“That’s not that long,” Esset said, studying his brother. Esset wanted Moloch dead for many reasons: ethics, morality, for what he’d done to them and others. But he knew that for his brother, it ran even deeper than that, and he worried about Toman’s wellbeing this close to a confrontation. The confrontation.
“No. And yet I wish it were sooner. But to be fully prepared, it’ll be one month of animating soldiers, no distractions.” Toman sounded calm and collected.
“Do you think Moloch will fall for Erizen’s act?” Esset asked.
“I wouldn’t worry about Erizen—he seems like the type who can take care of himself,” Toman replied.
“Yeah, but what if Moloch catches him and Erizen gives us up?” Esset asked. He didn’t necessarily think that—he just needed to talk away these thoughts.
“Honestly? Unless Erizen joins the fight against us—doubtful—I don’t think it’ll make a difference. Moloch hates animators, right? I think he’d come after us regardless. It’s just a matter of time, and we’ve made sure that he’ll learn where we are,” Toman replied.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Esset conceded. Something was going to go wrong—he knew it. Every time he read his summoner’s tome, the phoenix summon practically jumped off the page at him. But he couldn’t tell Toman that, just as he couldn’t suggest they back out now. He knew Toman wouldn’t change his mind.
The phoenix… He really hated that summon. He hated the fact that it even existed, that it was even an option. Its mere existence changed everything. To trade one’s life for brief but incredible power—no.
What about the Guardian? He’d summoned that once before. Surely, if things got desperate, he could do it again, to save Toman. The only problem was that the incantation for the summon seemed to have erased itself from his mind completely. He couldn’t even remember the precise conditions under which it could be summoned.
All summons had conditions, a contract between summoner and summoned that had to be followed. Esset knew the conditions of all his summons—but not the Guardian. He supposed it was possible that it was a one-time thing. Or maybe he could only remember under the conditions that the summon required. Somehow, that wasn’t reassuring.
Why was the phoenix so prominent in his mind? Was it simply because he was so worried about Toman, and himself, and Moloch’s demise? Surely that was it. That had to be it. That his knowledge of summons tended to come to him just when he needed it was purely coincidental. Now if he could just calm down so that he didn’t see the incantation for the phoenix written in fire every time he closed his eyes…
“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” Toman asked suddenly, studying his brother. He knew something was wrong, but that was to be expected—it was entirely too possible that they were facing imminent death. He just wasn’t sure there was anything wrong beyond the obvious.
Esset locked eyes with Toman. “None,” he lied with perfect confidence.
After all, they were brothers.
One month had passed, and the signal had been posted; it was time to set their plan in motion.
Erizen knew how thin a line he would be walking, but he also knew that this was the most minimal risk he could take and still have a chance at that reward. Blast Gretchen, she was right—he liked this. Nothing could make his blood sing more than a true challenge, a true risk. On the other hand, he’d never had this much to risk before, back when Gretchen had known him. He felt a sneer play his lips; honestly, what was he thinking? He was also more powerful than he had ever been, and he had never allowed his own cunning to dull.
He twisted his lips into a malicious smile instead. No, Moloch would get his comeuppance, finally. And the prize Erizen would get was security; he had no interest in governing territories larger than what he had now, or hording more treasure or power. He had a secure base here, and enough power to hold his own against anything—anything except Moloch. Moloch, that unpredictable menace, who could choose to destroy Erizen just for the thrill of it—and probably would one day—or who would certainly turn upon him if Erizen were deemed a threat. It would be worth the risk to remove Moloch from the face of the earth.
Erizen tweaked his spell so that if things went sideways in his confrontation, he could trigger it to slingshot him right back to his castle. He didn’t think anything would go wrong on his end, but he was still alive among a nest of dark mages because he was careful, almost to the point of paranoia. Not that it was paranoia if everyone really was out to get you. But he missed the reassuring presence of the Greymaker—he’d already disabled it, to be sure that everyone would notice its absence before he confronted Moloch.
Erizen ran scenarios through his mind, trying to rouse a bit of genuine anger in himself—unrelated anger, to be safe—to make his performance more genuine. He just hoped that the two puppies that Gretchen had such faith in would be able to pull this off. If not, he had preparations in place to flee. He hoped they realized that if this went sideways, he was going to cut them loose. Then again, chances were, if this went sideways, they’d be dead pretty quickly. There wouldn’t be anything he could do anyways.
Ruby, the current favorite of his harem, stepped into the room. She knew better than to disturb his spell-casting; she simply waited for him, although she posed herself against the wall in a way he rather enjoyed. Yes, there were definitely perks to cultivating loyalty in his subjects. Especially the women… Erizen directed his attention inwards again. Transportation spells were typically complex at the best of times, but the number of fail safes he was building into this one made it all the more so.
It’s too bad I won’t be there to see Moloch’s face when those two scrawny puppies take him out. Now that would be entertaining. Unfortunately, not so much so that it would be worth the risk. Such is life. He finished the final touches on the spell and relaxed, creating a loop in the magic so it would sustain itself until he chose to turn his attention back to it.
“Ruby, love,” he purred to the woman clad in less than two square feet of red cloth.
“My lord Erizen,” she breathed back. Erizen was possessive of those who he saw as belonging to him, and that possessiveness was apparent as he kissed her, claiming her for his own. She melted against him, perfectly willing to succumb to whatever he had in mind for her. Even if it were nothing at all.
“Mmm, you tempt me at a most inopportune moment,” Erizen chuckled.
“I am at my lord’s disposal,” she replied, her dark brown eyes gazing at him.
“You know to take care of things in my absence,” Erizen replied. He let her go, his mind already consumed with his project again. Pleasures of the flesh were enjoyable, but they could distract him only momentarily from his true joy—challenges of the mind. And this game—this game would be the game of all games.
“Yes, my lord,” Ruby replied from behind him. “I will see to everything. Good luck, my lord.”
Erizen laughed haughtily. “I don’t need luck.” He stepped into the center of the room and triggered the spell. The game had begun.
“WHAT ARE YOU PLAYING AT, MOLOCH?” Erizen roared. There was an automatic retaliation when his transportation spell penetrated Moloch’s barriers, but his shields absorbed it easily. It was difficult to make a damaging spell that triggered automatically, so mostly they were just used to distract and make sure that at least an intruder didn’t go unnoticed.
“Lord Erizen, you are out of line,” Moloch said in perfect calm, folding his hands in front of his body. Erizen had landed in his great hall, and Moloch was standing there, receiving some audience—not mages, Erizen could tell immediately, and therefore of no consequence.
“You are the only one with any knowledge of the Greymaker’s workings—you cannot convince me that you are not responsible for the disabling of mine. I see yours is still in working order,” Erizen hissed, narrowing his eyes.
“I will resume your audience later,” Moloch said, waving his hand dismissively towards the people he had been speaking with
. Once they had turned to leave, the powerful mage directed his attention at Erizen.
“Now, my friend, won’t you tell me what has incensed you so?” Moloch was the picture of poise.
Dark Lord Moloch was a well-groomed individual, his angular features clean-shaven, serving to accentuate his narrow eyebrows and short black hair. His emerald eyes were sharp, keenly watching even the slightest nuances of Erizen’s behavior—and anyone and anything else in the vicinity. He was a man who missed very little, and those unaware of that fact tended not to last very long. He wore mage-robes, sweeping expanses of deep red fabric that fell just short of the floor. The only adornments that Moloch indulged in were rings; he wore several bands of varying materials. The rings were all very simple, and most who knew him would guess that they weren’t for decoration—they held complex spells that Moloch could release and use in an instant if the occasion called for it.
“Two days ago, my Greymaker was disabled. I was not suspicious at first, but the problem has eluded my ability to fix it. I know of only one person who might know enough about the Greymaker to create a problem like that,” Erizen snarled.
“Please calm yourself,” Moloch requested, unconcerned by Erizen’s anger. While the red-robed mage’s ire was a force to be feared, it was fortunately not easily stirred.
“What’s your game?” Erizen demanded, although he outwardly made an effort to compose himself. He made a convincing display of being unwilling to back down.
“No game, Lord Erizen. I am not responsible for the malfunction of your Greymaker. If you are sure your device has been sabotaged, then you must look to another as the culprit,” Moloch explained calmly.
“I’m not convinced,” was Erizen’s steely reply.
“What would be my motivation to remove your Greymaker from the equation?” Moloch asked reasonably. “One would presume I would be making a move to attack you, but such a measure would be unnecessary on my part. Why would I give you warning of an imminent attack, if that were my desire? You are a clever man, Lord Erizen, consider that.”
Erizen narrowed his eyes at the other mage, as if doing just that. He’d always been careful not to show the true extent of his genius to the other mages. As a result, the Lords all knew he wasn’t stupid, but none of them thought him particularly clever, either. Most assumed he’d stolen the Greymaker spell from someone else. They all thought him a fool, wasting his time on women and other pleasures. Not even Moloch was onto him, Erizen was sure.
“If not you, then who?” Erizen asked suspiciously.
“I am afraid I do not know.”
Erizen made as if to object, but Moloch raised a hand to silence him, and the mage wisely obeyed.
“I don’t know, but I have been looking into it. I made note of your difficulties as soon as they occurred, and I have been gathering intelligence on the matter. I do not know for certain who has sabotaged your Greymaker, but I have my suspicions,” Moloch explained. “I will aid you with your search—it is the least I can do.” Erizen knew that Moloch liked him—or rather, he saw him as a useful source to cultivate—as Erizen had been sure to make himself a useful pawn to the more powerful mage. That was why Erizen wasn’t surprised by this reaction, or Moloch’s offer to help. Erizen’s act told a different story, however.
“Seeking the best way to lay the blame elsewhere, eh?” Erizen challenged him, pretending to be impressed with his own astuteness.
“As I said before, such subterfuge would be unnecessary on my part, if you were correct and I were working against you,” Moloch pointed out.
Erizen narrowed his eyes at him again before visibly concluding that Moloch was probably not guilty. “Very well, I accept your help. What have you found, Lord Moloch?” Erizen asked, adding the title to his name to signify that he now accepted Moloch’s explanation.
“I have been tracking the movements of an old enemy of mine who has been wandering around our territories for nearly a month,” Moloch explained. “He calls himself the animator—a hereditary position, incidentally. His predecessor inconvenienced me greatly before I killed him, and it appears that his whelp has come to growl at me as well. It seems the foolish boy thinks that he can threaten me by going after the rest of the council members. You are aware of the assault on Lord Atli’s castle, I am sure.”
Erizen nodded. It would have been strange had he not been, even in the persona that he was playing for the mage council.
“I believe that was his first attack, ineffective though it was. Lord Atli lost a few possessions, but nothing of great import, according to our peer. No, I’m thinking it will be a simple matter to exterminate this whelp and move on. I already have a lead on his whereabouts.” Moloch appeared quite confident in his assessment.
Erizen had to wonder if he knew about the immunity amulets—that could change things if he did, although the plan was to go ahead regardless. “Then what are we waiting for?” Erizen asked impatiently.
“All in good time, my friend. I will confirm the lead, and then the whelp will be dealt with. Remember, vengeance is best served cold. When one has absolute control, after all, one can exact the most pain.” Moloch’s grin wasn’t pleasant; then again, neither was the one Erizen gave him in response.
“You are correct, as usual, Lord Moloch,” Erizen deferred. Moloch inclined his head to acknowledge the compliment.
“In the meantime, why don’t you accept a guest room here in my castle? I am hoping for confirmation within the day,” Moloch suggested.
“Yes, I think that would be most amenable,” Erizen agreed.
A long time ago, Erizen had discovered that if one subtly cast a spell while in the presence of a person, without showing any sign of spell-casting, it simply didn’t occur to that person that he could possibly be the caster. Mages, of course, could sense when a spell was being cast, but there were ways around that, and Erizen had learned to use that to his advantage.
For example, in mid-sentence, Erizen had triggered the spell he’d prepared the night before, utilizing the “back door” he’d built into Moloch’s Greymaker. Moloch would sense the spell, but it would seem to have originated somewhere in the mountains, where Toman and Esset waited for Moloch to come to them. Erizen doubted anyone else would even be able to sense it. Certainly no one would suspect Erizen, standing right in front of Moloch in that moment, for Erizen gave no sign of having done anything but accept Moloch’s invitation to stay. Moloch only batted an eyelid very briefly, but it was enough to let Erizen know that Moloch felt his Greymaker go down. Not that Erizen gave any indication that he knew that.
“Excellent, I will have rooms prepared for you immediately. Would you like to entertain one of the girls?” Moloch asked.
“That would be delightful,” Erizen replied, licking his lips. My, what a difficult job he had here. This was all even part of his cover!
“I will have one sent to you. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some business to attend to. You understand.”
“Of course, Lord Moloch. I thank you for your understanding. I was not rational when I first came to you, but all is clear now.” Moloch just smiled without showing his teeth as he gestured for a servant to lead Erizen away.
Erizen went willingly. His part here was all but done. Now all he had to do was keep sharp in case things went sideways.
The brothers waited. They read books. They exercised. They played cards. They sparred.
Esset chafed.
They had the amulets. They had magical immunity. They had thousands of Toman’s animations lying in wait. They had Esset’s summons ready to go. They had home ground and high ground. They had every advantage they could get.
So why did it feel like something was wrong? Why did it feel like they were facing their doom? Esset was on edge from seeing the phoenix’s summon scrawl across his vision every time he opened his summoner’s tome—it had not relented. Had they missed something? Did they even have a chance?
Erizen had sent them no messages, but that was according
to plan. They began to wonder if Moloch really was coming, although they kept sharp anyways.
“I wish we’d been able to practice more with the magic-sensing amulets. Or been able to test-run the immunity amulets,” Esset said, picking a card from his hand and laying it down on the table between him and Toman. They sat in the ground floor of the tower, near the door.
“We did get the immunity amulets tested, and they’re legitimate,” Toman said. Esset wished he felt as calm as Toman sounded, even though he knew Toman probably didn’t feel that calm either. “And we simply don’t know enough mages to test the amulets around different magics. Plus we don’t want to use them up.”
“I know. I just wish… Well, I guess this isn’t something we could ever feel one hundred percent confident about,” Esset said. Toman shrugged, but when he briefly met Esset’s eyes, Esset saw a burning fervor smoldering there. No, Toman wasn’t calm either.
Almost intimidated—and a little ashamed by his own lack of conviction—Esset changed the subject. “So what do you want to do after this? I mean, after we beat Moloch, what’s the first thing you want to do?” Esset asked, speaking confidently to try to boost his own morale.
“Make doubly sure that Moloch is dead,” Toman replied.
“Yeah, but after that,” Esset said. Toman blinked slowly at him.
“Nevermi—” Esset jumped mid-word as the magic-sensing alarm warned them like an electric shock.
Moloch’s incoming transportation spell had tripped the alarms. Toman and Esset jumped to their feet and took a second to pinpoint where Moloch had landed using the feel of the spells. Then they snapped their immunity amulets and exited the tower to stand on the cold, rocky mountainside. Spotting Moloch was easy.
They’d expected Moloch to try invisibility or some such, but instead he walked calmly towards the tower, as if out for a pleasure stroll. He was totally unafraid of them. Esset glanced over at Toman—they were supposed to launch their attack the moment they set eyes on Moloch, but the animations were still.
Moloch stepped around a boulder and kept closing the distance between them, stopping only once he was within easy earshot. Toman simply stared at Moloch, hatred in his eyes.
Calling On Fire (Book 1) Page 37
