Fire Within: Book Two of Fire and Stone (Stories of Fire and Stone 2) (44 page)

“Reinforcements are almost here.” In fact, Toman wasn’t sure how far they were. They should be soon, but a horrible thought occurred to Toman; what if there were even more plague beasts, and they were keeping the reinforcements from getting to them? Toman shoved the thought aside and focused on what he
could
do—not much. There was too much living matter in the forest—Toman could only animate things that weren’t alive. Unfortunately, the abundant leafy green stuff that surrounded them was very much alive, and the loose earth beneath their feet would take too long to animate into something useful.

Just then, another plague beast leapt at Lors’s shield, and the dome shivered under the impact. Lors swayed and fell to one knee before Toman could catch him. This was it.

The next plague beast crashed right through the shield. It headed straight for Lors, but Toman intercepted it. He met the beast with his left fist, smashing it in the side of its head so it missed Lors by a foot or so. He would have liked to have the creature a little further away than that, but another was close behind it. The plague beast leapt, but it slammed into the shield as it reappeared.

The shield didn’t last long. Another beast leapt and rebounded off the shield, shattering it again. Toman braced himself as another leapt at them, raising his left arm to protect himself. Out of nowhere, a giant stone bird swooped down through the trees and slammed into the plague beast; the first reinforcements had arrived.

“Come on, Lors, hang in there,” Toman urged the mage. Another stone bird came plummeting through the trees and began helping the overwhelmed stone dragon. Soon the dragon was moving again and once again dealing serious damage; the plague beasts didn’t seem to care. They just kept throwing themselves at their enemies, mindlessly determined to bring them down. Two more stone birds came down through the trees and guarded Toman and Lors.

Toman helped Lors back to his feet and they began making progress forward once more. With a couple close calls, they made it to the edge of the tree line and looked out onto the open area, where the thing they’d seen stood atop a pile of boulders.

They hadn’t been able to see it clearly from a distance, but it was all too clear now. The thing was a double-armed cross, twice as tall as Toman. Corpses hung from the cross; one from the center pole, its arms bound above its head, the others draped over each of the cross’s four arms. The corpses were rotten and foul, but Toman doubted they’d been in a pretty state even when freshly dead. Still, he couldn’t imagine why it was there until he saw one of the plague beasts materialize next to it before leaping to join the fray.

Stunned, Toman realized that the totem—that was the best name he could think of for it—was somehow spawning the beasts. That meant their plan had to change. Survival was still their main objective, but escape was now secondary to destroying the totem.

Toman’s animations were only barely keeping the plague beasts back, but more reinforcements were coming. He just had to hold out until then. His birds were more effective now that they were out in the open—before the plague beasts had almost cornered them several occasions, but now the birds could swoop and harry the revolting beasts all they liked, only coming close when pressing an attack and staying well out of reach the rest of the time. Toman guessed they could keep this up for maybe another five minutes, and he was confident more of his creations would reach them by then.

Just as he was forming a plan to bring in some birds to lift him and Lors away from danger, a flash of light flared off into the trees, and drew his attention that way. He felt a cold dread wash over him; he didn’t stand a chance if Moloch or any of his mages had come to join the fray. But no—Moloch would have no need to fight these creatures, since they did his bidding. Toman was too busy keeping an eye out for immediate threats and directing his stone servants to figure it out.

Another light flashed among the trees, closer this time, and some of the plague beasts harrying Toman and Lors peeled off in that direction. Toman seized the opportunity to move closer to the totem with the stone dragon parting their way. A pair of birds swooped down—Toman had intended them as mounts—but then the beasts seemed to realize Toman’s objective and turned on him again. Plague beasts left whatever they’d been fighting back in the trees and went to attack Toman and Lors. Their would-be mounts were pulled to the ground and one smashed a wing beyond repair.

“Help is here,” Lors said weakly to Toman. Toman looked sideways at the man leaning on his shoulder.

“I called for help,” Lors said. It was clear he was fighting just to stay conscious and standing—even leaning on Toman—and that speaking was a trial, so Toman didn’t press him. He’d no doubt find out what kind of help shortly, and until then it was just good to know that help was coming. He didn’t have to wait long.

A missile of pure mage-energy sped from among the trees to strike one of the plague beasts from behind. The missile flashed and enveloped the creature upon impact, immolating it. Another followed, striking a second beast, and then five figures in mage-robes appeared at the treeline. One of the five leaned heavily against his companion, but the other four kept the blazing white missiles speeding towards the plague beasts, decimating their ever-replenishing population.

Toman took a chance. The mages were too far to hear his theory about the totem, so the animator sent his dragon to crush the double cross atop the boulders. It left him and Lors terribly exposed, but they’d never win this battle if the plague beasts could keep respawning infinitely. Toman could see the looks of alarm on the mages’ faces when the dragon lurched up the hill, barreling through the sea of plague beasts and leaving Toman and Lors’s side unprotected. Fortunately two more of Toman’s giant stone birds arrived to help fill the gap, but they were no replacement for the dragon.

The mages made their way towards Toman and Lors. The one supporting their exhausted companion kept the shield up while the other three kept up the offense. Their progress towards the two was steady, if a bit slow. A plague beast managed to slip past Toman’s animations and charged at them from the side where Toman was supporting Lors. Toman spun Lors off to the side and thrust his metal arm out. The plague beast’s jaws closed on his forearm, jerking Toman away from Lors. A stone bird plummeted from the sky and sank its talons into the plague beast’s back, and it snatched the creature from the ground. Toman was jerked forward for a second, but then the plague beast’s jaws loosened enough to rip down Toman’s arm, shredding his coat and tearing the glove from his hand as it was carried upward. Toman cried out, but the glove was carried beyond his reach to fall somewhere among the rocks, too far away to retrieve.

I can still animate with one glove,
Toman reminded himself, stepping back to get closer to Lors. He’d slumped to the ground, but he was still hanging onto consciousness. Toman reached down to help him up, but Lors jerked away from him.

“No!” Lors shouted, falling backwards from his violent reaction. His face tilted upwards and Toman saw his face; it was flushed red, and even as Toman watched, a rash began to spread across Lors’s skin.

“No,” Toman whispered, staring at his childhood friend.

“Don’t touch me,” Lors begged. The merest touch from the plague beast had infected him—both knew what would happen if Toman touched Lors. A shudder passed through the mage, and Toman heard him hiss through his teeth in pain. A massive snap and crunch drew Toman’s attention away a moment later as the stone dragon reached the totem atop the boulders and smashed it into kindling.

For a moment, Toman felt a rush of victory—now that the beasts couldn’t replenish their numbers anymore, he and the mages stood a chance of winning. Then, as one, the plague beasts turned and rushed back down the hill. Before, they had been concentrating their attacks on the stone dragon, trying to stop it from reaching the totem. Now the totem was destroyed, and they turned their attention instead to destroying anyone in reach, and Toman and Lors were closest.

“Toman, go! Leave me!” Lors urged him. It would be difficult but doable for Toman to reach the mages if he didn’t have to worry about moving Lors too.

“No, I’m not going to leave you to die alone,” Toman growled. He couldn’t look at Lors—he was forced to keep his eyes on the battle, to better direct his stone creatures and keep an eye out for any threats that might slip past them. In a moment, that would be a wall of plague beasts.

“Go!” Lors yelled with a strangled cry. Toman risked a look at him and froze; a spasm passed over Lors’s face, which was already ravaged almost to the point of being unrecognizable by a plague of boils. Then Lors collapsed backward and began convulsing. Toman tore his eyes away back to the oncoming storm, but intention to flee or no aside, it was too late. Toman tore off his other glove, uncovering the black gem embedded in the back of his hand.

It didn't take long for a plague beast to break past Toman’s defenses, given their more concentrated attack. Toman’s skin, starting at the hand with the black gem in it, began turning to a texture of black granite. Toman threw up both his arms to protect himself—one black and rough, the other smooth and silver—just as the plague beast reached him. Acting on past commands, two of his belts unwrapped themselves from around him and snaked around the creature, hobbling its legs. The protective coating over Toman’s skin continued to spread as more plague beasts came. Toman could hear Lors screaming even as he could feel himself slowing; the protection the tough skin provided him with came at the cost of speed. It came at the cost of being able to protect others. Lors was already a dead man, but Toman had hoped to spare him some pain before the end—a futile hope.

Toman felt himself fall, tackled by a plague beast’s lunge. Rancid jaws closed around his arms and legs, but they pierced no further than his clothes. Toman closed his eyes, and it was like the doors of a vault closing; nothing could touch him. Nothing could harm him now. He had essentially turned to stone himself. All he could do was wait for the battle to end and hope that the mages were strong enough to defeat the plague beasts with the help of the stone creatures that battled yet.

Tseka breathed in the fading day, closing her eyes so she could imagine she was in the comfortable underground caves of Salithsa instead of this bright, exposed land aboveground. She was coping well, but she still missed home. Every so often she had to escape for a moment and fortify her resolve. She’d never admit it aloud, but Moloch scared her scale-less. Even with her new abilities, she knew she could never survive an encounter against him. That was why, every so often, she had to stop and remind herself why she fought.

In escaping Lady Ateala’s sadism and in helping Toman and Esset, the Nadra had ensured that sooner or later, Moloch would try to come and force their extinction. Tseka was here to fight for her people. Even if she herself didn’t survive—although she hoped she would—she was determined to help bring the evil mage down. Her people valued peace above all else. She hoped to bring peace to them.

Having once more achieved some degree of inner peace herself, she went back into the Staggering Tankard, where she’d left Erizen. They’d been staying at the inn and tavern since they’d arrived. They’d tried to convince the local monarchy of the danger, but to no avail. They’d had similar ill luck with the more local authorities. The only welcome reception they’d gotten was from the innkeeper, who knew Sergeant Warthog and had seen her with Nadra before.

Tseka pushed open the doors to the Staggering Tankard, and as she took in the scene, her inner peace evaporated. There were few people in the tavern—it was still early, and with the sergeant absent, the tavern’s custom was lessened. Erizen was right where Tseka had left him—but not
how
she’d left him. He had a buxom redhead sitting on his lap and both of their intentions were blindingly obvious. Tseka slithered across the room in a heartbeat.

“Scram, tart,” Tseka ordered the woman. The redhead was thoroughly cowed by the snake-woman’s ferocity and slid off Erizen’s lap and out of the tavern in a hurry.

“Really?” Erizen asked, somewhere between irritation and resignation.

“We
just
spoke to Toman and Esset, and we all agreed Moloch is up to something,” Tseka hissed.

“Yeah, so?” Erizen said.

“
So,
maybe we should be doing something about it?” Tseka hissed.

“I am doing something. Well, I
was
, but thanks to you, I’m now bored again.”