Servant of Fire (The Cloud Warrior Saga Book 7)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “Actually, Asboel suggested that she hunt.”

  Amia’s eyes widened. “Are you certain that was a good idea?”

  “I’m not going to confine the elementals.”

  “You confined the draasin.”

  Tan had confined the draasin, but it had been necessary at first. The draasin hadn’t been seen in this world for the thousand years that they’d been frozen at the bottom of the lake at the place of convergence. Without Amia’s shaping preventing them from hunting people, Tan had no idea what would have happened.

  Even without the shaping, he thought it unlikely that they would have attacked. The draasin enjoyed the hunt, but everything that Tan had seen told him that the draasin would have avoided hunting people. They would have stayed away from shapers, fearing capture and the risk of harnessing.

  “And that was a mistake,” Tan said. If the hound had followed him into the kingdoms, he would have to find her—not to restrict where she hunted, but to warn her that others might be afraid. “When the elementals were restricted, it was about the same time that we stopped reaching them. It was about the same time that shapers became less powerful. I wonder if the creation of the barrier had anything to do with the fact that we haven’t seen a warrior shaper in a generation.”

  “The barrier remained when you discovered your abilities,” Amia reminded him.

  “But would I have ever learned what I can do if not for us going to the place of convergence? Would I ever have learned to speak to the nymid, and then the draasin . . . ” And then the others. Was it that place that had allowed him to learn to speak to all of the elementals, or was it something about him?

  She pulled him against her, hugging him tightly. “Why do we keep coming back to what happened there?” she asked.

  “Because it seems that everything started in that place. The elementals. The artifact. Whatever the ancients had intended, it’s all about what they did then.”

  “And the artifact?”

  Tan thought about it. The artifact was a device of significant power, one that Althem had once intended to use to practically change the world to the way that he wanted. When Tan had held it, he’d felt as if he could shape anything that he wanted, that he could have brought his father back, that he could have destroyed the lisincend with a thought. And if he had . . . he would never have learned that they could be healed, or that the hounds could be restored. Fire would have lost another elemental.

  “I still haven’t learned why they created the artifact, what they intended to use it for, or even why they hid it once they had created it. Now that it’s gone . . . ” Had he told her that the artifact was damaged?

  “And if it wasn’t, don’t you think that the threat Par-shon poses is enough to think about using it?” Amia asked.

  Tan had considered it, but had abandoned that thought. What would using the artifact make him? What would he become? He’d already felt the temptation of the artifact; what else would he do if given the chance? “I’m glad that it’s gone. I could never use it, because I don’t want to be like him,” he said softly.

  Amia’s brow furrowed as she studied him. “The Utu Tonah? You are nothing like him.”

  “If I begin to think that I know what is best, then I start down that path.”

  Amia’s frown softened and she touched his cheek again. Tan leaned into her soft touch. “If you didn’t think that you know what’s best, you would have never done any of the amazing things you’ve managed.”

  “And what makes what I think is right actually right?”

  “Your heart. Your connection to the elementals, and through them, to the Great Mother. There are certain things that are simply the way they should be, and then there are other things that must be taught. Not everyone can reach the elementals the same way that you can. Only a few people have ever touched true spirit. These are what give you credibility. These are the reasons you know in your heart what you must do,” she said.

  Tan sighed, thinking of everything that had happened to him since he first left Nor. So many had died because of what he’d done. So many more had been hurt, but how many more would have suffered had he not acted?

  “You think I should have used the artifact?” he asked.

  “I don’t know the answer to that. I can’t shape the elements the same way that you can. I’ve never drawn through the artifact to know what it feels like to hold that much power. I remember what I felt through the bond when you did so, and I remember the power that surged, but only you can answer that question.” She pressed her palms on his chest and smiled. “There was a time when you could go to your mother, and then to Roine for advice on what needed to be done, but those days are past you. You must lead now.”

  “I’m the Athan, Amia. I think that Roine has already asked me to lead.”

  “No,” she said. “There will come a time as you fight Par-shon when you must decide. And it might be different than what Roine would want, or your mother, or even Fur as leader of the lisincend. There is no one else who has been given the gifts that the Great Mother gave to you, and she did so for a reason. I know that you don’t always want the responsibility that’s been placed upon you, but you have it.” She stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest, surveying him. “Now, what will you do with it, Tannen?”

  What would he do? Tan didn’t even know the answer, but he suspected the time would come—and likely soon—when he would have to make a choice.

  10

  Along the Fire Bond

  The tunnels beneath the city were ancient, older even than Ethea itself. Walls of solid stone rose on either side of Tan, pressing against him with a weight than seemed like it came from more than simply the stone itself, but from the centuries that these tunnels had existed. Within Ethea, only a few knew of them. Once, only the archivists had known, using their ability to shape spirit to reach the tunnels and to travel beneath the city as they chose. Tan suspected this was how they spread their spirit shapings, controlling the university’s shapers and ultimately attempting to control the king.

  The sense of golud filled the stone, a rumbling sort of awareness that Tan had felt in such strength in only one other place: the place of convergence within the mountains of Galen. Even there, golud had not been nearly as potent as what he sensed here. The nymid mingled with golud, earth and water always complimentary, and left the stone with a damp green sheen that glowed along the walls.

  He trailed his hand along the stone, letting the sense of the nymid wash over his fingers before stopping at a pool glistening with nymid. Since bonding with the water elemental, Tan had an increased awareness of not only water, but of all the elementals. Through that connection, he recognized that there were several other elementals of water that mingled within the pool, elementals that he had once not even known about. Knowing that they existed did nothing to help him understand what they were, or even what they could do, but he was surprised nonetheless. Even within the stone, there were other elementals.

  Not simply golud infused these walls, but other elementals of earth, deep and distant and otherwise silent to him. Tan had not bonded earth and wondered if he would. He might have known earth sensing first, but the shaping of earth had come the hardest, and his connection to golud and the other earth elementals was the weakest. They responded, but not in the same way as wind or water. And nothing was quite like his control with fire.

  Tan continued through the tunnels and stopped at the door that led to the draasin den. The single rune for fire was there, and Tan had added one for spirit so that he was the only one able to open the door. He pressed through the rune and it opened with a soft hiss.

  The air on the other side of the door was hot, and steam drifted out from the draasin den. Tan shaped a ball of flame for light, and as he stepped inside, he caught a flash of blue scales scurrying along one of the walls that quickly disappeared through a hole in the wall made by golud.

  A pile of bones along one wall gleamed with the soft light of his shaped f
lame. The fallen rock, the remnants of the hole leading to the other part of the den, was stacked off to the side. Asboel sat with his tail curled around him in front of the rock, his long snout angled off to the side and resting atop his forelegs.

  Maelen, Asboel said with a snuff of steam. He swiveled his head toward the back of the den and peered in the direction the hatchlings had disappeared.

  Through the fire bond, Tan could tell that Sashari was with them. Asgar grew big and was allowed out to hunt all by himself more frequently. The other young draasin had not taken to hunting alone again since they’d recovered her.

  Tan made his way toward the injured wing and ran his fingers over the thick rope of scarred muscle. The leathery wing itself had been damaged as well, the patchwork of scars a new part of Asboel. The draasin had survived a thousand years in the ice only to suffer a nearly fatal attack from a wild elemental.

  Are you well? he asked.

  Asboel snorted. You ask questions you know the answer to, Maelen. You need not be foolish, or feel too badly for me. I still breathe. I enjoy the touch of fire. The hatchlings grow bold. There is much to experience.

  Tan sensed the twisted way the muscles had come together in the wing and the damage to the skin overtop. He had done what he could to heal the draasin, but there were limits to his ability, and limits to what the elemental would allow. Not that Asboel didn’t want healing, only that healing elementals was different than healing people. Tan didn’t have the knowledge or the skill or the strength. It was possible that he had none of what he needed to help his friend.

  I wish there was more that I could do for this, he said. With the hunt that comes, I will need you, my friend.

  And I should be there, Maelen.

  It was the first time he’d sensed sadness from Asboel about the injury. Usually, Tan sensed nothing but frustration that the wing no longer worked as it should. There was occasional anger—the draasin was accustomed to being the most terrifying creature, and this left him uncertain of his place and position—but never sadness, and never the sense of longing that he detected now.

  Asboel breathed out a streamer of steam that left Tan unharmed. You didn’t come here simply to check on my recovery, Maelen. Your conversation with the Daughter has troubled you.

  Why have you always called her that?

  The Daughter? She has the hand of the Mother upon her. Much like you, Maelen.

  Tan didn’t feel like he had the hand of the Mother on him, but Asboel wouldn’t understand the concern that Tan felt over what he would need to do. Somehow, he had to get all of the nations together. They had worked together only a few times, and only when Tan had summoned, demanding that they help. Could he get them to see the need on their own, without having to be forced into helping?

  Tan lowered himself to his knees and looked at Asboel. His golden eyes still held much of the strength Tan had first been struck by, that cunning intelligence that shone bright behind them, but there was a weariness to them now. The draasin had lived countless centuries. He was the eldest, the elemental that the other great elementals all revered. And because of Tan’s bond with him, he’d come to harm that he should not have.

  You still think that you can control the draasin? Asboel asked. You sense the fire bond; you understand how it burns. Do you think that you can control Fire?

  I can control fire, Tan said. Otherwise, I would be no better than those twisted by it.

  No, Maelen. You have never controlled Fire. You can use it, borrow of its power, but controlling Fire is not possible. The draasin are Fire, and even we do not control it.

  Then how do I use it?

  You serve fire, perhaps more than any other I have known. That is the reason you’ve been granted access to the fire bond, the reason you have done what your ancestors could not.

  What exactly did my ancestors attempt?

  Asboel crawled forward, placing his wide nostrils so close to Tan that he could hear the air whistling in and out of his lungs. This close, Tan smelled an odor that had been masked before—that of decay. He reached out with his earth sensing but couldn’t discover what he smelled.

  Your ancestors thought they could recreate the work of the Mother, but unlike you, they did not have her blessing.

  You mean the experiments with the elementals? Asboel hadn’t shared much about what he knew of that time, almost as if he feared Tan’s learning. Why would he share now? Kaas had been healed. Many of the hounds were restored, though he suspected some still remained. What purpose would it serve to share with him now when he’d withheld it from him before?

  Asboel let out another breath. The scent of rot came from deep within him. Tan had never noted it before.

  Experiments. There was another term at that time, though few know of it, Asboel said. The sharpness to his eyes faded a little and he blinked. I have much time to think, Maelen, and to remember. I have forgotten much over the years, but now? Now I do nothing but sit. He snorted and flicked his tail. Your ancestors called them crossings, as if they could take the elementals of the Mother and breed them like they would horses.

  Had he read anything about crossings before? The term seemed familiar, though he didn’t know why that would be the case. The ancient shapers had many terms that sounded harmless when taken out of context, but Tan had begun to understand the depths of the horrors they attempted, often in the name of curiosity. The harnessing of the elementals was one such thing. These experiments—the crossings—were another, and probably worse.

  How many crossings were there?

  There were not many that were successful. You have seen what happened with kaas. The creature was to have been banished. I do not know how it was returned to these lands.

  And the hounds?

  Asboel paused. Tan felt him questing along the fire bond and followed along with it, reaching with a shaping of fire and spirit, stretching out his senses much like Asboel did. The draasin was more skilled at drawing along the fire bond, but Tan had grown more comfortable with each attempt.

  Through the bond, he sensed the draasin now away from the den. There was a sense of joy from Asgar and the other hatchling, an unbridled excitement for the hunt as they circled high above the ground, watching for movement. Sashari watched with pride, letting them hunt, guiding them. Asboel should be with them, reveling in the hunt as they did, joining and teaching, instead of trapped within the den, unable to do anything more than watch.

  Beyond the draasin, there was the sense of saa. Saa flowed all around the city, a wispy sense from the elemental, but taken together made it incredibly powerful. There was a new sense to Tan, that of an elemental that he had no name for, that crawled in dark spaces along the streets above. Tan wondered if it might be inferin or saldam, finally drawn to Ethea now that the barrier was down.

  Outside the city, he sensed other sources of fire. Many of the same elementals were there, but scattered. A bright light drew Tan away from Asboel’s questing, pulling him toward it, until Tan recognized it as the hound. She prowled the hills of Ter, the cool wind of ara ruffling her short fur and the scent of deer heavy in her nose.

  Asboel pulled him back, dragging Tan along the bond. They quested beyond the border with Incendin, reaching into the Sunlands, until Tan sensed the great burst of fire that came from kaas as it slithered beneath the ground. The fire bond showed him other bright lights, that of the dozen hounds Tan had healed, who raced across Incendin. It was here that Asboel paused, lingering and holding Tan’s focus.

  You see their connection? Asboel asked. His voice seemed to come differently now as he surged through the bond, a deeper sound, one that carried with it a sense of the centuries he’d lived. Tan had always known that Asboel was vast and ancient, but connected to the fire bond as he was and listening to his friend, he had a sense of how truly connected he was to fire.

  As Asboel instructed, Tan focused on the connection of the hounds to the fire bond. They surged brightly, the heat of their connection strong and powerful, but diff
erent than so many others that he’d seen. They were fire… but they weren’t.

  You see it, do you not? Asboel asked.

  How was I able to heal them?

  These creatures are a crossing of fire and earth. Only the fire was twisted, pulling them away from the Mother. I had not thought they could be restored.

  Tan recognized the significance to what Asboel said. Asboel might have known what the hounds were, but even he hadn’t thought what Tan had done was possible.

  How did I do it?

  Instead of answering, Asboel pulled him along, drawing along the fire bond, sending them questing farther and beyond Incendin. They moved through the southern tip of Chenir, where the elementals had once lived and now were pulled away from the land, until they drifted over Doma, the remnants of the Par-shon attack still leaving the land scarred. Udilm washed along the shores and mixed with the elemental Elle had bonded. In time, they would heal the land. Even through the fire bond, he recognized that.

  Then Asboel paused. They drifted above the ocean, the vast swell of blue with swirls of white splashing over it. Tan was surprised to note blooms of fire even within the ocean, elementals that he hadn’t ever known existed. The bond told them that they lived deep beneath the ocean, a place Tan thought would be nothing but cold and darkness.

  It is dark, but fire burns even there, Asboel said.

  Tan focused on the elementals he sensed. They clung weakly to the fire bond, but they were there, swirling around a jet of hot water. Water and fire? Tan asked.

  The Mother has no need of your kind to create crossings. She has made all that are required.

  Asboel drifted on, pulling Tan with him.

  They are more water than fire, Tan noted, still straining to reach the strange elemental deep within the ocean.

  As those creatures you healed are more earth than fire. As the draasin are more fire than wind. Many of the elementals could be considered a crossing, Maelen.