Bound by Fire (The Cloud Warrior Saga Book 2)

by D. K. Holmberg

  The air had the same earthy scent he remembered from Galen. The only thing missing was the steep rocky climb and the steady gusting of wind through the branches. And his friends and parents.

  “The other sections aren’t like this?”

  Roine shook his head. “I imagine your young friend Elle would prefer to stroll alongside the lake representing Vatten. Your father once would have liked the open plains representing Ter.” Roine shrugged. “Even Nara is represented, though we have fewer and fewer people come from there.”

  They reached an intersection along the path and Roine turned. Tan sensed the pathway through the trees. He could practically close his eyes and find the way. Near the end of the path, a void blocked his senses, preventing him from going further.

  He frowned.

  “You sense it, don’t you?” Roine asked.

  “What is it?”

  He motioned ahead of them. “That’s the palace. Like the barrier that protects the border with Incendin, there are protections built overtop the palace to prevent access. Only a few shapers are allowed within.” He tapped the silver ring on his finger.

  “Only the Athan?”

  Roine nodded. “This grants my access. Without it, I would be no more able to enter it than…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I almost said no more able to enter than Incendin can cross our border, but we’ve learned that’s not entirely right, haven’t we?”

  “What if I were a shaper?” Would the barrier around the palace tell him if he could learn to shape? If he could pass, did it mean he wasn’t meant to become a shaper, that he’d have to be content sensing only?

  Roine smiled, as if reading his thoughts. “It doesn’t work like that. Only those who have demonstrated shaping are prevented access. Besides, you travel with me so could pass through anyway. This ring—” he tapped it softly “—creates a sort of bubble that allows me to pass through the barrier.”

  “Would it work on the barrier between the kingdoms and Incendin?”

  Roine shook his head. “A good question, but that’s a different type of barrier. Shapers hold that barrier in place. They can feel subtle changes trying to pass through.”

  “How did the lisincend get through? What did Lacertin do to let them across?”

  Roine’s face clouded. “I don’t know. I still haven’t learned how he managed that.”

  The trees ended as they reached the end of the path. In front of them, the massive white stone palace rose high overhead. Sunlight practically gleamed off the sides of the stone, making it almost seem to glow. Four spires surrounded a taller central spire that rose high overhead, looking overtop the kingdoms.

  The king would be within the palace. Without his order, Tan’s father might still live.

  And without the lisincend, his mother might still live.

  Tan sighed, pushing away his anger. Nothing he could do would change the past. All he could do now was work for his future, whatever it might be.

  Roine clapped him on the shoulder. “Are you ready?”

  Tan took a deep breath. “Ready for what?”

  Roine grunted out a laugh. “For what? You get to meet the king. Not many sensers your age can claim to do so.”

  Tan only shrugged. “I’m as ready as I can be.”

  Roine studied him. He paused before starting forward. “Listen, Tan. I know you feel like you’ve lost everything. And you’ve lost more than most. But remember, Althem is our king.”

  Tan sighed and nodded. Something about the way Roine spoke made him frown, almost as if Roine were trying to convince himself as much as Tan.

  CHAPTER 5

  The Value of Shaping

  They made their way into the palace. The floor looked to be made of slick marble, but Tan had no difficulty with his footing as they walked through the halls. Portraits lined the walls and it took only a moment for Tan to realize they were the faces of long-dead kings. Most portraits had symbols marked in one of the corners.

  “They were shapers,” he said aloud, finally recognizing the symbols.

  Roine followed Tan’s attention and nodded. “Most have been. Shaping is in the royal bloodline.”

  Tan looked at the pictures. There were shared features among them—the same prominent jaw, a distinctive nose, the dark coloring of their skin—but nothing that would declare them as shapers. “Any warriors?”

  Roine grunted and pointed to one of the nearest portraits. It was no larger than the other nearby paintings. A gilded frame surrounded it, making it more ornate than the others nearby. Symbols marked each corner. “Ilton the First. He was the last warrior to sit the throne.”

  “And does the current king?”

  Roine smiled. “I think he has some talent in shaping.”

  Tan turned and eyed Roine. “Think?”

  Roine shrugged. “He keeps his ability hidden, but most suspect he has some modest shaping ability.”

  “Why would he hide it?”

  They stopped further along the hall and Roine pointed at another portrait. This was larger than most, though set into a simple wooden frame. The man had a long, pointed nose and close-cropped hair. Pale blue eyes stared out at him, looking as if they could see the entire hall. Tan noted that no symbols marked the corners.

  “This was King Weston.”

  Tan’s eyes widened. Roine smiled.

  “You’ve heard of him then?”

  “My father spoke of him. He said he kept the kingdoms intact while fighting a war with Rens.”

  Tan recalled the night his father had told him of King Weston. The evening had been particularly gusty, even for Galen, and the fire in the hearth only barely pressed back the cold. His mother stooped over the kettle hanging near the fire, slowly stirring her stew. His father whittled on a piece of wood, turning the thick hunk of shapeless wood into a fantastic figure of a wide woodsman. Many nights were the same, but that one had been special. It was the night his father helped him realize shaping alone wasn’t the key to power.

  He let out a pent-up breath. Thinking of his father wouldn’t bring him back. And it did nothing to curb his anger at the king for what had happened. Had the king not sent him toward the border with Incendin, his father might still live.

  Only to die like his mother in Nor.

  Roine watched him for a moment before nodding. “Rens. What would become Incendin. Yes, King Weston managed to keep the kingdoms intact as Rens worked to steal the eastern border. Nara once stretched much farther east, spilling into what we now know as Incendin. Rens claimed their people and Nara shared a common lineage, that they only sought to protect the bloodline.” Roine shook his head. “Weston recognized what they intended. How they sought to claim shapers. He was the reason the university grew to what it is today. Before King Weston, it was a place for scholars, where only the privileged could study. He made it so any could come, drawing shapers from all over the kingdoms who would learn from other shapers, expanding their knowledge. He is widely known as a skilled soldier and wise leader. But he was no shaper.”

  Tan stared at the picture. The commitment made by his parents to the kingdoms went back farther than the king. It went back generations. And they had done what countless before them had done by coming to Ethea to learn.

  He wondered if that was the point Roine was trying to make. That he shouldn’t blame the king for what happened to his parents. Or did he have a different intent? With Roine, Tan was never certain. “You’re saying the king wants to be judged on how he rules without needing to shape?”

  Roine shrugged. “I’m saying a man can be great whether he shapes or not. Shaping does not make one man better than another, nor does it make one king a better ruler than another.”

  They paused near the end of the hall and Roine tilted his head at the door. He gripped Tan’s shoulder and squeezed. It reminded Tan of what his father would do before they went hunting. And the way he’d said farewell before leaving for the war. Tan had never seen him again.

  “Althem may not be
a shaper—or a warrior—but he is your king,” Roine reminded him.

  Tan couldn’t help but note the familiar way Roine said the king’s name. As he did, he remembered what his mother had said about the long-dead princess and Theondar—the name Roine had once gone by—and the connection they shared. Of course, Roine would be close to the king.

  “What will he ask of me?”

  Roine shook his head. “I don’t know. You have already done so much.”

  Then he turned from the door and pushed it open.

  The room on the other side of the door was incredibly ornate. A latticework of gold worked around the walls. Massive pale marble pillars rose through the room. Decorative sculptures were worked into the pillars, most in the shapes of elementals. Tan noted the draasin as they swooped around one of the pillars, hot fire breathing from their lungs.

  A massive chair—the throne—stood empty at the end of the room.

  Roine approached it and slowed. “I thought he would be here—”

  As he spoke, a hidden door opened and a thin man made his way through it, hurrying toward the throne. He was dressed no differently than Roine, wearing a rich navy jacket and deep black pants. Polished boots echoed off the stone. His gray eyes shone as he neared.

  It was the nose and jaw that gave him away.

  Tan recognized the resemblance to the portraits he’d seen in the hall outside the throne room. Other than that, only his decorative short sword, the hilt covered with bright jewels, looked in any way kingly or regal.

  Another man walked alongside him, hovering slightly behind. He was thin and had thick, silvery hair slicked back over his head. Piercing blue eyes scanned everything around him, pausing on Roine for a moment before turning to Tan. Something about the intensity of his gaze made the ache in Tan’s neck and head pulse.

  Like Roine, the man wore a slender band of silver on his finger. An Athan—one of the few direct servants to the king.

  Roine watched him and nodded respectfully.

  The king’s mouth tightened when he reached Roine, and he nodded. He remained standing, looking up at Tan. “You are Tannen Minden.”

  His voice was sharp and he spoke it as a statement rather than a question.

  Tan wondered if he was expected to bow or kneel or show some other sort of gesture. Living away from Ethea made him naïve to the customs of the capital. In Galen—and Nor, particularly—he had only to worry about the manor lord. Lord Lins had been of low enough station that Tan had not had to bow to him.

  “Yes, sire,” he said. He tipped his head, bending at the waist.

  The king watched him, the tight expression on his lips relaxing into a smile. “I thought you instructed him better, Roine. Why did you want me to meet with him again?”

  Roine blinked. “He’s had as much instruction as the lisincend would allow. Unfortunately, Fur did not accommodate the needs of his training.”

  Tan frowned. His training? Roine had done nothing to train him. They’d spent their time searching for the artifact, barely able to stay alive.

  “And you tell me Fur is not a danger.” The other Athan spoke slowly, his voice infused with a strange accent that strangely reminded Tan of the Aeta.

  Roine shook his head, looking over at the other Athan. “Fur is always a danger, Jishun. Until we know for certain he’s been destroyed, we need to be careful. I’ve warned you what will happen if they create more lisincend.”

  The king waived his hand, interrupting the two. “The shaping is dangerous. The reports from Incendin have always said nearly half die in the process.”

  Roine snorted. “It is the half who survive we should fear.”

  The king looked at Roine with amusement. “You still think the barrier so weak that Incendin can cross?”

  “The barrier is not weak—”

  The king cut him off. “Had it not been for my father, the shapers would never have created the barrier.”

  Roine’s eyes narrowed. “And it was his favored warrior who first thought of the barrier.”

  Jishun smiled. Darkness flashed in his eyes. “Lacertin? You still fear him after all this time?”

  “I had not thought of him in over a decade. But then he attacked me as we claimed the artifact.” Roine took a quick breath. “So yes, I think we should fear him.”

  “You said you’ve seen no sign of him since then,” the king said.

  “And I have not.”

  “Then why should we fear him? If he’s hidden for nearly ten years, what makes you think he won’t hide for another ten?” Jishun asked. He stood next to the king, leaning slightly toward him.

  “He knows we found the artifact. And if it’s what we think—”

  Jishun shot a look at Tan and shook his head, cutting Roine short.

  Tan waited. What did they think the artifact did? Roine explained that it was a source of power, some way for the power of the ancient shapers to return, but he hadn’t managed to make it work. What did they know?

  Roine looked at the king, ignoring the other Athan. “Tannen nearly died more than once trying to reach the artifact, Althem. I think he can be included in this conversation.”

  Tan blinked. Had Roine just chastised the king?

  Jishun leaned forward toward Roine. “And yet he has barely joined the university and is not a shaper. If knowledge leaks out… if it reaches Incendin—”

  “What more can Incendin learn? That we found the artifact? Fur or Lacertin will tell them that more quickly than rumor from the university. Or that we haven’t managed to successfully use the artifact?” Jishun glared at Roine as he spoke. “That might be more interesting to Incendin, but even that won’t surprise them. And where does it leave us?”

  The king laughed bitterly, waving a hand between his Athan. “No closer than we were to understanding.”

  Tan looked from Roine to the king. They spoke as if he weren’t even there. “Understanding what?” he asked.

  The king turned and studied him with an unreadable expression in his dark gray eyes.

  Roine breathed heavily. “The kingdom is near a crisis, one our scholars have been unable to solve.”

  “Shapers?” Tan asked.

  Roine nodded. “Yes. Shapers. Once the pride of the kingdoms, the source of our strength and power. Shapers kept our borders safe, but now…”

  Tan didn’t need Roine to finish. Most knew the numbers of shapers dwindled, if not why. “I know there aren’t warriors like we once had,” he looked at Roine, who only shrugged, “but I thought the university still had plenty of shapers.”

  He thought about what he’d seen while at the university. Tan hadn’t been in Ethea long enough to understand how many shapers there were. Most of what he’d seen were sensers, people like him, and most too young to serve the kingdoms.

  “As I said,” the king spoke, turning to Roine, “he has barely joined the university.”

  Roine looked at Tan for a long moment, studying him as if trying to decide something. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Tannen has proven himself adept. He might not have mastered shaping yet, but his ability extends beyond that.”

  The king frowned.

  Tan’s heart paused.

  Roine looked from the Jishun to the king. “Tannen speaks to them.”

  The king turned and leveled his gaze on Tan again. This time, it carried the weight of his station. Tan nearly bowed beneath it.

  “Which one?”

  Roine took a quick breath. “The nymid,” he began. “At Tan’s request, they aided me when I fought Fur. They helped him rescue the girl. And they released the protections around the artifact.”

  Tan didn’t know what to be more surprised about—that Roine hadn’t shared with the king how he’d spoken to the nymid before now or that he said nothing about the draasin.

  “The nymid? They are one of the lesser elementals,” Jishun said. “Many speak to the lesser elementals.”

  Roine shook his head. “I felt the same until I witnessed what they accompl
ished. At least at that place—the place of convergence—the nymid were the equal of the udilm.” He smiled at Jishun without any warmth. “Perhaps the archives are mistaken, Jishun.”

  The king turned and began pacing, walking around the massive throne, tapping the long finger of his left hand on his chin. Tan noted he wore a slender silver band on his finger much like the one Roine and Jishun wore. Did that allow him to pass through the barrier around the palace, or was there another reason for the ring?

  After he circled the chair twice, the king stopped and looked up at Roine, meeting his eyes. “You say he’s an earth senser, like his father.”

  Roine nodded.

  “Yet he speaks to the nymid.”

  Roine nodded again. “Not just the nymid.”

  Tan realized Roine was making a point of not looking at him.

  The king’s eyes narrowed and he looked from Roine to Tan. “He speaks to another elemental?”

  “He does.”

  Jishun turned to Tan, who felt the Athan’s gaze was almost heavier than the king’s. “Which one?”

  Roine did look over now. He met Tan’s eyes. “The draasin.”

  The king blinked and then shook his head. “The draasin? They have been gone for—”

  “Centuries,” Roine finished. “Hunted to extinction. Or so we thought.”

  Jishun turned to Roine. “He claims to speak to the nymid and you believe him. And then he claims to speak to the draasin? Roine, I thought you better than that.”

  “The nymid saved his life. All our lives, really. And I saw the draasin.”

  The king shivered. “You—you saw one?”

  Roine nodded. “The ancients had trapped them in the ice. They used them to fuel the protections around the artifact. Had he not spoken to them—had Amia not shaped it—we would not have succeeded in securing the artifact.”

  Jishun’s eyes widened briefly at the mention of Amia shaping the draasin.

  Silence settled around them for long moments. Finally, the king looked over at Tan. An interested fire came to his eyes. “What was it like? The draasin? What was it like when you spoke to it?”

  Tan thought about the way the elemental had filled his mind, how he’d feared losing himself in the enormity of the creature. Could he explain to the king what he felt about the draasin, how they were a necessary—though dangerous—part of the world?