When the coughing fit passed, the mother regained her composure and took in the scene: Tan before her and Amia kneeling over the fire shaper. “You’re a shaper, are you not?” the Mother asked.
“I am.”
“What can you shape?”
“I am a warrior shaper,” Tan answered simply
“And the Daughter?” she asked.
“You recognized her?” Tan asked.
The Mother pushed herself forward, using the cane for leverage. She coughed as she approached, then wiped her hand across her mouth. “You really think I should not have?”
He suspected that she sensed Amia working with spirit. Would she know when he did the same, or had she thought it only Amia? “She chose to leave the People,” Tan answered.
The Mother stared at Amia. “A loss, then.”
“You knew her?”
“Not her. I knew her Mother, and knew how proud she was of the blessing the Great Mother had bestowed upon her. Tell me, what happened to separate her from the People?”
“This is a long tale. Let’s sit and we can talk,” Tan said, taking her arm. She was frail and sickly and he feared her falling and injuring herself. Tan hadn’t learned enough of water shaping to help her if she were to collapse.
When they reached the shadows near the wagons, the Mother took a seat on the nearest steps. The Daughter stood near her shoulder, and Kayl stayed near them both. Others of this group had managed to fully shake off the shaping the archivist had placed upon them. Some studied Tan discretely, or at least they tried to, while the remainder set about to going through the wagons.
“The lisincend attacked them,” Tan said when the Mother was settled. He felt Amia’s work on the fallen fire shaper as she steadily layered spirit over and over in an attempt to release him from the archivist’s work. “They were captured. Most killed.”
The Daughter cupped her hands to her mouth and gasped. “They would do that, Mother?”
The way the Mother watched Amia told him that she believed. “Did you know that he could shape?” he asked.
“He had some talent. Most sent to the university have some talent,” the Mother answered.
“He was going to let the fire shaper destroy the wagons.”
The Mother snapped her head toward him. Her hand quivered on the cane. “He is one of the People. He would not—”
He nodded to the daughter. “She has some skill, doesn’t she?” he asked.
The Mother’s mouth tightened.
“I am bound to a woman once Aeta. I’ve attended the Gathering. And I’ve learned from the First Mother. There may be secrets of the Aeta I don’t know, but that isn’t one of them,” Tan said.
“You… you learned from the First Mother?” the Daughter asked, her voice dropping in reverence and her eyes widened.
Tan thought he understood: they traveled for the Daughter to learn. How would they react when they discovered that the First Mother was gone?
“I think he feared you reaching the Gathering with someone able to shape,” he said.
“We answer the summons,” the Mother said. “We’ve been called. The Gathering has been called. It is rare for the People to convene so often. Tell me, Athan, why are you here?”
“There was another caravan destroyed near the border,” he said. “Made to look like Incendin or the draasin did it.”
The Mother coughed into her hand. “Then the stories are true.”
How far had word of the draasin’s return spread? Far enough for the Aeta to have word. Far enough that Par-shon knew to send bonded shapers here after them. “They are. The draasin have returned. But they did not do this. For whatever reason, the archivist intended to destroy your wagon in a similar manner. Had we not arrived, you would all have been killed.”
“You have prevented him from shaping us?” the Mother asked.
“He is bound. He cannot shape you now.”
“Good,” she said and then sighed slowly. “You have given me much to consider. When we reach the Gathering, we will seek guidance from the First Mother. She will help decide what must be done with him.”
“I am not certain that it’s safe for him to remain with you,” Tan said.
“You are not of the People. He is. We will see that he’s confined.”
Amia came over to him then, wiping sweat from her brow as she walked. She shook her head slowly. “The shaping is complex,” she said softly. “I can remove it, but it will take the better part of a day. Maybe more.”
Tan considered their environment. They couldn’t remain beneath the heat of the sun, and he didn’t want the caravan delayed further. They deserved to reach the mourning ceremony for the First Mother in time. “Taking him to the kingdoms will make him a prisoner, and he hasn’t done anything to warrant that.”
The Mother’s forehead wrinkled. “You attempt to heal the Incendin shaper?”
“He wasn’t complicit in this,” Tan said. “Anything that happened was shaped on him.”
The Mother’s mouth turned in a confused expression. “You seem almost… angry.”
“This isn’t the first time we have experience with spirit shaping,” Tan answered. “Think of how you’ve hidden this ability from the world. Think of all the things the Aeta were once accused of doing. And now think of how the archivists were willing to use this ability.” His voice rose as he spoke, but he didn’t care. The Aeta needed to know. Tan glared at the archivist and made a point of speaking loud enough for him to hear. “The kingdoms’ shapers have all learned how to protect their minds from spirit now. And a warrior shaper able to shape spirit has emerged.”
Amia sent a soothing shaping through their shared connection. “I could stay—”
“I’m not leaving you alone in Incendin,” Tan said.
“Let her travel with us,” the Mother said. Her gaze went from Amia to the Daughter, and Tan could see the wheels turning within her mind. “We make our way toward the Gathering. The First Mother said we would be welcomed in the kingdoms, that we could hold the Gathering openly.”
“Theondar has given you free passage,” Tan agreed.
At Theondar’s name, the Mother’s eyes widened slightly and she ran her hands across her dress. “It has been many years since the People did not have to hide the Gathering,” she said.
Amia touched his arm, pulling his attention to her. “I can do this before they reach the border with Incendin. Then we can release him to return to his people,” Amia said.
“Are you certain?”
She studied the fire shaper, and he knew the thoughts going through her mind. He felt many of the same. Helping the fire shaper meant helping Incendin. Tan had intended to use Incendin, not necessarily help them, but something had to change if they were going to hold back Par-shon. Change had to start somewhere.
“I will do this,” she said.
“Then I will stay—” Tan began.
Maelen!
Asboel’s voice cut into his thoughts with a violent urgency. Tan turned to the sky, half-expecting to locate the draasin flying overhead, but there was nothing.
What is it?
Fire attacks like before. Come. There is not much time.
“Amia…” he started.
“Go. I will stay here and do what I can.”
“I’ll find you when this is finished,” he said.
She smiled and touched his lips. “Go.”
Tan pulled the warrior shaping down, the flash of white lightning catching him and lifting him to the sky as he focused on Asboel’s location.
18
Attack on Incendin
Asboel flew near the border of Incendin and Galen. The mountains began sloping to the west, rising toward white-capped peaks, and Asboel soared above rock and a deep ravine that dropped to a thin stream far below.
Tan’s shaping took him to the draasin’s back and he stood for a moment, balanced atop Asboel. Without a word, he reached through the connection and saw through the draasin’s sight. Far bel
ow, another caravan of Aeta wagons was stopped near the ridgeline. A bloom of light showed Tan the fire that already burned through the wagons, racing through like dried firewood, fed by the strength of the shaping. Tan could feel the way the shaper used fire, so different than anything he’d ever seen from Cianna.
Can you withdraw the fire from the wagons? he asked Asboel.
You still question the draasin with fire?
Well, if you can’t, then I’ll see if Honl can help.
Asboel roared and Tan smiled grimly as he leapt toward the ground on a shaping of lighting, using wind and earth to soften his landing.
Spirit assaulted him, more powerful than what the other archivist had attempted. Tan used what he knew of shapings to protect his mind, water and air combining to keep his thoughts safe. He unsheathed his sword and drew upon its strength, funneling a shaping of spirit and mixing each of the elementals within it. White light exploded from it.
Tan jumped to the wind, Honl aiding him, and hovered over the wagons. The flames raged, and already the wagons were too damaged to be functional. Help Asboel, Tan directed Honl. Fire must be quenched here.
The wind elemental slipped away, drifting down to smother the flames. At the same time, Asboel pulled on the fire, forcing it down and away from the wood and sending it deep into the earth.
Help the draasin, Tan demanded of the earth. It came as a booming, rolling command, and he wasn’t certain that he’d even find an elemental of earth here.
The ground trembled in response. A deep, echoing sound drifted through his mind and was gone. Tan nearly lost control of his shaping.
Had he finally heard golud?
Another shaping struck at him, this coming from the fire shaper. Tan used the sword and caught the shaping, sending it off and into the ground.
A third shaper appeared, this one using wind. A cool breeze blew against his face, gusting out of Galen and toward him.
The archivist must have found a Doman shaper to twist as well.
Honl, Tan sent. Help with this.
The hot Incendin wind was strong here and Honl, one of the ashi elementals found throughout Incendin, smothered the wind shaping.
What were the chances that the archivists would attack these caravans at the same time?
They must have connected to each other somehow, warning the others. He had to end this now. Other caravans might be in danger.
Tan pulled on spirit, drawing as much as he could through the sword, mixing it with the other elementals much like he had when trying to reach Elle. Then he sent it sweeping it out and away from him in an angry rush.
Everything stopped.
The flames were extinguished, squelched by the combined effort of Asboel and Honl. With earth and spirit, Tan sensed the Aeta within the wagon. One wagon was too badly burned, the two Aeta within already dead. In other wagons, most lived, though they would need help.
Tan found the wind shaper. He lay against the middle of the caravan, the blackened sides of the wagon smearing against his dark leathers. Tan blocked his abilities in a shaping of spirit and left him there for the time being. Near the edge of the ridge, he found the fire shaper. She was younger, and dressed much like the wind shaper. He sensed the spirit shaping woven deep into her mind. Tan bound a quick shaping of spirit atop what the archivist had done, blocking her from reaching fire. Then he went searching for the archivist.
He was running from the wagons when Tan found him. He was flabby and older, a crop of gray hair thinning atop his head, his brown eyes sunken into the folds of his cheeks. Like the other archivist, he was dressed in a black robe.
“You will not shape spirit again,” Tan whispered. Anger surged through him.
The archivist shook his head. “You can’t do this—”
Tan didn’t give him the chance to finish. He used a shaping of all the elements under his control and wrapped it around the archivist’s mind, slicing it into place so sharply that it cut him off completely. Tan sealed the shaping, tying it in place. Even Amia might not be ale to remove it.
“What did you do?” the archivist asked in a panicked voice.
“Less than you deserved.” He gave his prisoner a push toward the other two.
The archivist turned to face Tan, backing away from him. “You don’t understand what you’ve done. You don’t understand the danger you’ve placed—”
Tan shoved him again. “How many others?” he demanded.
“I don’t know what you mean.” He tried pulling away, but the shaping of wind held him in place.
“If you don’t tell me what I want to know, I will feed you to my friend,” Tan said. He jerked the archivist’s head around so that he could see Asboel flying overhead.
The man’s mouth dropped open and he started trembling. “The draasin,” he breathed.
“How many more?” Tan demanded.
The archivist shook his head, unable to take his eyes off Asboel. “Most have already reached the Gathering. The First Mother sent that a successor would be chosen. We were to use the Gathering to take control,” he blubbered. “You don’t understand! We did it to protect the People—”
“Protect?” Tan repeated, stepping toward him. He almost unsheathed his sword in his anger. “By destroying them? You think that protects the People?”
The archivist sobbed and didn’t answer.
“How many haven’t reached the Gathering? How many were you going to destroy?”
The man didn’t look up as he clutched his head between his hands. “We had to make it look like we were attacked.”
With a hard jerk on the man’s robe, Tan reclaimed his attention. Fire surged from Tan’s skin, and he breathed out a puff of smoke. “Tell me!”
“I don’t know! Five families crossed Incendin out of Doma, but we couldn’t have any blessed by the Great Mother claimed by—”
Tan slammed his sword against the man’s head, knocking him unconscious.
Five families. Counting the three they had found, that left two remaining.
Sashari. Is she here? he asked Asboel.
She is coming, Maelen.
She must take these people to join the others. Show her where.
It is done. What of you, Maelen?
I must hunt, Tan said.
* * *
They reached the next caravan not far from the last as it wound along the river valley. Like before, Tan had to use spirit to incapacitate the archivist and the Incendin shaper attacking, but they stopped the flames before they consumed the entire caravan. Three Aeta and all but one of the wagons were lost. Tan mourned them, but did not have time for more than that, pausing only long enough to soothe the survivors with a spirit shaping.
By the time they found the last caravan, they were too late. Fire raged through the wagons, consuming them completely. Nothing moved inside. The fire shaper responsible burned near the last wagon, as if he had thrown himself into the flames, immolating much like the lisincend Tan had once thought to heal. Only the archivist survived, hurrying alone across the Incendin waste. Tan chose no mercy and struck him with the full might of a combined shaping through his sword, destroying him completely.
He leaned against Asboel, numb.
You did all that you could, Maelen.
Did I? I knew the archivists were still out there. I should have hunted them before.
You cannot hunt everything. You cannot save everyone. This will have to be enough.
Tan said nothing as Asboel turned back toward the previous caravan. Cianna and Sashari were there. The slender draasin was perched away from the wagons, sitting as if ready to attack at any moment. She flickered her tail when she saw Asboel and breathed out a streamer of smoke. Asboel landed next to her and they nuzzled for a moment.
Tan dropped near the remains of the caravan to find Cianna dragging the surviving Aeta to a single wagon. Ash covered Cianna’s skin, and the lines on her face left her looking weary. She took one look at Tan’s face and nodded grimly.
“I
will help,” he said. Cianna stepped aside without saying anything.
Tan used spirit to keep the Aeta unaware as they rescued them. They would have time to mourn, but they would get them to safety first.
Tan breathed out, struggling with the emotion threatening to overcome him. He had been so focused on Par-shon, on Elle, that he hadn’t paid attention to the other threat he knew still existed. How much of this could have been prevented? How had he have forgotten about the archivists?
Asboel watched him, but there was no sense through their bond of what he was thinking. Can you carry this? Tan asked, indicating the wagon.
Do you think I could not?
I think these people should be with the others, Tan said.
Asboel lowered his head, sensing Tan’s mood. Maelen, I will carry this. Sashari has already seen to the other wagons.
Thank you.
All this time, he’d been struggling to convince Roine that Par-shon was the real threat, and all this time he had been overlooking another threat, equally real.
A tired sob worked through him. What would make the archivists attack their own people? How could they attack the Aeta, knowing how the People had already suffered?
Althem had been the same way, willing to harm the people of the kingdoms, and for what? Power? Some other reason?
And Tan thought he could use Incendin to help stop Par-shon? He couldn’t even convince the shapers within the kingdoms to help him save Elle. What if Roine was right, that they should let Incendin and Par-shon bloody themselves?
But too many would suffer. Many already had suffered, including the elementals.
Tan tried to let go of the emotion washing over him, letting the cloud shaping carry him where it would.
Would he ever be strong enough to save everyone he cared about, or was that not what the Great Mother intended of him?
A bright light flashed to the east, deeper into Incendin. Tan let curiosity lead his travel. He felt no fear, nothing but a numb sense that had come over him after he’d been forced to destroy the archivist. Only, he hadn’t been forced. That had been his choice, one made out of anger at what they had done to their own. Maybe that was the reason he felt so numb.
Cloud Warrior 05 - Forged in Fire Page 16
