Changed By Fire (Book 3)

by D. K. Holmberg

  And now look what it had gotten her. Aeta shapers were captured and sacrificed in the creation of more twisted lisincend. The First Mother trapped, forced into a different type of service to the lisincend.

  How many Doman shapers had she forced into serving Incendin? How much damage had she done to Doma as she served Incendin, trying to keep her people safe?

  Tan had to say something to distract Alisz. “She doesn’t know what it does.”

  Alisz sniffed again. Another burst of flame pressed on him, this time with more force than the others.

  Tan had to focus to push it away, pulling everything he could from himself to hold the shaping away from him. Much more and he wouldn’t be able to keep the fire away.

  Would he be burned? Or would instinct take over as it had before, forcing him to draw in the shaping once more, even knowing what it would do to him?

  “You believed her?” Alisz asked.

  She crouched again in front of him, so close he could smell the stink of heat rising off her.

  The First Mother looked over. “The artifact is over a thousand years old. The ancient shapers may have known what it could do, but the records from that time are incomplete, buried in a part of the archives none can reach.”

  Tan frowned. None could reach? He thought the lower level of the archives was accessible to the archivists, but could he have been wrong? What was hidden there?

  “What indeed?” Alisz asked.

  The air crackled again and she stepped away from Tan as she raised her nose to sniff the air. She motioned to the other lisincend and he nodded, taking to the sky with a quick flap of powerful wings and disappearing into the night.

  Thunder rolled, loud and chaotic. The ground trembled with it.

  Tan recognized this shaping.

  One of the warriors returned. Possibly both.

  “You think the warriors will keep you safe?”

  He shot her a look. “I have learned not to underestimate Theondar. As I suspect you have learned not to underestimate Lacertin.”

  She stepped toward him. With a motion quicker than he could see, she struck him in the head, knocking him forward.

  24

  THE FIRST ARCHIVE

  Tan awoke, body aching. Darkness surrounded him. The air smelled musty and familiar.

  He blinked, trying to clear his mind. The last thing he remembered was the shaping from the warriors. Lacertin or Theondar. Hopefully both. Then Alisz striking him.

  But he had been on the hillside overlooking Ethea then. Where was he now?

  He shifted, trying to stand, but his hands were bound in cold iron restraints. He couldn’t move, no matter how hard he tried.

  Tan strained against the chains to free himself. He stretched out, reaching for golud, wishing for the earth elemental to help free him, but no sense of the elementals came.

  No sense of anything made it through the shaping the First Mother had placed around his mind. It separated him from the elementals, but seemed to do nothing else. He felt no urge as he had when Jishun shaped him while at the place of convergence, nothing forcing him to serve fire.

  The only reason he could think was that she hadn’t wanted to force him to serve fire.

  Whatever she intended served the lisincend.

  Tan focused on the shaping. It circled his mind, settling atop it, creating a barrier that prevented him from reaching out. Not only separating him from the elementals, but from Amia as well. It hadn’t separated him from shaping, though, or he wouldn’t have been able to resist Alisz’s fire. But that would mean he had shaped on his own, without needing the help of the elementals.

  Could he do it again?

  Tan tried the shaping he used—the shaping wind and water had helped him use—to free his mind. Nothing seemed to change. The shaping the First Mother placed on him held firm.

  She was stronger than Jishun—stronger than any other spirit shaper.

  Maybe wind and water weren’t enough to remove her shaping. Maybe he needed each of the elements as he had when he tried sensing the void over Ethea.

  He inhaled deeply and focused on fire first. As much as it had nearly destroyed him, he could shape fire. He knew he could now that he had survived Alisz’s attempt to force him into transforming again.

  At first, nothing seemed to happen. Then fire built, smoldering within him. All he had to do was push it out.

  Holding onto the sense of fire, he reached for earth. He was an earth senser first; he didn’t need golud to help him reach earth shaping.

  Nothing happened at first. He searched through his memories, thinking of the lessons his father had taught him, the way he had taught him to sense. Tan stretched through his earth sense, listening for the way it called to him. With enough focus, he could reach through his sensing. Had his father taught him more than he realized?

  Shaping earth required strength. Tan drew it through him in steady rumble.

  The ground trembled slightly as the shaping built within him. Tan smiled, adding the budding earth shaping to fire.

  Next he focused on the musty air, working on a wind shaping, drawing it from him like a soft breath. Speaking to ara required a gentle touch. Shaping wind likely took much the same.

  It came slowly, first flickering around his hair, then stirring the dust beneath him. Tan added this to his shaping.

  That left water.

  He had spoken to the nymid and to udilm, but he had never really tried shaping water.

  Tan swallowed, thinking of moisture in his mouth, of the blood in his veins, of the humidity of the air. Shaping seemed much like speaking to the elementals. Pushing like a soft wave rolling from him, he formed a shaping and added it to the others.

  The shapings mingled together, growing stronger. Tan held them for a moment, wanting to remember what it felt like to create a shaping of his own, and then pushed this against the First Mother’s shaping.

  Her shaping bent but held.

  Tan reached out and the shapings held.

  The next time, he tried pulling more of the shaping from within himself. At the same time, he stretched out, as if speaking to the elementals, calling for their assistance to aid his shaping. The First Mother’s shaping bowed and flexed like something tangible. Tan strained, pushing with everything he could muster, demanding the elementals aid him.

  The shaping strained and finally snapped free.

  A flood of sensations came to him.

  The first was the sense of Asboel demanding to connect to him. The draasin pushed against his mind with a furious urgency, digging against his mind as he tried to reach Tan. Asboel nearly overwhelmed him with the power of his sending. It was the same as the first time he had reached out to Tan, though Tan had more experience pushing him away now.

  Maelen!

  Tan breathed in, releasing pent-up tension that eased now that his connections were reestablished.

  Draasin. Twisted Fire is here.

  A snarl of rage came through. Twisted Fire has come through here as well.

  An image of the hatchlings came to Tan. They were small and lean, tiny, thin wings lying against the ground. It took him a moment to understand what was wrong. The hatchlings didn’t move.

  Twisted Fire?

  Asboel snarled again. It will not go unpunished. Twisted Fire will suffer for what they did to the draasin.

  The anger from Asboel reminded Tan of how he had felt when fire consumed him. You should not come here. You know they seek to replace you. And if not the lisincend, then the king would still try to hunt the draasin. The shaping still held enough that he would want the draasin destroyed for the attack on Ethea.

  Twisted Fire will suffer. Do not oppose me in this, Maelen.

  Tan closed his eyes, inhaling slowly. He could almost feel the anger coming through the connection with the draasin. If he could, he would draw the anger away, help Asboel find the sense of calm he once had known.

  But doing so was dangerous. Tan could no more draw in the anger than he coul
d draw in fire. Either opened him to a transformation he was unwilling to endure again.

  There was something he could do for Asboel, just as Asboel had once done for him.

  I will help.

  Asboel fell silent. The connection between them continued to grow stronger, as if the draasin moved toward him.

  Tan jerked forward, trying to move. The chains around his wrists still held him in place, preventing him from standing.

  Now that the First Mother’s shaping was removed, could he shape the chains free?

  He focused on the metal as he struggled to think of a way free from them. An earth shaping might release the chains from the stone, but he’d be left with them still hanging from him. That wouldn’t work, especially as he would need to move quietly as he escaped.

  That left a modified shaping. With a small amount of fire mixed with water, he might manage to make the metal crack, but he’d need control for that to work. Control had never really been his strong suit.

  If he could shape at the same time as calling the elemental powers, he might be able to manage enough control to break free.

  Tan focused on the metal. Drawing from within himself, he sent a shaping of fire—barely more than a trickle—into the metal. It grew warm against his skin. As it did, he shaped water, cooling the metal again.

  It snapped loudly.

  Tan jerked his hands back, pulling against the chains. It groaned before finally giving way and releasing him.

  He sat in place, rubbing his wrists as he tried to get his bearings. The air smelled familiar. And he was in some sort of building, with dense stone all around him. Where, though?

  With an earth sensing, he reached out, listening for anything that would be familiar. The sensing pressed into the stone, through it. His eyes snapped open.

  He was in the archives.

  Tan struggled to maintain his focus as he stood. If this was the archives, he was likely in some lower section—possibly even the lowest level, where he had twice failed to get through the doors. Shapers lanterns hung on the walls, and he could light them if he wanted, but he held off, afraid of drawing attention to himself. Already the First Mother likely knew he had pushed through the shaping she’d placed over him.

  Listening with earth sensing, he realized there was someone else trapped here with him.

  Tan frowned. Could it be Amia?

  No. The connection to her was faint, faded as if she slept, but not nearby. Not Amia.

  His mother?

  He had to risk the shapers lantern. Using fire—shaping fire came easiest to him—he lit the nearest, sensing where it hung on the wall. Dim white light burst from it.

  As it did, he recognized his surroundings. It was where he and Roine had found the dead archivist. It was also where he had failed to shape his way through the doors; he was back in that aggravating circle of doors that led to hidden secrets.

  Near one end of the room, opposite the stairs, another person lay in a pool of shadows. Tan hurried over to them. The person lay face down. A hood had been pulled over their head, hiding them. Chains, like the ones that had encircled his wrists, held onto thin wrists.

  Tan rolled the person over and gasped. The First Mother.

  He stepped back and crouched, staring at her as he struggled to decide what to do with her. She was the reason they had been captured. She was the reason the archivists helped Incendin. And now, she lay unmoving in front of him.

  Tan glanced back at the stairs. He could climb them, try to escape the archives, and leave the First Mother here. Whatever fate fell to her would be deserved.

  But why would Incendin would have brought them here? What did they think to achieve in Ethea?

  He searched with a mixture of earth and fire sensing, listening up the stairs into the upper levels of the archives. Above him—he couldn’t quite tell where above him—he sensed the heat of lisincend. Escape up and out of the archives was not an option.

  Tan turned to the First Mother and nudged her with his boot.

  She moaned softly and rolled her head to the side. Her eyes blinked open. “You escape.”

  The lack of surprise in her voice caught him off guard.

  “You knew I would?”

  She struggled against her restraints before answering. “I thought it possible.”

  “Then why not shape me more forcibly? You could have made me do whatever they wanted.” And what they wanted was for him to accept fire, to draw it inside him again. Had he done that, there wouldn’t have been any way to save him.

  The First Mother shifted and sat up. “You think it so easy to craft a shaping like the one you suggest?”

  “I don’t know how hard it would be to craft a shaping like that. You didn’t teach me anything about spirit shaping.”

  The First Mother sneered at him. “You weren’t ready.”

  “And now?”

  “You wouldn’t have escaped otherwise.”

  Tan thought of what she had said, how she had explained he would need to shape spirit. He would need mastery over his spirit. She had tried having him reach back through his memories to find the necessary understanding, but that wasn’t how it was for him. Like shaping the elements, he shaped spirit differently, binding it out of the other four elements, so similar to how spirit was drawn at the place of convergence.

  He glanced at the chains holding the First Mother. She would never have been able to teach him. He had needed to discover the key on his own. And he had known the secret all along but hadn’t really understood.

  The First Mother simply sat, watching him.

  “You won’t convince me this was some kind of test. That all you wanted was to see if I would be able to break through your shaping.”

  “I would not try. You think I should feel ashamed of what I have done?” Her eyes narrowed. “You think that keeping my people alive and safe was not worth the price?”

  “You forced Doman shapers to work with Incendin. You took away their ability to fight for their people, left those of Doma unprotected. You lost the Brother and so many others because of what you have done.”

  “And how many more were saved? Until you have the responsibility of a people, you cannot judge, son of Zephra.”

  Tan stared at her. She still felt no remorse for what had happened. Nothing.

  “Was your capture a part of your plan? Was letting Incendin take your shapers part of the bargain?”

  Defiance blazed in her eyes. After a long moment, she bowed her head. “You know it was not.”

  Tan crouched in front of her. “Do you know why they are here?”

  Her brow furrowed as she scanned the doors. “We are in the archives.”

  “We are. Have you been here? Did Jishun ever show you this place?”

  “No. Coming here risked revealing the secret of the archivists.”

  “What’s behind the doors?” When she didn’t answer, Tan pressed again. “What is behind the doors?”

  “The archivists were only able to open two. The others are inaccessible.”

  Tan studied the doors. “Which two?”

  “This is not the time—”

  “This is the time. I need to know why Incendin sent the lisincend here. And if it has to do with what’s behind these doors, I will learn what your archivists hid here.”

  “It was not them. This level precedes the People ever coming to Ethea.”

  The comment gave him pause. If that were true, then maybe the archivists didn’t know what hid behind all the doors. Whatever was here remained valuable to them. Valuable enough that they shaped anyone trying to get too close.

  “You will open the doors,” he said.

  The First Mother shot him a dark look. “That won’t do anything for you, son of Zephra.”

  A surge of anger roared through him. It came from him, not from fire. “You will call me Tan. Or Maelen.”

  Her eyes widened. She recognized the word.

  “Now. How are the doors opened?”

  The
First Mother closed her eyes. A shaping built, starting slowly but building quickly.

  He recognized what she did. He didn’t know how he recognized it, only that her shaping grated against him. Tan quickly forced a shaping using the power of the elementals, of fire and wind and water and earth, toward her as he severed the shaping she worked.

  Her eyes opened with a snap.

  “You will not shape me again,” he warned. “I feel you shaping. You know I’m not the same kind of shaper as others.”

  Whatever he was, he accepted that he was different. The others couldn’t teach him, not as they could those who came to the university. For a long time, that had bothered him. How would he learn how to craft shapings if no shaper would—or could—teach him? But now he understood. Not completely. Perhaps he never would, but the elementals guided him. All they required was him to be open to their suggestions.

  “No. You are not.” She studied him, eyes darkened. “The archivists could open the doors of spirit. There are two here.”

  “How do I know which of them are the doors of spirit?”

  She moved her hands. The chains dragged across the ground as she did. One long finger traced through the dust, creating a star with a circle around it. A rune.

  Tan had seen it before.

  He left her and hurried toward the doors, looking at each one. The first few had several runes worked into the surface of the wood. Did that mean they required shapings from each of the elements to open? If that were the case, Roine should have been able to open those doors. Then Tan reached the door with a single rune.

  For the first time, he realized how it looked different from the other doors. The stain was different. It caught the light in such a way that Tan was left with a sensation that it flowed into the rune.

  Tan touched the door. It vibrated slightly beneath his fingers.

  Did he try opening it? Through his connection to her, he knew Amia remained alive. He couldn’t help her if he was recaptured. And his mother?

  He whispered to ara. Does Zephra live?

  The still air of the archives stirred slightly, barely more than a whisper of breath. He waited, listening for the wind elemental.

  Son of Zephra. She lives.