Calling On Fire (Book 1) (41 page)

Despite the generous amount of time still remaining, Sergeant Warthog set a good pace, and Toman was pale and sweating by the time they reached their approximate destination. When they stopped, Sergeant Warthog gave Toman another look over, her eye much harsher this time.

“You’ve got more than just a busted arm,” she said flatly.

“Yeah,” Toman said, not elaborating. He was also breathing a lot heavier than a quick walk through town should have warranted.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Esset said, his tone slightly sullen. Toman shot him another look, but Esset was pointedly looking away so he “couldn’t see it.”

“We early?” Esset asked, looking up at the sun. He and Toman had been inside so long that he couldn’t track the time quite so easily. He thought they were probably early though.

“Not by much,” the sergeant replied. “But he’d better show his skinny little—”

“There he is,” Toman said. None of them had expected the black-clad young man to walk right up to them in an ordinary fashion, but that was exactly what he was doing. Sergeant Warthog had her hand on the hilt of her sword and an inch of blade cleared by the time he was close enough to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized immediately, his hands raised defensively, placating. The sergeant narrowed her eyes at him.

“Well, this is unexpected,” she remarked. She didn’t draw the sword any further out, but she didn’t let it slide back into its sheath, either.

“I’m really sorry,” he apologized again. Esset was still suspicious too, but when he looked the young man up and down, he couldn’t help but notice a few other changes. The stranger’s boots were clearly dusty, and his clothes were rumpled. His body language had changed completely; there were definite lines of humility in his posture, not the smug superiority that they’d seen before. It was almost as if this were an entirely different person, or…

“I had to approach you like that—people have to think I’m a bad guy. Please hear me out,” the young man continued when no one seemed inclined to say anything one way or the other.

“Keep talking, kid,” Sergeant Warthog warned, a definite threat in her voice. She kept that inch of steel bared.

“Um, it’s kind of a long story…” he started hesitantly. The sergeant’s expression made him start talking faster. “My name is Francis Martin, I’m the son of a merchant, but I pretend to be a Dark Sorcerer so I can be with my true love, Princess Arabella, but I’m really a good guy and not very good at magic and please don’t hurt me. Aarabella’s been kidnapped and I need help getting her back.”

Sergeant Warthog looked the kid up and down before letting go of her sword. There was a little snick as it slid home in the sheath, and the sergeant crossed her arms over her chest.

“I think you need to start at the beginning,” she said. “The very beginning of all this.” The young man relaxed a little bit when she let go of the sword and took a deep breath. Everyone sensed that this story was going to be an interesting one.

“Well, like I said, I’m just a merchant’s son, and Arabella is a princess. Unfortunately, while successful, my father was never hugely prosperous, and Arabella is the seventh daughter of a king. With six sisters ahead of her, the king didn’t really want to marry her off, because he didn’t want to pay her dowry on top of the other six. He certainly didn’t want her to marry a merchant’s son… It just isn’t done. But we’re in love, and she didn’t want to be shipped off to a convent, so we came up with a plan. Well, Arabella came up with a plan. Like I said, I have only a little magic, but the little bit I’m good at is illusions. I can only maintain them for about a minute, but it’s good for a short bluff. It was Arabella’s idea to dress me up and get me to pretend to be a dark sorcerer.”

“Dark Sorcerer Francis?” Esset asked skeptically, smirking. It was hardly an intimidating moniker.

“Dark Sorcerer Martin is marginally better,” Toman pointed out.

“Um, Dark Sorcerer Zaren, actually. Again, Arabella came up with it,” Francis replied.

“Okay then, what next?” the sergeant prompted, shooting Esset a look to warn him to shut up.

“Well, she had me kidnap her when she only had a guard or two with her outside the city. I made some of my best illusions that day, some scary monsters. The guards took their stories back to the castle, telling of a powerful sorcerer who’d taken the princess, and Arabella and I fled. Her plan had worked really well. The king didn’t send anyone after her, and no one came after us of their own accord, since the king didn’t offer a reward. No one wanted to risk their lives against a sorcerer for a worthless princess—her words, not mine. I don’t think she’s worthless at all.”

That last bit was said a bit defensively, and although Sergeant Warthog kept up her stern, stony demeanor, she found herself a little charmed. This kid wasn’t stupid, but he wasn’t all that clever either, and he was clearly devoted to this Princess Arabella.

“Anyways, just in case, we traveled through a couple kingdoms before finding a place to settle. There’s an abandoned tower that we took over and made our home—after a few renovations. Arabella went into town to get the few things we needed every so often, but she told people that she was under a spell and had to return to her ‘Dark Master.’ It worked really well for a few years. Then…well, some bandits came across her on her way home yesterday and they kidnapped her, thinking they could ransom her. Please, I need your help getting her back. I don’t have much to pay you, but I’ll give you everything I have,” he pleaded.

“How did you hear about me?” Sergeant Warthog asked. Having evil mages find her—even pretend evil mages—was a potentially serious liability.

“Before we settled, Arabella and I did a little information gathering to make sure we’d be safe. That was when we heard about you, before we took up our disguises and settled in,” Francis replied. He seemed a little puzzled by the query.

The sergeant wondered if Arabella had also been making sure that there was someone in the area that she or Francis could run to if something went wrong. Probably. “Very well,” she replied shortly.

Francis looked at her hesitantly and a bit hopefully—he wasn’t sure if that was a “very well, I’ll help” or just an acceptance of his last explanation. “You… You will help?” he asked tentatively.

“We’ll help,” Esset volunteered. Francis looked at him quizzically; he still didn’t know who they were.

“I’m Summoner Esset, this is Animator Toman. I think a few bandits shouldn’t be much of a problem. We might even be able to snatch your princess out of there before they know what’s happening, and a nice show of force should keep them off your back permanently. Especially if we make it look like you did all of it,” Esset said.

“We can keep your cover intact,” Toman agreed with a nod. “Some stone monsters and a couple suits of armor should do the trick, hey? You can do the snatching with birds if they’re in the open and save your others in case we need some firepower.” Pun intended.

“It’ll be trickier if they’re hiding in a building or cave,” Esset remarked to Toman.

“Any idea where they’ve got her?” Toman asked Francis.

“I tried scrying, but I’m not very good at it…” he said, head hung low. Esset and Toman didn’t dwell on it.

“We’re gonna need supplies,” Toman pointed out. “We should go back to the castle.”

“Castle?” Francis asked, puzzled. “We can’t waste time—”

“This’ll save time, trust us,” Esset assured him. “It’s close, and there will be resources we need.”

“Flying?” Toman asked with a wince.

“Aye,” Esset replied apologetically. More lift-offs and set-downs wouldn't be good for Toman’s healing wounds, but speed was clearly needed here.

“Sergeant, are you in, or are you leaving it to us?” Esset asked Sergeant Warthog then.

There was a pause before she finally caved. "I'm coming," she said, uncrossing her arms to prop her hands on her hips. Toman and Esset both grinned.

“Fair enough,” Esset said. He chanted a particular incantation twice. A pair of massive fiery birds burst into existence before them, both mantling fiercely at first before subduing to Esset’s will and standing calmly.

“Okay, welcome to Summoner Esset’s Aerial Transport Service. Please mind your mount’s beak and pinions; contact with either aspect of the bird could result in nasty burns. Sit in front of the wings with your weight on the bird’s neck.” Esset delivered the monologue in a uniformly cheerful tone as he gave Toman a leg up onto their bird.

“We haven’t even started this thing, and I’m already doing things I’m too old for,” the sergeant muttered under her breath, remembering her previous flights on stone mounts. Francis had actually started clambering up the bird’s neck first. Sergeant Warthog was only a couple moments behind him.

The moment they were mounted, the birds launched into the air. Pumps of their fiery wings sent them upwards with lurching jolts. Esset winced empathetically as Toman braced himself and bent over at the pain the rough flight caused. Fortunately their mounts’ motions evened out once they reached a sustainable altitude; long glides were interspersed with swoops, lifts, and dives as the birds slipped from thermal to thermal and the scenery passed below.

Esset could see the castle as they approached, but he knew Francis and the sergeant would only see an empty patch of land. Esset kept his eye on the two, watching their expressions as they studied the “featureless” landscape below as they descended—and then the surprise when the walls of the castle abruptly appeared around them when the bird’s feet touched the ground.

“Whoa!” Francis exclaimed suddenly—the sergeant started in surprise as well, but she bit her tongue. She, at least, had more practice at hiding her reactions.

Their mounts landed swiftly with a surprisingly gentle touch-down. Toman was well-used to Esset’s summons, so when the bird crouched to lower its neck closer to the ground, he knew to brace himself. When the bird vanished, it was only a couple feet to the ground, which wasn’t too bad if one was prepared. Esset purposely made his and Toman’s bird vanish first for that reason. Sergeant Warthog and Francis were able to watch them and at least try to mimic the pair’s movements. Francis staggered forward and windmilled a bit before the sergeant grabbed his collar to stabilize him. She let go as soon as he had his balance again, and he mumbled an embarrassed thank you. His near spill kept him from noticing the stone mastiff approach.

“Greetings, Master. How can I be of service?” Arxus asked.

Francis stared at the stone creature nervously after glancing uncertainly at everyone else. Toman and Esset, of course, were totally used to the animated statue, but the sergeant had never actually seen the castle. She’d known, at least approximately, where it was, but it had never been visible to her, and she’d certainly never been inside.

“We’ll need supplies for four for a few days. We’ll be flying, so keep it light,” Esset replied. The mastiff didn’t look at Esset, but since Arxus had been ordered in the past to treat the summoner’s orders as if they were Toman’s, he nodded and would obey. Arxus was the kind of creature to follow an order to the letter, but not necessarily in spirit. In a way, that was to be expected of a creature that was animated but not necessarily alive.

“That’s—” Francis started, pointing at the stone dog. They waited for a second for him to continue, but he appeared dumbstruck.

“Francis, Sergeant Warthog, this is Arxus. He’s… Well, he’s the castle,” Esset explained. It was an adequate explanation for the sergeant, who knew most of the story, but Francis looked a little confused. Since it was somewhat irrelevant to him, Toman and Esset didn’t bother explaining further.

“Well, Sergeant, you’re the senior officer here. What’re your thoughts?” Toman asked. He was looking a little pale, which wasn’t at all lost on Sergeant Warthog.

“I think I’m too old for this,” she grumbled. “You boys take the lead, and I’ll lend a voice if I think you’re missing something. You know your own skills better than I do, so I’ll leave this mostly to you. For now, we should take this inside and sit down. I want to talk to the two of you alone for a minute too and get a quick briefing on your last job.”

“Of course,” Esset replied. They started to walk towards the keep, and the massive wooden doors swung open to admit them without any apparent order or aid.

The hall glowed with majesty, each torch and chandelier placed to illuminate perfectly every tapestry and relief carving adorning the walls while still accenting the throne-like seat at the end of the room and the portrait that hung behind it.

Francis was all gape-jawed, which gave Toman, Esset, and the sergeant a chance to converse without him listening in. Three plush chairs waddled over to huddle together so they could sit down while they talked. Francis wandered a bit into the hall to admire the tapestries.

“Impressive place you’ve got here,” Sergeant Warthog commented.

“Thanks,” Toman said. He didn’t elaborate, since this wasn’t the conversation they were there to have.

“Okay then,” the sergeant said, taking charge of the discussion. “First, Toman. If this weren’t obviously time-sensitive and if I had someone else to take this job, you wouldn’t be involved. You look like you’re two heartbeats to passing out.”

Yeah, that sounds about how I feel
, Toman thought, but instead he said, “I’ll be fine. I can take a back seat on this one, or at least a distant one. I don’t have to be right in the middle of things to animate—that’s just best for good reaction times if my creations need new orders. For something like this, I should be able to keep a good distance away. I can animate things to participate and keep out of the way myself. Getting there will be the worst of it for me.” Sergeant Warthog narrowed her eyes at him—he wasn’t fooling her, but both of their statements were true, so he was going along even if she disliked it.

“Okay, tell me what happened with the Nadra,” the sergeant ordered. Esset summarized the entire ordeal in under five minutes, including the extent of the damage Toman had taken. It was a little glossed, but the sergeant was good enough at listening to briefings to get the full picture. She knew how close Toman had come to dying—twice. And it explained a lot about their condition and behavior now.