The Water Ruptures

by D. K. Holmberg

  “It does. I am not so harsh as an Inquisitor. I understand you didn’t have a hand in the events the Grand Inquisitor would accuse you of. Then again, seeing as how she didn’t come to me, I wasn’t able to vouch for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What is that thanks for?”

  “I think something in the book your ancestor wrote helped me understand something about myself.”

  “Is that right? A thousand-year-old book helped you understand something?”

  “I thought that was the point of these books.”

  “For the most part, but some of these are old enough that we wonder what we can learn from them. Many have questioned the benefit of some of the older works. I’m pleased to hear you aren’t one of them.”

  Tolan breathed out and smiled. “I’ve been avoiding returning to the student section,” he admitted.

  “You fear what your friends will say?”

  “I worry what sort of spirit shaping was placed upon them,” he said.

  “There is no spirit shaping that can’t be removed.” She settled her hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Even the most potent spirit shaping can be unraveled. It may take time, and it may be difficult, but if you’re patient and you have that time, anyone can eventually make their way through a spirit shaping.” Her eyes seemed to clear for a moment, though Tolan knew that had to be his imagination. She leaned back, drawing her notebook back in front of her, and nodded. “If you don’t fear your friends, then do you fear those who you aren’t as friendly with?”

  “I think I did, but strangely, a walk through the city brought me a certain peace.”

  “In this place, many who are sensitive to such things can find that peace.”

  “Sensitive to what things?”

  “Why, to spirit. To that which binds us all together.” She glanced down at her book. Lifting up a pen, she began writing. “Get some rest, Shaper Ethar. It sounds as if you need it.”

  He headed out of the library, his steps slowing the farther he got. When he reached the stairs, he took them one at a time, making his way up them, his heart speeding up and a nervous nausea beginning to burrow in the pit of his stomach.

  It was foolish for him to feel this way. He had wanted nothing more than to escape the Inquisition. Every day the Inquisitors came, he had hoped to get away from them, to find a measure of peace, and every day he had failed. Now he was out, now he was free, he would dread going to his room?

  What was the worst they could do or say to him?

  Tolan stood tall when he reached the second-level floor. There was a steady murmur of voices in the common area. He started through it, keeping his focus on the far end of the hallway, the area behind the common area, and ignored the way the voices died off with his return. He reached his doorway before anyone started talking again. When he stepped inside, there was an excited chaos.

  Ferrah was here, as were Jonas and Wallace. All were flipping through notebooks, presumably studying.

  It took a moment for them to look up.

  “Tolan?” Ferrah asked. She jumped out of the bed, racing toward him, throwing her arms around him.

  He sank into her embrace, thankful for it.

  “What happened to you?” she asked.

  “An Inquisition.”

  A strange expression crawled across her face, and she frowned. “Why so long?”

  Wallace sat with his back to the wall, watching Tolan and saying very little. It was fitting, and Tolan wondered what he must be thinking. The Inquisitors would have come to him, asking about Tolan, and then Wallace would have shared with him the fact Tolan had wanted to make a bondar. What did Wallace think about that?

  And there was Jonas. He sat quietly, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, his brow clouded. Had he grown so distant with Tolan that he no longer even wanted to speak to him?

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know why they had you?” Ferrah asked.

  Tolan took a deep breath, glancing from Ferrah to Jonas before looking at Wallace for a brief moment. “They accused me of serving the Draasin Lord.”

  Jonas gasped. “What?”

  “Apparently, there has been enough strangeness since my arrival at the Academy that they accused me of serving the Draasin Lord.”

  “Why not accuse me?” Jonas asked. “Or Ferrah. Or Draln. Or any one of the second-level students who have been here the entire time you were here?” He glanced from Ferrah to Tolan. “I thought it was all about the bondars. With the rumors going around, and the shaping you made before you disappeared, I thought you were stealing them.”

  “I never stole a bondar, Jonas.”

  “You were able to shape much better than what I remember you being able to do. Something happened.”

  “Something happened,” Tolan said. He held his hands out, and with a quick shaping of fire, he caused the flame to swirl, and then he settled it down, turning into smoke, and then into sparks that dissipated into the air. “They held me so long, I began to understand my shaping.”

  “You what?” Jonas asked.

  Tolan shrugged. “I had nothing but time, and when you’re bored, you begin to experiment. At least, I did.”

  Jonas glanced at his pocket. “That wasn’t with a bondar?”

  “Not with the bondar.” Tolan took a seat on his bed, thankful it was still his bed. He was tired. He should have returned earlier in the day, and now he was here, back around Ferrah and seeing the way Jonas welcomed him back, he wondered if perhaps he had made a mistake in delaying his return.

  “I’m sorry I put you through all of that,” he said. He didn’t look up, not wanting to meet any of their eyes, but realized he owed it to them. It would have been his fault the Inquisitors would have come to them. “I don’t know what they put you through, but I’m sorry.” He looked at Wallace, meeting his gaze. The other man nodded before turning his attention back to his books. Tolan glanced over to Jonas, and he only shook his head.

  “You’re the one apologizing to us?”

  “It’s my fault, and you were subjected to the Great Mother only knows what. I don’t even know if they spirit-shaped you, and I doubt you would know, either.”

  Jonas frowned. “Why would they have spirit-shaped us?”

  “Because the Grand Inquisitor was trying to pressure me to admit I was working with the Draasin Lord. I think she wanted to have others ready for the possibility.”

  “Tolan,” Ferrah said, taking a seat on the bed next to him, “we didn’t talk to any of the Inquisitors.”

  “You didn’t what?”

  She shook her head. “None of the Inquisitors came to us.”

  “What do you mean? The Grand Inquisitor said she had come to you. She knew…” The fact they didn’t remember told him they had been spirit-shaped. And a shaping like that would have taken all memories.

  “Did you know I was at an Inquisition?”

  “Of course,” Ferrah said. “You were seen dragged through the halls by Inquisitors.”

  That was odd. Why would the Grand Inquisitor try to spirit shape his friends to make it so they didn’t remember getting questioned?

  Unless they hadn’t been questioned.

  If they hadn’t been questioned, how would the Grand Inquisitor have known some of the things she had known?

  “Did anyone come to question you?”

  “The only person who came to us was the Grand Master,” Ferrah said. “He wanted to understand why the Grand Inquisitor would have been interested in you. He didn’t tell us anything other than that you would be released soon. That was over a month ago.”

  Tolan leaned back. There was something he’d missed. Why would the Grand Master have come to his friends? And why would the Grand Inquisitor make it seem as if it had been her?

  Maybe he had been spirit-shaped. As much as he had believed he had avoided it, it was possible he had been.

  Voices approached the doorway, and Jonas looked over. “You’d bet
ter be ready to answer questions, Tolan.”

  He sat up. It seemed as if he wasn’t going to be able to get any rest. It was better to get this over with now than to drag it out. With a sigh, he headed out toward the common area.

  19

  All Tolan wanted was for everything to get back to a semblance of normalcy, but unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be a normalcy. His return was greeted by the excitement he’d expected, the stirring voices of everyone else all clamoring to find out what he’d done to be subjected to an Inquisition. It didn’t matter to some that he’d been sent back. There were plenty who believed him guilty only because he’d been subjected to an Inquisition in the first place.

  Tolan made a point of trying to stay in the background as much as possible. That was easy enough, as he had never really wanted to draw attention to himself before, and now he certainly didn’t want the attention of most people. He stayed off to the side, or the back of his classes, and made a point of not speaking too loudly or saying anything that might be controversial. It was easier that way.

  Classes continued to go relatively well. That was the strange and unexpected consequence of the Inquisition. Tolan had a command over his shaping that he’d not before. With that, he was far better able to handle the rigors of his classes.

  The first one he returned to was the fire-shaping classroom. Master Sartan had nodded to him, saying nothing, and Tolan had demonstrated the shaping they were asked to do. He hadn’t even attempted to reach for his bondar, though he still carried it with him. It was much the same in the earth class, where Master Shorav had looked at him askance for longer than Master Sartan, but he welcomed Tolan back without much else to say. The shaping Tolan managed was far more complicated than any he had attempted before. He still hadn’t gone after a bondar.

  By the end of the week after his return, as he was heading toward the wind-shaping classroom, Tolan thought life could get back to what it had been. He was allowing himself to get back into the routine, and the more he did, the more he felt as if he were a part of the Academy once again. There had been no further sign of Master Irina, and if she was still out for him, searching for something to blame on him, she hadn’t come forward. There hadn’t been any evidence of any of the other Inquisitors, either. And, thankfully, there were none of the so-called strange events that had occurred ever since Tolan had arrived at the Academy.

  He sat at the back of the classroom in the wind shaping session, the first of the two elements he’d never effectively shaped in the classroom before. Master Rorn paced along the front of the room, his back to the others, and he was making shapes in the air with a shaping.

  The one big change was that Tolan no longer sat next to Jonas. As much as Jonas had welcomed him back—and he had—Jonas still showed some reluctance to be fully associated with Tolan. He didn’t even blame his friend for it. Were the situations reversed, would he have done anything different? Never mind the fact he knew he would.

  Tolan took a space at the back and watched as the rest of the class filed in. Every so often, someone would glance over at him, and there were looks upon faces that left him wondering what they were thinking. It did no good to spend too much time worrying about it.

  “Today we’ll discuss the shaping involved in hovering,” Master Rorn said, his back still to the classroom. “This is a more complicated shaping, though not nearly as complex as traveling on wind. Many of you have gained some competence in performing various shapings we’ve attempted, but very few of you have much control.” He turned back around, his gaze sweeping around the classroom. He paused at Draln, his gaze lingering, and then moved on to Jonas. Both of the men were accomplished wind shapers. When he reached Tolan, his gaze lingered the longest, staring at him, a shaping building that Tolan could feel exploding out from him. There was a heavy component of wind within it, but there was something more than just wind. Was it earth? It seemed to be.

  The shaping swept toward him, and Tolan resisted the urge to oppose it. He doubted Master Rorn would attack him with a shaping in the front of the class.

  When it washed over him, there was a tingling across his skin, a reminder of the shaping he often felt from Master Minden. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just there.

  “As I was saying, many of you have some ability, but very few of you have any control. The key part of this shaping is mastering a level of control. Once you master control, that will allow you to hover and then you will be able to take the next step, which is a little more complicated.”

  He demonstrated the shaping. As he did, Tolan could feel the way wind whipped around Master Rorn, lifting him into the air. It held him up, allowing him to float, and he maintained the shaping for a moment, then two, then a little longer. He released it, lowering himself back to the floor gently. Through it all, there was no other disruption around the room. That might be the most impressive part of the shaping. He had such control over it that he was able to lift himself into the air without disrupting anything else.

  “In this shaping, you must channel the element, and you must force it out from you, releasing the wind slowly.”

  There were chuckles around the room and Master Rorn surveyed the others.

  “Do you find it amusing? Is the wind not powerful enough of an element for you?”

  Power began to build, the force of a gale whipping around, pushing everyone back. It lasted for a moment before fading. It surprised Tolan that Master Rorn would find it necessary to demonstrate the power of the wind. There were very few people at the Academy who doubted its strength.

  “As I said, this will be a complicated shaping, but it’s one you must demonstrate in order to continue your studies.”

  The master shapers rarely let the students know which of the shapings would be critical for passing beyond their level, but it seemed as if Master Rorn had no intention of hiding the fact this shaping was one of the more important ones. What was it that made hovering with the wind so critical?

  Maybe it was nothing more than the control required in order to do it. That would be difficult enough, and considering Tolan’s record of shaping, he wasn’t sure he would be able to have that kind of control.

  “You may begin to practice,” Rorn said, pulling out the tray of bondars. “I will be making my way through the classroom and working with you.”

  One by one, students in need of bondars went to the front of the class, taking one from the tray. Tolan hesitated. Should he grab one? It was expected of him, but he also wasn’t sure whether he even needed one. He had continued to demonstrate a connection to all of the elements. With that connection, he didn’t think he needed a bondar.

  Would it raise questions if he didn’t take one? He didn’t want to draw attention to the fact something about him had changed, and there were certainly plenty of people in the class who knew he needed bondars for his shaping. Many probably expected him to take one.

  Tolan got out of his seat and went to the tray. As he reached for one, Master Rorn looked at him sternly. “I expect that bondar to be returned, Shaper Ethar.”

  “Of course, Master Rorn. I’ve always returned the bondar at the end of class.”

  Master Rorn cocked his head to the side, watching him. “Always?”

  Tolan nodded quickly. “I’ll make sure I get it back to you.”

  He hurried back to his table, ignoring the pointed stares of a few of the students who had sat near enough to the front of the room to have overheard. Taking a seat, he stared at the bondar. Had it really gotten to the point where even the master shapers now accused him of the same things as the Inquisitors? He hadn’t seen anything like that from Master Sartan or Master Shorav, but maybe they hadn’t been quite as forward with it. Both would have more reason than Master Rorn to have accused him in such a way, especially as he had bondars of both of the elements in his possession. Neither had made an accusation like that.

  He sighed, focusing on the bondar. He could think about the shaping, and perhaps he would practice it, but it mig
ht be easier—and better—if he did so outside of class and outside of the prying eyes of students who now had certain expectations of him.

  His mind went back to the vision he’d had of the creation of the bondar. The wind bondar was different than the others, mostly in its thin, almost spindly appearance. It trailed in a wide circle, giving it something of a delicateness, enough that Tolan and the other students had always been fearful of damaging it. He couldn’t imagine stuffing the wind bondar into his pocket, though the withering would probably withstand the jostling. It might seem delicate, but it really was far stronger than it appeared.

  The runes along the side were familiar. Tolan had spent long periods of time reviewing them, documenting them, and was fully aware of what the runes were and which element they represented. On the wind bondar, there were over a dozen various runes.

  At least on the outside.

  The thought from his vision came to him, and he began to wonder if perhaps there were more runes marked inside the bondar. That was part of its creation. The metal within the interior of the bondar, hidden from view, had also taken on shapes of runes. He couldn’t remember whether they were elemental runes or whether they were simply runes that marked the elements. He had a sense there were differences between the two, though not quite what those differences were.

  He pulled upon the wind, feeling that stirring deep within him, and there came a soft fluttering around his hands. It was a faint shaping, and Tolan was careful not to pull on too much power and let it flow into the bondar. As he did, he tried to pay attention to what he felt as he drew upon power through the bondar.

  There was nothing.

  Maybe that was the wrong approach. He didn’t want to draw power through the bondar. He wanted to push his shaping into it and wanted to see what he might be able to uncover from within the bondar itself.

  As he shaped, he pushed that connection to wind into the bondar. It resisted, but he continued to push, a little bit more and more.