The water shaping eased and Wallyn straightened his back. He was tall and broad-shouldered, not muscular like Veran, but solid, as if built for a wider man. He had hair that hung to his shoulders, but it had begun to thin. Like most of the healers within the university, he wore a long robe tied at the waist with a length of rope.
He turned to Lacertin. “You were lucky to reach the university,” Wallyn said.
Lacertin shook himself at the sudden comment. “I tried what I could.”
Wallyn nodded. “You never were one to shape much with water, were you, Lacertin?”
He stood, making his way toward Veran. The man’s skin was pale and the thick gash that he’d seen across his chest had faded, leaving a purple line. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his breathing was steady and regular. Most of all, he lived.
“I thought the barrier held,” Wallyn said.
“The barrier did,” Lacertin answered.
Wallyn sniffed. “Then why is one of our warriors lying near death?”
Lacertin sighed. Partly, it was his fault. The barrier had been his idea. The archivists may have helped implement it, and the other shapers maintained it, but the barrier itself had been his suggestion. Veran might have mistakenly shaped through the barrier, but the fact that Lacertin had wanted to see the barrier, to see where Pherah and Roln had died, made him feel responsible.
“You know the reason,” Lacertin said. “The hounds slipped through the barrier.”
“How will it ever be effective if we can’t even keep the hounds from crossing? First Pherah and Roln, and now Veran—”
“You said Veran will live.”
“He will, but had there been any other warrior with him, I doubt he would have made it back to the kingdoms. Were you not with him…”
Lacertin sighed. Had he not been with him, Veran would have died. But had he not been with him, Veran would not have gone to the border in the first place.
“Jayna tells me that Alice left around the same time as we did. Do you know where she went?” Lacertin asked.
Wallyn waved a hand toward him. “I can barely keep track of my healers. What makes you think I would know where the warriors run off to? Even were I able to keep track of you, I’m not sure I want to.”
Lacertin watched Veran. “Will you send for me when he wakes?”
“Yes, yes. You can be notified. Now, you’ll need to let him rest. I don’t know why you thought you’d be able to speak to him. Surely Jayna knew that much.” Wallyn crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “And you should seek healing as well. I know that we neglected you when you returned, but only because you were in better shape than Veran. Now that he’s stable, I think that we can focus on your injuries.”
“Mine are superficial,” he told Wallyn, who grunted and pushed Lacertin to sit on one of the nearby cots.
“Superficial. The Great Mother knows you are a skilled warrior, Lacertin, but if you have only superficial wounds after falling from the sky like that, then I’ll be a fisherwife.” He rested a hand on Lacertin’s head and a quick shaping built, washing through the warrior.
Lacertin had experienced healing many times before in his service to the king, but it didn’t get any easier. The sensation started in his forehead and washed down, leaving a cool trickling that trailed through him before settling in his chest. With a bite of cold, Lacertin gasped.
The pain he’d felt with each breath, the pain that he’d been fighting, finally eased. He let out a long, shaky breath.
“Superficial, you say. I say broken ribs.”
“Ribs mend just fine,” Lacertin said, rubbing a hand over his chest. He peeled the bandages away, no longer needing them as he had.
“They mend, and chances are good you would have, too. But it’s also possible that they puncture a lung and you bleed internally.” He cocked his head. “Have you ever seen a man bleed inside his chest? Terrible way to go. It starts slow, but as you continue to bleed, a person essentially drowns in their own blood.”
Lacertin grunted. “Seems that a water shaper would appreciate a death like that.”
Wallyn jerked his hand away from Lacertin. “You should watch what you say, Lacertin, or next time I won’t be here to heal you.”
Lacertin stood. “I appreciate that you’re here, and I’m sorry I brought you more work.”
Wallyn waved his hand dismissively. “Work is how we learn. You should know that. There are nearly a dozen budding water shapers, and each needs to learn how to hone their ability, don’t they?”
Lacertin stopped at the door, looking back at Veran. “Keep him well.”
“I didn’t know you cared so much for Veran.”
“Now that Pherah and Roln are gone, there are only so many warriors remaining,” he said.
Wallyn shook his head. “There will always be warriors, Lacertin.”
“Will there? The last was Birend. Before that, it was Theondar. The spacing seems to increase, don’t you think?”
“That’s not how the Great Mother works.”
“We don’t know how she works, do we? Now that we’ve lost the connection to the elementals, we’ve lost that insight.” From everything that he had read, the connection to the elementals had been one way the ancients had access to the Great Mother. Without that, did they really know what she intended for them?
“Now you’ve gotten philosophical? I thought the great Lacertin cared only for action. Isn’t that why you’ve spent so much time away from the city?”
Lacertin started forward. “I have done only what has been asked of me,” he said.
He wasn’t sure—and didn’t care—whether Wallyn heard him.
CHAPTER 12
Wind whistled past him as he traveled on the shaping of air. Lightning streaked around him, dancing in the skies, and thunder chased him. The traveling shaping pulled him north, moving fast enough that the land streaked below him.
It was Wallyn who had made him decide to leave, if only briefly. If all went well, he would return to the city and perhaps have answers. This time, he’d gone without his king’s permission, though all he wanted was to scout for information, perhaps find a way to truly protect the kingdoms.
The air grew colder the farther he went. He passed beyond the border of the kingdoms and moved over open water. Only the blue of the sea stretched below him now.
Nearly losing Veran to the hounds had set him worrying about the safety of the barrier. And Roln and Pherah had been lost, as well as too many shapers. Had he missed something when suggesting it to the archivists?
For the safety of the kingdoms, he needed to ensure all was safe and secure before Theondar made a point of sending him somewhere else. That, more than anything, motivated him. When he no longer served as First Warrior, he had little doubt that Theondar would keep him from Ethea. Not that Lacertin minded, but he would have answers before that happened and do all that he could to protect the kingdoms.
Slivers of ice pierced his skin the farther he went. Lacertin shifted the shaping, adding a touch of heat to the air around him so that the cold ice in the air would melt before striking his skin. A soft cloud formed around him, making it even more difficult for him to see. For where he traveled, visibility probably didn’t matter.
Norilan was so far to the north that most warriors’ strength would fail before they reached it. And it was far enough to the north that the traveling shaping he used actually felt slow. Most of the time when he traveled like this, the time between places passed in a matter of moments. The only time that it hadn’t was when he’d carried Veran with him. To reach Norilan, moments stretched into minutes, which turned into even longer.
Then he began to feel pressure building.
It came slowly at first, barely more than an increased sense of wind resistance, then turned, something like the air thickening as he made his way north. Even that change, turning into true pressure pushing against him, slowing his shaping.
The fog around him from the heat added to the shaping t
hickened, leaving him sitting in a cloud. He smiled at the thought. For the first time, he truly was a cloud warrior.
The title came from so long ago that most forgot its origins. Lacertin liked to think that it was from sensers or shapers unable to travel like the warriors, who looked up at the sky to see the warriors moving, practically walking along the clouds.
With a shaping of wind, he drew the fog away. Even doing that didn’t help clear his vision. Sweeps of white stretched in front of him, obscuring even the ocean far below.
This was Norilan.
He knew little of the island, only that it had been separated from the rest of the world for so long that most forgot it existed. Lacertin had learned of Norilan from the archives, reading about a land of ice that had hidden itself from the world.
The barrier that prevented him from reaching Norilan was the same as he’d seen the first time he’d come. It was different than what the kingdoms had erected. Whereas this was a thick blanket of ice and fog, the barrier along the borders of the kingdoms was clear and shaped from each of the elements to keep shapers out. As far as Lacertin could tell, the intent of this barrier was simply to keep everyone out. It did not discriminate.
How did Norilan manage to maintain this barrier? He hadn’t managed to determine that the last time that he’d been here, and he still didn’t understand what they had done. The water shaping used was complex, rivaling the shaping that he’d seen from Wallyn, but this wasn’t water used to heal.
Maybe had another shaper, one stronger in water, come with him, he might be able to understand. There would be value in closing the borders entirely.
Lacertin made his way to the east, pressing against the barrier and not able to get any farther toward land he knew had to be there, land he couldn’t see. What had prompted a shaping like this? What would make a nation want to fully isolate themselves? Were it not for the reference in the archives, Lacertin might not have known a place like Norilan even existed. Norilan might be safe with a shaping, but what did they lose?
What would the kingdoms lose by place the barrier around the border?
Lacertin had never considered that before. They might find safety, protection from Incendin attacks, but would there be other consequences that they hadn’t considered?
Maybe that was a question for the archivists. Or for Theondar to manage once he became the First Warrior. Lacertin would continue to serve the kingdoms, likely sent to fight Incendin. Anything more than that… he would have to find a way to be happy with what was asked of him.
The air pulsed suddenly, pressing him back.
Lacertin resisted, pushing against it with a shaping of fire and earth, but holding himself here drained him. He couldn’t attack Norilan—and didn’t want to even if he could—not if he wanted to return.
With one last glance at the barrier, he turned away and started back to the kingdoms.
When he returned, he noted that the stones of the shaper circle outside the university had chipped. Lacertin wasn’t sure whether his shaping had anything to do with it, or if it had been another shaper. As he leaned in to examine the stones, he heard a rustling of fabric behind him that told him he wasn’t alone.
“You keep following me,” he said without looking up. Earth sensing had told him that Jayna stood behind him, if not why.
“I wanted to check on you.”
Lacertin stood and wiped his hands on his cloak. Moisture remained from his travel and he smoothed the fabric. He wore borrowed clothes that were finer than his own, but not his sword. In time, he’d have to find that as well. It felt wrong to be without it.
“I think I’m fine,” he said.
Jayna smiled. “Fine? Master Wallyn told me what was needed to heal you. It sounds as if I underestimated your injuries.” The frustration in her voice didn’t match the wide smile on her face.
“Oh, he claims I would have died had I not accepted healing when I did. I think he was being overly dramatic.”
Jayna touched him on the arm and a shaping built from her quickly. Her eyes widened slightly and she shook her head. “You were masking your injury from me.”
“I don’t think I masked anything. Haven’t you learned that I’m not all that strong with water?”
“You’re plenty strong; you just don’t have a delicate touch with it like you need in order to be an effective healer.”
Lacertin laughed and stepped away from the shaper circle. The air had taken on an edge of energy that tugged on his fire sensing. He’d come to listen when he sensed things like that. Usually, it meant a different kind of shaping.
“I never claimed an interest in healing,” he said.
A rumble of thunder echoed suddenly. Lacertin glanced up to the darkening sky. Streaks of color swirled around clouds, giving shadows to the fading sun. Did a storm move in, or was there something else?
He waited, reaching out with earth sensing again, but detected nothing. If it was a warrior shaping, he would have expected whoever made it to appear in the shaper circle. No one came.
“What is it?” Jayna asked.
Lacertin tried something different, using a shaping of fire to pull on the edge of the air that he’d detected. “Nothing.”
“If it’s nothing, then why does your face look all contorted like that?”
Lacertin focused on the shaping. Whatever he sensed was vague and just on the edge of his ability to detect, but it was there.
He started forward, following it, holding his focus on what he sensed. The energy in the air increased as he left he university, as if the shaper created some sort of shield that obstructed his ability to sense the change in the air.
Another dozen steps and he recognized the shaping. Now there was no doubt. That had been a warrior shaping, but not one that originated from the university. Instead, it came from deeper in the city.
He continued forward. There was a reason warriors returned through the university. Mostly it had to do with tradition. There was a desire for other shapers to see the warriors, to feel bolstered by the strength that they demonstrated, and to continue to strive for the skills they displayed. But it was more than that. The stones that made up the shaper circle were designed to handle the huge amounts of energy involved. The lightning that warriors traveled on could damage surrounding buildings, especially if it went awry. Shapers had always simply agreed to travel out of the university, rather than anywhere else in the city.
The sense of the shaping lingered on the air, growing stronger the farther he went. Lacertin couldn’t tell who created it—he wasn’t strong enough for something like that, and wasn’t sure if it was even possible in the first place—but he could get a sense of the direction. The farther he went, the more certain he was of where the shaping originated.
“Lacertin?” Jayna asked.
He stopped outside the low wall circling the palace. The shaping had come from within the shaped garden, but why? Who would risk such a shaping so close to the palace, and so close to the ancient shapings?
CHAPTER 13
“You should wait here,” Lacertin said to Jayna.
She glanced over at the palace and frowned. “Why are you returning? Didn’t you just come from here?”
Lacertin stopped outside the wall and glanced up as a deep, mournful bell began tolling from high above the palace.
His heart fluttered. There was only one reason the bell would ring: Ilton was gone.
“Is that—”
Lacertin swallowed back the lump in his throat. “Return to Wallyn. Help Veran.”
“Lacertin, let me help you.”
He glanced over at the palace. “This isn’t one where you can help.”
He would worry about the shaping near the palace another time. For now, he needed to pay his respects to the king.
With a shaping of wind, he jumped over the wall, leaving Jayna standing alone on the other side. He started toward the palace, wondering if he should be uncomfortable with the coincidence that Ilton died around the
same time as he had sensed a warrior shaping near the palace, the kind of shaping that never happened anywhere but at the university.
He passed a few servants and noticed that they didn’t bother to look at him. As he stopped inside the palace, there was a solemn air. Near the base of the stair, he saw Bren.
Lacertin went to him. “Bren,” he started.
The master of servants turned. Tears welled in his eyes. “The king was a great man, Lacertin,” he started.
“When did he pass?” Lacertin asked.
“You know the custom, Lacertin. The family grieves first, and then the city is notified.”
He wondered if that had been where Ilianna had been when he’d come to the palace earlier. It would explain why the entire hall had seemed empty. Had Theondar known at that time? If he had, wouldn’t he have said something?
Probably not. Lacertin could imagine Theondar holding back that knowledge. Maybe he would have said something had Lacertin been more forthcoming.
“The room is locked, then?”
Bren nodded.
Could the shaping he’d detected been Theondar leaving the palace? He hadn’t been close to the king, not like he was close to Althem, but maybe Althem had sent him to spread word of the king’s passing. Other warriors and shapers would need to know.
“Why have you come?” Bren asked.
Lacertin shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, now, does it?”
He started down the hall, glancing at the shapers stationed at the base of the stairs, the same shapers he’d seen earlier. They watched him with a readied shaping. Lacertin felt better than he had when he’d been here earlier, well enough that he could ignore the way they stared at him and not fear that they might shape him with his back turned.
Without knowing why, he started up the stair at the end of the hall.
He stopped on the second floor and listened. His earth sensing told him that someone was here. Though he didn’t know who, he sensed someone in the princess’s rooms. Lacertin hurried down the hall, only stopping when he reached her door.
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