Changed by Fire (The Cloud Warrior Saga Book 3)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “That’s what he meant by you choosing me?”

  “Custom demands that I find another family. It was why the Mother of the other caravan was willing to take me on, even though a Daughter served.”

  “What was she like? The Daughter.”

  “Are you asking if she was angry I was allowed to join the family?” Amia asked. “That is not the way of the People. Choosing oneself over the family does not happen.”

  “But it did.”

  Amia took a soft breath and let it out slowly. “It did.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, nothing but the snapping of the flames and the soft music behind them as distraction. The man working the spit smiled at Amia and nodded toward the meat. She tipped her head in assent and he tore off a hunk of meat and brought it to her.

  “We welcome you to the fire, Daughter.”

  Amia smiled and took the meat. The woman handed her a hunk of crusty bread and a metal cup of water. They turned back to their stations, neither offering anything to Tan.

  “Not very friendly, are they?” he whispered.

  Amia tore off a piece of meat and handed it to him. “They are scared and frustrated,” she said. “You must be able to sense that.”

  “What is it that frightens them, do you think?” Tan asked. “It can’t only be the attacks.”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “Maybe the Brother shaped them.”

  Amia shot him a look. “The Brother is a senser, as are most of the Aeta,” she said.

  Tan peered through the fire, looking for any sign of him. The fire seemed to part, as if knowing what he wanted, splitting to give him a brief glimpse of the silver hoops in the Brother’s ears. The man caught Tan’s eyes from across the fire and his face clouded briefly.

  “He shapes as he makes his way around the fire. I thought it was you at first, but it isn’t.”

  Amia twisted, trying to see him but failing. “Maybe there is another. There would be at least one more blessed by the Great Mother among the People.”

  “It was him.” Tan looked away from the fire and turned to Amia. “You already know the archivists were once Aeta, at least those who could shape. Why shouldn’t there be another?”

  “We would know. She would know.”

  “Who?” Tan asked.

  Amia nodded toward an older lady with dark silver hair tied behind her head. Her skin was a deep bronze and heavily wrinkled, but the brightness in her eyes spoke of a vibrancy.

  “Her. The First Mother. The Eldest.”

  Tan watched the woman as she made her way around the fire. She moved with a sure step, greeting everyone with a quick smile. It took a moment for him to realize that she shaped everyone as she made her way through the throng of people. Her touch was subtle, even gentler than the archivist had managed when he shaped Tan.

  Thinking of the archivist, he quickly focused on a shaping, wrapping his mind in air and water to protect himself from the Eldest’s shaping.

  As he did, she straightened and watched him across the distance between them, lips pursed into a straight line. She knew what he had done.

  She continued working through the people. Tan realized Amia still spoke. He turned back to her.

  “She taught me the first lessons. I was barely five when I was saddled with the responsibility of my blessing, for it is responsibility. Told I would lead someday, perhaps that I could replace her in time.” Amia shook her head. “It was a heavy burden to place on a child, but she knew I could handle it. Or maybe she shaped me to ensure that I could.” A smile crossed Amia’s face. “She has such control. I have never managed to work with the same level of control as she manages.”

  “She knows I’m here,” Tan said.

  Amia nodded. “Of course she does. Likely she knew the moment we landed days ago. For us to find this place, she had to lead us.”

  Tan watched the woman, not taking his eyes off her. She continued to move through the Aeta, touching some on the shoulder but merely whispering words to others. With each one, she released a soft shaping. Had he not been attuned to shaping from his time in Ethea and working around Roine, he might not have recognized what she did.

  “She’s doing the same thing the Brother did,” he noted.

  “The Brother serves under her. That is his role here. He coordinates the gathering.”

  “And he shapes as she does.” Tan insisted quietly.

  “He should not,” Amia said and frowned.

  “Do you feel it?” Tan asked.

  “I’ve never felt shaping the way you do. But I trust you.”

  He turned back to the First Mother and watched her again. Even as she weaved through the people, she continued to watch him. Her expression hadn’t changed, continuing to make her appear warm and motherly, but every so often, the mask slipped and a hard edge shone through. Tan couldn’t help but think it was intentional.

  The Brother finished his loop around the fire. He nodded at Tan and made his way over to the First Mother, pausing to lean toward her. A soft shaping built and, as far as Tan could tell, neither spoke.

  “They’re speaking to each other,” he realized.

  Amia twisted to see the First Mother. “She’s speaking to everyone. That’s how she welcomes people to the Gathering. It is done individually and then to the group as a whole.”

  Speaking like this.

  Tan had to lower the shaping protecting his mind as he pushed the thought toward Amia. He focused the thought, making a point of sending it as no more than a pinprick, his connection to her making communicating wordlessly easier. Speaking to her this way was different than speaking to the nymid or the draasin. Even speaking to Elle was different.

  The First Mother turned sharply, as if startled.

  She had heard.

  The People do not speak like this, Amia said.

  Tan touched her arm and nodded toward the First Mother.

  She came directly toward them, no longer pausing to speak to others as she worked her way around the fire. The light of the flames flickered off her eyes, making them dance. The Brother followed her, keeping a step behind.

  When she approached, a wide smile crossed her face. She lowered her head and leaned toward Amia, touching fingers to Amia’s forehead. “Daughter,” she said aloud.

  A shaping built as she spoke. Tan rewrapped his mind in his shaping of wind and water, aware now how he had to draw focus from the elementals. Holding it in place got easier the longer he held it. He didn’t want to risk a shaping coming over his mind without knowing what she might do.

  Without asking, Tan extended the shaping through the connection with Amia to protect her as well. She could not shape air or water, leaving her vulnerable. As a spirit shaper, she should have some protection by virtue of her ability, but that hadn’t kept the archivist from attacking her.

  “Eldest,” Amia said. She made no sign that she recognized what Tan had done.

  The First Mother’s smile faded slightly. Her shaping built again before releasing in a soft wave that flooded over Amia. Tan held the barrier in place, protecting her.

  They should be safe among the Aeta, but he couldn’t help but wonder if the First Mother would attack them in some way. Would the Brother? Tan wasn’t confident enough in his shaping to be able to get them to safety. The connection to Asboel was there, but distant, telling him the draasin was far away. He might answer if Tan called, but it would take him time to reach them.

  As much as he hated the idea, he could reach toward fire. The massive flames reaching high into the night wouldn’t take much for him to shape, barely more than a flick…

  Tan frowned. For some reason, he felt a desire to reach toward the fire, but it had never been like that for him before. The rare time he had shaped fire, it had required focus, as if he attempted to speak to the draasin. This felt as if he were drawn to use fire, almost as if he were compelled.

  Tan narrowed his eyes as he studied the First Mother and then the Brother. The pressure
of a shaping remained, though it was almost too soft for him to recognize. Had they shaped him, compelling him to use fire, without knowing? But how had it slipped beneath the protections he placed around his mind… unless they had shaped him before he placed them.

  If there was a shaping upon him, was there anything he could do about it now?

  Tan shifted, standing and putting himself in front of Amia. Through their connection, he recognized the concern she felt over his actions. He tried pushing reassurance, but to send more than that required lowering the mental barrier he held in place. Without knowing what the First Mother—or the Brother—intended, he was unwilling to do so.

  Tan stared at the First Mother before making a point of doing the same to the Brother. He couldn’t tell which of them shaped, but someone held it. “Release the shaping,” he said.

  The First Mother blinked slowly. She attempted to see around Tan. When he wouldn’t move, she seemed to try to see through him. “The Daughter should not have brought you here.” She spoke softly but her words carried nonetheless, as if shaped.

  The urge to shape fire intensified, pressing on him. The flames dancing behind him created a sense of warmth, almost welcoming in a way. All he needed to do was reach for it, shape it toward him, and fire could wrap around him.

  Tan clenched his jaw, pushing away the strange desire.

  He held onto the shaping of wind and water, wishing he knew how to heal himself. Roine must know; he’d seen him heal injuries when returning to Ethea in the past. Could he push the water shaping more strongly upon himself?

  Doing so risked injury. Instead, Tan made certain to hold onto the shaping, careful not to release it.

  Through the shaping came the strange compelling drive to shape fire. He could call to the draasin, use the great elemental to fuel his shaping…

  Tan squeezed the thought away.

  “I know what you’re doing. It will not work.”

  The First Mother pursed her lips in annoyance. “I do nothing, son of Zephra.”

  He tensed. She knew who he was. He nodded toward the Brother. “Then he does. Either way it needs to stop.”

  Pressure built again as he spoke, releasing with a pop.

  The First Mother tilted her head. She had sharp green eyes that stared intently at him. Her mouth pursed in a tight line. “The Daughter has shared what she should not have shared.”

  Amia started to stand. The other Aeta nearby, those working the spit near the fire and a few the First Mother had passed on her way toward Tan, turned to watch. They stood silently, eyes fixed on him, as if waiting for something to happen, almost as if they knew he was being compelled.

  Had he been wrong? Had it not been the First Mother or the Brother shaping him?

  Could there be others of the Aeta, those he thought were simply members of the family, able to shape spirit? If so, had Amia known?

  “She shared what needed to be shared,” Tan said. He spoke with more force than needed, but he grew irritated. After everything Amia had been through—losing her mother, her people and then being used by another family—for her to suffer through the same again bothered him with a raging intensity. And if the First Mother refused to help the king, what then?

  He knew what he would do then. Tan would leave, reach for the draasin, and travel to Incendin as Lacertin had suggested. The other shapers would need his help.

  The First Mother frowned. “Needed to share? Are you so certain, son of Zephra? She shared to prevent Incendin from acquiring a dangerous artifact, but did she stop anything? Did her sharing do anything but delay them?”

  In spite of everything, Incendin now possessed the artifact. Whatever they would use it for—however the new winged lisincend would use it—Incendin now possessed the very thing they had tried to prevent.

  But not everything had been a failure. Hadn’t Tan learned he could speak to the elementals? Hadn’t Amia shaped the draasin to prevent them from attacking people?

  “And now she brings you to our place of gathering.” The First Mother shifted to stare at him. “A dangerous decision, especially bringing one such as him to this place.”

  “What do you mean ‘one such as him?’” he asked.

  The First Mother fixed her gaze on Amia. “You would see him trained. That is why you brought him here?”

  Amia took Tan’s hand and studied the First Mother. Her face flashed with a hint of defiance. “There is another reason.”

  The First Mother shook her head. “You think I should interfere in the politics of the kingdoms?”

  Amia took a sharp breath. “You will not help, even when our people were involved?”

  The First Mother glanced at Tan, her eyes narrowing. “You brought the son of Zephra to the Gathering. Of all the outsiders you could have brought…”

  “Zephra traveled with the People for nearly a year. She learned many secrets, yet never shared them.”

  The First Mother’s eyes narrowed. “You claim the Mother shared what she should not have shared with Zephra?”

  Amia shrugged. “I don’t know. Only that the Mother spoke highly of Zephra, even years after she was gone. Zephra was a trusted shaper, one who protected the interests of the People. And Tan has done the same.”

  The Brother stepped closer to the First Mother, standing nearly alongside her. “It is too dangerous, Eldest.”

  Tan frowned, suddenly remembering where he had heard the term used before. It was the term used by the udilm for Asboel, a term the draasin had not fully embraced. Was that significant somehow?

  “As dangerous as Aeta serving as archivists in the kingdoms? As dangerous as them shaping the king and the kingdom’s shapers as they worked with Incendin?” Tan asked.

  This time, he fixed the Brother with a hard glare. The shaping emanated from him; he grew increasingly certain of that.

  The First Mother shook her head. “You are mistaken.”

  Tan nodded to Amia. “Am I? See for yourself what was done to her, how Incendin treated one of your people. Come to the kingdoms and see what happened to the king.”

  In that moment, he released the shaping held on Amia, leaving her exposed.

  The First Mother studied him a moment, the frown on her face deepening, and then a soft but powerful shaping built. It washed over Amia, layering atop her.

  Tan could almost make out what the First Mother did, but the complexity to it astounded him. Roine spoke of the shapings Zephra made as something of immense skill. From what he’d seen—the way she used air to mask her appearance and how she could travel on a gust of wind—she had every bit of ability Roine remembered. This seemed similar to what he imagined his mother was capable of creating, only with spirit.

  When it ended, Tan could only stare. There might not be anything he could do against a shaping like that.

  And it made clear the other shaping he’d been feeling was not the First Mother.

  Tan looked past the First Mother, holding the Brother with his gaze. “How is it Amia didn’t know? How is it you’ve kept him a secret?”

  The Brother frowned. His body stiffened slightly.

  The First Mother watched him, waiting.

  Tan sniffed. “How many here shape spirit? How many are blessed by the Great Mother?”

  Amia’s eyes widened slightly.

  Now that he felt the First Mother’s shaping, it was clear there was a difference between the various shapers. He could identify at least two distinct shapings right now, probably another. All were of spirit.

  Which meant spirit shapers within the Aeta were not as rare as Amia had led him to believe.

  13

  Serving the People

  The First Mother sat in front of a faded wagon on a narrow chair made of brightly colored slats. Paint peeled off the wagon and where wheels had once been, there was nothing more than broken spokes. A thick log was placed underneath the wagon, as if to keep it from rolling away, but there seemed no way for it to go anywhere. As much as the Aeta could settle, this was a
place of permanence.

  Amia sat next to Tan, arm folded under his. The Brother had left them alone to talk and had returned to make his way around the fire. As he did, the soft presence of his shaping built. Now that Tan knew what to focus on, he sensed it easily. Others mixed with it, few with much strength, but enough that he recognized how many shapings occurred here.

  The First Mother studied Tan. One hand ran alongside a long piece of dark stone. Runes were worked into it, reminding him of the obsidian bowl used by the Incendin shapers.

  “Sensing another’s shaping is a difficult skill,” she said.

  “I have sensed shapings long before I ever managed a shaping of my own.”

  The First Mother frowned. She sat silently, tapping the long stone with one hand. Behind her, the Aeta music had returned. There was merriment to it, but mixed in was a hint of sorrow. Voices murmured underneath the music as the Aeta spoke.

  The flames no longer called to him. Whatever shaping had been placed on him had either been removed or did not act with as much urgency.

  Tan reached out with earth sensing; a large caravan made its way toward the Gathering. There would be others after it. Had Amia’s people not been killed by the lisincend, she would have come here. Tan found it sad that she came under these circumstances, without a caravan of her own and everyone she cared about gone.

  “You have strength but there is no control,” the First Mother said. “The Daughter brought you here thinking you could learn control.”

  “He is blessed by the Great Mother,” Amia said. “But that is not why we came.”

  “What you ask cannot happen. It risks too much for the People if I were to leave here.”

  “Even if the People were responsible?” Tan asked.

  The First Mother’s eyes hardened as she fixed Tan with a firm gaze. “The People are not responsible. Once, your people would have called you a warrior. Those who claim that title now are nothing like those who preceded them. They use wind and water and air and earth but cannot hear the Great Mother and cannot speak to the elementals. Most don’t bother to try.”