver told him.
“Thank you, that’s very helpful,” Esset said. “Do you know where the beast lairs?”
“I don’t, m’lord, but he always heads west, into Lord Koris’s kingdom. And he always comes from the west, from behind the mountain. Like as not, he lairs somewhere over there, m’lord,” Mr. Carver said.
“Anything else you can think of that might help us, sir?” Esset asked. Mr. Carver thought for a moment, then shook his head.
“Sorry, m’lord, that’s everything I know. Likely all anyone knows,” the short man replied. Esset looked over at Toman, who shook his head—he didn’t have any further questions either.
“Okay, we’d best be on our way then,” Esset said. He turned to go, hesitated, and then stopped. “I don’t suppose you can tell us why everything is grey here?” he asked.
Calling On Fire (Book 1) Page 6
