Calling On Fire (Book 1)

by Stephanie Beavers

  “I figure it’s smart to make sure none of them are hiding in there, especially since I’d like to wash my coat,” Toman remarked by way of explanation.

  “I’d better be getting my spear back,” was Tseka’s only reply, despite her obvious fascination with her spear’s behavior. She was clearly impressed.

  Toman didn’t respond to Tseka, but in a minute the spear slithered out of the water again. It stretched out straight on the ground, and Toman picked it up and passed it back to her.

  “Thank you,” was all he said. The spear was once again a stiff, sturdy metal spear, with no signs of snake-like behavior. Tseka tapped it on the ground a few times to make sure.

  Esset walked over to the hole in the wall, eyeing it speculatively.

  “I want to see what’s down there,” he decided aloud. He waved Nassata over. “I’m going to sit down and go into a trance. I can look through my summon’s senses that way. I won’t be aware of anything around here though, so if something happens, I’ll be counting on you to protect me. Give me a good shake to bring me back.”

  Nassata nodded her understanding and he sat down cross-legged on the ground. One incantation later, a fiery wolf was fleeing from the steamy air by way of the Reshkin’s tunnel. Esset adjusted to the summon’s senses on the fly, but something remained disorienting until he realized that the smell combination that he was picking up from the tunnel was unlike anything he’d encountered before. The unusual element belonged to the scent left behind by the Reshkin. He made a mental note to mention the odd qualities to Toman and Nassata when he “got back”—there was something like magic included in what he was sensing, so Nassata’s theory that there was someone or something bigger behind the Reshkin was becoming less of a theory and more a certainty.

  The wolf summon really didn’t like the close quarters of the little tunnel, but at least it wasn’t being injured by the ambient steam anymore. It was restless. There was nothing to fight but the rocks that surrounded it, so it snapped at them as it passed. It seemed like an eternity had passed before the tunnel finally narrowed to a place where the wolf could no longer continue, but Esset knew that perception was an illusion. The fire creatures that he summoned were extremely impatient, and his link with the wolf altered his own ability to measure time. He guessed it had actually only been a minute, maybe a minute and a half at most. Time resumed its usual pace when the Reshkin’s scent suddenly grew strong enough to indicate immediate proximity.

  Close quarters made fighting difficult, but that didn’t stop the wolf. Being unable to maneuver hindered the Reshkin far more than the summon, since the Reshkin liked to gang up on foes to defeat them. The fiery wolf slashed and bit with his fangs and short claws, making quick work of the individual blocking his way. It was a hassle getting around the carcass to try to get at the next one, but at least Esset didn’t have to worry about bringing the wolf back; it didn’t matter where a summon was, he could banish it just the same. Which was just as well, since there would be no convincing the summon to turn around and go back down the tunnel.

  The wolf had destroyed two more Reshkin when it was suddenly confronted with something different. Esset could tell it was still a Reshkin, but it looked rather different. It had an extra set of mandibles, far larger than its venomous set. Its foremost set of legs were also thicker, tougher, and sharper. It was also bigger—it only barely fit into the tunnel. The wolf attacked and killed the creature, but the carcass then blocked the tunnel completely. Esset could have let the wolf immolate the carcass by attacking and burning it until nothing was left, but he had information to take back, so instead he just banished the wolf and returned to himself.

  “We have a new kind of Reshkin,” he said as soon as he came to. He took a few deep breaths to get used to his own body again and stretched before standing. “Bigger, but designed for digging, not fighting. Also, there’s something weird about the scent and traces the Reshkin leave behind. There’s definitely magic in it. It’s tough to tell what exactly, but it’s looking more and more like this is all engineered.”

  Toman and Nassata looked at Esset grimly.

  “This just keeps getting better and better,” Toman responded. “Well, I better block this hole then.” He was holding Esset’s clothes. He passed them to his brother. They were dripping wet after Toman washed them in the hot spring, and a bit worn from the fighting, but they beat being the next thing to naked. Esset took the clothes with a quiet “thanks” and started getting dressed. Ironically, the way the wet cloth clung to his body made him look even scrawnier. Toman knelt next to the hole and started animating. Soon there was a porky behind with a curly little tail sticking out the opening.

  “If anything tries to break through again, this little pig will find the nearest Nadra to sound the alarm,” Toman said, leaving the animation there.

  “Hopefully that should do it, then,” Nassata said. “You should both go get some rest.”

  “I won’t argue,” Esset admitted.

  Nassata’s concerned gaze flicked between the two of them for a moment. She opened her mouth to speak, but a couple moments passed before words emerged. “Why don’t the both of you take tomorrow to rest? Sleep long. Recover.”

  They both shook their heads immediately. “No, this is too important,” Esset said. “Especially now that things are escalating.”

  “We’ll be back at it first thing tomorrow,” Toman confirmed.

  Nassata nodded, looking relieved. “Thank you.” Then Nassata placed her hands on their backs and gave them a light push towards their rooms. “Now go. Sleep. We don’t wish to lose you to weariness, not when it can be avoided.”

  Toman and Esset did as they were bade and returned to their room, where Toman’s stone sentries already waited. Since they both had a great deal of practice ignoring Toman’s creations, they both simply stripped off their wet clothes and collapsed into their beds.

  “Good morning!” Kessa woke them with a cheery call—just as she had the previous morning.

  This morning, however, she carried a tray laden with two large breakfasts. In particular, two large breakfasts of non-Nadran fare. Esset came awake with surprising alacrity at the smell of eggs and ham. There was that and toast too, all in very generous portions.

  “Your human food finally came,” Kessa announced with a smile.

  “Oh thank Hyrishal!” Esset exclaimed when he registered what he smelled. Within a minute both Toman and Esset were wolfing down the glorious food. Getting out of bed and getting dressed had taken a poor second place to consuming as much as they could as quickly as possible. Kessa was giggling at their reactions.

  “Did you try some?” Esset asked around a mouthful of eggs, waving a piece of toast at her.

  “Yes,” she replied, pulling a face. “It tasted very strange. Not all bad, but very, very strange.”

  Toman chuckled. “Well, at least you have a starting place for understanding what your food tastes like to us,” he said. Still chewing, he got up and pulled on his clothes—a different set from yesterday, since those would need repair now. Between snatched mouthfuls, both he and the summoner got ready to depart, leaving only crumbs and messy beds in their wakes. They were heading for the door when Kessa suddenly ambushed Toman with a hug. After letting the surprised young man go, she hugged Esset too.

  “Be careful,” she said. The previous day had really driven home for her how dangerous it was, fighting the Reshkin. She had been frightened before, but not like now.

  “We will,” Toman promised. “We’ll keep ourselves safe, and you and your people, too. Don’t you worry.” He reached out and gave her arm a quick squeeze with his gloved hand, knowing the tactile reassurance would mean more to her than words. Kessa just smiled and brushed his arm with her fingers as he headed out the door.

  Toman had a hard time keeping his promise. Their group returned to the city after far too much struggle and bloodshed.

  Nassata slammed her fist against the wall. Esset had never seen her so agi
tated.

  “Three,” she hissed. “And that’s atop the two we lost earlier. Two of these Nadra weren’t even warriors.”

  “At least we’ve evacuated the rest of the outlying areas. We won’t lose any more noncombatants,” Esset said, trying to offer what scant comfort he could.

  “There’s no way we could have prepared for today,” Toman added. “The way they attacked, swarming the sentries… It’s like you said, someone’s behind the Reshkin, and whoever it is isn’t about to sit back and let us get the upper hand.”

  “Those attacks today…” Esset said. “At least Toman had some soldiers ready-made. We’d planned to deploy them as a single force and take the Reshkin by storm, but even in losing that edge of surprise for later, we saved lives today.”

  “Why are they doing this?” Nassata asked, her vibrant teal eyes filled with such sorrow that Esset felt his own heart wrench in response. The Nadran losses struck Toman and Esset hard, but it wasn’t personal for them, not the way it was for Nassata and the other Nadra, who’d known the victims.

  “Who is doing this?” Nassata’s voice suddenly raised in pitch, and her coils twitched. “We are a peaceful people. We have wronged no one! Why attack us? Why kill us? Torture us? Drive us from our homes?”

  Neither Toman nor Esset had an answer, and they averted their eyes as Nassata calmed herself. They were both ready to drop from fatigue.

  “The tunnels are all sealed off. No Reshkin can get into the city without tunneling, and we’re watching for that now. The city is safe.” Esset’s weariness was plain in his voice.

  Nassata could only stare at him for several long moments. Then she seemed to shake herself. “Yes. Safe.” She repeated the words as if the sentiment alone could make them true. In truth, no one really felt safe anymore.

  “Go and rest,” Toman suggested. “You’re as tired as we are.”

  “Yes…” Nassata said after another long moment. “Thank you.” Without waiting for a response, she slithered away.

  Toman and Esset turned slowly and trudged the short distance left to their quarters in silence. A subdued Kessa met them at the curtain door with a large tray of food. Her coils brushed their legs as they passed, but she didn’t even speak a greeting. She had already gotten news of the day’s events.

  Toman reached his bed first and collapsed onto it immediately, but as soon as Kessa set the tray down, she went over and sat him back up.

  “No, you must eat first,” she insisted. She picked up a plate and set it on his lap. She sent a stern look over at Esset, too. Too tired to argue, he picked up his own plate voluntarily. Kessa kept a close eye on them, making sure they didn’t fall asleep sitting up.

  “If you don’t keep eating, I will spoon feed you,” she threatened at one point. The meals were small, but both were so tired that neither would have remained awake to finish them without the small Nadra there, keeping watch.

  “Okay, sleep,” Kessa finally said when their plates were empty. She scooped the dishes up and left; Toman and Esset were both asleep before she passed through the curtain.

  Esset could read his brother like an open book, and he could tell the night had passed far too swiftly for Toman’s liking. But Toman wouldn’t complain.

  “We’re to be your guards today,” one of the two other Nadra told them when they arrived with Kessa.

  “Good. I can work faster if I can concentrate,” Toman said. “Let’s go. The more time I have to work, the more soldiers I can make.” He didn’t wait for a response; his escort followed him out, everyone’s expression equally grim.

  “Am I needed for anything today?” Esset asked Kessa. She shook her head.

  “Nassata asked that you stay in the city. It’s central if you’re needed anywhere in a hurry, but there are no excursions today,” she said.

  “Huh.” Esset just sat there for a moment as the prospect of some free time sank in. Then he leaned over the side of the bed and rummaged through his bag.

  “What are you doing?” Kessa asked, peering over Esset’s shoulder.

  “Our clothes got pretty beat up the other day. I’m going to fix them.”

  Kessa looked at the torn clothes lying on the bed and went over to them. She picked up his shirt and turned it around, inspecting the giant rip.

  “How?” she asked. Esset blinked for a moment, remembering that the Nadra didn’t wear clothes. How would they know anything about cloth if they never had anything to do with it?

  “I’m going to sew them,” he replied, withdrawing his little sewing kit from his bag and holding it up for her to see.

  “Sew?”

  “Here, just watch me do it,” Esset suggested. He went over to the bed and sat down. He took out the needle and thread from the kit, prepared it, and beckoned for her to hand him the shirt. She did so, watching with keen interest, and he began sewing a neat line down the tear, mending it almost invisibly.

  Esset had a lot of practice mending things. Toman could sew as well, but he wasn’t as good at it. Esset had always been better with things that required details, and he found he had a knack for sewing—even if it had caused him to be the butt of a few jokes over the years.

  The first tear he mended was small, since he just wanted to demonstrate to Kessa how it worked. He passed it to her when he was done, and she examined it with interest.

  “I wondered how this stuff worked,” she said when she passed the shirt back.

  “The Nadra seem to be very isolated here in the underground city,” Esset remarked, taking back the shirt and starting on the next rip.

  “Yes… I asked, once, why we rarely see other peoples here. I was told it is the only way to keep peace and to keep the energies in balance here,” Kessa replied.

  “Hm… I suppose that makes sense. I don’t necessarily agree with that, but I don’t share your beliefs, either, so I guess that’s to be expected,” the summoner replied thoughtfully.

  “I guess,” Kessa replied, eyeing him askance.

  “So tell me about Toman and yourself,” the blue Nadra suggested, changing the subject. “You are brothers but not, and you are fighters who do not abhor peace. You are strange.”

  “It’s funny that you bring up those two things together, because they kind of go hand-in-hand,” he began. “I met Toman when I was eleven years old—he was ten at the time. He’d been hanging around outside the city, a little boy wearing an oversized, floppy-brimmed hat.” Both Kessa and Esset smiled at the mental picture—it was rare to see the animator without that hat on even in the present. Kessa settled on her coils on the floor, actually hugging the end of her tail to her chest.

  “Anyways, he was all by himself, so the city guards were concerned about him wandering around outside the city, but he would run away when they tried to get close. I was a bit of a loner back then, so they tracked me down and sent me out to find him. Long story short, I found him, and we became fast friends. He was all alone—no friends, no family, just the creations of the past animator to make sure he had food, shelter, and clothes.”

  “I’ve seen his stone creatures. They look like people, but they’re not really,” Kessa said with a scowl.

  “Exactly,” Esset agreed. “Once Toman got past his fear of others, he was pretty starved for human contact. Eventually, my family just kind of adopted him. He and I spent virtually every waking moment together. We played together every day, and we went to school together. I had extra studies and he practiced animating, so there were—are—times when we follow our own pursuits, but you’d be hard pressed to find blood brothers closer than we are. From the day we met on, we learned to love peace.”

  Kessa nodded there, prompting Esset to continue.

  His face grew thoughtful and a little distant. “But peace… It’s a funny thing. Those raised with peace are spoiled, and they want adventure. At least, that was how it was with me. My father is a summoner, and I knew that one day I’d be a summoner too. I love to read, and I read far too many old stories about heroes and wha
tnot. As I grew older, I got a little wiser, and while that longing for adventure never really went away, it was tempered with logic and reason.”

  “What kind of stories?” Kessa tilted her head to the side.

  “Oh. Right, I suppose we would have different old stories, wouldn’t we? Remind me and I’ll tell you some later.”

  Kessa nodded eagerly.

  Esset continued. “Well, regardless of stories, with the power that I ended up being able to wield, I felt that I had a responsibility to use it to help people. Even though there was peace where I grew up, I knew there was a great deal of suffering elsewhere. Being best friend and brother to Toman especially drove that point home. All that and Toman himself are the reasons why I live this life now.” Esset paused there, although his hands kept moving methodically, the needle dipping above and below the fabric in a pattern that Kessa watched with hypnotized fascination.

  “But that’s only half the story. There’s Toman’s half too,” Esset eventually said. He tied off the thread, having finished mending the tear. Once he was done, he looked at Kessa appraisingly. At first she looked back curiously, but then she looked away and started to squirm slightly under his scrutiny.

  “I’m never sure if I should talk about Toman’s history to anyone. He certainly doesn’t like talking about it, but he doesn’t seem to mind people knowing.” He finally looked away from her and started sewing the next tear. “Before meeting me, Toman’s life was…well, pretty horrible. He was born Toman Iiren. His parents were weavers—good ones, from what I heard. They lived in a pretty small village in the mountains and did fairly well for themselves. Then, when Toman was seven, a mage named Moloch came. Who knows why he chose that particular village, but he did. Moloch is what we call a blood-path mage—he gets the bulk of his magical power from pain, suffering, the spilling of blood, and death. He went to Toman’s village and destroyed everything. Almost every single person died that day, including Toman’s parents.”