The Crescent Hour ✓

Chapter 37. Fire and Smoke

Tamer stood in the circle of cloaked men. His body was frozen in spot, a still statue. In the center of the circle, a gigantic mushroom groaned in the breeze. The bell talismans hanging from its branches chimed a sad hymn. There was a gaping hole across the trunk and from within, a black seal blazed with energy. A tall figure broke from the circle—a man judging by the breadth of his shoulders—and took the seal, dropping it on an alchemical sigil.

Tamer struggled against the invisible force holding him in place. He had to stop the man from destroying the seal. Without it, Clara would never have the chance to choose between the two realms. He wanted her to stay in his world but not like this. She would never have peace. Even as he tried to push forward, the force didn’t budge.

He watched, desperate, as blue flames consumed the seal. The fire spread, reaching for the sacred mushroom, burning, burning. Pillars of smoke rose to the heavens. Ash rained on him, clogging his eyes, his nose, his mouth. And in the middle of the fire and smoke and ash, the man rose up and spoke to the crowd.

“Bring them to me…”

Pain shot through his skull. Tamer took a gulping breath and coughed when ash filled his nostrils. Not ash, he realized. Dust. He was sprawled flat on his stomach, cheek plastered on the ground, hands locked behind his back. Someone dug a knee into his spine and he bit back a cry.

“Not so strong now, are you, human?” a man said in Shimian.

Every breath he took was painful. It was the air, poisoning him, and the pressure on his back made it worse. A flash of panic cut through him.

Gods, Clara—

Tamer searched for her but all he could see was dark robes and a pair of scrawny feet. The little girl was still there. Where was Clara? Was she behind him? He’d been completely useless when the vision had claimed his mind.

“Do not kill him. He’s important,” said another man.

What the hell were they talking about? He tried to shake off his assailant. Nothing. Just as he’d suspected, the man had transformed into one of the half-animal forms the Shima were capable of. They’d stripped him of his protective suit and his weapons.

“Take off hers too. Let them feel the pain we’ve endured all our lives.”

Enki. That bastard. Tamer heard Clara crying out then the scuffling of feet. There was a loud thwack followed by a curse.

“Idiot,” Enki said. “Restrain her!”

His Clara was fighting back, outnumbered as they were, and here he was, lying on the ground like a useless log of wood. Rage burnt a fiery path along his chest. Tamer used all of his strength to free himself. His assailant slammed his head on the ground. Dizziness struck his senses. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe through the nausea.

Time for Plan Bahz. He concentrated on his telepathic power. Ashura Deadlands, land of death and filth, was bursting with life. He could see the creatures through his mind’s eye. The beetle crawling on the grass. The bird shaking its feathers. The lizard catching a fly. He needed a stronger animal. Faster, vicious but easy to control. There, he found them—five wildcats similar to gumaru except their fur didn’t switch colors.

Enki dragged him to his feet, fingers clawing at his shoulders. “You can’t save yourself.”

He tapped into the minds of the wildcats, ignoring Enki. He could feel their hunger. He manipulated their thoughts, summoned them. There’s food here. The wildcats perked their ears, tails swishing.

“You can’t save her,” Enki said, placing a hand on the back of Clara’s neck, a threat that he could snap her throat if he wished. She crimpled her face in disgust.