Bound by Fire (The Cloud Warrior Saga Book 2)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “I—I’m not even a shaper.”

  “But you are. If you’ve summoned the wind, you’ve shaped it. Wind shaping is difficult and hard to master. Most of what’s done with wind is done in broad strokes, over wide spaces, though men like Alan have some finer skill. Most don’t. It’s what made your mother so unique. She could shape the most delicate shapings of wind, so subtle you barely knew she did them.”

  Tan heard the respect in his voice.

  “You were already an earth senser. The nymid, I think, awoke the water sensing.”

  “And the draasin?”

  Roine shrugged. “Probably the same. You aren’t a warrior, Tannen, but you can be. And the first the kingdoms have found in a generation. Incendin has waited, growing stronger while the kingdoms have become weaker. And now they’ve attacked. What happened in Galen will occur in other parts of the kingdoms. You saw what Fur could do. The kingdoms will need anyone who can shape to withstand them.”

  “Why me?”

  Tan hated the way the question sounded, but he’d lost everything—everyone—only to realize he might have some precious ability. And the only people who might have been able to guide him through it were gone.

  Roine looked to the sky, as if the sun overhead could grant answers. “Why any of us? Who knows why one of us is chosen and another not? Only the Great Mother and she doesn’t speak to me.”

  They stood overlooking the courtyard where each region of the kingdoms was represented. He had spent years resisting his mother pushing him to come to Ethea. Now he was here… and she was gone. Times like this, he missed her most. There was so much about his parents he didn’t know—would never know. All because of the artifact.

  He turned to Roine, and looked over at him. “What is the artifact?”

  Roine hesitated. He glanced up at the palace and nodded slowly, as if deciding. “To be honest, we don’t know,” he started, turning back to Tan. “It was supposed to be a source of power, but I begin to think it something else.”

  “Why?”

  Roine shook his head. “The way we found it. The way the elementals were tied to it. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

  “You think the artifact does something to the elementals?”

  Roine shrugged. “I don’t know. The archivists study such things more than I do. Jishun thinks that when activated, it lets someone speak to elementals who might not otherwise be able to.”

  Tan frowned. “Then why all the protections around it?”

  Roine nodded. “That was my question. If it was only about speaking to elementals, I don’t think the ancient warriors would have put so much effort into its protection.”

  “What else could it be used for?”

  A troubled look crossed Roine’s face, but he shook his head. “It probably doesn’t matter since none of us know how to use it anyway. Regardless of what it does, at least we kept it from Incendin. Had they acquired it—had Lacertin acquired it—there’s no telling what would have happened.”

  They reached the end of the palace courtyard. Roine stopped and nodded to Tan. “I haven’t been as available as I’d like. I hope that changes soon. I know you have questions and I’d like to help you learn the answers.”

  He patted Tan on the shoulder and turned back to the palace, leaving Tan standing and staring at the courtyard. He pressed out with his sensing ability, reaching through the trees and the grasses and the water, to feel everything around him as his father once taught him.

  Suddenly, he felt so very alone.

  CHAPTER 7

  Past, Present, and Future

  Books stacked across the large table in this section of the archives. Dust piled atop most of them, practically seeping from the bindings. Shielded lanterns cast thin light across the table. Tan wished for a shapers lamp like were found in the palace or in the cavern, but those were reserved for only the wealthy. He would have to make the lantern work.

  The archives were dark but dry. The air held little hint of moisture—likely shaped out—but carried a musty scent. Shelves worked in rows around the archives, most with newer texts, not the more ancient works he sought. Other than the lanterns, the archives were a dark, windowless place. Tan had the sense the archivists preferred it that way.

  He dragged it down the table, creating a trail in the thick dust as he did. How was it so few people used this space anymore? The stone walls created an oppressive feel, and the dusty air had an unused quality to it, but otherwise he felt cozy. As if all he needed was a hearth with a fire and he would be reminded of home. Even the chair, with its wide slats and comfortable seat, felt like home.

  Tan leaned over the book on the table, straining at the words. He’d asked the archivist for whatever records about the ancient language that might be helpful for learning the basics. After looking at him askance, the man had brought these from some hidden depths. Now, he moved around the perimeter of the archives, glancing at Tan, ostensibly checking the oil in the lanterns.

  Pain lanced through his head, different than it had been before and growing more intense the longer he remained in the archives. He blinked, wishing to sleep, but what the king had said to him kept him searching. Were he to become a shaper, he needed to understand the connection to the elementals and to learn whether the connection to the draasin was the reason for his pain.

  Tan sighed. His breath stirred up a cloud of dust and he covered his mouth to keep from breathing it in. This book had been little use. He turned to the next.

  “You can’t learn the ancient language entirely through books.”

  Tan looked up to see the archivist watching him. He leaned on the table, peering at the book Tan studied.

  “Need someone able to speak Ishthin to learn it. There aren’t many who still remember.”

  Amia did, but Tan hadn’t been able to find her after leaving Roine. Other than returning to his room, he didn’t know what else to do.

  “Can you speak the ancient language?” Tan asked.

  The archivist laughed softly. “Not as well as some. The older archivists read it as if they were born to the language. I’m still learning. Many of our oldest texts are written in Ishthin.”

  Tan looked at the book open on the table. Written much like the one Elle had lent him, strange characters filled the page, none of which he recognized. Try as she might, Amia hadn’t managed to teach him to read it. He struggled enough reading the common tongue. Had he focused as his mother suggested, he might be more literate, but there were always trees to climb, hills to explore. Sitting in dusty archives had never appealed to him before now.

  “How long did it take to learn?”

  Amia had learned from a very young age, but would the archivist or would he have learned like Tan needed to learn, drudging through books older than him in order to understand the language?

  The archivist shook his head. “Learning Ishthin takes a lifetime. There is much nuance to the language we no longer have the experience to appreciate.” He looked around and nodded toward a thin man with a stooped back and spectacles making his way through the door to the back of the archives. “In time, I may acquire the same mastery our senior archivists have, but until then…” He shrugged. “Until then, I serve here.”

  Tan sighed. “So it’s pointless?"

  The archivist chuckled. “Not pointless. Merely challenging.” He studied Tan a moment. “You would learn Ishthin? The archives interest you?”

  He nodded. “Part of the archives interest me,” he admitted. As friendly as this man seemed, he didn’t want to tell him why he searched. What would happen if he admitted interest in the draasin?

  The archivist tapped the books next to Tan. “To some, Ishthin comes easy. It is like shaping that way, or how some used to speak to the elementals. To others, the ancient language will never be mastered. You can’t know unless you try.”

  Tan looked at the stack of books. Symbols worked around the top of the book much like the book about golud. And just like that book, he could
make out nothing on the page. “Trying isn’t getting me very far.”

  The archivist shrugged again. “Then maybe your strength lies elsewhere.” He hesitated and nodded toward where the other archivist had disappeared. “I should go. Master Yulan has returned from his research. He’s been gone for months and when he returns, he gathers the archivists together.” He wiped his hands on his robe. “Let me know if I can help find anything else.”

  The archivist moved toward the back door. Tan sighed, pulling the next book over to him. A soft shuffling came from the end of the room and he turned.

  Standing near the end of the table, Elle watched him. She wore what appeared to be a man’s shirt and pants, both a few sizes too large. Short hair was pinned away from her forehead. She clutched two books to her chest, much like the last time Tan saw her.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Tan blinked. “You lent me a book on golud. How else am I to learn to read it?”

  Elle glanced around nervously and took an uncertain step toward the table. “You actually intend to read it?” she asked in a hushed voice.

  Tan laughed. “Isn’t that why you lent it to me?”

  Elle pulled a chair out from the other side of the table and took a seat. She set the books she held atop the table. Only the rough edges of the pages were visible. “You think the elementals could help you learn shaping?”

  He let out a slow breath. If he could return to the place of convergence, would the nymid help him learn shaping? If he truly could be a warrior, that meant he had the potential to be a water shaper. The nymid had been most concerned about Amia, doing what they did to help save her, but hadn’t they kept Tan alive, too?

  And the draasin…would it help him learn fire shaping? He had the sense it would laugh if he asked. Approaching the draasin would take a different tact.

  “I think it might work better than anything else I’d tried.”

  Elle looked at the books Tan had spread in front of him. She touched them, tracing her finger across the binding. “What are these?”

  Tan shook his head. “Trying to learn Ishthin. I didn’t have a grandfather like yours able to teach me.”

  “And I didn’t have parents to shield me,” Elle said.

  Tan noted the touch of resentment in her voice and sighed. “I’m sorry. You’ve been friendly with me. Not everyone I’ve met in Ethea has been.”

  Elle laughed, and Tan frowned. “Not many at the university are friendly,” she said. “When you’re here for long enough, you begin to see that. Either they want to use you or they fear you might be better than them.”

  “I’m not much to fear. I’m only a senser—”

  “Who’s friendly with one of the Athan. And Roine, at that.” Elle shook her head. “You’ll find most would think that’s reason enough to fear you without even knowing you.” She laughed again. “And then you challenge Master Ferran while he’s giving his talk, making claims of seeing lisincend—and surviving—while in Galen.” A smile split her lips, making her look slightly older than she did otherwise. “No, there’s no reason to fear you!”

  Tan looked at his hands, eyes drifting over to the books stacked there. Only the archivist hadn’t seemed annoyed by him. But if everyone in the university felt that way, no one would teach the new shapers.

  But then Tan thought about what Roine said. If he could become a warrior, others in the university would have reason for jealousy. There hadn’t been a warrior since Roine’s time, and even then, they were rare.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  Elle pushed a book at him and smiled. “I know you didn’t. You’re too new here to mean anything.” She leaned atop the books she’d carried into the archives, covering them with her arms. “If you think to learn Ishthin, you need someone who speaks it. You can’t learn it from books, at least not well.”

  “That’s what he said.” Tan motioned toward the archivist standing near a darkened doorway.

  Elle looked over at him and her eyes narrowed. “Him? He’s the one I convinced to let me into the restricted archives. Now, if only I can get him to help me reach the lower archives…”

  “What do you think to learn?”

  Elle shook her head, pushing a strand of loose hair back behind her. “There’s much not known about the elementals, but what is known is recorded in these archives. If I only had answers.”

  “Answers?”

  Elle shook her head and turned away.

  “Answers to what?” Tan pressed.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  He thought about what he knew of the elementals, which was limited to the nymid and the draasin. But if the archives contained more information, could he better understand why he was able to speak to them and what that meant for his ability to learn shaping? Could he really learn to shape the elements, not simply speak to the great elementals? It seemed impossible to believe he could ever have the arcane skills Roine possessed, but if he had already shaped the wind—controlled it to save Amia—and could sense earth, what other answer was there?

  The stooped man with the spectacles came back through the door and stared at them.

  Elle turned quickly, pulling her books against her. “I should go,” she said.

  She stood and hurried from the archives. The old archivist watched her.

  Strangely, pressure built behind Tan’s ears.

  Tan sat back in his chair back in his room, staring blankly. An oil lantern, one with impure oil leaving a sooty smoke streaming from it, burned on a table nearby. Tan felt tempted to quench it, but that would plunge the room into full darkness, and he wasn’t quite ready for sleep.

  Amia hadn’t returned.

  As he sat there, head throbbing since leaving the archives, he thought about Elle. The young girl amused him, but there was no questioning that she might be smarter than him. She could read the ancient language for one, but more than that, she had a level of experience with shapers Tan had not yet acquired. The few weeks spent around Roine would not make up for the years missed with his parents.

  He sighed. How could they have been shapers but not tell him?

  If only his mother were still in Nor, then he could go to her and ask why she’d kept so much from him. But at least she’d told him about herself. Tan had to learn about his father from Roine.

  His eyes flickered closed and he rested his head against the chair.

  As he sighed, the throbbing at the back of his neck bothered him. He rubbed at it, pushing back against the draasin. If only he could get the pain to go away.

  Leave me alone.

  It had been so long since he’d spoken to the elementals and he didn’t mean to send anything, but the wave of fatigue washing over him told him he’d sent it.

  Tan breathed slowly, letting sleep pull at him. The throbbing in his neck didn’t change.

  Then, suddenly, he heard a soft laughter in the back of his mind, growing stronger.

  Little Warrior. You speak again.

  Tan didn’t open his eyes. What had he done, sending a communication to the draasin? Now that it spoke to him, he could no more shut it off than he could dam the Gherash River running through northern Galen.

  The draasin laughed again.

  You needn’t fear us, Little Warrior. You are too far from me to bother hunting.

  This time, Tan laughed. Where do you hunt?

  Roine claimed the draasin still prowled Galen. Could he determine if that were true?

  An image flickered into his mind. Sand and rock and stunted trees flashed across his mind, the vision blurred and streaked with orange and red. It took Tan a moment to realize he saw as if through draasin eyes, eyes as different to his as the draasin were to him. The vision reminded him of the strange dream he’d had.

  He did not recognize the terrain, but it wasn’t Galen.

  Did you catch Twisted Fire? Tan used the nymid term for the lisincend, uncertain whether the draasin would understand.

  He sensed irritation.


  That one is strong. A note of respect simmered within the comment. He is injured and will not hunt well again. But I did not capture him.

  Fur escaped. At least one question was answered. And you… are you well?

  The draasin laughed again, the sound practically booming through his mind. Otherwise, the draasin did not tear at his mind as it had the last time. He wondered if it was distance or something the draasin did.

  Your kind trapped the draasin for centuries and now you wonder if we are well? You are a curious one.

  Tan thought of the relief at the palace, the relationship with the draasin depicted there, with either the shapers leading the draasin or the draasin chasing the shapers. Did it have to be that way? Could he forge a balance with them? Did it need to be one or the other?

  I was not the one to trap you beneath the ice.

  There came a pause, as if the draasin listened. Or perhaps it was distracted and ignored Tan. For long moments, the draasin said nothing.

  Tan let out a sigh. He’d been careless. Roine was right—he didn’t know enough about the draasin to communicate with them. From what Tan could tell, his mind wasn’t strong enough to withstand them. What would happen if the draasin tried to overpower him?

  Laughter echoed in his mind. The draasin had not gone.

  Little Warrior. You are young, but not as weak as you believe. You seek to bend the earth when you should chase the flames.

  Tan swallowed. The draasin had said something like that when he’d freed them from the ice though he didn’t know what it meant at the time. He wasn’t the warrior the draasin believed.

  I’m an earth senser but I can’t shape it.

  Laughter again. This time stronger, closer. Did the draasin come for him?

  You speak to the nymid. You speak to draasin. Few of your kind have ever bothered.

  Tan felt as if his heart paused. Could you help?