Tan sighed and stared at the sky. The sun was falling, leaving swirls of orange and red streaking across the horizon, much like what he saw when looking through Asboel’s eyes. The sense of Asboel was there, distant but content. He was safe. Sashari was safe. Tan suspected that Enya was also safe, but he heard so little about her. Asboel would have warned were she in danger, wouldn’t he? Or would Par-shon manage to draw her?
“The bond offers the draasin protection,” he said. “They can’t simply be forced. It would have to be taken from the bonded.” And doing that meant creating some way of separating the bond, either like what they had seen in Incendin, or by what he had nearly experienced in Par-shon. Either took time. Possibly time enough for the draasin to be rescued were they captured.
“Zephra nearly died when the bond was stolen,” Cianna said.
“There is risk. My mother nearly died. Vel, Cora, and…” he wasn’t sure what to call the other man, as the healers still hadn’t learned his name, “well, they nearly lost their mind. I don’t know what would have happened to me had the bond failed, but I know how painful it was for me, so I can suspect.”
“Why would I do this thing?”
“Because there is value to you. Think of the shapings Zephra can work, how much she has learned from the wind. I would not be the shaper I am now, as ignorant as I still am, without the guidance of the elementals. And because it is the draasin.” This was the most important reason, at least to Tan. “They were gone from the world for so long. If Par-shon claims them, they might truly be lost. If they are, they would never return.”
Cianna took a few slow, thoughtful breaths, pacing from side to side across the rock. A warm breeze began blowing, whispering around them, blowing in from the south. Ashi seemed interested in making its opinion known as well.
“If I were to accept, she would allow me to ride her again?”
Tan laughed. “I think she would demand it of you. They thought you ‘bold.’”
Cianna grinned again. “Only because you are so timid by comparison. You are a warrior. And a draasin rider. You could not be hurt!”
“You might be surprised,” he said.
Cianna’s face turned serious, her eyes narrowing. Heat surged from her skin. “You may tell her that I would accept the bond were it offered.”
Tan felt relief wash through him. He had not been entirely certain that Cianna would accept. She had seen how his bond with the draasin had changed him, but there was such strength and understanding to working with the elemental. As much as any who shaped fire, Cianna understood. It was why he had thought of her first. And if Sashari agreed, it left only Enya to figure out until the hatchlings were older. They could bond when young, but that type of bond felt no different to him than a forced bond.
He focused on his connection to Asboel and realized that the draasin was actually nearer than he thought.
Sashari will accept the bond if the Bold One agrees.
Tan took in Cianna’s unruly red hair, her slight frame, and the playful heat to her eyes. Bold One suited her. She was uncertain. She fears what it means for her.
As does Sashari. Were it not you asking, Maelen, Sashari would not have considered. She recognizes your intent through the fire bond.
I hope I am not wrong.
As do I, but I see wisdom in your request.
How will they bond?
Asboel made a strange clicking sound, something like a chuckle. It has already begun.
Tan saw Cianna’s eyes go wide. Her body became stiff and she stood frozen in place. She still shaped, though, massive amounts of heat coming off her skin and misting in the air.
“I can hear… something,” Cianna whispered.
“You will need to call to her,” Tan urged. He suspected that if he were to give Sashari’s name to Cianna, it would hasten the connection, but doing so felt a violation of sorts. The name must be given willingly.
Cianna shaped fire, and it built within her. As it did, heat and steam and power radiated from her. Her lips moved, as if she spoke, but no words came out. Cianna’s face contorted as she worked with Sashari, and then her eyes snapped open.
“Sashari,” she breathed. The word left her lips on a shaping of fire and disappeared.
Spirit bloomed briefly, like a flash of light, and then faded. Had Tan not been able to shape spirit, he doubted he would have ever sensed it. It was beautiful and natural and so very powerful, nothing like the cruel and ugly bond forced on the elementals by Par-shon.
Sashari landed suddenly, almost crashing to the ground. She twisted her massive head and stared at Tan, briefly bowing it toward the ground. Raising it again, she turned to Cianna.
Cianna seemed to listen and then climbed onto Sashari’s back, the wide smile never leaving her face. Tan had the distant sense of their connection. Were he to focus with a shaping of spirit, he thought he might be able to reach and listen, but it was not his to share.
They took to the air, and Cianna laughed as they did. It was good that Cianna could experience the joy of the bond for now. Soon enough, he suspected there would be a different need for the bond, a different test.
Sashari is pleased, Maelen.
Tan stared after them. Do you think Enya will ever accept a bond?
Enya will need time. She fears the connection we share, as she fears your kind. In that way, she is young. We must shield her.
I will do all that I can to protect her, Tan said.
I know that you will. You are Maelen. Now, while Sashari plays, I must return to the hatchlings. They grow restless and hungry.
They seemed content to eat your ears.
Asboel snorted high overhead, the plume of smoke from his nostrils becoming a thick cloud. Careful, or I will let them eat yours.
Remember, I am Maelen. They will find me more challenging than I’m worth.
This is true. Best that I find them a soft cow.
Tan laughed as he took to the air on a shaping of wind, augmented by Honl. He added a hint of fire. He reached Asboel as he circled overhead.
We will hunt soon, Maelen.
Tan feared that they would need to hunt, and feared where it would lead them.
14
A Mother’s Return
Amia summoned him upon his return. He had recognized her hesitation when he suggested that he would take Cianna with him, but she understood the reason. There was no need for the irritation Amia felt toward Cianna, but it didn’t change the fact that it existed. The shared connection to fire was a part of it, but Tan suspected there was more he didn’t fully understand.
“It worked,” she said, studying his face, when he reached the door of their house.
Tan nodded, entering the house and pulling the door closed behind him. The room smelled of cut flowers and spices. A large wreath of woven flowers draped over one of the chairs. A weary expression on Amia’s face told him that she had been working the entire time he had been gone, only he didn’t quite know what she had been working on.
“I didn’t know if it would work,” Tan admitted. “How to convince an elemental of the need for a bond? But Cianna has always served fire in a way the draasin respect. She will be a good match for Sashari.”
“Where is she now?”
Tan glanced toward the window. “Out. Somewhere out there. She travels with her now. They will need to explore the bond and come to understand what it means for them.”
“I sense that you’re relieved.”
Tan was. He hadn’t realized how worried he had been about the draasin, but knowing that he wasn’t going to be the only one to protect them gave him more confidence that they could keep the draasin safe from Par-shon. “There is much more to be done. Roine isn’t willing to help rescue Elle, but I haven’t been able to reach her anyway.”
“I’ve tried as well. I thought the connection between us would facilitate me reaching out, but there is nothing but silence.”
She didn’t say it, but Tan knew Amia thought Elle was dead.
“Other than my mother, she’s the only family I have left,” he said.
Amia made her way over to him, and embraced him. They stood together for a moment, their shared connection giving more reassurance than the physical contact.
“You’re preparing for the First Mother?” he asked.
Amia nodded. “The People gather outside Ethea. Nearly a dozen families in all.”
“Only a dozen? That doesn’t seem right. How many were there?” When Tan had originally met the First Mother, when they’d gone to the Gathering, there had been at least six families already there, with more arriving as they waited. How had the Aeta lost so much?
Amia shrugged. “When I first went to the Gathering, I remembered it as a time of celebration. A thousand or more of the People would come together. We would have songs and commune by the great fire. There would be trading, but mostly there would be stories, tales told of the People, of the lands we’d crossed since last we gathered. The Mothers would meet and celebrate. Daughters would be raised.” Her hand went to her neck as she remembered. “It was where I first learned what I could do. What I would be. I remember… I remember the way she took me aside when I was barely more than five. I think I knew even then. She shaped me, layering it overtop my mind, freeing me.”
Amia closed her eyes and wrung her hands together as she remembered. “My mother could never teach. She was a skilled senser, but she couldn’t teach what I needed. The First Mother provided those lessons.” She sighed and fell silent for a moment. “It was more than that. The Gathering was a time of communion. During that time, we would be more than caravans and families. We would be one, a People.”
Her eyes glistened with tears. “We are the landless. Wanderers, but during the Gathering, we had a place. None would admit it, but those would be the best days of the People. Always before, the First Mother would call the Gathering. It was how we knew to come together. Now there is no more First Mother. She has called her final Gathering.”
Tan hugged her again, holding her against him as her tears came in steady sobs. Amia had worked so hard to hide those tears, almost as if she feared what would happen were she to let them out. Tan was glad she felt safe enough with him for the tears to flow freely.
“Will you go?” he asked.
“I am no longer of the People,” she answered. “I don’t know if I could ever return after what happened.”
“You know that I—”
She stopped him, pressing a finger to his lips. “I know you will,” she said, stopping him before he could tell her how he would support her. She took a deep breath and shook her head as she changed subjects. “I prepared a wreath to travel with her body.”
“You’ll be the one to bring her body to them?”
“Roine offered another, but I think this should be me. I might have chosen to leave the People, but that doesn’t mean I can’t grieve.” Tears still welled up in her eyes. “I don’t want to do this alone,” she said.
Tan kissed her forehead. She had lost so much, he knew losing even more was what she feared the most. “You will never be alone.”
Amia swallowed and rested her head on his chest. They stood there as the remains of sunlight faded, leaving the room shadowed, and neither spoke.
* * *
A shaping to carry the First Mother outside the walls of the city felt somehow wrong, so they took her by more conventional means. Roine provided a wagon and a team of horses for them to ride out to the Aeta.
The mother laid upon a finely woven blanket, a pillow propping her head up. Amia had dressed her in a colorful gown she’d acquired for the burial. Her hands were clasped across her chest. In death, she looked peaceful—and older than she had ever appeared while alive.
They rode in silence. Amia, who had much more experience with horses, steered. Living in the mountains of Galen, he hadn’t the need to ride. Horses were of little use, at least climbing the upper slopes. The only horses to be found in Galen were in Lord Lins’ stables. When his mother took charge of his household, Tan had been tasked with cleaning the stables. It had been menial work and his mother’s way of motivating him to leave Nor and head to Ethea where he could study at the university.
When they passed the walled border of Ethea, Tan paused to look at the city from this direction. He had only come in by ground a few times. Since learning how to shape—really, even before then—he had traveled to and from Ethea in a much different way.
A smattering of farms ringed the city. This late in the year, most of the fields had already been harvested, the grain stored for the coming winter. Other plants grew: some vegetables, rows of tomatoes, the tufts of fall carrots poking from the ground, and a pumpkin patch that still had bright orange pumpkins growing from vines. Beyond the farms, the landscape changed over the sweeping fields of grass as they rolled into the outer edge of Ter.
As he stared, he realized that these were the people who needed protection from Par-shon. Those living within the city had shapers for protection, but outside the walls of Ethea they were vulnerable, much like his home village had been vulnerable when Incendin had attacked.
Amia broke the silence first. “Do you think it’s safe to leave Cora in the city alone?”
Tan was surprised that was the question she chose to ask. “Roine gave her access to the city. The shaping holds.”
“You’re not going to do what Roine wants, are you? You intend to try reaching Elle once we are done with this.” She shifted the reins in her hands.
He considered how to answer. “I wasn’t sure before. Roine wants to prepare for an Incendin attack, but…”
“You worry about Elle.”
He nodded. “Either she’s alive and still in danger or she’s already gone. I need to know which it is.”
“Who will you bring with you?”
He was thankful that she didn’t try to talk him out of it. That didn’t mean that she supported his plan, only that she wouldn’t fight him on it. “I don’t know. Roine won’t help, and he’ll be angry if I ask any of our shapers to go.” He didn’t say it, but bringing Amia with him only risked her capture.
“You’re considering Cora.”
He wasn’t sure whether that would be safe, either. Doma was too close to Incendin. If he released the spirit shaping restricting her and tried to rely on her for help, what would compel her to stay? She knew how to travel and had studied with Lacertin, so there were probably other tricks she knew.
“I don’t know. I can’t simply wait here knowing that Elle needs help.”
Amia smiled. “I wouldn’t love you as I do if you could.”
He took her hand and they continued onward.
The road curved several miles from Ethea, and Amia veered the horses and the wagons away from the road and through short grasses. “We are not far now.”
Tan heard the sounds of the Aeta long before he saw them. The occasional gusts of wind caught their bells and sent their musical tinkling into the air. A mournful lute sung softly. The smoke from the great fire at the center of the circle of wagons trailed into the sky, the flames burning within the fire pulling on Tan’s senses.
They passed over a small rise, and then he saw the wagons. They formed a wide circle ringing a massive fire. Roine’s offer of protection meant that they could camp here, that they would remain safe within the borders as they held a Gathering. Tan wasn’t sure what he had expected, but what he saw looked no different than what he’d seen at the Gathering in Doma.
“Is this all there are?” Tan asked.
“These are the families who remain,” Amia said. “The lisincend claimed mine. The archivists destroyed one. Several were claimed when the lisincend attacked the last Gathering. Perhaps more will be coming, but this is all for now.”
She stopped the wagon outside the circle. The grasses had been trampled flat here, creating a wide swath of openness between the grasses and the circle of wagons. An Aeta woman came from between two brightly colored yellow wagons and looked up
at them. She had golden hair much like Amia and a slender band of silver around her neck.
“Daughter,” Amia said, nodding to her. “I have returned the First Mother so that she may find rest among the People.”
The Daughter said nothing as she approached the wagon and looked into the back. Her breath caught as she saw the First Mother and she closed her eyes. Tan felt her shaping build. It was weak, but there was no doubt it came from her.
A pair of well-muscled men appeared from around the same place that the Daughter had come from. They said nothing as they approached the wagon, simply reaching in and lifting the First Mother from the wagon and carrying her back toward the great fire.
The Daughter met Amia’s eyes, nodded, and turned away, all without saying a word.
“We can go,” Amia said.
Tan took her hand and squeezed. Tears had returned to her eyes.
“Are you certain you don’t want to stay?” he asked.
She shook her head. “It is no longer my place. I abandoned the People when I made my choice.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Choosing you is not the reason for my sadness.”
Tan still wished there was something he could say, a way to provide Amia comfort, but he knew there was not. He squeezed her hand and simply sat next to her, riding together in silence.
Amia started the horses back toward Ethea, leaving the Aeta to mourn behind them.
15
Request to Water
The rest of the day had passed with something of a pall hanging over it. Amia stayed near him, and they spent the time in the lower level of the archives, each staring at a different book pulled from the vast shelves, both lost in thoughts of their own. Tan sensed the sadness in Amia and understood she needed time to mourn.
He considered going to Asboel. The draasin was in the den not far from him, and his nearness gave Tan comfort. But Amia needed him more. Even if they didn’t speak, she needed his presence.
Cloud Warrior 05 - Forged in Fire Page 13
