Broken of Fire (The Cloud Warrior Saga Book 9)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “What we accomplished,” Tan said. “I could have done none of this without you. The Great Mother knows I might never have learned what I could do if not for you!”

  Asgar tilted, his wings flapping hard against the wind. The draasin hatchling tucked beneath Tan’s cloak squirmed and crawled free. He released his tight grip on Amia and slipped a hand around the draasin, fearing that she might fall from Asgar’s back. The hatchling turned her head and seemed to glare at him, attempting to spit fire at him. She’d already learned how useless the fire she could generate was against him.

  You haven’t learned to fly, he reminded her.

  And you forget that I’m draasin.

  She nestled into the spikes on Asgar’s back, as if she were meant to fit there.

  Through the fire bond, he sensed Asgar’s amusement.

  This one has a different fire, Maelen.

  That’s what I’m afraid of, he said but looked down at the hatchling with amusement. There was something about her precociousness that he appreciated. In some ways, she reminded him of Asboel and his casual arrogance, but in others, she reminded him of Honl, and the way that he had changed since healed by spirit. That change had brought the two of them closer together as well. Maybe the spirit connection reminded him of Amia, and that was why he appreciated it.

  What of the other hatchlings? Asgar asked.

  They are in their den. I left nearly an entire hog with them.

  That will last two days. And then what will become of them?

  Tan laughed. The first two hatchlings had taken to eating everything that the butcher Balsun brought. Eventually, he figured he would need to share with the butcher the reason behind his strange requests, but for now, the butcher simply provided anything that Tan requested.

  Then they will simply waste away, Tan answered.

  Asgar chuckled until the hatchling nipped at one of his spikes. He twisted his long neck and looked at her with his bright golden eyes. The hatchling stared back, an amusing defiance in her refusal to back down.

  This one pleases the Mother, I think. I understand why you were able to heal her.

  Tan wished that he understood why he was allowed to heal the hatchling, but that wasn’t an answer that he possessed.

  They crossed beyond the ocean and over Incendin. There was a time when simply flying over Incendin would have made him nervous, when he would have feared the lisincend, or the hounds, or any of the strange and terrifying life that existed in Incendin, but like so much else since the Utu Tonah had been defeated, Incendin had changed. No longer did wide swaths of brown and broken rock stretch around below him. Now there were patches of green, as life began to return. How much of that had to do with the changed shaping that burned atop the fire fortress, and how much had to do with the fact that the kingdoms no longer held the barrier in place? It was even possible that the healing of the lisincend had been the greatest change. Regardless of what had caused it, the change made Incendin appear less intimidating.

  These lands have started to heal, Asgar said as if reading his thoughts.

  I see that, but don’t know why.

  Everything you have done has allowed healing. In time, these lands will return to the way the Mother intended.

  Tan sat back, settling into the spikes on Asgar’s back. Incendin healed. Peace, at least as far as Cianna had said. And yet, he chased a new battle.

  Couldn’t he remain in the kingdoms and simply enjoy the peace that would be found there? Why did he feel compelled to find a new battle, and a new threat?

  Then again, had he not, would these draasin have returned?

  The hatchling growled at him, and he patted her on the head. She attempted to nip at his finger, but without the same ferocity as she had attacked Asgar’s spikes.

  When they passed the border between Incendin and Nara, the southernmost of the four ancient realms that had united into what were simply known now as the kingdoms, there was no tingling sense as there once had been, nothing that hinted at the barrier remaining. The realization made him smile.

  They streaked north and passed a caravan of brightly colored wagons. He pointed to them and leaned into Amia. “Would you like me to leave you with them?”

  She shook her head. “The First Mother does not need to be ever present.”

  “When did that change?”

  She shot him a look. “When the People were trying to recover after the attacks, I needed to remain with them, but some families have begun to wander again. The Aeta will heal, as they always have.”

  “I never questioned whether they would,” Tan said.

  “I did.” She sighed. “And eventually, I will need to call a Gathering. I do not think I’ll hold the gathering in the same place as it was before.”

  “I’m sure Roine would allow the Gathering near Ethea.”

  “Probably,” she said softly, “but there is something about hosting a Gathering that requires it not to be so open.”

  They flew on, soaring through Ter. In the distance, Ethea rose up from the plains. Much about the city had changed in the time after he first arrived. The university had been rebuilt. Parts of the palace had changed. And much of the city had been destroyed and then reborn, repaired over time following both a forced draasin attack, and that of Incendin.

  And now he flew to the city on one of the draasin.

  We should enter through the tunnels, he suggested to Asgar.

  Of course, Maelen.

  Tan sensed a hint of frustration from the draasin. They wanted to fly free and not fear the reception the draasin would receive, which was the same thing Tan wanted for them, but there was still the need for them to remain somewhat hidden. The time would come soon enough when the draasin would fly freely, especially if he managed to hatch the remaining eggs in the cavern in Par.

  They reached the tunnels, and Asgar dropped them outside the den. Tan felt a pang of sadness as he saw it. Once, he had come to the den regularly as he visited Asboel. Now it held nothing but memories.

  I don’t intend to stay long, Asgar.

  Then I will not, either.

  Tan reached toward the draasin and touched him gently on his long, sharp snout. You do not have to remain with me if you don’t want to.

  Asgar sniffed a breath of steam. I would not remain if I did not choose to do so.

  Even though he had no bond to Asgar, his presence helped put Tan at ease. Not because he was nearly a fully grown draasin, something that others might find intimidating—useful as he sorted through his role in Par—but because he was a friend.

  As are you, Maelen.

  Tan smiled and patted Asgar again. The hatchling nipped at him from beneath his cloak, and Asgar practically smiled, if one of the draasin could smile.

  Hunt well, Asgar.

  Always, Maelen.

  They reached the palace via the tunnels, passing through the lower section where the warriors once kept their quarters. Tan knew that Roine once kept a room here, as did his mother, but he found the rooms emptied. Only the furniture remained.

  He looked over to Amia. “Where would they have gone?”

  “He is the King Regent. And she is his betrothed.”

  “You think they would have claimed different quarters?”

  Amia shrugged. “Seeing as how they aren’t sure who else could take the throne, I don’t see how he can remain King Regent for much longer.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You know what it means, even if he has refused to acknowledge it. It means Roine will be king.”

  Tan shook his head and laughed as they took the wide stair leading up from this level.

  “What is that reaction about?” she asked.

  “You thought my mother was bad enough when she was simply Zephra. Wait until she’s the queen.”

  Amia covered her mouth and laughed.

  The draasin continued to squirm as they made their way up the stairs, but Tan forced her back under his cloak. He hoped she didn’t bulge out
too much and make it obvious that he smuggled a draasin into the palace, but he didn’t want to carry her openly and hadn’t felt comfortable leaving her in Par, especially since she had only recently been born.

  At the top of the stairs, he hesitated, taking in the sight of servants scurrying around, a few shapers pacing the halls, and a general sense of activity that had not been here before. The palace was more decorated than it had been the last time he’d been here, with colorful banners, and streamers hanging from the arched ceiling over the door into the palace. He recognized only a few of the shapers standing guard. Seanan nodded to him and then focused his eyes ahead, standing at the doorway. He leaned in to whisper something to the other shaper, a young woman with pudgy cheeks and the wide frame that reminded him of Wallyn. Tan wondered if she might be a water shaper as well.

  “Where do you think we’ll find them?” Amia asked.

  Focusing on ara, he sent the question. Where is Zephra?

  After a moment, the wind gusted, pulling him gently down the corridor, leading him to a private hall where Roine kept his office. Tan shut the door behind them, sealing off the commotion from the servants, and made his way to the office. He paused at the door, using earth sensing to determine if anyone was inside.

  “You can enter, Tannen,” his mother’s sharp voice called from the other side.

  Tan glanced at Amia before opening the door. Inside, Roine sat leaning against the wall. His mother sat across from him, and the irritation on her face evoked an emotion Tan had known all too well over the years.

  “So Cianna found you, it seems,” his mother said without looking up.

  Tan nodded. “She did. I didn’t realize that the ceremony was to be held so soon.”

  “You would, if you would ever return to the kingdoms.”

  Tan blinked at the sharpness to the tone. “I think we’ve established that I have other responsibilities, haven’t we, Mother?”

  She sighed and looked over, dragging her irritated gaze away from Roine. Roine gave Tan something of a look of thanks. “You have been in Par-shon for far too long, Tannen. It’s time that you return to the kingdoms and your responsibilities here.”

  “My responsibilities extend to Par.”

  She cocked her head. “Par. Not Par-shon?”

  Tan nodded. “There is much for me to share with you, but it can wait.”

  “What can wait, Tan?” Roine asked. He sounded as if he appreciated the interruption, and Tan wondered what had happened.

  “You know why I went to Par? That they named me the Utu Tonah?”

  “You can’t really intend to rule there,” his mother said.

  He didn’t answer that question. It was one that he wasn’t entirely prepared to answer. Tan hadn’t decided what his intentions were with Par. First, he needed to help stabilize whatever had happened with the destruction of the bonds. Then he had to understand why the Utu Tonah had come to Par. With each passing day, he felt knowing the answer was the key to something greater. And then, he had to understand why Marin would intend to destroy the Records of Par. What did she think to hide? Beyond that, he had to understand the strange elemental force that had attacked Amia.

  But none of that mattered, at least not yet.

  He wouldn’t burden Roine and his mother with those concerns, not when they should be focused on a happier time, so he chose a different answer.

  Opening his cloak, he pulled the draasin out from underneath.

  The hatchling clung to him, with none of the same eagerness that she had shown in going to Cianna. Was it the bond to the draasin that made her trust Cianna more? Likely the connection to spirit was the reason that she was fine with Amia as well. But she crawled up his arm and settled around his neck, digging her sharp claws into his neck.

  His mother sucked in a breath. “There is another creature of fire.”

  Tan nodded.

  Roine rose and reached toward the hatchling but jerked his hand back when she attempted to nip at him.

  Easy, he admonished.

  “Another draasin?” Roine asked.

  “This is the reason why I remain in Par,” Tan said.

  “For one of the draasin? But you have the others here,” his mother said. Her tone had changed, the sharp irritation fading. Tan wondered again what she and Roine had been arguing about before he entered.

  “She is not the only one I found. There are others. Many others.”

  Roine glanced to Zephra. She shook her head. “No, Theondar.”

  “No?” Tan asked.

  Roine met his eyes. For a fleeting moment, there was something of concern, an expression that Tan hadn’t seen from him for many months, but then it passed and Roine forced a smile. The suddenness of the change was almost enough for Tan to want to use spirit sensing to know what he missed, but he let it drop. Today was not a day for arguments with his mother and Roine. Today was a day that he should celebrate.

  His mother stood and took his hand. “Thank you for being here for us, Tannen.”

  “Where else would I be?” he asked.

  Zephra glanced briefly at Roine, making Tan wonder what they hid from him, before turning her attention back to him and squeezing his hand. “Thank you,” was all she said.

  4

  A CELEBRATION

  Tan sat with Amia in the small home that they had acquired during their time in Ethea. Even though they hadn’t lived in it for long, there were memories in the home. The strongest memory was of the First Mother, and the lessons that she’d offered Amia, but then he also recalled her death, and his planning of the attack on the Utu Tonah, and nearly losing Amia.

  He stood at the open window, listening to the sound of the bells ringing through the city. “Maybe we should move from here,” he said softly.

  Amia touched his arm. “Where would you have us stay in Ethea? The palace?”

  Tan sighed. “Not here.”

  “We can’t change what has happened in the past.”

  “I’m not sure that I would even want to if we could,” he said. “Only that this place holds too many hard memories.”

  “The hard memories are the ones we need to hold closest to us,” she said. “They are the ones we can learn the most from.”

  He turned away from the window. “I don’t have a problem with my mother and Roine.”

  “I never said that you did.”

  “It’s just…” He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. “It’s just that had none of this happened, I would never have lost him.”

  Most of the time, he barely thought about his father anymore. Not that he didn’t miss him—Tan felt his absence as much as he felt Asboel’s—but time and experience had allowed him to find a measure of healing. But today, with his mother planning the next stage of her life without his father, he felt the pain more acutely once more.

  And yet, he wanted her to be happy. With everything that they had all gone through, what they had survived, she deserved to be happy. There were times when he wondered what would have become of him had his father lived, and had they remained in Galen and his village of Nor.

  Had they remained there, he would have been nothing more than a skilled woodsman. Perhaps he would eventually discover his ability to shape, though he was a bit old even when he did learn. Would he have learned of his connection to the elementals? Would he ever have discovered the draasin and formed the bond that would ultimately lead to him rescuing the remaining fire elementals?

  “You linger too long in the past,” she said.

  “How do you do it? You’ve suffered more than me. You’ve lost your entire family, nearly your entire people…”

  She pulled him toward her and kissed him gently. “I think about the past and what happened, but I need to stay in the present if we’re to have a future.” Amia stepped away from him and touched her stomach, cradling herself protectively. “You didn’t tell her. I thought… I thought that you would share with her the news.”

  “I don�
��t think it was the right time. And besides, I think that my mother is keeping something from me.”

  She laughed and tipped her head a moment before heading to the door. She paused with her hand on the knob. “She is Zephra. She always keeps something from you.”

  With that, she pulled open the door.

  His mother stood on the other side, hand raised to knock. Her graying hair hung loose around her shoulders, and flowers were woven into it. She smiled, and the wrinkles around her eyes deepened.

  “Tannen,” she said, looking him over and eyeing his formal attire. It felt strange dressing with such pomp, but as Athan—and son of the future queen—it was expected of him. “Are you ready?”

  He glanced over at Amia before nodding. Hopefully his mother didn’t see his hesitation.

  They left the small home and, using a shaping of wind mixed with fire, he carried both his mother and Amia with him, reaching the palace garden. Within the garden were the kingdoms’ dozens of shapers. Most he recognized, though there were a few that he did not. Gathered behind Ferran were nearly thirty children of various ages. They were the children of Althem, his legacy, if they could be called that, and a better legacy than he deserved. Most were sensers, and might never learn anything more, but there were some with shaping potential. Ferran even thought that two could become warrior shapers.

  In addition to the dignitaries of the kingdoms, the Supreme Leader of Chenir stood off to the side, flanked by seven of his shapers. When they saw Tan, they all nodded to him. Tan hadn’t seen them since they defeated the Utu Tonah, but he knew that the lands of Chenir had returned, the damage inflicted by the shaping that withdrew the elementals no longer harming the land.

  Elle and Vel from Doma stood near those from Chenir. His cousin held hands with the boy Tan had seen when he went and freed Falsheim. A few others wore the bold Doman blue, and Tan was pleased to see them, too.

  There was no presence from Incendin.

  He remained in the air, hovering just above the ground. “Mother—”

  “Before you say anything about Incendin, know that we considered it. Theondar thought the wounds of Ethea were too fresh to invite anyone into the city.”