The Wind Rages (Elemental Academy Book 4)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “You of all people should know the Inquisitors ask the questions.”

  “You might ask the questions during an Inquisition, but I’m asking them now.”

  The man glared at him and a shaping began to build, as if he was trying to resist the hold upon him. With enough pressure, he might be able to escape. He was powerful. Tolan could feel the energy he was using, the nature of the shaping and how it struggled against his captivity. Would the disciples be able to hold him as well as they intended? Someone this powerful might be able to overwhelm their shaping.

  This was an Inquisitor, after all. This was someone accustomed to dealing with incredible power outside of the Academy.

  And he had no idea what the disciples were capable of.

  Then again, they did have bondars. With those bondars, they should be able to withstand anything thrown their way. Using that power and strength, there should be no trouble for the disciples to hold an Inquisitor.

  “There’s something wrong here,” Tolan said, turning to his father and motioning to the space around him. “It’s more than just the fact he’s out here.”

  “There are Inquisitors all throughout Terndahl,” his father said.

  “Everywhere?”

  Having not traveled that extensively throughout Terndahl, Tolan didn’t know how many Inquisitors there were, and he had no idea whether or not this was unusual, but he couldn’t help but feel as if it was. They had never encountered the Inquisitors in Ephra before the Selection—unless he’d been spirit-shaped to forget. It struck him as something he would have remembered.

  There still seemed to be something about this that was off, though the more he focused, the more he felt the power around him, the harder it was to know whether there was anything he needed to be concerned by.

  “Perhaps not quite everywhere, but we encounter them often enough that this is not unusual.”

  “Look at this place,” Tolan said, waving his hands around him. They were far from any place of significance within Terndahl. “Why would they be out here? What would the Inquisitors think to find out here?” That was what Tolan had to come up with. His father not seeing how strange this was posed a danger.

  He pushed out with a sense of earth again, letting that sense fill him. As he did, he could tell there was something off and unusual, but not what it was or where it came from.

  Adding fire to the earth sensing, Tolan searched for anything else that might be noticeable, but as he focused on it, he wasn’t able to come across anything more than what he already had.

  That sense was there. As he drew upon what he detected, holding onto that power, he struggled to find whether there was anything within his sensing that might provide him with the answers. He needed to learn how to pick up on what he was detecting.

  And yet, there was the ongoing strangeness.

  Of anything, that was what troubled him the most. The strangeness mattered.

  “Let us deal with him,” his father said.

  “Deal with him?” Tolan asked, tearing his gaze away from the ground. “What do you mean by that?”

  “We have experience with the Inquisitors, Tolan. We will take care of him.”

  The comment sent a shiver through him. Was this what he was getting into? After everything, he was now going to be drawn into something like this?

  Before he had the opportunity to say anything more or to argue with his father, another sense of shaping built. And then another. And then another.

  They came from all around, blooming nearby.

  The disciples looked over before turning their attention to the Inquisitor.

  The man stood, smiling. “Did you think I was just biding my time?”

  “He signaled them,” one of the other disciples said.

  “Then we need to take care of—”

  Tolan’s father didn’t have a chance to finish. A burst of power exploded, slamming into where he was standing. When it did, he was tossed off his feet. The shaping confining the Inquisitor suddenly released, and the man began to pull upon power.

  Tolan’s father grabbed him, and with a burst of wind, they went streaking into the air.

  There was a level of control to the shaping that impressed him, though he knew it probably should not. His father had already proven he had shaping ability beyond what Tolan had known.

  Another sense of shaping came near the waste.

  “Are they all Inquisitors?” Tolan asked.

  “Enough of them are,” he said.

  “What now?”

  “Now we have to backtrack.”

  “Why backtrack?”

  “We can’t lead them where we’re going. If they find out where we have been, then we will—”

  His father didn’t have the opportunity to finish. Another shaping thundered near him, striking the space where they had been. The air seemed to shake, wind whipping around, and water lashed at them from above. The power within the shaping was incredible.

  His father grunted.

  He held onto the power of the shaping and used that as he drew them higher into the sky.

  Tolan wanted to help but didn’t think there was anything he’d be able to do. This shaping was beyond him.

  “How do they signal to each other?”

  “We haven’t detected that. There’s some shaping they use.”

  “Spirit?” Tolan asked.

  His father glanced at him, building another shaping which sent them streaking deeper into Amitan, away from the border of the waste. “Probably spirit, though there aren’t many of us who have the ability to utilize spirit.”

  The fact there weren’t many suggested there were some.

  And with the continual buildup of pressure, the ongoing surge of energy, Tolan understood why his father was running. There were too many Inquisitors.

  “You can leave me behind,” Tolan said.

  “I’m not leaving you. We just found you.”

  He thought about the way his father and the others had talked about the Inquisitors. The cold way they had seemed willing—almost eager—to dispatch them. With that point of view, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to go with them. He wanted to know his father, and he wanted to know why his parents had abandoned him to the Draasin Lord, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to go with someone that willing to harm. How was that any different than the Inquisitors?

  Then again, if he went back to the Academy, and back to where the Inquisitors were, he would be heading back toward someone else who had proven themselves willing to harm.

  There was no good answer. Everything seemed to force him into making a difficult choice, the kind of choice he didn’t want to make. He had no idea if there was any way to do anything else.

  “We can—”

  His father didn’t have a chance to finish. Another shaping caught them, throwing them violently off to the south before his father managed to gain control again. It was closer.

  As it thundered, Tolan looked over, noticing several dark-cloaked Inquisitors.

  “Where are you guiding us?”

  “I’m guiding us to the only way we can escape this.”

  “Where is that?”

  Another explosion of shaping struck and his father gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw, and they surged forward, gliding on that shaping, streaking forward.

  And in the distance, Tolan caught sight of the translucent form of the Shapers Path.

  That was where his father was headed.

  They might be able to shape quickly, they might be able to use that shaping to carry them, but there were limits to how far and how long they could travel. On the Shapers Path, there wouldn’t be those same limitations. They would be able to travel faster.

  But would they be able to outrun the Inquisitors?

  When they reached the Shapers Path, his father landed and they surged forward. Power continued to build behind them, and then Tolan noticed it in front of them. His father stopped, looking all around.

  “I’m sorry, Tolan. I thought
we were going to be able to keep you from all of this.”

  “Keep me from you fighting Terndahl?”

  “You don’t understand. Not yet, but if you come with us, I will make sure you do.”

  A shaping built from his father, and it slammed into one of the nearby Inquisitors. A disciple suddenly appeared, wrapping another shaping around that Inquisitor. The Inquisitor dropped, twitching, before falling still.

  Tolan could only stare.

  Was this what he wanted?

  Power slammed into him again and again. As it did, he didn’t know. Maybe there would be no answer. He’d not wanted to make a choice. He’d not wanted to leave the Academy. Had there not been the attack and the Inquisitors assaulting him, Tolan wasn’t sure he even would have left. The Inquisition had been terrible, but he’d survived. And now in the hours since he had left, running along the Shapers Path, gliding with the disciples and with his father, he no longer knew if that was even what he wanted.

  Master Minden had wanted him to leave, but she had done so in order to protect him. He thought that the only reason.

  And yet, if the Inquisitors were doing something, if they had attacked the Academy and were plotting something outside of the Academy near the border, shouldn’t he return and warn others?

  Master Minden might not be the right person for that. Tolan would need to find the Grand Master. He believed the Grand Master would have to come around; he believed there would have to be some way of finding him, helping him. If he didn’t and couldn’t, who was he? What did he believe in?

  Another explosion of power came near him. And then another. With each one, Tolan didn’t know how to respond. Worse, there might not be any choice in the matter. It was either be destroyed by the Inquisitors or go with the disciples.

  As he looked over at his father, he couldn’t help but feel as if neither choice was right.

  3

  Shapings erupted all around Tolan, blast after blast surging through him. None of them were his shaping, but all of them were power he could feel as it rolled through him, an overwhelming sense as each element was thrown behind him. As much as he wanted to pay attention to the shapings themselves, he struggled to make sense of what was taking place around him. He ran, racing along the Shapers Path, using a surge of wind and fire as he went. It carried him faster than he would have expected and he neared Amitan.

  Another blast exploded behind him. It was fire and earth, the two of them mingling together, and Tolan was pushed forward along the Shapers Path.

  “You need to keep moving. We’re doing all we can to hold them at bay.” His father placed a gentle hand on his back. He hadn’t even realized his father had stayed with him but was thankful he had. The gesture reminded Tolan of when he was younger, times when they’d been venturing out of Ephra as a family, their way of trying to help him reach his ability to shape—and continuing to fail. It was a memory Tolan had not expected.

  “Why?”

  It was the only thing that came to him. He needed to know why he should go with his father. He still wasn’t certain. Leaving the Academy, going with him, meant he was admitting to others that he served the Draasin Lord.

  “We came to help you, Tolan, but we can’t help if you aren’t willing.”

  He and his father weren’t alone as they ran. There were three others, all dressed in clothing of the disciples of the Draasin Lord, three men who had powerful shapings they used to impressive effect. As they fought, blasting backward behind them toward the shapers of the Academy, Tolan had no idea how many people were injured. Would others from the Academy be harmed because of this? The idea they would, that it would be because of him, troubled him.

  There were people he knew in the Academy. People he cared about. Friends.

  His father pushed, guiding him away, and Tolan allowed himself to be nudged along the path, though with each step, he found a growing trepidation within him.

  “Watch out,” his father said. He pushed down on Tolan’s back, forcing him down. Tolan rolled to the side and caught sight of a black-cloaked shaper streaking toward them. A shaping built from his father, a swirl of power reminding Tolan of how he reached for the elementals. It burst from him, heading toward the shaper.

  Not just a shaper. An Inquisitor.

  They deflected the shaping and shifted, landing on an intersecting Shapers Path in front of them. Tolan’s father lunged forward, shaping after shaping erupting from him.

  This was a man he had believed not capable of shaping? Growing up, he’d never known his father had any capacity to shape, but then, he would never have known his parents had the ability to make bondars.

  The Inquisitor deflected each shaping.

  Tolan didn’t recognize the man but suspected he was one of the Inquisitors who’d chased him when he had last been in Amitan. He watched as his father confronted the Inquisitor, power after power bursting, the shapings that emerged nothing like Tolan had been taught at the Academy. As he focused, he recognized a sense of something else, not just the power of the shaping, but also a sense of elemental energy.

  That had to be imagined, didn’t it?

  The Inquisitor managed to deflect each attack. He stood with his hands out, a shaping building between them. It was growing with incredible power. Heat and a surge of wind gusted between his hands, and Tolan could tell it was going to strike his father.

  He raised his hand and pushed out flame. It streaked from him, a shaping of fire that came out uncontrolled, and with it, an image of saa burst from him. The elemental formed within the flame, twisting toward the Inquisitor. When it struck the Inquisitor, the man fell backward, tumbling off the Shapers Path.

  His father glanced behind him, starting to smile, but then his face tightened in a frown. “Move.”

  He jumped over Tolan, another shaping rising.

  Tolan realized two Inquisitors were behind him, both trying to reach his father, starting their attack. As they did, he debated whether he should help or not. Helping the last time had been more instinctive than intentional, and it was possible the Inquisitor wouldn’t even know Tolan had been involved. If he continued to help, he was pitting himself against the Academy.

  Was that what he wanted?

  Yet, it seemed as if the Inquisitors had pitted themselves against the Academy.

  Maybe not all of them. It was possible it was only Aela and a subset and not all of them.

  Leaving meant he left his friends—people he cared about—to whatever fate the Inquisitors would push upon them.

  That as much as anything motivated him.

  Tolan spun around, looking to see where more of the fighting was taking place. He could feel the surging energy of the shapings as they flowed, blasting all around him. Many of them came from the disciples, and their particular style of shaping was unique enough that he could detect it. It was different than what the Inquisitors used. That style of shaping was more like what Tolan had been taught.

  Why would he be aware of such differences?

  When he had faced the disciples before, he hadn’t been aware of any difference between their shaping and his, but then, at that time, his capacity to shape was different, limited. Since then, he’d grown with his skill. Perhaps that was all there was to it.

  Another shaping started to build behind him.

  Spinning, Tolan prepared to shape when he realized there was an Inquisitor.

  “You are with the Draasin Lord,” the Inquisitor said.

  Tolan didn’t recognize the man, but he recognized his voice. There was something to it he’d heard before.

  “I’m not with the Draasin Lord.”

  “Yet they came for you?” The Inquisitor started to shape, spirit building from him.

  Tolan recognized it only as a type of shaping he was not familiar with. He resisted, pushing against it, and changed his focus, turning toward a shaping of fire, inverting it. As the spirit shaping struck him, it split off to either side of him, drifting away. It had been an effective shapin
g against the Grand Inquisitor, so he suspected it would be effective on this man.

  His face twisted in a sneer. “Only disciples know that shaping.”

  “What about you?” Tolan stood, looking around. The fighting had moved farther along the Shapers Path. He would have to deal with this Inquisitor on his own, and yet, he wasn’t sure if he could withstand this type of attack for much longer. The Inquisitors were some of the most skilled shapers at the Academy. They had the ability to shape each of the elements, along with spirit, and were incredibly powerful. “I saw what you did to the Grand Master.”

  “The Grand Master deserves whatever fate befalls him. He made a mistake of thinking he could step outside of his place.”

  “His place?” The idea the Inquisitor would try to overthrow the Grand Master angered him. “What do you claim the Grand Master’s place is?”

  “He thinks the Academy stands outside the law.”

  That wasn’t Tolan’s experience with the Grand Master at all. He viewed his role as one of service to the Academy, but also in service of shaping. He might not view the elementals the same way as Tolan, but Tolan was beginning to understand that very few people did. Most feared them, but he had to believe that fear came from the unknown, not at all from an understanding of how the elementals really could be used. Most believed the elementals were meant to serve the shapers, but not Tolan. He didn’t see them as servants. He saw them as wanting to be freed.

  “You will return and face your punishment.”

  “Another Inquisition? I’ve withstood one already.”

  The Inquisitor glared at him and took a step toward him. As he did, shaping built, and Tolan resisted its effect, wrapping his own—a mixture of fire and earth—internally, inverting it so he protected himself. When the Inquisitor reached him, the Shaping struck his barrier and bounced off, deflected so Tolan felt it as little more than a minor push.

  “A challenge. Consider me impressed,” the Inquisitor said.

  If he continued to banter with the Inquisitor, Tolan had little doubt he would be overpowered. He didn’t think he could withstand someone like this indefinitely. It meant he needed to end it, and he needed to do so quickly.