Prelude to Fire: Parts 1 and 2

by D. K. Holmberg

  “Can you hold a shaping well enough that I don’t drop you?”

  That was his greatest fear. Speed meant that he had to focus on shaping and couldn’t afford to worry about dropping Veran. The only other time he’d attempted carrying another had been over short distances, barely enough to matter. Even that had been difficult. For this… this would be challenging. And if he failed and they didn’t reach the university, he wouldn’t have the strength needed to summon help.

  Veran nodded. “I will try.”

  Lacertin lifted him using a shaping of earth. Veran’s shaping took hold, sealing them together with earth and wind.

  “Quickly,” Veran urged.

  Lacertin pulled on each of the elements, binding them as was necessary for traveling. The shaping lifted him into the air, but slower than it should. Then, pulling the shaping atop him, lightning exploded, dragging him across the kingdoms.

  The shaping was painfully slow. Lacertin fed it with all the strength he could summon. They picked up speed, making their way across Nara, and then into Ter, faster and faster. The ground moved past below him, but not as quickly as he would like.

  Veran’s shaping failed somewhere over Ter. For a moment, Veran slipped and Lacertin lunged for him, diverting precious energy from his shaping to grab the warrior. He managed to keep him from falling, but now had to hold onto him as well as control the shaping. It wasn’t clear whether Veran still even breathed.

  The draw of Ethea pulled him onward, and he finally saw the city rising up in the distance. They continued to pick up speed, now out of necessity. Such speed was dangerous but they streaked toward the capital.

  His strength began to fade. With shaping, there were limits imposed by the strength of the shaper, and his were nearly at their end.

  Then they crossed the walls of the city, still moving too quickly.

  Lacertin didn’t dare ease off on the shaping. If he did, he wasn’t sure where they would land. He wouldn’t risk dropping Veran and grasped him as tightly as he could. The university appeared, and the shaper circle at the center.

  Then his strength failed completely.

  They dropped. The ground came up at them too quickly for him to stop. Lacertin tensed, knowing it would do nothing to help him survive the fall, but unable to think of anything more.

  He struck the stone of the shapers circle with a jarring crack. Veran was torn from his grip, flung across the university yard, and sent sprawling. Lacertin fell and hit his head, and his consciousness faded.

  CHAPTER 8

  Lacertin awoke in on a hard cot in an unfamiliar room. Everything ached. A steady light glowed near the corner. A shapers lantern, he guessed. The air smelled sickly, like that of rot or vomit. Likely the later, he guessed, especially given the way his head pounded and the inside of his mouth tasted.

  But he was alive.

  In some respects, that surprised him, especially considering how fast they had been moving before crashing. The shaping had picked up speed after Veran’s shaping had failed, almost as if somehow they had been cancelling each other out.

  He tried to sit, but his back wouldn’t cooperate. His arms felt shaky when he tried to move, and his legs trembled.

  “You’re awake.”

  A face loomed out of the shadows, and it took him a moment to recognize who it belonged to before his eyes managed to focus on the sharp jaw and the short black hair framing her face. “Jayna?” he asked. He barely had seen her since she’d disappeared on him in the library.

  “Who else would sit with you and attempt to heal you?”

  Lacertin tried to laugh, but his chest hurt too much. He brought a hand up to his chest and realized that his shirt had been cut away and thick bandages wrapped around him. “What happened?”

  Jayna pulled a chair up and leaned into him. She smelled of clean soap and her breath was minty. A comforting warmth radiated from her. “I could ask you the same thing. You land in a heap at the center of the university, somehow carrying Master Veran, and collapse. Master Wallyn says that you’re both lucky to be alive.”

  Wallyn had found them. That was good. The man was a skilled water shaper, one of the best. “And Veran?”

  Jayna tried to mask the troubled expression that crossed her face by turning away, but she didn’t manage to do so completely. Lacertin reached for her, and turned her to face him.

  “What of Veran?” he asked. “You already said that he’s alive.”

  Jayna nodded. “Alive, but not well. Whatever attacked you—”

  “Hounds,” Lacertin whispered.

  Jayna’s eyes widened. “Well, the hounds cut him pretty deeply. I’ve never seen wounds like that. They were partially mended, but that only served to trap the toxins within. We had to open them again to drain. Veran… well, he didn’t tolerate it very well.”

  Lacertin pulled his hand back and crossed his arms over his chest. “It was my fault. I tried healing him rather than bringing him back to the university. I didn’t think I’d be able to make it here in time if I did nothing.”

  And he almost hadn’t. He was lucky that they’d arrived with enough time for Wallyn to attempt any sort of shaping. But if Wallyn healed them, why did Lacertin still feel like a rotting lizard?

  The answer came through his foggy mind: Because Wallyn hadn’t worked on him. Veran had needed him more.

  Yet he was bandaged. Someone had taken the time to heal him, even if it hadn’t been Wallyn. He considered Jayna a moment. “You healed me?” he asked.

  She reached over and touched the bandages around his chest, her hands working with a practiced control. “I did what I could.”

  “You’re still in training.”

  She flushed slightly. “You know?”

  Lacertin laughed. It hurt, but less than it had. He might be injured, but he would survive. Would the same be true for Veran?

  “When you disappeared as quickly as you did, I figured something was off. Then, when I realized I was in the student library… let’s just say that I haven’t been in the university in quite a while.”

  Jayna smiled. When she did, she looked quite lovely.

  Lacertin pushed the thought out of his head. He wasn’t willing to even teach students; why should he get involved with them in another way?

  “You were in Incendin?” Jayna asked.

  “Not Incendin. Near Incendin. Nara.”

  “Then how did the hounds…”

  Lacertin shook his head. Veran had made a mistake, but he wouldn’t share that with others. “The barrier isn’t completely secure. It holds, but there were three hounds, and they were determined,” he said.

  Still, had Veran not shaped the barrier, they wouldn’t have managed to attack. Other shapers would need to know about that weakness before they made the same mistake, before they were injured in the same way.

  A different thought came to him. Was that how Pherah and Roln had died?

  He struggled to sit up, but he couldn’t. The effort of shaping his way here had sapped his strength, and the injuries he now had made it even worse. He wouldn’t be going anywhere, at least not for a while.

  Jayna pressed a hand on his shoulder, keeping him from moving too much. Either she was strong or he was even weaker than he realized. Lacertin sagged back onto the cot.

  “Where do you think you were going to go?” she asked. “You’ve got a few broken ribs, a gash on your head that had to be healed, and you’ve been sleeping for the last day straight. Even the great Lacertin can take a few moments to recover, don’t you think?”

  Lacertin closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. “Nothing great about Lacertin,” he said.

  Jayna laughed. “You’re probably right. All I see is a man too battered to move, mostly because he shaped himself and another warrior across the kingdoms.”

  “I need to see him.”

  “Master Veran?” she asked. “He’s in no shape to talk, and I’m not sure that Master Wallyn would allow anyone to try. Rest, let him reco
ver, and then you can talk to him.”

  Lacertin noted the hitch to her voice when she mentioned Veran recovering and realized that it wasn’t a sure thing that he would. If they lost Veran after losing Pherah and Roln, that would be more warriors than had been lost in the last five years. With the barrier in place, the kingdoms and her shapers should be more protected, but so far, Lacertin wasn’t seeing that to be the case.

  “If not Veran, then find Alice. I need to speak with her.”

  He needed to understand what had happened with Pherah so that he could make certain that it didn’t happen to another shaper.

  “Master Alice? She left the city about the same time as you did,” Jayna said.

  “Left?” Lacertin repeated. Alice wasn’t going to leave; she had intended to remain while Veran brought him to the place Pherah had died. “Where did she go?”

  Jayna flushed again, and this time Lacertin couldn’t help but notice how attractive it made her. Maybe it was the fact that she was older than the typical student, or maybe he’d been gone so long from the city that the self-imposed restrictions were altered.

  “As you said, I’m just a student,” she said.

  “A student working with Master Wallyn. There aren’t many he’s willing to teach,” Lacertin said.

  Jayna smiled at him. “He knew my father. I think that’s the only reason.”

  Lacertin laughed lightly, and even that hurt his ribs. He reached his hands across his chest and hugged himself. As he did, he realized that it wasn’t only his shirt that was missing, but also his jacket and sword. Inside the jacket pocket was the box he’d been sent to retrieve.

  “Where are the rest of my belongings?” he asked.

  Jayna shook her head. “I don’t know. When you were brought here, you were in pretty rough shape. There were other healers involved and they—”

  “Shapers?” Lacertin asked.

  “Not all the healers are shapers,” she said. “Your injuries weren’t as bad as Master Veran’s. He needed the attention of the master shapers, so you…”

  She didn’t need to finish. Lacertin wasn’t the same priority, not with the nature of his injuries. They were still severe enough to make it difficult for him to even try to stand. Had he been healed, he would have been able to get up, and he might not have slept for nearly a full day. Either Veran’s injuries really were that serious or someone had been instructed not to heal him.

  Lacertin gritted his teeth and pushed off the bed, shaking past Jayna, who was trying to hold him back down. “I need my sword, and my cloak,” he said.

  “Between the healers, and the princess stopping—”

  “Ilianna was here?” What would she be doing at the university?

  Jayna watched him for a moment, a puzzled expression creasing her brow. “She came to see Master Wallyn and discuss the king.”

  Lacertin sighed. Of course that had been the reason. She wouldn’t have cared to see him. The opportunity for that had passed so long ago that he couldn’t believe that there ever would have been a time when he thought of courting her.

  “I don’t know where your belongings are. And I don’t know why you’re in such a rush to get up. You were seriously injured, Lacertin. You should take the necessary time for healing or you will only end up in worse shape than you already are.”

  If he’d been down a full day, then he already was in worse shape than he thought. He needed to find his cloak and make certain that the box was secured.

  Why hadn’t he just left it with Ilton when he arrived? He’d spent months searching for the plates and had rushed back to the city to deliver it, and his first action had been to remove it again.

  He sighed. With Ilton sick, the princess would have taken on some responsibilities as well. Ilianna could help, if only he could reach her.

  Lacertin staggered to the door, pausing to balance himself as he went. Jayna was there when he nearly fell, slipping her arm around him. She shaped, but it was more of a healing probing, not anything meant to stabilize him. He tried not to notice the comfortable warmth he felt from her presence.

  “Where are you going?” Jayna asked.

  “There’s someone I need to see.” He’d either find Theondar and tell him about the weakness in the barrier, or he’d find Ilianna. Either way, he needed to reach the palace.

  “You aren’t going to make it very far like this. Let me get help.”

  “No help. Just find my sword.”

  If he focused on the sword, maybe Jayna wouldn’t realize how important the box was to him as well.

  “I don’t know where they brought it.”

  Lacertin paused and turned to her. “At least tell me who helped bind my wounds when I returned.” That would help him know who might have his belongings.

  “I told you already. Healers, a water shaper, and me. There was a pair of archivists there, but mostly because Wallyn sent for them, thinking they might find an answer to what happened with the injury to help heal Veran.”

  At least if the archivists had taken his cloak, the plates might be with them, but what if they didn’t know how to use them? Ilton hadn’t known, or if he had, he hadn’t shared with Lacertin. That wasn’t altogether unsurprising, but now that Ilton’s mind seemed to be going and with the loss of the warriors, he felt as if more help was needed.

  Lacertin grabbed for the door, wincing as pain shot through him. In his current condition, reaching the palace would be nearly impossible. Even if he somehow managed to shape, he would struggle. No, he needed help.

  “Can you help me?” he asked Jayna.

  CHAPTER 9

  The walk to the palace took an impossibly long time. Each step sent pain shooting through Lacertin, and even though he splinted his ribs by tensing as he walked, he felt everything as a constant jarring sensation. Jayna kept her arm around him for support, but she wasn’t able to do much more than stabilize him.

  “Why the palace?” she asked as they neared the outer wall.

  “I told you. There’s someone I need to see.” If Ilianna had come to the university, maybe she had returned to the palace where he could find her.

  “But the king is sick.”

  Lacertin nodded. “He is.”

  “You’ve seen him?”

  “I’ve spoken to him since I returned.” Jayna sucked in a breath. “It did not go well,” Lacertin admitted.

  “Wallyn says that whatever causes his illness is unlike anything he’s seen before. It’s more than a wasting illness.”

  If Lacertin had any doubt about Jayna’s potential before, he did not now. For a master water shaper to speak to a student so honestly about what he had done for the king, it meant that she was more skilled—or at least had the potential to be more skilled—than most other water shapers.

  “I don’t know about that. I wasn’t able to do much other than wake him,” he said.

  They stopped at the outer wall to the palace. A pair of shapers stood guard, but moved aside when they saw Lacertin. For a moment, he was surprised, but then he realized it wasn’t him that they stepped aside for, it was Jayna.

  “You shaped the king?” Jayna asked as they passed through the doors.

  “I needed to speak to him.”

  “But you said yourself that you don’t have much skill with healing.”

  “And I don’t.”

  “Then why risk the king’s safety? No offense, Lacertin, but I sensed the shaping that was used on Master Veran. You have strength, but it wasn’t a very careful shaping.”

  Lacertin grunted, leading her toward the garden outside the palace, choosing the most direct route toward it. Jayna gawked at the shapings around them, each made to resemble a part of the kingdoms, and each so difficult that none today could replicate them. Lacertin had been through here often enough that he no longer stared. From the way the guards had simply let Jayna pass, he had thought that she’d been through here many times before, but maybe that wasn’t the case.

  “Not a careful shaping, but
I did what I needed to keep him alive.”

  They reached the front door and Lacertin drew on a shaping to open it. Even that much effort taxed him to the point where he had to lean more heavily on Jayna.

  The inside of the palace had even more activity than before. Servants hurried along halls and up stairs now guarded by a pair of shapers. Lacertin suspected they were meant to keep him out. His suspicion was confirmed when they eyed him as he entered. The air carried a thick, medicinal scent that was even stronger than before. Lacertin searched for Bren, but saw no sign of him.

  “I don’t think they’re going to let you pass,” Jayna whispered.

  Lacertin didn’t recognize either of the shapers, but there was no doubt that was what they were. One man stood with his arms crossed over his thick chest, his bald head beaded with a sheen of sweat. The shaping coming from him was like a constant pressure to Lacertin. The other shaper, a woman as wide as the other was muscular, frowned at him. From the soft tug of air moving through the palace, he suspected she was a wind shaper.

  “That’s fine,” he said.

  He started forward, forcing Jayna to keep her arm around him. As he passed the shapers, he felt them focus their shaping on him. He pushed it away, drawing on more strength than he should have needed. His legs wavered for a moment and Jayna propped him up to keep him from falling.

  “Thanks,” he whispered.

  “Was that necessary?” she asked.

  Lacertin shrugged. “Ask them.”

  They reached the end of the hall. Lacertin could still feel the shapers’ gaze on his back, but there came no additional shaping directed at him. A good thing, because he wasn’t sure he had the strength needed to fend them off again.

  A wide stair opened at the end of the hall. If he went down, he could reach the quarters granted to him by Ilton. They had never really been his home, though he was thankful for someplace to claim as his own. Once Theondar had moved into the palace, given rooms by Althem, it had felt even less welcoming.

  But he had no intention of going down, not until he knew whether Ilianna would see him. Instead, he looked up the stairs.