He opted not to answer. “That shirt should just be thrown out—it wasn’t mine to begin with, although I do appreciate the effort,” he said instead. Kessa looked over at the shirt.
“Yeah, I guess. I’m not so great at fixing it, either. Your brother made it look so easy,” she said, a bit perplexed.
“Yeah, he does that,” Toman replied, smiling slightly. “If it helps, I’m not so great at mending clothes either. Passable, but not great. I tease Esset about having lady-hands occasionally, but I make sure not to lay it on him too hard or he won’t fix my clothes for me.” Kessa had to smile.
Toman shifted and braced his hands against the bed to push himself into a sitting position, only to find himself moving unevenly. It was a shock to the system.
“Here, let me help you,” Kessa said, but Toman leaned away.
“It was there. It felt like it was there,” he said, disoriented. He looked down, but there was still just a stump where his second arm should have been. Heart racing, Toman let his head fall back into the pillow.
“What?” Kessa asked, withdrawing with a confused look.
“For a second, it felt like my hand was still there. It felt so real,” Toman said. Kessa gave him a hug in lieu of knowing what to say.
“It’s—” Toman abandoned the false start. “I remember talking with an old war veteran. He’d lost a leg. I remember him saying he had a ‘phantom limb.’ His leg wasn’t there anymore, but he could still feel it.” Toman clenched “both” hands again and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Did he ever come to be at peace with it?” Kessa asked.
Toman had to think before answering. “I guess. He learned to live with it, anyways.” Toman tried to push thoughts of his missing appendage from his mind—well, mostly, anyways. Using his right hand, he checked on his other wounds.
“I don’t think you should be doing that,” Kessa said uncertainly.
“They’re sore, really sore, but she just cut flesh and muscle.” Toman didn’t add aloud that Ateala, as sickening as she had been, really had known what she was doing. She’d missed internal organs entirely.
“They’ll just take a while to heal,” Toman added. His arm would probably heal into a stump first, but he wasn’t going to be moving around much any time soon. He really disliked that thought and wished that his power could work like Esset’s so he could escape his body completely for short periods of time.
“I’ll keep you company,” Kessa promised.
“So’s there anything around here that I can eat? I’m pretty hungry,” Toman asked.
“Of course! We have some soup keeping warm—I’ll go get some for you,” Kessa said instantly, her coils already unwinding from their comfortable knot so she could propel herself towards the door.
Toman tried not to think about his phantom limb while she was gone—fortunately she was quick.
“Here we are,” Kessa said, reentering the room carrying a bowl of soup. The Nadran guard outside held the curtain aside for her to entire, then let it fall shut on her coils. Looking up to watch her enter, Toman noticed that there were two of his animated soldiers in the room, standing guard. He didn’t have that unconscious knowledge of their presence like he usually did, since he wasn’t wearing his gloves. Fortunately Kessa distracted him before he could take that train of thought any further. She put the bowl down on the bedside table before studying him for a moment.
“Well, we ought to prop you up so you can eat some of this,” she said. “If we go easy, it shouldn’t hurt so much.” Together they carefully maneuvered him until he was partially upright, at least enough that he could get the food in his mouth without making a mess and swallow the soup properly. Both were quiet while he ate. He hated being fed, but with only one hand, he couldn’t hold the bowl himself as he ate, so they compromised—he operated the spoon, but she held the bowl out for him.
Toman didn’t like his feelings of helplessness; he was tired of feeling helpless. He’d been bedridden for far, far too long, and he’d ended up in this state from being helpless in the first place.
“Thank you for all this,” Toman said when he was done eating. “It can’t be terribly exciting for you.”
“I don’t mind. We owe you much for what you’ve done. And…well, some of us care about you,” she said, ducking her head slightly in the Nadran equivalent of a blush.
“I’m glad,” Toman said, hoping his own color wasn’t rising.
“Am I interrupting something?” That was Esset, startling them both a bit; neither had noticed the deep inhale and exhale that signaled him returning to himself.
“Brother,” Toman greeted him with just the slightest hint of warning in his tone.
“Nice to see you awake and perky,” Esset replied with a cheeky grin. Toman was glad to see that his brother was in better spirits.
“Well, semi-upright, anyways,” Toman more-or-less agreed. “How goes the good fight?”
“Very well,” Esset responded with a nod. “We’ve been killing every Reshkin we find, but we’ve been finding a good number of them dead before we even reach them, and without a single mark on them. We’re pretty happy to see dead Reshkin, but we’re not sure if we should be at least a bit concerned. I mean, if it’s a contagion or something…”
Esset tilted his head to the side when Toman shook his head.
“They’re all going to die, Esset. The Reshkin are going to go extinct now that Ateala is dead.”
Esset blinked at Toman’s statement.
“Uh… why?” Esset asked.
“Ateala was pretty talkative while… Well, she was pretty talkative,” Toman said.
“I’m going to return this to the kitchen,” Kessa put in, holding up the bowl and then ducking out of the room.
Toman felt kind of bad, but he was grateful too, since it was harder for him to talk about it with her there. He watched her go, and there was a bit of a pause; Toman was pretending Kessa’s exit was more distracting than it was to buy himself some time.
“Wanna talk about it?” Esset finally asked when the silence stretched.
“Not really,” Toman admitted. “It was pretty horrible.” The understatement shielded him from the truth.
“Yeah,” Esset replied.
There was another silence before Toman exhaled heavily, glanced up at his brother, then looked down at his hand and began speaking.
“She said she was just going to look me over, see how my recovery was coming,” he began, trying to school his thoughts carefully so he wouldn’t lose his self-control when his memories began flashing across his mind’s eye. “She paralyzed me, with little magics. I couldn’t have been an easier target. Before I knew what was happening, she had my gloves. I couldn’t move. There was nothing I could do. I was completely helpless—”
The dam broke and his self-control dissolved. Esset did all he could; he listened well and spoke little. Whether Kessa had returned, listened from outside, and then gone again only she knew, but it was more than an hour later before Toman had told Esset the entire story and gotten a hold on himself again. Mercifully, sleep claimed Toman again after the ordeal.
Toman had taken to spending his long, bedridden days talking with Kessa while she practiced scale-painting on small tiles. On this day, she’d wanted to know his version of how they’d wound up doing what they did.
“And that’s why we’re traveling the world and honing our abilities to face Moloch,” Toman concluded his life story. “Just think, if someone had taken him on a few years ago even, think of all the Nadran lives that would have been saved. Moloch doesn’t just do the deeds himself—he fosters such things in others, like Ateala. There are more people like Ateala out there, I’m sure of it, just as I’m sure more atrocities will be committed by Moloch himself.”
Kessa sat thoughtfully, tiles momentarily forgotten. She was quiet for so long that Toman spoke again, playfully this time.
“Do you understand, or are you going to give me your little frown again?” he teased.
Kessa smiled, but answered seriously. “I… I understand some. My heart still cries out you should find and keep peace, but…” Kessa’s eyes watered and she brushed tears away. “But I remember those the Reshkin killed. That…Ateala killed, I suppose. And I don’t know what to think, then.” Kessa went quiet, but something about her poise suggested she wasn’t done, so Toman held his tongue.
“There is something I don’t understand,” she finally said.
“What’s that?” Toman asked.
“I asked Esset about your religion, and he said that Bright Hyrishal also preached peace. He said to turn the other cheek. To forgive. How does that fit with what you do?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Toman admitted with a frown of thought. “Like I’ve always said, Esset’s the religious one. I am too, I guess, but…well, to me, pursuing and stopping Moloch runs deeper than that. It’s something that must be done. It’s not just morality, it’s duty, and…I don’t know. I’m not sure I understand it myself. I won’t lie, there is a desire for vengeance in there too, but it’s far more than that too.”
Kessa sighed a small sigh, and when their eyes met, she and Toman both realized they’d become frustrated with the conversation. Before he could be pulled into yet another bout of depression, Toman tried to lighten the mood. He gave her a rueful smile. “How did our conversations become so glum?”
Kessa smiled back. “It must be because you stopped falling asleep halfway through,” Kessa teased.
Toman mock-winced. “The truth hurts,” he said. “Thanks for keeping me company though. I would’ve gone crazy by now otherwise—”
Toman’s gratitude was interrupted as Esset brushed the curtain aside, took five steps into the room, and faceplanted onto his bed.
“Long day?” Toman asked dryly. Kessa was giggling.
“Lots of walking, no fighting,” Esset confessed. Toman studied him and decided that while Esset did look tired, it was nothing compared to some days.
“Haven’t found any more live ones?” Toman asked, referring to the Reshkin.
“Just carcasses everywhere. A few here, entire caverns full there… It’s creepy,” Esset confirmed.
“Good riddance,” Toman said.
“I find it disquieting, to be honest,” Esset objected. “The loss of any natural species is a bad thing. It’s a small consolation that this extinction wasn’t of our doing. I just hope there won’t be any unforeseen negative impacts on the underground ecology here due to the loss of the Reshkin. I know the changes made to them likely would have brought about the same damages regardless, but still.”
Toman could only shake his head at his brother. “Always complicating something simple,” the animator said. “Good riddance.”
Toman felt a black mood starting to descend and tried to distract himself. “Why don’t we play cards? I’ve been teaching Kessa, and she’s been kicking my butt, so hopefully she can kick yours too,” Toman said.
“Bring it!” Esset crowed.
Four hands later, the animator suddenly threw down his cards and leaned back on his pillows.
“I’m done,” Toman said spiritlessly.
“What—? You were winning!” Esset objected, unable to avoid seeing Toman’s discarded hand.
“Hurray,” Toman responded without a shred of enthusiasm.
“Oh come on, Toman. We need to pass the time somehow. Try not to think about it—think about the celebration the Nadra are planning! That’ll be fun,” Esset coaxed.
“Esset, we’ve been ignoring the one topic we should be talking about,” Toman said with sudden aggressiveness, sitting up and leaning forward with intense brown eyes. Kessa pulled back a little bit, giving them space, but she didn’t leave.
“It’s not important yet. We can wait ’til you’re better,” Esset said, avoiding Toman’s eyes.
“No, we can’t. How am I supposed to fight Moloch with one arm? ‘I’m a mage, not a fighter, blah blah blah.’ Let’s face it, we don’t need a handicap like this,” Toman hissed.
“Well, you are a mage, and it’s not as big a deal thanks to that—” Esset began, but Toman cut him off.
“As big,” he challenged. “That doesn’t mean it’s not a big deal. Come on, Esset. You know what a handicap it is to only wear one glove. What am I going to do, leave one glove stuffed in my belt? Gee, that’s secure. Really, I—”
He cut off his tirade when Kessa made a little sound. It was a little sound like she’d tried to say something, then abruptly cut the noise off. It was a tentative squeak to gain attention in a room where she’d otherwise been forgotten.
“Aren’t you going to make a new arm?” she asked, confused.
Both young men stared at her.
“I…thought you were just waiting for your arm to heal to do it,” Kessa said, a little intimidated by the sudden, absolute attention she’d gained. There was a moment of silence and she squirmed a bit.
“No, that couldn’t work,” Toman finally said, shaking his head.
“Why not?” Esset asked. “Providing no one has the other glove on, you can still use animator magic with one glove. And if the other glove is on a replacement hand, it’s more secure. Making it would be a lot more complicated than most of your stuff, but you could probably pull it off. Even if your sense of touch wasn’t as good as a real hand’s, it would still beat nothing at all, and it might even be sturdier or stronger than your original hand.”
“But it’s…” Toman’s voice trailed off when he couldn’t think of any real objection.
“Toman, that could work. Kessa, you are brilliant!” the summoner beamed at her. She perked up a little from her tentative stance.
“I had thought you’d thought of it already, else I would have brought it up earlier. I thought you were just waiting for your arm to heal,” Kessa confessed, apologetic.
“No, I hadn’t—” Toman began.
“You have to try,” Esset interrupted.
“Yeah… I think so,” Toman conceded.
“What are you going to make it out of?” Esset wondered aloud, his mind already turning over this new idea.
“It’ll have to be sturdy—most fake limbs are made out of wood, aren’t they?” Toman asked.
“I think so… but that’s usually just a stick leg or something,” Esset said. “Metal would be way cooler. Would that be too heavy? I mean, if you animated it, you should be able to work it so it’s manageable, right?”
“That would be cool,” Toman admitted, his mood getting lighter and more optimistic with each passing second. “I’d have to experiment…” His tone was very thoughtful.
“When do you want to start?” Kessa asked. “I should be able to get you materials to work with.”
“Well I’d want to start on simpler stuff, just see if I can make something that would be like an extension of a limb,” Toman said. “Just scraps of wood or rock—actually, working with rock would be smartest down here, and it would be a closer simulation of metal. I could test weights and stuff.”
“You know, you don’t even have to make it an arm,” Esset was saying in the meantime. “You could have, like, claws.”
The conversation devolved from there.
Drums reverberated through the tunnels, both heard and felt in every corner of Salithsa. The relentless pounding was a primal call to the body of each and every underground denizen to dance in whatever fashion matched their form as the Nadra celebrated the return of peace. Few slept for the three-day duration of the celebration, but for Toman’s healing body, that wasn’t an option.
“Victorious again!” Esset crowed as he walked into Toman’s room and saw his brother awake.
“Won another puzzle game, did we?” Toman asked wryly.
“I don’t win them all, but they’re fun,” Esset said, eyes alight. “Although Tseka keeps trying to get me to spar with her. Yeah, right, like being thumped around with a spear butt is fun.” Then he spotted the piece of wood on the bedspread.
“
Whatcha doing?” Esset asked.
“Just…practicing,” Toman said, moving the piece of wood to the floor.
“How’s that going?” Esset asked.
“Slow.” Toman’s frustration was in the clipped word. “It should be possible, and every so often I get far enough that I really believe it is, but… it’s just so much more complex than anything I’ve ever done before. It has to be an extension of myself and able to deliver sensory information back to me. It has to behave so I don’t even have to consciously think about it.”
“You’ll get it,” Esset assured him. “But shouldn’t you be taking a break? Resting, letting your arm heal?”
“Yeah, probably. I just—” Toman gave a huff. “It’s driving me crazy. If I can’t manage this, there’s no way we’ll be able to take on Moloch. Ever. And I have to know. I have to know if that’s still something that’s going to happen.”
Esset looked away. “We might just have to wait to find out,” he said.
“I know.” Toman rubbed the skin above his stump in irritation.
“You know, after you were bit, there was a moment where I wanted to give up the chase for Moloch,” Esset said.
Toman jerked and he flushed, opening his mouth to say something. At a shake of Esset’s head, Toman’s eyes narrowed and he closed his mouth.
“Let me finish,” Esset said. “I was so afraid of what might happen to you. What could still happen to you if we kept on this road. As you’re always reminding me, our lives aren’t one of the old tales. There isn’t always a happy ending. But it’s the same as it always is, isn’t it? Like after the Baliyan war. The things we saw…”
He trailed off, but Toman held his silence until Esset spoke again.
“Every time one of us has a brush with mortality, we question our path, but we always keep going.” Esset squeezed his eyes shut. “This needs doing. Moloch has to be stopped. I don’t question that.” He opened his eyes again and met Toman’s.
“If you decide you still want to chase Moloch, I’ll follow you. Just like always.”
“Thank you,” Toman said, even though it didn’t need to be said. Esset just nodded.
Calling On Fire (Book 1) Page 28
