The Spirit Binds

by D. K. Holmberg

  There were people out working. Some were farming, pulling in wheat and filling the field, using shapings as they did. Others were using their shaping touch for other things, lifting stone, creating buildings, working with the elementals.

  And still others had a singular focus, a tightly-honed shaping, one that was recognizable…

  Tolan went toward it.

  There was a sense of energy to the buildings and everything around him, something he could almost recognize, though he wasn’t entirely sure what it was or why he would be aware of it. That sense filled him, and the more he searched all around him, the more certain he was of what he was detecting.

  Though there was elemental energy all around him, there was something more he thought he needed to understand.

  Something felt off.

  Why should that be the case?

  The longer he remained here, the more certain he was that he detected something amiss, though he wasn’t entirely sure why that should be. Perhaps it was only his imagination, but he didn’t think so. He recognized there was something strange here, some strange energy, and the more he focused on it, the more certain he was of what he detected.

  He couldn’t linger. That wasn’t the reason he’d come here. He had come looking for answers, and until he had them, he wasn’t going to be able to go anywhere.

  Tolan took in a deep breath, turning toward the small building nearby.

  He stopped at it. It seemed to be made of shaped stone, solid, as if pulled from the ground itself. Grasses grew along the sides almost as if the ground didn’t want to give up the building. Strength seemed to radiate from it, a distinct sense Tolan was aware of. Though he didn’t know if this was his father’s creation, the shaping inside certainly was.

  He held his hand above the door, focusing for a moment. As he did, he could detect the shapings on the other side, the power there, and he hesitated.

  Hadn’t he detected similar shapings in his visions?

  They were there, distinct, and he recalled just how much he’d noticed when he’d been there. The memory of them was faint, but when he’d been trapped within the dream, living almost as if it were real, he’d been all too aware of how his father had used a combination of tools and shaping in order to create his bondars. It was a skill set his father was not supposed to have had, but knowing now what he did about his father, he realized he must.

  Taking a deep breath, Tolan knocked.

  The shaping continued for a moment before stopping. There was a shuffling sound, a rumble he detected through earth, and a stirring of wind. Tolan wasn’t sure whether that came from something his father was doing or whether from his ability to sense. Either way, he realized when his father reached the door and pulled it open.

  His breath caught.

  “Tolan? What are you… How are you here?”

  Tolan looked past his father. “I need to talk to you about the bondars.”

  “Did the Draasin Lord bring you back?”

  Tolan shook his head. “I brought myself back.”

  “How?”

  “Now isn’t the time. I need to speak to you.”

  His father hesitated, looking past him, looking into the city, and a series of shapings built.

  If his father was responsible for creating the bondars, was he now summoning help? Tolan didn’t think his father would harm him after what he’d done to help him when it came to the Inquisitors, but he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he didn’t know the man nearly as well as he thought.

  Stepping into the room, it reminded him somewhat of his childhood home. There was a certain sense of warmth, a carpet, and a fire crackling in the hearth, the elemental saa flickering within it. All of that flowed with power, the kind of power that would be unusual otherwise.

  A table and chairs occupied one wall, a stove with a pot on it near another. His father motioned for Tolan to come with him, and they took a seat at the table. His father sat with his hands clasped together. He was a solid man, though smaller—and frailer—than he’d been in Tolan’s visions. It was a strange contrast, especially as in Tolan’s mind, he had just seen his father as the younger person. He had graying hair, and it was thinning as well.

  His clothing was a mishmash of styles, nothing like what he’d find in Terndahl, but perhaps that was the point. Everything here was supposed to be different than Terndahl.

  His father continued to hold onto a shaping, and it occurred to Tolan he did so because he wasn’t sure whether his son had come to harm him.

  “What can you tell me about your bondars?”

  His father shook his head. “You aren’t ready for that.”

  “No? I traveled here on a warrior shaping.” He watched his father, wondering if the man recognized that term and if he did, did he know what it meant?

  There was a flicker behind his eyes, a hint of movement, enough that Tolan realized his father did know the term.

  “You recognize that?”

  “I recognize it as a shaping that’s been lost.”

  “I don’t know it’s been lost or whether there’s not all that many who can use it.”

  “And you can?”

  Tolan nodded. “I’ve been having visions.”

  “What sort of visions?”

  Tolan almost grunted. It was surprising his father didn’t even question the fact he’d been having visions, and he simply moved on to the fact he wanted to know more about them. “The kind that seemed to be more like memories than visions. In them, I was young, watching you at your workbench. You were making bondars.”

  “I was a craftsman, Tolan. Nothing more.”

  Tolan held out the ring, showing it to his father. “You were much more than a craftsman. Tell me about them.”

  His father stared at the ring. “Where did you get that?”

  “Why?”

  “I made that for—”

  “Mother? I know. That’s the way it seemed in the vision.”

  His father stared at the bondar before dragging his gaze up and looking at Tolan. He shook his head. “No. I made that for you.”

  “For me?”

  His father nodded. “There is much you don’t understand, Tolan.”

  “I understand you left me. I guess I can understand it to a certain extent, and I no longer blame you the way I once did.”

  He wasn’t sure whether or not he should still blame his father, but there was no benefit in doing so. His father had done what he thought was necessary and had left him, abandoning him so he could work to help the elementals. If he was a craftsman of bondars, then it was possible everything he’d done had helped the elementals.

  “It’s more than that. I did go to seek the Draasin Lord, but I did so because of your mother.”

  “Mother?”

  His father closed his eyes and squeezed his hands, his knuckles going white. “You were young. You had shown potential, but she was concerned about that potential. She knew with your ability to shape, the Academy would come for you. When they did, you would serve Terndahl.”

  “I ended up serving Terndahl anyway.”

  His father nodded. “And I don’t know that is such a bad thing. You have been so much more than what I think anyone could have expected.”

  “This is about Mother, remember?”

  His father took a deep breath. “Your mother wanted to protect you. She thought by masking your ability to shape, we might be able to keep you from the Academy for a little while, at least long enough for her to complete what she wanted.”

  “And what did she want?”

  His father took a deep breath, shaking his head. “At first, it was nothing more than understanding. She realized there was something about the elementals we didn’t fully grasp. I think my creations helped. It allowed us to reach into the bonds deeper than we could otherwise. I didn’t realize they were bondars at the time. I only knew them as things my parents had made, and I had created them the same way my father had taught me to create them. In doing so, I thoug
ht I was helping, that I was connecting to some greater power, though I don’t even know if that’s the case anymore.”

  “They are bondars.”

  His father nodded. “I understand that now. Bondars are nothing more than a way to reach deeply into the element bonds, and when you reach so deep within the bond, you can connect to the elementals. When I did, I felt their pain.”

  Tolan frowned. When he’d reached through the bondars, he hadn’t felt the pain of the elementals. Then again, he’d mostly been excited about the fact he was able to shape at all and less concerned about finding the elementals. When he had begun to reach them, there had been a sense of fear, a worry he was somehow damaged, and that by reaching as deeply as he did into the bondar, he was potentially freeing elementals. That was one thing the Academy had instilled in him. If he freed the elementals, there was danger. It meant he’d serve the Draasin Lord.

  “I can see from your expression you didn’t detect the same thing.”

  “I guess I didn’t notice their pain.”

  “The bondars you must have used at the Academy wouldn’t connect you quite the same way.”

  That was true. They were reflections, little more than that, not nearly as powerful as the bondars his father would be able to make.

  “Your mother wanted to understand the elementals. She searched to try to gain knowledge. At first it was a quest for understanding. That quest brought us to the Draasin Lord.”

  “That’s why you left?”

  His father shook his head. “We stayed, even then. I continued to make these bondars, and we managed to smuggle them out of the city, getting them to others who served. In doing so, they were able to reach the elementals better than they would otherwise. In that, we were serving. It wasn’t enough for your mother.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  His father took a deep breath. “She wanted to release them, but she wanted to do so in a way that did something else. She wanted the strength of the bondars. She had begun to blame the Academy and their shapers for what had happened.” His father looked down at his hands. “She wasn’t alone in that. There were others of the disciples who felt the same way. They viewed their mission as more than just freeing the elementals. They viewed it as getting revenge.”

  That was more in line with what he’d heard about the disciples of the Draasin Lord all along. Could it be his mother had somehow served that way? It seemed impossible she’d have been responsible for some of the attacks, but then, hadn’t there been attacks on Terndahl since he had been at the Academy? Those attacks didn’t seem to fit with what he understood of the disciples like his father. They were more peace loving, and in that, they wanted nothing more than to help and to free the elementals.

  His father breathed out a sigh. “She began to influence you, Tolan.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She had a subtle touch. She used it on me, and it wasn’t until I began to work with my creations that I realized what was happening. She started to place her touch upon your mind, and so I decided it was time to create something to protect you.”

  Tolan looked down. “The ring?”

  “It connects you to spirit, to your spirit.”

  “I don’t really understand.”

  “A spirit shaping is unique. From what I understand of it, and admittedly, that’s not much, the nature of the shaping is such that yours is different than others. While the shaping is such that you might be connected to the spirit bond in a certain way, the shaping itself, a real shaping of spirit, comes from each person individually, connecting them as a unique person.”

  Tolan fingered the ring, twisting it. “Is that why I started having these visions?”

  “Visions or memories, or whatever they are. I suspect you finally coming into possession of the ring has allowed you to regain some of what was lost. You were never meant to lose them. I never wanted that, at least.”

  “Why?”

  “You won’t want to hear this, Tolan.”

  “I think I need to.”

  “Your mother decided she wanted power. Real power. More than what she could gain by using these bondars. She wanted to have control. And she didn’t think she could do so without something more.”

  “What more?”

  His father shook his head. “I don’t know. All I know is she’s been chasing something. Whatever it is will give her access to even greater power. I don’t know whether she should have that access. More than that, I don’t know how to stop her from chasing it. You see, she used even me. As I said, her touch is subtle. With it, she had me make other items.”

  Tolan reached into his pocket, pulling out the other ring they’d found on Ferrah. “Like this?”

  His father’s breath caught. “Where did you find that?”

  “On someone who attacked people I care about.”

  His father nodded. “That’s one of them,” he whispered.

  Tolan sat back, holding on to the ring. He had been wondering who had led the Inquisitors. He’d wondered who had been responsible, and through it all, he’d never suspected it would be his mother.

  How was he going to stop her?

  18

  Sitting in his father’s workshop, Tolan was brought back to a time long ago when he was a child. When he’d been there before, he had felt a sense of awe at watching his father work, and a part of him had always wondered if perhaps he might one day be able to do the same thing as his father and be a part of some family tradition.

  Now he understood his father created bondars, and now he knew how those bondars had been used, Tolan wasn’t sure he did want anything to do with it.

  He breathed out, looking around. The workshop was so similar to the one in their home when he was a child. A series of hooks in the wall held the tools his father had used over the years, the same sort of tools still found in the house in Ephra. Many of them were strange and exotic, the kind of tools with no purpose other than to create these bondars. Tolan had never really known anything about them, other than the fact his father had used them for his creations. Now he’d had the visions, he’d seen the way his father used those tools, peeling away the stone, adding the various runes that granted power.

  Beneath the hooks was the workbench. It was so similar to the one his father had in Ephra, right down to the crisscrossing beams supporting it. There were items of various stages of completion resting upon the bench, and then, stacked on shelves on either side of the workshop were other items. All of them had to be bondars, and there had to be dozens of them. Hundreds. It was the type of power and the type of wealth the Academy would want.

  Tolan couldn’t help but stare at it.

  Despite coming here and feeling the sense of awe at what his father had created, he was filled with an emptiness.

  His mother had betrayed him.

  Worse, it fit with what he’d experienced. As much as he’d like to deny his mother was involved, as much as he’d like to embrace the warm memories, they couldn’t be real. Not after everything he’d experienced. The fact his shaping ability had been separated from him, that there had been an active attempt to keep him from knowing about shaping, told him all he needed to know.

  What he didn’t understand was why.

  If his mother was chasing power, and if he had shown potential, why would they have kept him from it?

  “I know this must be hard for you,” his father said.

  “You do? Why didn’t you tell me this when I came here before?”

  “Because there was no need to tell you before.”

  Tolan grunted, looking down at his hands. He gripped the stone ring and couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps the ring was not at all meant for him, not as he’d been told. What if his father was misleading him?

  Then again, it would be strange, and the fact of the matter was that it felt like what he expected. It fit with what he knew.

  “I’m sorry this is happening.”

  Sorry didn’t seem to fit. It was more than ju
st needing to be sorry. If his mother was the one responsible for freeing this chaos, then Tolan had to do something, didn’t he?

  Only… What was there to do?

  “We have to stop her.”

  “I wish I could, but I’ve been working, trying to remember some of the things I knew when she and I were together. You see, before she left, she stole memories from me. She wiped my mind. It’s taken all these years for me to reach a point where I have any idea about what I was creating. It forced me to copy some of the earlier works I’ve made, but copies are not nearly as effective as the originals.”

  Tolan nodded. “We’ve seen that at the Academy. The bondars they allow the students to use aren’t as effective as the originals. There’s something about them that is weaker.”

  “They don’t connect nearly as well to the bond. In the copying, something is lost. It’s the original creation I’m able to use, and because of that original creation, I can focus on it, and I can use that to connect to the bond in a way I couldn’t otherwise. Only… When I make a copy, it seems as if I’m losing something. I’ve been working,” he said, sweeping his hand around him. “But even so, I’m not able to do so with as much effectiveness as I would like.”

  “Why hasn’t she come back for you?”

  “I think she tried. In this place, surrounded by the elementals and the freedom to use the shaping power, and by the threat of the Draasin Lord—the true Draasin Lord—she’s unable to get me.”

  “That’s why you didn’t want me to leave.”

  His father nodded. “I thought when you came, I’d be able to protect you, but I don’t know if that’s right.”

  “There are others who have started to fall under the influence of what she’s doing, Father. There are others who have begun to experience the power of what she is doing to them. We need to help them.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “With this?”

  His father stared at the ring he’d taken off Ferrah. “She took the one I made for you and twisted it.”