Tan had another reason to learn about the elementals, one more pressing than merely learning to shape. If there was something about golud, maybe he could learn more about the draasin before the gnawing sense in the back of his mind overwhelmed him.
She nodded. “There are many books on elementals. At least, ara, golud, and udilm. Some on the lesser elementals, too.”
“None about fire elementals?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Probably. The Masters restrict quite a few books. Anything dealing with fire shaping is restricted.”
“Aren’t there fire shapers at the university?”
Elle nodded. “We have fire shapers. But they’re treated differently. That’s part of the reason the Masters are so particular about teaching. Why did you think Master Ferran made a point of determining where we were from?”
Tan grunted and shook his head. Her explanation made more sense than what he’d considered. “I thought he was simply being rude.”
Elle laughed. “Oh, he was. But most of the Masters are like that. Even your Athan friend did it.”
Tan had noticed. It wasn’t quite as obvious as what Ferran had done, but he’d treated Elle much the same.
“Why are you so interested in fire shapers anyway? You said you’re an earth senser. Still not sure how an earth senser comes from Galen.”
“My father was an earth senser.” Tan wondered if his father—like his mother—had been more than he seemed. Could his father have been a shaper, too? Had that been how they met? But if that was the case, why hadn’t his father shown him?
“You lost him fighting Incendin?” She waited for Tan to nod. “Then you lost your home to the lisincend. No wonder you want to know about fire shaping.”
Tan didn’t argue. That was part of the reason he wondered about the fire elementals, but not all of it. He needed to understand fire to understand the draasin. Roine hadn’t known much about them and what he did know didn’t fit with what Tan had experienced.
Of course, the great fire elementals hadn’t been seen for over a thousand years before Tan released them to the world. Now he needed to better understand what he’d done.
Would the archives have anything about the draasin? And if they did, could he learn anything from it?
“Master Nass is speaking tomorrow,” Elle suggested. “Maybe you could go and listen? Will I see you there?”
Tan shrugged. “I don’t know. I need to understand earth sensing better than I do.”
Elle shuffled through the books she held before holding one out to him. It was long and slender and covered in forest green. “Here. This one deals with golud and shapers who could speak to them. You’ll need to translate it, but…” She smiled as he took it from her. “Make sure you return it to the library. The archivists have been a little… touchy… with me lately.”
Tan looked at her quizzically. “Touchy?”
She only shrugged.
“Are you sure?”
Elle laughed. “I already read through it. Not much I can learn about earth shaping, but I think understanding the elementals is helpful. I’m probably the only one.”
“I think you’re right. We could learn much from them.”
Elle smiled at the comment and glanced down at her books.
Tan thought of how the nymid had healed him, how they’d gifted him with their armor, the shirt he still wore beneath his jacket. It had been that armor that saved Amia. How much could shapers learn if they could speak to elementals? How much could he learn about earth shaping if he could speak to the great earth elemental?
Before she left, Elle stuck her hand out toward Tan. The long sleeve of her dress hung down her arm, falling past the end of her fingers. She pulled it back and waited.
Tan shook it carefully, feeling awkward.
“Glad to meet you, Tannen. I—” she looked around the courtyard, her eyes stopping on a pair of kids still younger than Tan sitting near the tree and talking. “—I don’t have many friends here.”
“Tan,” he corrected. “My mother called me Tannen.”
Elle shook his hand again, then turned, hurrying through the nearest door of the university.
Tan stared after Elle, still not certain what to make of her.
CHAPTER 3
A Lost Language
Firelight danced in the hearth of the small room had Roine secured for Tan, reflecting off Amia’s golden hair. The slatted walls around them caught strange shadows. Not for the first time, Tan wished the room had a window, but in this part of the city, rooms were expensive enough. Roine hoped he would move to the university once acclimated to the city, but Tan still felt reluctant to do so. At least here, enough separated him that he could leave if he wanted. Once he committed to a room, he admitted he was staying.
Tired as he was, the pain in his head throbbed more steadily. As it did, he felt the pull of the draasin, as if he could close his eyes and speak to him, but doing that meant opening himself to the dangers of the draasin. The last time he’d spoken to him, the power of his voice had nearly destroyed him.
Amia stared at the fire and didn’t turn to face him. A few streamers of smoke drifted away from the hearth. She held a steaming mug of birchbark tea in her hands but hadn’t taken a sip since she’d poured it.
Her anxiety came through the shaped bond between them, the one she’d accidently placed upon him as he tried rescuing her from the lisincend. Through it, he could tell something was wrong.
“You’re quiet.”
Amia turned and met his eyes. She smiled. The thin band of silver that marked her as Daughter of the Aeta shimmered in the firelight, reminding him of the pool of silvery spirit she’d walked through to retrieve the artifact. They hadn’t spoken of that time since, but the memory of her naked and walking through the liquid—liquid she claimed was a part of the Great Mother herself—burned into his mind.
“As are you.”
Tan sniffed and leaned forward. The movement exacerbated the pain in his head. He rubbed his neck, but it made little difference.
The book Elle had given him lay next to him, unopened. The thick green cover felt as if woven from dried leaves. A symbol—another he recognized from Roine’s golden box—worked across the cover. Letters in the ancient language scrawled across the top. He’d flipped through the book at first, but it was written in the ancient language.
“Roine returned today,” Tan started. “I saw him at the university. He was injured.”
Amia frowned a moment. “Injured?”
Tan nodded. “He returned to Incendin. Said the king sent him.”
She let out a slow breath and turned to him. Pressure built behind his ears for a moment. Amia was a spirit shaper, but why would she shape him now? The bond formed—accidentally, he still believed—gave them both a way of understanding what the other was thinking. In spite of that bond, Amia remained distant.
“You haven’t seen him much since arriving here,” she said. She lifted her mug to her mouth and inhaled the steam rising from it. One hand went to the silver band at her neck and touched it.
Tan felt a hint of uncertainty as she did. “Not much,” he agreed.
“You expected him to help ease the transition?”
Tan shrugged. He hadn’t known what to expect. At least he had Amia. Without her, he’d feel completely isolated. When he first arrived, he thought he might look for Cobin, but likely he took Bal someplace safe after they escaped the lisincend in Velminth. There wasn’t anything for them to return to in Galen now that Nor was destroyed. The only other person to survive the attack on Nor was Lins Alles; Tan hoped he never saw him again.
“He’s Athan to the king. I know he has other responsibilities.”
She leaned over and touched his hand. A wave of relaxation washed over him with the contact. He took her hand and held it. More than a shaped bond had formed between them during the time they’d gone searching for the artifact. She might have directed him to help her, but he would have helped even w
ithout the silent command.
“You spoke to the nymid. You released the draasin. I don’t think the artifact could have been retrieved if not for that.”
Tan sighed. Maybe she was right, but even that troubled him. “I wonder what would have happened had we not helped him. Would the lisincend manage to get past the protections? They wouldn’t have been able to drop the warding at the cave entrance if we hadn’t gone there first.” And they wouldn’t have gotten past the pillars formed from the great elementals. Had they not freed the draasin, would the artifact have been in any danger?
Maybe the lisincend would have eventually managed to destroy enough of the pillars to reach the artifact. Even then, they would have to get past the pool or spirit; Amia thought only one blessed by the Mother—a spirit shaper—would be able to survive that.
Amia shook her head. “The warding wouldn’t have slowed Lacertin. Think about how he entered the cavern. Think about how persistent Fur was once he realized where to find the artifact.”
“But would he have come so close without us guiding him?” Tan shook his head. “I can’t help but think there was more to what happened we simply don’t understand.”
Amia turned back to the fire. “There’s always more we don’t understand.”
A flicker of uncertainty surged through their bond. Tan didn’t know if she tried to shield it from him and failed or if she wanted him to know what she felt. Either way, the sensation was disconcerting.
He slid forward on the wooden chair, shifting so he could reach her. Warmth from the hearth pushed upon him, the smoke from the oak logs reminding him of home. Not his time staying in the manor house but before, when his father still lived and they had their small house on the edge of the village. There, his father would build a cozy fire and they would all sit around it as night fell, talking. He would tell stories—tales Tan now knew they’d lived through—while his mother sat quietly, simply watching. Most nights, her eyes would be closed shortly after his father started talking, as if asleep. Tan now wondered if she sat back, remembering the times his father spoke about.
Amia met his eyes and sighed, then glanced at the book. “What is that?”
Tan watched her for another moment, wondering what bothered her, then pulled the book out and handed it over.
Amia took it carefully. One finger traced the symbol on the cover. “Golud,” she whispered. “Conversations with golud.” She looked up at him. “Where did you find this?”
“It was given to me.”
“Given?”
He shrugged. “Lent might be a better word. A girl I met in the session with Master Ferran let me borrow it. She had another like it, bound in leather.” And a third, Tan remembered. Elle must have had books on all the great elementals except the draasin.
“You can borrow books like this?” Amia asked.
Tan shrugged again. “I don’t know. She said some were restricted, but others you could borrow. She thought that learning from the elementals might help her learn to shape.”
“Who is she?”
Tan shook his head. “A student. Said she’s been here a year but doesn’t look old enough. Her name is Elle Vaywand. Says she’s a water senser from Vatten.”
Amia frowned a moment and flipped open the book. Her eyes worked along the text. “This is written in the ancient language.”
Tan nodded. “I know. I can’t read it.”
Amia smiled at him. “I can.”
He nodded. “I hoped you would say that.”
“Do you want me to read it to you?”
Tan shook his head. “I want you to teach me how to read it.”
If he could learn the ancient language, he might be able to comprehend more about the elementals. And if he could reach the restricted archives, he might be able to understand more about the draasin. Maybe then, he could get rid of the nagging pain in his head. Maybe then, he could be free of the connection.
Amia closed the book as Tan shook his head. “I don’t see the patterns.”
She smiled and patted his hand. “You’ve only been at it a few hours.”
“How long did it take you to begin understanding the ancient language?”
Amia leaned back in the chair. The flames in the hearth had faded, leaving only glowing coals. A chill came to the air, less than there would be outside, but enough that Tan and Amia crowded together for warmth. Neither minded.
She flipped a strand of her golden hair off her shoulder and touched the surface of the book, her long finger tracing the pattern of golud on the woven cover, made of an inverted triangle with a swirling loop coming off one edge. “Mother began teaching me at an early age.” As she spoke of her mother, her voice came out in a whisper and she took a shuddering breath. “Knowledge of the ancient language was felt important to the people.” She looked down at her hands. “I never fully understood why. For most, it is a dead language. Like so many things, she said I would learn why later.”
Tan touched her hand. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “I’m the one who should be sorry. You’ve never blamed me, but you should. If we hadn’t come from Incendin with hounds trailing us, your home would still be there. You wouldn’t have to be…” She took a deep breath and looked up, as if forcing herself to meet his eyes. “You wouldn’t have to be here with me.”
“And if I had been faster, more of your people might have survived.” Tan shook his head. “I don’t blame you for what happened to Nor. You left Incendin seeking safety. How were you to know the barrier wouldn’t hold?”
Amia swallowed. “I think Mother knew.”
Tan frowned. “How? The barrier has stood for nearly two decades. Why would it suddenly start to fall?”
“I don’t know. So much of our time in Incendin doesn’t make any sense to me. We shouldn’t have been traveling that deep in Incendin in the first place. Usually, when we visit Incendin, we stay near the borders, among the outer cities. Still dangerous, but we can find trade. For the most part, my people were left alone. No others travel into Incendin other than the Aeta.”
Tan wished he knew more about Incendin, but what he did know frightened him. Any place that welcomed creatures like the lisincend must be a terrible place. “Why did the Mother bring you deeper into Incendin?”
She shook her head. “It was dangerous. We all knew it at the time, but she thought we could reach Isha. None of my people had ever visited the city, but the Mother said she knew a safe way to reach it without crossing through the blasted lands.”
Tan sat silent, holding Amia’s hand.
“We had only been a day into the desert when we heard the hounds. All knew their call immediately. Mother thought they were still far out across the rocks, the dry air carrying their howls to us. The sound haunted us day and night as it drew closer.” She shivered. “The third day, we had to turn back. At first, it was only a single hound. Our men managed to stop it, but we knew others would come. We heard them calling.” She brought her legs up, tucking her arms around them. “We reached an ancient road Hosh—” her voice choked up as she said his name “—knew of and took it. The trail was difficult, winding up the rocky mountains, but when we came through, when I felt it as we passed through the barrier, we all thought we were safe.”
“That’s when I saw you,” Tan said.
Amia nodded. “I remember seeing you standing in the woods. Your smile seemed so out of place with how we all felt. We thought we were safe,” she said again. Her eyes went distant as she looked toward the hearth and she swallowed tightly. “And then when Zephra met us at the edge of the village and told us we weren’t welcome…” She sighed. “I thought the Mother might finally break down. She didn’t. Not until we were captured.”
They had never spoken of what happened after the lisincend captured the Aeta. Tan remembered the destruction of the wagons, nothing but splinters of wood remaining. Everything charred. He’d thought everyone dead.
“If she knew the risks, why did the Mother bring yo
u into Incendin?”
Amia shook her head. “We are a wandering people, driven by trade. What better than to trade exotic goods made in the heart of Incendin?”
Tan watched her as she spoke and heard the hint of bitterness in her words. “You think there was more to it than that.”
Amia looked over at the fading coals. “I wish I had the chance to understand. Why did she push us so deep into the blasted lands when trading along the borders had always been profitable? There are so few of our people willing to cross the border into Incendin, it makes those of us who do that much more successful.”
Tan leaned back in the wooden chair and waited for Amia to say more. When she didn’t, he reached his hand across the distance and touched her arm. They sat silently for a while.
“Will you try to find another family of Aeta?” Tan asked after a while.
Amia didn’t look up when she answered. “I have no need.” She didn’t elaborate.
Instead, she took a deep breath and reached for the book again. She turned the cover and flipped to the next chapter, resting her finger beneath the first line. “We should continue reading.”
Tan shook his head. “Not tonight. I’m tired and—”
Amia smiled at him, but it seemed forced. “I think you might be right about learning from the elementals. If you could understand golud, you might be able to intentionally shape.”
“Intentionally?”
Amia laughed softly. “When I first learned of my ability, I had little control. Shapings would happen without any intent. I suspect the same happens with other shapers.”
Tan wondered if that were possible. What would accidental shapings look like for him? What had they looked like for Amia?
“But you were young when you first learned. I’m not sure I’ll ever learn to shape at my age.”
Amia laughed. As she did, the darkness that had seemed to hang around her faded. “At your age? You’re not some old man attempting his first shaping.”
“No, but you should see the students that have come to the university. Most are five or six years younger than me. The girl who gave me that book couldn’t have been more than Bal’s age! And that’s still older than you were when you learned to shape.” Tan shook his head. “I know I’m an earth senser, but I’m still not convinced I’ll be able to learn shaping.”
Bound by Fire (The Cloud Warrior Saga Book 2) Page 3
