Born of Fire (The Cloud Warrior Saga Book 8) (5 page)

“What if there was another purpose?” she asked.

Tan shrugged. “Then I would like to know the purpose. If Asboel were still with me…”

He couldn’t finish. Asboel knew things that other elementals did not. Mostly that was because of his age. The draasin had lived so long, and had seen the world in different ways than so many others, that he had a unique perspective. Most of the time, that perspective had helped, but there were times when the past conflicted with the present and Asboel struggled to separate what had happened with what could. Asgar didn’t share the same struggles. It was that reason that Asgar had not minded working with Incendin when Asboel struggled against what they had done to him.

But Asboel also had forgotten much over the years. Some of that had to do with the time he’d spent frozen beneath the lake, but some Asboel had blamed on the bond, as if the connection to Tan had changed him in some way. Likely it had. The bond had changed Tan significantly.

Amia looked up from her book and met his eyes. “Asboel would want you to do what was right. And that means determining what
you
know is right, Tan. He trusted you. I think you were the only person he could trust.” Her eyes lingered on him as he approached the fire, placing his hands practically into the flames. “You think to use saa to reach the elementals of Par-shon?” she asked.

Tan pulled his hands away from the fire and glanced over his shoulder. “The elementals will know more about Par-shon than I do. I thought that they had been forced to serve, but what if I was wrong? What if I was misguided when I first returned?”

“I don’t think you can be misguided if you only want to help the elementals.”

Tan hoped that was true, but Incendin had only wanted to keep their people safe, and some of their greatest shapers had embraced fire to do so. Wasn’t that misguided? The lisincend would never admit that they had done anything wrong. Fur certainly wouldn’t. But there had to have been another way. If the experiences he’d been through had taught him anything, it was that everyone had a reason for what they did.

He breathed out and focused on Saa, marveling again that it wasn’t as difficult as at home. Amia’s idea had been sound, to try to talk to the fire elemental. It seemed bound to Par-shon somehow, and that was what he sought to understand.

When he’d been trapped in Par-shon, he had sensed the strength from saa, a sense of power and control that Tan didn’t have in the kingdoms. Asboel had once explained to him the elementals all represented aspects of fire, and saa was no different. The draasin were the powerful and authoritarian sense of fire, the need for control. Saa was something else, the soft, seductive, simmering part of fire. Within the fire bond, he could tell the difference easily.

Saa.
Tan sent the request to the elemental, using the connection to the fire bond to build a bridge between them. He had no real bond with saa other than the connection he shared to fire, and to the elementals in general, but Tan had no doubt that saa would answer.

Maelen.

The voice was so different from that of the draasin. Within the draasin, there was a strength, a sense of power and pride. With saa, it was a slow-burning longing, like the soft hissing of steam from a teapot boiling.

I would ask a question of saa.

For Maelen, saa will answer.

Tan focused on the voice connecting to him through the fire bond. It matched the elemental that swirled in the flames of the hearth, a surging power that he knew to expect but still felt surprise when he realized exactly how powerful this elemental would be. When he had worked with the children, he claimed that the elementals would grant a name when they bonded, but that wasn’t always the case. With the nymid, they were a community, and Tan had essentially bonded to many.

With the draasin, there was no way that he would have managed to bond to more than Asboel. At times, it took all of his concentration to remain focused when Asboel had shouted in his mind. With Asgar, it was another story. Tan had gained experience over time and Asgar, while strong, had none of the same depth of experience and power as his father. Over time, it was possible that Asgar would grow even stronger, but for now, Tan was able to suppress the shouts in his mind. It created a better balance with Asgar than what Tan had with Asboel. Asgar viewed Tan more as equals, knowing Tan only as Maelen, and knowing him only since Tan had learned strength and power with fire and the other elementals. Asboel had known him before he even realized that he could shape, and in many ways had guided him through the initial steps with shaping.

Amia watched him as if knowing the direction of his thoughts. It was possible that she sensed the way his mind had turned, focusing on his lost draasin friend. Some times were easier than others, but lately, especially since coming to Par-shon, he found it difficult not to think of Asboel. Tan wished he had hunted with him, even if only one more time.

He sighed, pushing the thoughts away and focusing on saa. The elemental swirled in the fire, almost as if giving Tan the time he needed.

Fire misses the Eldest as well, Maelen.

Tan smiled.
He has rejoined the Mother. I should not mourn.

Even the brightest fires burn out.

It was something that Asboel might have said.
There had been many forced bonds in these lands,
he started.

Once there were.

Do any remain?

Saa swirled and flickered, the flames leaping for a moment.
Some bonds remain, but they are older than the one who forced the others.

I don’t understand.

The Bonded One.

The Utu Tonah,
Tan said, forming an image of him in his mind.

Saa burned brighter for a moment.
The Bonded One. He required much of Fire and did not give in return.

What of these bonds?
Tan asked, changing the image to one of the mark on the stone buildings, or the windmill.
Were these placed by someone like the Bonded One?

Those were before.

A series of images flashed through his mind. All were for fire and flickered so quickly that he began to lose track. None of the images involved bonded shapers, nothing like the men and women that Tan had faced when confronting the Utu Tonah. What he saw were more like the runes on the leaders of Par-shon that he’d destroyed.

Did these give in return?
Tan asked.

These lands are unlike the places you know, Maelen. It is more than giving and taking.

Explain it to me then.

Another series of images flashed through his mind, this time in the shape of rock formations and landmarks and other places, none of which he had a way of understanding. They continued one after another, the effect dizzying, before finally easing and then stopping altogether.

I still don’t understand,
Tan said to saa.

These are for protecting.

Protecting what? The people?
That had been what he suspected when he touched the earth elemental and found the way that it had surged through him. The earth contained in the mark supported the building, kept it strong. But he didn’t think that was what saa implied.

Not the people. This.

More images came through his mind, so many that Tan lost track.

He didn’t understand, and he sensed from saa that there was no other way to explain to him, which meant that Tan needed to find another way to get answers. Only, he didn’t know where.

T
he shaping
that Tan used pulled him on a bolt of lightning, streaking him across the sky soundlessly, moving as fast as thought. Tan was one of the few who could use this shaping to travel. Most of the warrior shapers hadn’t learned to master spirit, not as Tan had, and though they could travel on shapings of earth, wind, fire, and water, they couldn’t add spirit into the mix.

As Tan had learned, the difference was dramatic. When he shaped without spirit, the shaping came on a rush of wind and a torrent of noise racing through his ears. There was more of a sense of movement, and he could track where he traveled, something he couldn’t do when he added spirit, but the shaping was weakened as well. Without spirit, there was none of the same speed.

Amia clung to him, though she had grown accustomed to the shaping. Once, he would have traveled with Asboel, riding along with the draasin, but even while Asboel had been alive, Tan had taken to shaping his travels. Now that Asboel was gone, he had no other choice.

Asgar remained in Par-shon, keeping watch. As long as Asgar remained, the people of Par-shon would think that Tan remained, and that served his purpose. But there were things that he had to learn that he couldn’t discover in Par-shon, at least not easily.

With an explosion of light, the shaping took him to the university in the kingdoms. Rebuilt since the attack on the city—it seemed so long ago—the university was, of course, different. Ferran and the other earth shapers who had restored it had altered the design, so it was both more open and more imposing. Stone flowed from the ground, partly shaped and partly assisted by golud, the earth elemental that Ferran had bonded during the last year. Golud lent strength and exuded a sense of age that the building hadn’t earned. Tan wondered if he was the only one who detected that.

The shaper circle let out in a plaza outside the university. The stones had been changed over time, but like the stone of the university, they were infused with the strength of golud. Not trapped and not forced, but strength that had been freely given.

This was the reason that Tan had returned.

“Will you find me before you return?” Amia asked.

Tan squeezed her arm. “I’m not sure you’d let me leave if I didn’t.”

“Do you think that I’d shape you if you didn’t do what I want?”

He smiled.
It wouldn’t be the first time.

Amia laughed. “You keep bringing that up, but I think that you don’t mind nearly as much as you claim.”

Tan shook his head. “I let you believe that.”

Amia gave him a quick hug and departed, making her way toward the Aeta camped outside the city. She intended to use their time in Ethea to connect with her people and to ensure that everything ran as it should. Tan had other needs.

His gaze was drawn to the university. He’d had such little time to learn within the walls of the university, and when he
had
been here, there hadn’t been any willing teachers. Only after he had discovered his bond with the elemental had he begun to understand. What was the message in that?

But that was how the ancient shapers once learned, wasn’t it? They had bonded to the elementals, and through that bond they were able to leverage even more of the power of the elements than they would otherwise, much like what Tan had been able to do. In that way, he was more like the ancient shapers than today’s shapers.

Except, he didn’t share the same attitude about the elementals that he’d learned from studying in the archives. Now, he understood that not all the ancient shapers felt like that, and finding the strange hut in the middle of the swamp within Doma had provided him with reassurance, but there had been enough of those shapers who had understood the elementals.

A small door opened into the plaza, and a line of children made their way out from within, with a robed shaper leading the way. Tan smiled as Ferran almost herded them outside.

When he saw Tan, he raised a hand and motioned for the children to wait.

“You have been gone again,” Ferran said, looking to the shaper circle.

“It was time for me to take a more active role in Par-shon.”

Ferran’s eyes narrowed slightly. Like everyone else, Ferran had lost friends to Par-shon. The kingdoms had few enough shapers as it was; losing any was almost too high a price to pay. “Are you certain that is wise, Athan?”

Tan almost smiled at the title. Here in the kingdoms, he served as Athan, the voice of the king, only the kingdoms did not
have
a king, not yet. Roine served as king regent and had agreed to fill that role until they decided which of Althem’s heirs could assume the throne, but that might not happen, especially with as many children as Althem had.

Tan studied the children all waiting patiently for Master Ferran. How would they choose which of the children would lead? Would he be able to give up the title of Athan then? Roine still expected him to serve, but outside of the kingdoms, across the sea, he was Utu Tonah. Could he serve as both?

Did he truly intend to continue to serve as Utu Tonah?

Maybe it would be the same as Amia serving as First Mother. There were parts of the responsibility that he didn’t want, but then the alternative left him with a different set of concerns. If not him, then who? Tan didn’t think that he was any
more
capable than someone else, but he had been the one to defeat the Utu Tonah.

Ferran’s eyes narrowed. “Athan?” he repeated.

Tan sighed. “I’m not sure that I deserve that title anymore.”

Ferran laughed and leaned in. With a whisper, he said, “I feel the same way when the students call me
Master
.”

Tan regarded the students again, thinking of all that they had been through. What did they know about their heritage? Hopefully nothing. Learning what Althem had done might be devastating to some, but he could easily image others having a different reaction, one where they felt a desire for power, where they believed they had a right to rule.

“How many have shown shaping potential?” he asked.

“More than I expected,” Ferran said. “Though, if I am honest with you, I don’t know that I thought any would demonstrate any real potential. Possessing parents with the ability to shape is no guarantee that it will pass on.”

Tan smiled. “Seems to help.”

Ferran turned back to him and chuckled. “You would be an interesting case, I believe. Most shapers don’t have a lineage where they descend from shaper after shaper, let alone two of the strongest shapers the kingdoms have known in years.”

Tan glanced over at the university. “Speaking of my mother, is she here?”

“You look in the wrong place to find Zephra. She will teach, though not as often as I would like. But most of her time is spent in the palace.”

Knowing that his mother wasn’t alone brought him a measure of happiness. They had mourned his father, but Zephra deserved to know a sense of contentment, as did Roine.

“I would also have you teach, Athan,” Ferran went on.

Tan nodded absently, his mind going back to Par-shon and the students that he’d met there. When he returned, he would need to teach them as he promised, to determine which of the students he could use and which would need additional time so that he didn’t have to fear them chasing after the elemental bonds again.

“I’ll come by later,” Tan said.

The comment seemed to placate Ferran, who nodded. He raised a hand toward the children, settling them with little more than a look. “That would be appreciated, Athan.”

With that, Ferran left him and hurried back over to the group of children, who he ushered out from the university and onto the street beyond.

Tan stood for a moment, debating what he would do, before drawing on a shaping of wind that brought him to the archives.

There was a time that he would have pulled on the wind elemental, but Honl had changed since he’d rescued him from kaas, and even more in the weeks following. Now, Honl was something else. Tan no longer knew if he was even a wind elemental, or if the rescue, and the need to use spirit in Honl’s saving, had changed him.

It had been weeks since he’d seen Honl. That time, the wind elemental had asked him questions, querying him about the connections he shared with the elementals, and then had disappeared again. If he searched for him, reaching through his connection to wind, he could probably find him, but Honl was little more than a vague awareness on his senses.

Landing in front of the archives, Tan found the door closed and locked. He frowned. In his time in Ethea, the archives had never been locked. They had been damaged during one of the attacks on the city but never blocked. Had Roine changed something since he’d been away?

Tan had another way that he could reach the archives but hadn’t expected to need it. Doing so would take him through the palace and might force him to answer questions about what he had done, and why. Neither of which he was entirely prepared to answer.

He pushed on the door again, but the lock was stout. He could force it open, but that wasn’t the message he wanted to send.

No, he needed to reach the archives another way. And that meant through the palace.

* * *

A
t this time of day
, the palace was full of activity. Servants hurried in and out of the wide open door, some carrying bundles, others with baskets for items that might be needed inside. Tan stood on the edge of the lawn, watching for a moment. In some ways, the activity was no different than what he’d seen in Par-shon, but there had been an undercurrent of fear mixed in. Here, there was nothing other than a sense of purpose.

A few of the servants saw him and nodded. Tan had become well known around the palace, at least enough where they recognized his face and made a point of addressing him. Partly that was because of the amount of time he spent with Roine, but some of that was because of the ring naming him Athan. It carried the weight of his title and within the palace especially, that title carried the most weight.

But it had been weeks since he’d been here.

Tan sighed and made his way into the palace, pausing again in the entryway. Portraits of past kings lined the hall to his right, and a familiar voice came from a room at the end of the hall.

All he’d wanted to do was to reach the archives and have some time there, but if Roine discovered that he’d come to the palace and
not
stopped, he’d be disappointed. Worse than Roine, if Zephra learned that Tan hadn’t stopped, she’d be angry.

Neither appealed to him.

As he made his way along the corridor, Roine’s voice grew louder. Tan stopped outside the great hall to wait. The line of portraits hadn’t changed since he’d been here last, but there was an addition that surprised him: Althem.

Stopping in front of the portrait, he studied the hardened face and the intense eyes of a man who had nearly destroyed the kingdoms. Tan had only met him a few times. The first time, Althem had seemed warm and friendly. Now, he wondered if Althem had been shaping him, though it was possible that Amia’s shaping had protected him. The second time had been when he and Asboel had confronted Althem as he tried to use the artifact. It was a dangerous creation, and one that Tan still didn’t understand. Had Tan not had full command of his abilities, he would have failed. As it was, he had nearly lost Asboel and had used the trapped power of the artifact to save his friend that time. If he only still had it…

But he couldn’t think like that. Doing so didn’t help him today, and it didn’t honor the memory Asboel would have wanted him to maintain.

“Tannen.”

Tan turned to Roine, who now stood in the doorway to the great hall. He hadn’t sensed him approaching. “You’ve added another portrait.”

Roine glanced at the portrait. “It seemed fitting that he be added.”

“Even after everything that he did?”

“Do you think that all these kings and queens ruled as you would have?” Roine asked, pulling his eyes away from the portraits. He motioned down the hall, to the dozens and dozens of portraits, some faded by time, leaving little more than a blur of what the image should be. “They are a reminder—good and bad—of the kind of rule the kingdoms have known. Some… some have been better than others.”

“And some thought to shape the kingdoms and force an image of what they wanted.”

Roine chuckled. “That might have been the worst. Better to have the reminder of his rule than to remove it and forget. After everything that he did, the hidden atrocities,” he said, shaking his head as he touched his temples, “some we may never fully understand, we need to maintain the reminder. Without it, it might be too easy to forget.”

Tan studied the portrait of Althem. At least the artist had cast him in a dark light, leaving his eyes with an awful intensity. “When will yours hang alongside his?”

Roine smiled, and deep wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes, showing his age. They had been through so much over the last year, and it had aged him prematurely. “Mine should never hang next to Althem’s. I am nothing more than a placeholder.”

“Are you so sure? I think most would argue that you’ve handled the transition from warrior to ruler well. There would not be any argument were you to remain king.”