Bound by Fire (The Cloud Warrior Saga Book 2)

by D. K. Holmberg

  As he said it, he realized the mistake. He could not ask the draasin.

  Help? Teach so you can trap us again? Irritation came through the connection. Already you have placed walls around us we never had before. Why should we help?

  The walls must be Amia’s shaping. Then they still held.

  Not walls, but protections so you don’t harm people.

  Laughter again. This time darker and with a hint of malice. We have seen your people. We have seen how you harm each other. We have been hunted, chased, and killed, no differently than we hunt. That is how the Mother made us and how it will always be.

  Tan shook his head. He would not win an argument with the draasin. The creature was ancient—centuries old—and had experienced far more than Tan would ever know.

  And he sensed that.

  Through the connection, he sensed vast understanding and knowledge, a view of the world foreign to him—greater than him—that he simply could not grasp. To the draasin, his kind was transient, nothing more than a mote of passing time. The draasin were elementals, part of the fabric of the land. They had been trapped—abused—by the other elementals, forced into service. And they were still angry.

  I am sorry.

  There came another pause.

  And then the pain in the back of his mind twinged briefly before receding.

  Silence.

  Tan opened his eyes. The draasin had severed the connection. If he thought about it hard enough, he could tell it was still there, deep at the back of his mind, but he didn’t have the sense that he needed to push it away as he had before. He was left with the memory of the pain, little more.

  Rather than relief that the connection was gone, Tan felt something akin to disappointment. If Roine were right—if he had the potential to become a warrior—he would need whatever advantage he had to learn about shaping. And the draasin were his advantage.

  Tan turned and stared at the cold hearth, wondering where the draasin had gone. Not Galen as Roine thought, but no place he had ever seen either, but he might not even be able to recognize something as familiar as Nor when seen through the draasin’s eyes.

  He sighed again. If Roine were right, he needed to do whatever he could to learn how to shape. That meant the university and classes, but he hadn’t particularly cared for any of the classes he’d attended so far. What he needed was a way to reach the restricted archives, a way to gain access to some of the hidden texts the archivists stored. If he could find them, he might be able to learn how the ancient shapers used their connection to the elementals in their shaping. Maybe then he could learn to shape.

  But if Roine were right, then the draasin were dangerous. Too powerful to exist, at least as far as the ancient shapers were concerned, shapers who knew more about the draasin than Tan had learned. The same shapers he sought to learn from by accessing the archives. And if they felt the draasin were too dangerous to freely roam, why did he think he knew better?

  But there was that glimpse of what he’d sensed through the connection. A glimpse of what it meant to be one of the draasin, the way they were a part of the world, a part that had been missing—trapped in ice within the place of convergence—for so long that memories of the draasin had faded, leaving little more than records in a musty archive.

  Tan closed his eyes. As he drifted toward sleep, he decided it didn’t matter. The draasin were free. Amia had shaped the restrictions preventing them from hunting man. And as far as he could tell, the restrictions held.

  The draasin would not—and with what Amia had done, could not—harm anyone.

  His neck throbbed again but different than before, sharper and with more intensity since leaving the archives. He rubbed it, but it did nothing to change the pain.

  CHAPTER 8

  Heat and Fire

  A week passed when the explosion came. Tan was sitting in another class at the university at the time, forcing his attention, determined to learn what he could about shaping. So far, it was not going well.

  The speaker—Master Nystin, a thin, elderly wind shaper—spoke about how to use the currents in the air to capture the wind and pull it into a shaping, describing the shaping as something delicate and light, a mere touch of a shaping. Everything he spoke about sounded so impossible. The few people sitting in the class nodded. Most were likely wind sensers hoping to learn something that might allow them to become shapers. None were close to his age, though one—a boy who looked much like the kid from Keoth he’d seen in Master Ferran’s class—looked close.

  As he spoke, Master Nystin glanced at him. Every so often, he would frown and purse his lips, almost as if recognizing Tan. Had he known Zephra as well?

  A series of narrow windows lined the wall of the classroom. Tan stared through the thick glass, part of him wishing he hadn’t bothered coming to the class. He wasn’t even a wind senser; what was there for him to learn here?

  As Master Nystin spoke, a cool breeze flicked around the room. Tan suspected it was shaped. The old master swirled the wind around the room, barely rustling the papers on the teachers’ lectern. Roine had mentioned how difficult shapers found it to finely control the wind; what must his mother’s shapings have been like?

  The breeze grew warmer and drier. Tan looked away from the window to Master Nystin, but he saw no sign the master did anything different. The way the wind felt reminded him of how Galen had been in the days before the lisincend attacked.

  And then a distant explosion thundered.

  Master Nystin turned toward the window. His eyes went distant and wide, and then he hurried from the room, scurrying much faster than Tan would have expected for a man his age.

  The others sat in the room for a moment, too stunned to say anything.

  Another explosion came, louder than the last.

  Heat surged through the air. Tan’s skin tingled with it.

  He had known heat like this before. The lisincend.

  Could they have reached the university? Would they really dare attack Ethea with all the shapers here?

  The idea seemed impossible, but what other explanation was there?

  The others in the room hurried to the door. Tan followed, too uncertain to say anything. As they made their way through the dark corridors, a few of the other masters hurried out from behind closed doors, racing away from the university.

  Tan followed the other students into the courtyard.

  The air was still and hot, stagnant with the scent of ash and char. Dozens of students stood around, most in small groups, speaking softly to each other. Tan looked around for a familiar face but found no one. The only person at the university he really knew was Elle, and he hadn’t seen her since leaving the archives nearly a week ago.

  Thick clouds smeared across the gray sky, almost oppressive.

  Tan turned as someone came running up behind him.

  Roine ran toward the stone circle in the center of the courtyard. Dressed in a thick green jacket and pants, he held his sword unsheathed in his hand. His eyes were hard and intent. He barely nodded at Tan as he passed.

  Once he reached the center of the stone, a massive bolt of lightning streaked from the sky, striking him. Roine disappeared in the flash of light.

  The murmuring of voices started shortly after that.

  “Who was that?”

  “I don’t know. Is he one of the Masters?”

  “I haven’t seen a shaper do that before.”

  “No shaper can.”

  Tan considered telling them how Roine was not merely a shaper, but decided against it.

  Something tugged at his jacket, and he turned.

  Elle looked at him, today wearing a dress that seemed a size too small. It clung to her tiny frame. Her short, brown hair hung limply against her head. Her dark eyes flickered around the courtyard before settling on Tan.

  “Where did Theondar go?”

  Tan raised a finger to his lips and pulled her to the side until they reached a corner between buildings. “That’s not his n
ame.”

  Elle frowned. “You called him that when he appeared the last time.”

  He’d hoped she hadn’t heard him. “He doesn’t go by that name anymore.”

  She shrugged. “Whatever his name is. Where did he go?”

  Elle seemed unconcerned that a warrior long thought dead still lived. “I don’t know. Off to learn about the explosions.”

  “What do you think it was?”

  Tan shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  He didn’t want to think it could actually be Incendin attacking, not this close to Ethea, but what else made sense? The heat and stillness of the air were so much like what he’d felt when the hounds crossed the barrier.

  But how would they have reached Ethea already? How would they have crossed the barrier?

  Unless the barrier had grown too weak to hold them back.

  “You think it’s Incendin.”

  Tan shook his head. “I told you. I don’t know what it is.”

  But he could try to find out. He closed his eyes and tried a sensing, pushing it out from him. His sensing washed over the city, over thousands of people living and moving within the city, and then farther, out beyond the edge of Ethea, to the small farms on the edges. Beyond those farms were open plains. Trees dotted there, but not as many as in Galen. Small animals moved, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  There wasn’t a definite answer. And he sensed no evidence of Incendin, nothing that seemed out of the ordinary.

  What had caused the explosion?

  Elle watched him. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  Tan shook his head.

  “What did you sense?”

  He frowned. “How did you know I sensed anything?”

  Elle sniffed. “I’m a water senser. It attunes me to things like that. I can feel it when people are shaping around me.”

  “But I didn’t shape anything.”

  Elle shrugged. “Then you’re a strong senser, but I don’t usually know when someone is only sensing.” She looked back toward the stone circle at the center of the courtyard. “What do you think it was, then? Something big enough to get an Athan’s attention.”

  “He probably thought it was an Incendin shaper like I did.”

  “Incendin can’t reach Ethea. They have to get through the barrier—” Tan shot her a look, reminding her of what had happened in Nor “—and then make it here without being detected. They wouldn’t risk that.”

  “Unless they searched for something valuable,” Tan said, realizing a reason Incendin might risk coming to Ethea. If they really wanted to get the artifact, they might risk the kingdom’s shapers.

  He leaned against the wall, wondering how many lisincend it would take to overwhelm Ethea and the king’s shapers, when another crack of lightning streaked from the sky, striking the center of the circle of stones.

  Everyone in the courtyard fell silent.

  As the flash faded, Roine stepped away from the circle. He looked around the courtyard, his eyes dark and hard, until they settled on Tan, and then he pointed.

  Tan blinked, hurrying over toward Roine. Elle followed without asking permission.

  “What did you find?” he asked. “Was it the—” he turned, checking to make certain none of the other students were too close “—the lisincend?”

  Roine shook his head. “You know the barrier keeps the lisincend out of the kingdoms.”

  “Not entirely.”

  Roine grunted. He started walking toward the archway leading away from the university. Tan followed along. “Not entirely, but the barrier still holds. Thank the Great Mother we still have enough shapers for that.”

  “Then what caused the explosion?”

  Roine paused long enough to look from Tan to Elle. “Fire caused the explosion.”

  “Fire?” Elle asked.

  Roine breathed out. “The kind not seen in the kingdoms in nearly a thousand years.”

  Tan swallowed. When he’d spoken to the draasin, they had been far from the kingdoms. Or had they? Would he have known? The draasin had severed the connection between them, had muted it so that Tan barely felt it, but surely he would have known had the draasin attacked?

  “They couldn’t…” he started, looking over at Elle.

  Roine’s eyes hardened, if it were possible for stone to get harder. “Are you certain? Can you be sure her shaping held?” He shook his head and started off again. Tan had to run to keep up. “I warned you, Tannen. What you did was dangerous. We had no way of knowing what would happen and now… now they’ve attacked near the capital.”

  “But the shaping—”

  “You really think a shaping can contain one of the elementals?”

  Elle’s eyes widened. “A fire elemental? That’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it? But they’re not found in this part of the kingdoms, and when they are, they’re so weak, they can’t do more than burn the hair off a seal!”

  Tan stared at Roine. “The shaping holds.”

  “You can be so certain?”

  “Yes.”

  The corners of Roine’s eyes wrinkled slightly and he shook his head. “I wish I could believe that, but I’ve seen the devastation left after their passing. And now it’s more than only livestock. This time, an entire farm was scorched. Nothing remains of the farmer or his flock.”

  Scorched, not completely destroyed. Not like what the lisincend did to Nor.

  Maybe Roine was right. Maybe it wasn’t the lisincend. It still didn’t make much sense. He’d just spoken to the draasin the day before and they hadn’t been near Ethea then.

  Tan let out a frustrated sigh. He didn’t know, though, and that was the problem. Maybe they had attacked.

  Another thought troubled him, one he had no answer to. If Amia could shape the draasin, what prevented another from doing the same?

  But there weren’t spirit shapers other than the Aeta. And they would have no reason to shape the draasin.

  Roine continued away from the university. Tan hurried after him, weaving past the people crowding along the street. Most had a somber air, quiet and subdued, as if the explosions affected the entire city.

  “What are you going to do?” Tan asked.

  Roine looked over and shook his head. “I warned the king this might happen.”

  “Roine?”

  He slowed his steps and turned to face Tan. “Incendin will continue to attack. We can’t worry about an elemental attack catching us unaware.”

  “Roine?” Tan said again.

  “I’m sorry, Tannen. I’m afraid I will be sent to hunt the draasin.”

  Somewhere next to him, Elle gasped.

  CHAPTER 9

  Chasing Fire

  Tan leaned over the table in the archives, frustrated that he had come back here, frustrated that Amia had not been more helpful in teaching him. He stared at the book spread in front of him. He still hadn’t managed to learn anything more than what Amia taught him the first night she tried helping him learn the ancient language, but he kept at it, especially now with what Roine intended. Tan needed to understand everything he could about the draasin before Roine went after them. If only Roine would tell him when he planned to go.

  He pushed back from the table and let his eyes drift closed. The dim lantern strained his eyes, giving him a different sort of headache than he had from his connection to the draasin. The longer he studied in the archives, the more his head pounded. Worse, it didn’t matter that he’d been trying to understand the archives; nothing in the ones given to him by the archivist had anything to do with the draasin.

  And he needed to know.

  Could the draasin have attacked a farm near Ethea? Tan thought he would know if they had, that his connection with them would grant him awareness, but he’d felt nothing.

  Draasin!

  He sent the request with as much strength as he could. And then he waited.

  For a moment, he felt a slight fluttering in the back of his mind, but Tan wondered if th
at were more imagined than real. The sensation faded, slipping back into nothingness, almost as if something blocked it.

  Tan leaned against the chair, breathing slowly. Even the single effort of trying to speak to the draasin left him tired. How had it been so easy before?

  As he sat there, he felt another sense within his mind and he opened his eyes, smiling.

  Amia stood watching him. Her golden hair was looped atop her head. The silver band at her neck caught the dim light of the lantern, illuminating the top half of her simple white dress. Her eyes drifted to the stack of books on the table and she shook her head.

  “You think to learn Ishthin by reading about it?” she asked, grabbing the topmost book.

  Tan hadn’t managed to read anything in the book. The archivist claimed it served as a primer, a way to learn the language once a few key words were identified, but Tan hadn’t managed that much. Deciphering even a few words of the language seemed beyond him.

  “I’d like to learn it somehow, but I think I’m too dense to really understand.”

  Amia set the book down and took a seat next to him. She set her hand on the table, and he took it. A wave of relaxation washed through him as he held her hand and the shaped connection between them, the one formed out of fear of the lisincend, surged in his mind.

  “You might be dense about some things, but probably not about Ishthin. It is difficult to master. That’s why my people are taught it from such an early age.”

  He shook his head. “The archivist seems to think it might take a lifetime to learn.”

  Amia laughed softly. “A lifetime to learn nuance, perhaps, but that’s not what this book intends to teach.” She tapped the primer lightly. “Why are you suddenly so interested? It can’t be about the book on golud. The conversations written there were too dry to be of any use.”

  “Not golud.”

  Amia studied him, her lips pursed out slightly as she did, and then her eyes widened. “The draasin?” she whispered.

  He nodded. “Didn’t you hear the explosion today?”

  Amia’s eyes darkened for a moment. “I felt it.”

  “You felt it?”