The Spirit Binds

by D. K. Holmberg

  What he needed was some way of stopping her.

  The answer might not come from his memories. Even if it did, it would be distant and varied and he would need far more time to fully grasp what would be needed. The answer to how to stop her would come from the memories his father had lost. To Tolan, that seemed the most significant. She’d taken away both of their memories intentionally, in order to prevent them from stopping her.

  Which was why he had to get those memories back.

  The key would be difficult. How would he find what she was trying to keep from them?

  The strange language his father had written in his journal. Maybe there was some answer there.

  Tolan focused on the journal, on the memory he’d had before and kept that at the forefront of his mind. All he wanted to do was find some way of uncovering that answer.

  It had to be there, didn’t it? All he had to do was find what was hidden within his mind, and if he could do that, he thought he might be able to know how to interpret the writing.

  He tracked back within his mind, holding onto the memory that was there. He let it come to him, remembering what it had been like when he was sleeping, the way the memory had been there, trapped deep within his mind.

  And it was a memory he could reach for, one he could grasp if only he could find how and why it was kept from him.

  He had seen the journal. When he’d seen it, he had known the answer, hadn’t he?

  That was the key. He had seen it, and he had known how to interpret it.

  And as he returned to that image, as he came back to it, letting the memory of that image return, he saw the words forming in his mind. The notes were there, and his understanding of them was there, too.

  Tolan paused. As those memories washed through him, he could see the language forming. It was an ancient language, one his father had taught him from the very first time Tolan had watched him in the workshop. He remembered the way his father had used that language, scrawling it out on the page, and in doing so, he’d shown Tolan. It was a sequence of glyphs, but they weren’t foreign glyphs. They were symbols he knew. Symbols he’d always known.

  Tolan blinked, looking over at his father who stood, poring over the book. The answer was there, it had to be. There had to be something within that journal Tolan could uncover, some way to learn how to stop his mother, and together, they would find it.

  Tolan got to his feet and joined his father.

  “I’m sorry. I just can’t find anything.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry. You’re trying to relearn everything she took from you.”

  A pained expression crossed his father’s face. What must that be like? At least Tolan hadn’t known his memories were gone. His father, on the other hand, had known his memories were missing, and because of that, he’d tried to restore some of that knowledge, but because of the way they were trapped, he hadn’t been able to do so.

  It was possible Tolan would be able to remove the spirit shaping over his father’s mind, but it was also possible he’d harm him.

  At this point, he didn’t dare attempt to do it. He was worried if he did, there would be some irreparable harm and he’d lose his father—and his father’s ability to use these bondars.

  “Maybe I can help.”

  His father looked over at him. “It sounds as if she took away your ability to help me.”

  “She did,” Tolan said. “But… I think I just restored it.”

  His father studied him for a moment. “How?”

  “I don’t really know. It is there, hidden in the back of my mind, but…”

  He looked down at the book, the glyphs all coming together, the writing he thought he should understand. The knowledge was buried in his mind, and it took him a moment to start to uncover what he saw, to unravel the memories in a useful way. The longer he looked, the more he stared, the easier it was to do so.

  And as he looked at the pages, the writing came back to him.

  Tolan flipped back to the beginning of the book and he began to turn the pages, flipping one after another. He could do this. He understood what was involved, and he had seen the nature of the shaping used on the others. If he could find something in his father’s journal, maybe—just maybe—there would be some way of reversing it.

  More than that, they needed to find some way of preventing her from doing it again.

  “How about the two of us look together?”

  His father looked at him, and another tear rolled from the corner of his eye. “I would like that.”

  They started going page by page, moving with enough speed that Tolan was able to read through each one. As they went, he was aware of how much time had passed and how little time they had remaining. The attack in Par wouldn’t be the only one. He needed to uncover answers. Otherwise, they would fall.

  “I don’t see anything in here,” he said.

  “We can keep looking,” his father said.

  “I just don’t know if there’s going to be anything here. At least not with any sort of speed.” Maybe if he returned to the Academy, it was possible someone who had more experience might able to help. He could easily imagine Master Minden might have some answers, and if she did, there would be some way of uncovering what would help make the necessary bondars that would bring an end to what his mother had done.

  Even if they did that, it would take time. Master Minden would need to sort through the journal the same way Tolan and his father had just done, and they had the advantage his father had created it. Though he may not have the same memories, and everything he had done to create the journal was still distant in his mind, the simple fact was that his father was responsible for it. Because of it, he could—and should—come up with some way of breaking through the code, coming up with the key to understanding what his mother had done.

  He just had to find the answers.

  19

  As Tolan sat back, he twisted the stone ring. He’d taken to wearing it, and he felt the surge of spirit from it once again.

  “Whatever she did was tied to this ring,” Tolan said. “I can’t seem to shake that, but the more we study it, the less I am unable to uncover.”

  “It’s similar, but it’s not the same,” his father said.

  “Similar enough,” Tolan said.

  And because it was similar enough, he felt as if he should be able to understand just what she’d done. That sense of understanding wasn’t there.

  “What if we attempt to shape through the ring you found?” he asked.

  “You already have said such a thing is dangerous.”

  Tolan nodded. As far as he knew, it was incredibly dangerous to try to shape through the ring. He’d seen the influence that happened when the shaping was done, and if he were to try to do the same thing again, he’d run the same risk of releasing that chaos. It was possible he might even end up assaulted by the chaos. If that happened, there wouldn’t be anyone who would be able to help restore him.

  Then again, Tolan had an understanding of what to expect.

  It wasn’t about shaping through the ring, at least not entirely. He wondered what would happen if he tried to shape through both of the rings at the same time.

  There was the one his father had made, the stone ring that granted him his access to spirit, to the spirit defining him, but then there was also the ring his mother had created, and that somehow twisted things.

  If he focused on both of them, could he gain an understanding of what was involved?

  Maybe he could use a shaping of spirit through his ring to help them understand the ring his mother had made.

  Focusing on spirit, deciding to do it quickly, he drew power. Power flowed from him, blowing through the ring, and he held onto it. He took a deep breath, focusing the shaping. There was a way of probing with spirit that he’d learned from the Grand Inquisitor. If he could use that now, he might be able to find more information about the ring. If he could treat it as if he were trying to layer a shaping spirit over s
omeone else’s mind, then maybe he’d be able to know the same things he needed to know.

  Tolan pushed outward, wrapping slowly, sending that shaping washing away from him. As it did, he pushed it around the ring. He curved it on a whim, sending it inward rather than pushing through it the same way he would if he were trying to unleash the power within it.

  It was the same sort of shaping he used when trying to contain the chaos.

  That was the key.

  He was trying to contain the chaos. It wasn’t only spirit. It was all of the elements.

  Tolan sent a surge of each of the other elements but realized that wasn’t even right. He scrambled to his feet, holding onto the rings, and grabbed for various bondars off the shelf, reaching for one for each of the elements. He set them in his lap, situating himself on the floor, and pushed shaping through all of them. That power flowed, augmented by each of the element bondars, and he sensed power around the ring his mother had generated.

  Power flowed through him. It was the kind of power he’d only known when he’d been at the Academy and using the power of the runes worked into the towers. Now he was here, holding onto it, he felt it flowing through him, and he pushed. It swerved around the ring he’d always carried. Tolan held it, and the ring began to glow with a strange, sickly looking color. It was deep black, almost purpleish, like an angry bruise. The ring pushed against him, as if rebelling against the shaping.

  Not just rebelling, but it was trying to surge out that same power, sending it away and trying to push into him.

  There had to be something he could do.

  Tolan continued to push, ignoring the sense flowing from the ring, holding each of the bondars, and power radiated from him. It was incredibly strong, the kind of potency he’d only felt a few times before. The longer he held it, the more the power in the ring started to fight. It was almost as if it fought the way it had when he had shaped the chaos free of Ferrah’s mind.

  Tolan continued to push.

  As he did, the darkness began to fade. It continued to thrash, almost as if it were something alive, separate from the ring.

  How could the ring have something alive within it?

  As he pulled on the power flowing through him, he overwhelmed the darkness. With a burst of shaping energy, the power exploded.

  Tolan twisted at the last second, holding the stone of the ring intact.

  And then he relaxed.

  The ring was inert. He could feel it. The strangeness about it was gone. The runes were missing. And the energy trapped within it was gone as well.

  “What did you do?” his father asked.

  “I think I did the same thing I did when I have helped others who were influenced by this shaping. I overpowered it with a combination of each of the elements.”

  As he stared at the ring, he was left with a sense of emptiness. If it took that much strength to overpower this one ring, what chance did they have of trying to do the same thing again? It seemed almost impossible to believe they’d be able to overpower the likely multiples of bondars existing out in Terndahl.

  “Each of the elements?” his father asked.

  Tolan nodded. “It took each of them,” he said, pointing to the bondars in his lap, along with the one on his finger.

  “I wonder if there’s a way of creating a single bondar to allow us to use each of the elements.”

  If he could, it would have to be stronger than the individual ones.

  The fact he had drawn upon a single bondar and had taken the time and effort to join multiple bondars together, had taken considerable power. If he had a single bondar he could draw his power through, twisting it all at once, maybe it would be easier to overwhelm this type of shaping.

  “There wasn’t anything in your journal to suggest that type of bondar.”

  “I don’t know that I ever used anything like that. Maybe it’s not even possible, but I think it’s worth a try.”

  “I could help.”

  His father nodded. “From what I’ve observed, you have a considerable knowledge of the various runes. That might be necessary. The key then becomes what shape we use. While a ring would be useful, simply because it’s wearable, it’s also hard to contain each of the symbols upon it. The detail work becomes far too small, and in order to contain the necessary power, I don’t know that the ring is going to be effective. The shape…”

  Tolan sat back, closing his eyes. As he did, he thought about what shape would be effective. It had to be something easy to carry, but it also had to be something that would be useful.

  For some reason, images of the hall of portraits above the library kept coming to his mind. In them, he saw those shapers, ancient warriors from what Master Minden had said, and saw how they were fighting that chaos.

  Was there anything in those portraits that he could use?

  What was the defining feature of them?

  As he tried to come up with it, it came to mind all too easy.

  “A sword,” he said.

  “A what?”

  Tolan smiled to himself. “Not that I know how to use one, but I think a sword would be an effective shape. At the Academy, there are portraits showing some of the ancient shapers, and they all carry swords.” And as he thought about it, he couldn’t help but wonder if some of those sword bearers also had something else about them that he’d found familiar. There were runes on the swords.

  As he focused, he almost saw those runes, could almost make out what was necessary, and in doing so, he wondered if perhaps he might be able to help his father create this sword. A bondar of each of the elements. If that were possible, would it be effective against this chaos?

  There was only one way to find out. They had to try it.

  If they were going to try using a sword, then they needed to have a sword. Where were they going to find that?

  Tolan looked around his father’s workshop. He thought of everything his father had used over the years, the way he had carved along stone and had no recollection of his father ever using metal, anything swordlike.

  “You don’t have a sword here, do you?”

  His father stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “Unfortunately, I do not. We can test some other shapes, and—”

  Tolan shook his head. “Other shapes would all be stone. In this case, I think we need to have something that really is a sword.” He didn’t know why he felt that strongly other than the fact in every image he’d seen in every portrait hanging along that wall, the warriors carried swords. None of those had been made of stone or anything like that. They were all functional swords, warrior swords.

  In this case, the answer meant going back to Amitan.

  “Grab your journal,” he said to his father.

  “Why?”

  “We might need it.”

  “Tolan?” his father asked, calling after him as he headed back out of the building.

  When he stepped outside, his father joining him, Tolan shaped the warrior shaping.

  It came to him quickly, suddenly, and as he called to it, the lightning streaked down toward him. His father started to back away but Tolan grabbed for him, wrapping him in his arms, and as the lightning bolt claimed him, he said, “Hold on.”

  And then they were carried.

  It happened quickly, little more than a blink of the eye. When they stepped out, they were atop the Academy building, once more in Amitan. Tolan hurried toward the doorway, dragging his father with him. When they headed down the stairs, reaching the hall of portraits, his gaze darted along the pictures, noticing that in all of them, as he had thought, the warriors carried swords. It made him feel even more certain about what they were going to do. On many of them, the shapes were exactly what he suspected they would be. They were symbols, runes, patterns designed to draw upon the strength of the elements—and the element bonds.

  He raced down the hall, looking for Ferrah, but the room was empty. He paused, sending out a surge of earth shaping, but all of the rooms along this
hallway were empty.

  He ran forward, reaching the stairs leading down into the main part of the Academy. His father resisted, pulling back against him.

  Tolan glanced back.

  “I can’t go down there,” his father said.

  “Because you think they will accuse you of serving the Draasin Lord?”

  His father nodded.

  “Maybe they will. Is that the worst thing?”

  “You know that isn’t, but you also know their accusing me of serving the Draasin Lord is dangerous.”

  “You’ll be with me,” he said.

  “Have you risen so far?” his father asked.

  Tolan smiled. “I’m a third level.”

  His father frowned. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Me neither. All of this happened before I was able to understand. Unfortunately, what it means now is we need to keep working through this, if only so we can ensure we finish it.”

  His father stared at him for another moment, then took a deep breath, nodding. “I don’t have much choice.”

  “You can continue to hide.”

  Regardless of what his father said, that was what he had been doing. He might have been trying to help the elementals, but he’d been hiding, staying away from Tolan’s mother, afraid she might come for him, shape him again, and if she did, then it was because he didn’t know any way of stopping her.

  Tolan was determined not to hide, not any longer. Even if that meant he had to reveal the way the elementals were used, the power they possessed, and their connection to the element bond being different. Even if it meant going to the Convergence…

  Could that be it?

  He needed to find Master Minden.

  There was a sense of power within the Academy building, and Tolan focused on it, pausing at the bottom of the stairs leading into the rest of the Academy. It felt as if it had been so long since he’d been here, long enough that everything that was here had changed, but then, the only thing that had changed had been him.

  Racing toward the library, he pulled the door open, glancing inside. Master Jensen sat upon the dais, but there was no other master librarian there.