Calling On Fire (Book 1) (53 page)

It was all for nothing.

Esset’s soul seemed to have split into two. One half was frantic and screaming; he had failed to stop Moloch, and now Toman was in his hands for good. The other half was perfectly calm and serene, as if he had drifted far away from worldly concerns. His body stood on the mountainside, surrounded by advancing stone foes. It didn’t matter though—the fire around the summoner was so hot it melted them before they could come close.

A scream—a screech—rent the air. Esset’s mouth was agape, but his scream was drowned out by a larger sound. The louder cry was from the unfeeling agony of his surroundings as the sudden, intense heat radiated into the rocks and trees. The frailer plant life simply disintegrated into ash. The sap in the trees boiled instantly, causing the ancient plants to explode with a resounding crack. The earth itself fared no better; some stones squealed and then exploded while others were split asunder or melted into glassy puddles. Everything was scorched and blackened, leaving nothing recognizable behind.

With a flare, the fire expanded, and a full league in every direction was immolated—a hole of melted stone was carved in the mountainside. The tower, the animations: everything was gone. Esset felt his feet lift off the ground. He hung there, cradled in heat. No, not cradled—that brought to mind gentleness, and the pain was not gentle. Esset was at the very center of the inferno, consumed yet untouched. The fire around him was white, so hot it was colorless. Every muscle in his body was extended and rigid—his arms were stretched from his sides, his fingers spread. His head was tilted back, his feet inches from the ground.

Magic whipped like wind around him, lifting his hair and the edges of his clothing for a moment. Then it whirled around him again, this time carrying ash with it, crystallized flecks of blackened stone. The air spun around him like a vortex, sucking flame and ash inwards to implode upon the summoner. The ashes glowed red-hot then, turning Esset into a being of liquid fire, encasing him completely. One intense flash of hot white light later, there was nothing.

The mountainside was empty, featureless but for the crater and a slim, egg-like pedestal in the middle. It glowed red hot, but slowly faded to a glossy back. It stood there, alone, in the epicenter of the destruction. A cold mountain wind descended around it, but it was untouched, a monument to the life—and death—of the summoner.

Thank you so much for reading my debut novel! If you loved this book, please leave a review wherever you purchased it. If you'd like to read more, you can track me a number of different ways:

My website (including my blog):
http://stephaniebeavers.com/

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@St_Beavers

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Comments or questions? Shoot me an email at
[email protected]
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I hope to get the next novel published soon! In the meantime, there's a free short story on my website. It's set before the events of this book. Check it out on my website:
And The Wolves Danced
.

A first book is a huge accomplishment. For me, it's the culmination of years of reading and writing and the passion for both. I know I couldn't have done it without so many people.

First, Mrs. McCutcheon, my fifth grade teacher who got me hooked on writing in the first place. There have been so many other teachers since then, too, who have encouraged me in my writing.

Of course, I must thank my family, who read my book despite not being fantasy readers (or in my dad's case, not even a fiction reader), and who supported me in finishing the manuscripts for this book and the next.

I must thank my wonderful editor, Brenda Errichiello, for transforming my writing in such a way that my story has now been told the best it possibly could be.

And I must thank Damon Za for the brilliant cover art!

Last, I need to thank Kristen Lamb. I have followed her blog and read her books on craft and business, and I have learned so incredibly much; I honestly don't know if I ever could have gotten published without the resources she provides.

So to everyone—friends, family, supporters, and mentors—thank you.

Stephanie Beavers always knew she wasn’t from the
real
world. That was why she spent so much time daydreaming and living in various fantasy worlds created by others and herself. Stephanie knew she was actually supposed to have been born as a dragon or a cat—or at least someone who had magical abilities. Now grown, she appreciates the beauties of the real world too, but saves herself from sanity by spending as much time in magical, or at least fictional, worlds as possible.

Stephanie shares her mind with a myriad of characters, most of them not human, and most of them possessing magic or special abilities. When they get too loud inside her head, she writes them out or drowns them out by submersing herself in the fiction of others. For those who love magic and adventure, she offers you an outlet so you can escape reality too.

COPYRIGHT

Calling On Fire: Book One of Fire and Stone

Copyright © Stephanie Beavers 2014

All rights reserved

Formatted by:
Wyrding Ways Press

Cover Design by:
Damon Za

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.