Journey of Fire and Night (The Endless War Book 1)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “That night, Eshan had me working with the osidan, heating it over the cook fire. It was slow work, the metal not taking the heat well.” Fas shook his head. “I think it would have been easier with a hotter flame, but it was night…”

  He didn’t need to explain. Night was dangerous in Rens. Not only were they in danger of shapers from Ter finding them, but they risked the creatures that wandered, coming out at night and drawn to the fire. Massive desert foxes roamed wild in many parts of northern Rens, and there were dozens of different lizards, each with bites that could be deadly. Water shaping could save a person from such a bite, but only if you knew it happened. Many seekers had gone to sleep only to never wake up.

  Ciara shivered, thinking of the night. The darkness frightened her in a way that she couldn’t well explain, something that had always terrified her. “Maybe if you could shape fire, like those of Ter,” Ciara suggested.

  Fas shrugged. “You would think that surrounded by heat and desert, Rens would produce fire shapers.”

  “Water is more useful,” she said.

  “Most of the time. But fire… fire is something else.” His voice took on an almost reverent tone.

  In Rens, all respected the power of fire. The sun baked and burned everything it touched. Creatures learned to live with fire. Even elementals of fire were dangerous here, the draasin and saldam roaming free, drawn to the heat of Rens. Or causing it. Ciara always wondered which came first.

  “Perhaps we could speak to fire, use it to protect ourselves,” Fas went on.

  Ciara laughed. “Speak to fire? Even were we able, do you think the draasin concern themselves with us? And saldam? We are nothing to them. Intruders.” Which was more reason for her people to leave these lands, to find a better place.

  “Still…”

  “Water sensing keeps us alive, lets us connect to our village and the rest of Rens. Without water, we would not be the same people.” Ciara reached out with her water sensing as she said it, using her ability to detect everyone around her. Nearly a hundred people were scattered around the village, and she recognized each by the distinct way their heartbeats sounded against water sensing.

  Stretching farther out, she could touch on life beyond the village, that of the small creatures scurrying beneath the sand or hiding under rocks. Were she to strain and draw upon the source of water itself, something she could only do when she had enough water to augment her focus, she could reach other Rens villages. Each village had a signature.

  Normally, she sensed nothing other than her village when she stretched out with her sensing, but this time she detected another source, different than any she’d ever encountered. Ciara pushed harder, straining against the distance as she tried to understand what she sensed.

  “Ciara? You can’t draw so deeply on water. You’ll taint our stores,” Fas said.

  Ciara started to release the energy she was using, but as she did, she felt pressure against her senses. A dozen people, and not villagers that she recognized. They were close enough for her to detect.

  She gasped.

  Fas spun his j’na. “What is it?”

  “Shapers. Ter shapers.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Listen for them,” she urged.

  “We shouldn’t be able to listen for them, not unless—”

  She nodded. “Unless they’re close.”

  As she said it, Ciara felt the building pressure of a shaping. She looked to Fas, who shook his head.

  “We need to get the village into the caves,” she said to him.

  And then the ground erupted around her.

  8

  Jasn

  It is interesting that the elementals themselves have chosen to get involved.

  —Lren Atunal, Cardinal of the College of Scholars

  The circular stone pen rose up ominously, and the weight of the stone pressed upon Jasn in a way that even the buildings in the barracks didn’t manage. With earth sensing, he detected the trees and the grasses and even some of the smaller animals that moved through, but nothing else. There had to be something to the pen that helped mask the draasin’s presence, but he couldn’t detect what it might be.

  “How is this made?” he asked, studying the markings on the side of the pen. The secret, he suspected, had something to do with those, but he still didn’t know what purpose they served. Or if they served any at all.

  Letters, but in shapes he’d never seen before, were carved deeply into the stone itself, so smooth as to have been shaped there. When he ran his hand overtop the marks, he felt the surging energy from them.

  Shaping didn’t work like that. The scholars taught that the power to manipulate the elements came from the shapers, letting them draw from themselves and then reach outward to affect the element. Men and women had been shaping for centuries, pulling on these powers. There was no way to store energy. A shaping could be held in place, but doing so would require ongoing shaping and more strength than anyone—including Lachen—could manage. These markings seemed different.

  Alena nudged him back from the pen. “You get ahead of yourself.”

  Jasn pulled his eyes away and glanced at her. “Tell me then what you intend of me?” He’d tried shaping earth to open the doorway into the pen, thinking to reach the draasin, but it hadn’t worked. Either his shaping wasn’t strong enough—doubtful, but possible—or there was a trick to the shaping that he hadn’t learned. Given what he’d seen from Alena so far, that was more likely. The damn woman was skilled.

  He would get to the draasin. And then he would sink his sword into its hide.

  “Me? If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be here,” Alena said. “I saw the way you looked at it.”

  “You don’t think that’s what Lachen wants? The draasin attack, Alena. That’s why our people die along the border.”

  Alena touched the stone. A rumbling vibration echoed as she did, and Jasn frowned. Had she shaped? He didn’t think so, but what else could she have done for him to feel it like that? A warrior should be able to detect another shaping—water granted that ability—but he often felt as if he didn’t know when Alena shaped.

  A small gap opened between two of the letters and slowly widened. Heat pushed out like a pent-up breath, hot and thick with the draasin stink. A flash of fire lit the inside of the pen. Alena ignored the heat and stepped inside.

  Jasn hesitated. Alena might be confident the draasin couldn’t attack her while held in the pen, but he’d seen draasin attacks, and he knew how deadly the damn creatures could be. He reached for his sword when she turned to him.

  “Don’t.”

  “What makes you so certain that it won’t attack?” he asked.

  Alena held her hands up in front of her as she stepped forward, almost as if she were feeling her way along. Power surged from her in a shaping Jasn could detect. “The draasin is contained, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “How do you know?”

  Alena reached across the pen. Another flash of fire from the draasin showed Jasn a long chain curling around the creature’s wings and leading to the wall of the pen. “These are stone chains. These weaken her. The draasin might be able to use fire, but she can’t fly.”

  Earth countered fire. It was one of the few attacks that was successful against the draasin, but really, nothing was ever truly effective. The people of Rens who controlled the draasin, though. That was where he hoped to succeed.

  With a shaping, Alena lit a lantern on the other side of the pen near the door. “The draasin must always be bound like this,” she said, pulling on the chain.

  Even in Rens, he had rarely been so close to the draasin. With light in the pen, he saw the draasin’s dark scales and the sharp spikes protruding from its head. Long claws pinched the ground, and Jasn had a brief image of those same claws raking across Katya’s chest, tearing her apart. He shook away the thought. The draasin watched him, bright orange eyes studying him as if searching for a way past Alena to pounce.

>   Jasn touched the hilt of his sword. All it would take was a shaping of wind and he would be carried to it. He could surge power through the sword and pierce the draasin’s spine.

  “See how it winds around the wing and over the neck?” Alena went on, thankfully oblivious to his thoughts.

  When Jasn took a step forward, the draasin lunged, spewing fire. He jumped back, shaping earth quickly to protect himself as he unsheathed his sword. Foolish not to have his sword ready when facing this beast. Even chained, it would be deadly.

  Alena jerked on the chains, dragging the draasin back, eyeing the sword in his hands.

  “This is ridiculous,” he said, slipping his sword back into his sheath. “What’s the point of keeping these things here if the intent is to kill them?”

  “The point,” Alena said, shaking the chain, “is that you must learn how to hunt them. To do that, you need to know all that you can about them.”

  Jasn had backed up far enough that the stone of the pen pressed against his back. Damn woman wanted to make him nervous, but if she thought she’d scare him away from the barracks now that he understood the reason he was here, she was mistaken. Lachen had wanted him here for this purpose, Jasn was now certain of it. When he learned how they managed to capture one of the draasin, he could use that to kill the creatures.

  “I have seen the draasin up close. I know them.”

  Alena glanced at him and shook her head. “No. You do not.”

  She lowered the chain carefully and took a step away from the creature, holding her hands out in front of her as she did. The same shaping built as she backed up, but Jasn didn’t know what she used.

  The draasin watched her, its eyes glowing like a forge fire burning. It didn’t move, not as it had toward Jasn. Whatever shaping she used held the creature in place.

  Alena pushed him behind her as she backed out of the pen, her hands raised the entire time, the steady shaping held in place. As they reached the door, the lantern blinked out, and then he was back outside, under the bright light from the sun, a cool northern breeze blowing across his skin. Sweat drenched his skin, and he didn’t know if it was from the heat within the pen—heat he only really appreciated now that he stood back outside—or whether it came from the eagerness burning within him to destroy the draasin. Alena didn’t appear to be sweating the same as him.

  Damn woman.

  She tapped the stone, touching the mark that looked something like the word for strength, and the door to the pen slowly eased closed once more.

  Alena turned and studied him for a moment. “You did fine for your first time.”

  Jasn blinked. “First time? You think that the first time I’ve encountered draasin?”

  She pursed her lips. “You’ll learn to handle the draasin before you learn to hunt. When you’re comfortable with the chains, and when I’m convinced you won’t get eaten, then we’ll begin the next step in your training.”

  Jasn stared at the pen, anger building within him again, and didn’t notice when Alena left him.

  “How did the first visit go?” Bayan asked. She wore a hint of a smile as she brought a lump of crusty bread to her mouth.

  Jasn rested his hands on the long table in the dining hall. At least, in Atenas it would have been called the dining hall, but in the barracks, it was nothing more than another squat building, no different than any of the others around. Most still called it the dining hall, a carryover from time spent in Atenas.

  This time of day, well past midday, the room was mostly empty. There were a few pairs of apprentice warriors sitting in conversation at tables farther down the hall, and most had barely glanced up when they had entered. A few instructors sat alone, given a wide berth by the apprentices. Alena was not among them. Jasn had noted that Alena rarely sat with the other instructors. Wyath was the only one she gave any time.

  “I didn’t get eaten, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jasn said.

  Her smile deepened and she took another bite. “Most can’t even go into the pen the first time. I think the fact that you followed her in impressed her.”

  Jasn swirled his spoon through the stew, pushing lumps of meat and potato together. Steam rising from the bowl reminded him of the heat radiating off the draasin, which would make him the meat in the stew. “Not my first time around draasin.”

  “Besides, the commander wants you to succeed,” she went on, as if she hadn’t heard him. “It’s not often the commander brings recruits to the barracks. Most come from the scholars and give old Cheneth a chance to share what he’s learned, not from the order. That alone will ensure you don’t wash out.”

  “Who brought you here?” Jasn asked.

  Bayan smiled as she picked up a piece of jerky and chewed. “Scholar by the name of Walsh. I’d spent some time along the border, providing protection for the scholars studying the Rens remains there. We got into it one night. Attack came quick, all fire and smoke. I did what I could to save those with me.” Her voice took on a somber note, and she stared at her plate. “Walsh made it, and a couple of other scholars. Not all did. I told him afterward that I wished I could have done more.”

  She sighed and dropped her jerky back onto the plate. “He told me about a place where I could train for situations like that. At first I thought he was joking, but Wyath came for me and brought me here. Don’t worry: it gets easier the more you learn. If you haven’t washed out yet…”

  “I didn’t know you were in Rens.”

  She nodded. “Don’t speak about it too often. I didn’t last long.”

  Jasn waited, but she didn’t ask him about his time in Rens. He was thankful that she didn’t.

  As he ate, he kept thinking of the penned draasin and the way Alena had approached it and the difficult time he had even detecting her shapings. Whatever she did was different than his shapings and would be useful. How long would it take to master what she knew? Some in camp had trained here for years, become more than apprentices but still not quite instructors. Then there were those like Bayan. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to remain in the barracks for years.

  Bayan seemed to be waiting for him to say something to her.

  He set his spoon down and met her eyes. “Did you?”

  Bayan took another bite of her bread and chewed. “Did I what?”

  “Go in the pen the first time?”

  Bayan finished the bite before answering. She touched her dark hair and twirled it between her fingers as she began speaking. “Had to, I think,” she started. “First time I came here, I was like you. I didn’t know much about the barracks, only that it was a specialized training facility and that I would learn from masters who made those in Atenas pale in comparison. I knew nothing about the draasin, nothing other than that I would need to be open to learning so that I could survive. If not…”

  She shrugged and wiped her arm across her chin. It was the most she’d said to him at one time. Usually, she was focused on doing what Alena asked of her, and the hunter could be a demanding mistress, keeping Bayan busy for days at a stretch. It was rare for both her and Jasn to be free. Often, one or the other of them was busy training.

  “I knew some washed out. Wyath made it clear that the last trainee Alena had taken on had washed out, as had the one before. Prentices don’t get to choose the master in the barracks, but sometimes I wonder if they should, you know? Not everyone is matched well.”

  Jasn hadn’t given much thought to the assignment of apprentice to instructor. When he’d come, Lachen had wanted him to study with Alena, but he still didn’t know why. “Who usually chooses, then?”

  Bayan waved a hand. “Mostly, it’s Cheneth. He runs the camp, but…”

  Jasn waited until she shrugged.

  “You know. Most of the time he’s too busy with his scholar studies to focus much on the barracks. Like he lets the masters have too much freedom and the prentices not enough guidance. This isolated from Atenas, it would be nice to have some sort of counsel.”

  Jasn too
k another bite of his stew and debated the question that had bothered him since learning what they did in the barracks. “Have you ever seen them hunt?”

  Bayan gave him a tight-lipped smile and shook her head. “That’s not for the prentices. The instructors, they go off often enough. You’ll begin to recognize when they do.”

  He’d seen no sign of them leaving the camp, but then, if they were anything like Alena, maybe they could mask their ability so that he wouldn’t sense it. “How will I recognize it? Will there be a bell or some sort of announcement?” In Atenas, when the order was summoned, a musical note played through the city. Like everything else, it was shaped.

  “I doubt Cheneth wants anything quite so conspicuous,” Bayan said. “But if you pay attention, eventually you’ll begin to pick up on it.”

  “From what I hear, you don’t really pick up on much, Bayan.” Thenas leaned on the table, the sneer he usually wore plastered to his face. “Must be the reason she left you for the day.”

  He had an angular chin and his loose shirt did nothing to hide the ropy muscles beneath, and from what Jasn had learned, Thenas was a skilled warrior. And after training here the better part of two years, he was nearly an instructor himself.

  “You know why she left us for the day,” Bayan said.

  “Really? I’ll give you one guess who bags it then. And I’ll bet it isn’t your precious instructor.”

  Bayan squeezed her hands and her mouth fixed in a hard line. “Do you really think they care which of them kills the creature?”

  “Calan certainly does.” He stood and his smile spread. “You know, he keeps a claw from each one he kills. Already has nearly ten. How many does Alena have?”

  Bayan stared at Thenas but didn’t let him goad her into anything.

  He glanced from Bayan to Jasn before shrugging. “We’ll see soon enough,” he said, starting toward the kitchen.

  Bayan stared at his back, her face flat and her expression unreadable.

  “That’s where she is today?” Jasn asked.