Changed by Fire (The Cloud Warrior Saga Book 3)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “And the lisincend are there. Somewhere in the archives.”

  She closed her eyes. Her sensing pressed out from her, much like a shaping. “One is there. Not both.”

  “And Asboel is coming. The lisincend killed the hatchlings.”

  “I think the lisincend still have another goal. More than simply reaching this place.”

  Tan was glad they saw the situation the same way. “As do I.”

  He reached for his connection to Asboel. You should not come. It is a trap to draw you to this place.

  He sensed the draasin nearby but didn’t get an answer.

  Tan focused on shaping each of the elements and then mingled them together before pushing it into the rune for spirit.

  Amia watched him. “You can shape spirit now.”

  “Not like you. For me, it is the same as in the place of convergence. I need all the elements shaped together to be able to manage spirit.”

  “Different,” she agreed. “But it’s still spirit.”

  “My shaping has always been different. I’m not like other shapers.” But if he were, he wouldn’t have the strength needed to have freed himself from the shaping the king had tried to place on him. Without using the nymid and ara, the king would have overwhelmed him. Without Amia, the king would have shaped him.

  The door opened with a soft hiss. Tan pulled it open.

  The First Mother assaulted him immediately.

  Instinctively, Tan pulled a shaping through him—through the sword—and pushed against her attempt at spirit shaping. It snapped back against her, destroyed by the strength lent by the sword.

  She crouched, still attached by the chains near the end of the room. “Daughter.”

  Amia stepped past Tan. “You don’t get to call me that. Regardless of this.” She pulled the silver band from beneath her cloak and tossed it at the Mother. “I know why you gave it to me.”

  “What does it do?”

  Amia stared at the First Mother with contempt. “It’s a marker for the People. Leaders.” Her eyes narrowed. “Shapers. It lets others know who can shape, even if weakly.”

  “You have it wrong, Daughter.”

  Amia tipped her head at the band of silver. “Maybe I do. Seeing you chained to the ground like this, I think perhaps you are where you belong.” Amia nudged Tan. “We should go. She can remain here. Let her serve the People from here.”

  The First Mother shot Tan a pleading expression. “You would have done the same. You would have done anything to save your family.”

  Tan put his arm around Amia’s shoulders.

  Amia moved against him. “I would have done many things to save my family,” he said. “Not anything.”

  They hurried up the stairs, but Tan paused, one hand on Amia’s waist. “I’m not going up here to only stop the lisincend. I need to protect Asboel. I need to protect the draasin.”

  “I will help. I don’t know how, but I will help,” Amia said.

  They reached the landing where they once had been trapped. The lisincend had been here recently. The door and walls were burned, as if flames had spread through this part of the archives. The shelves inside were destroyed. Fire had ripped through here, leaving little more than smoldering ash that once had been shelves and books. A slight haze of smoke still hung over the room.

  All the knowledge stored here, lost to the lisincend.

  He backed out and turned up the stairs without another word. The next level was much the same. Some evidence of the shelving that once stored the books remained, but nothing more. Tan breathed out slowly, pushing back the anger rising within him. Not only with the lisincend, but the king. Althem let this happen.

  They reached the top of the stairs. What remained of the door was twisted. Heat radiated out toward him, pressing from the upper archives on a breeze.

  He held a hand up in a stop gesture. Amia took a step back, indicating he could go on without her. Tan started into the archives alone.

  He held Roine’s sword—the warrior sword—in front of him. Runes glowed as he pulled a shaping through it, keeping it ready.

  The shelves were gone. Where once had been rows and rows holding thousands of texts—many centuries old—now there was nothing more than ash. The archives had survived the attack by the draasin only to fall to the lisincend.

  As Tan neared the door, heat raged toward him. He spun, sword outstretched.

  One of the lisincend stood waiting. It resembled Alisz. Leathery skin covered it. “Shaper,” he hissed.

  Tan tipped his head. “Where is Alisz?”

  The lisincend’s smile widened. “You wish to see her when you have found me?”

  “I wish to destroy her after I destroy you.”

  The lisincend laughed. “You are young to be so confident. You know fire?”

  With the question, a tongue of fire stretched toward Tan. He flicked the sword, pushing out with a fire shaping while at the same time drawing from Asboel’s strength. The draasin might not answer him, but that didn’t mean his presence wasn’t still within him.

  The lisincend hesitated.

  Tan pushed a shaping through the sword, mixing earth and wind. Here, at a place of convergence where golud infused the stone itself and ara blew through the halls, the shaping carried more power.

  The floor itself surged. Stone encircled the lisincend, trapping it up to the waist. Wind whistled, drawing off the lisincend’s heat, leaving it weakened.

  “Where is Alisz?” Tan demanded.

  The lisincend did not answer.

  Tan used another shaping of earth, again drawn through the sword, and the lisincend sank deeper into the stone.

  Its dark eyes widened. “The palace,” it hissed.

  Tan would have been better off going directly to the palace rather than coming here. Coming this way slowed him, putting Asboel at greater risk.

  “Amia!” He both spoke her name and sent it through their connection.

  She came through the door. Tan watched her scan the damage to the archive and come to rest on the lisincend trapped in stone. “Will it hold?”

  “Earth will hold fire. Especially as golud infuses this stone.”

  The lisincend roared and struggled.

  Tan shaped a gag of wind and stuffed it into the lisincend’s mouth, silencing it.

  “You let it live?” Amia asked.

  “For now,” he answered. “I don’t know if they can be saved.”

  “Saved?”

  When fire consumed him, he had thought of nothing more than letting it burn. He had practically become one of the lisincend. Now that he understood what that was like, could he not attempt to save the shaper?

  Amia turned away from the lisincend. “They went to fire willingly, Tan.”

  “So did I.”

  “They did it to serve fire. You did it to help those you care about.”

  Tan considered the lisincend, now held helpless in the rock. “They wanted to help their people as well. Would you have me kill the First Mother for what she did? She did the same as the lisincend.”

  “I have little sympathy for whatever befalls the First Mother.”

  The tone of her voice saddened him. So much had changed for him since they first met, but for her as well. The lisincend had taken everything from her. And now that she knew of the First Mother, what little remained of her past was gone.

  Nothing he could say would help her, so he pulled her close and kissed her again. As he did, he pushed a shaping of spirit through her, much as she had often shaped him.

  She kissed him back, gently at first and then with more urgency. She sighed as the shaping washed over her.

  “The palace,” he said, pulling away from her.

  Amia built a quick shaping and pressed it upon the lisincend. Tan recognized the shaping as similar to what the king had tried using on him.

  “It might hold for a while,” she said.

  “You’re using his shaping?”

  She glanced toward the lower leve
l of the archives. “He might be more skilled than the First Mother. I think we need to consider the possibility that he escapes the others.”

  “I expect that he will. I only need them to delay him.”

  He hurried through the rest of the archives. It looked much like the lower levels, destroyed by the lisincend fires. Centuries of work were now lost. Tan would mourn the loss later. For now, he needed to reach the palace and keep Asboel from letting fire consume him.

  Tan nearly stumbled as they emerged.

  All the work that had gone into restoring the city, rebuilding following the draasin attack, had been destroyed. Fires burned throughout the city. Heat simmered from lisincend stalking the streets. How many had died for whatever the king planned?

  Renewed anger washed over him so he touched the cool stone of the archives. Golud infused the stone but also permeated the footings of the city itself, a city reclaimed from nymid-infused water. He sent out a rumbling request. Quench fire.

  Nothing more than that.

  The ground trembled and shook. Amia stumbled into the street. “What did you do?”

  “I asked golud to help.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of what will happen if you use the elemental power here? Isn’t that what the king wants?”

  “I’m more afraid of what will happen if I don’t.”

  He continued through empty streets, working around rubble and smoldering buildings. Amia followed, keeping up as he hurried through the streets of Ethea. The palace remained in sight, rising through the ash and smoke. No one else moved in the streets.

  The heat from the lisincend shaping increased as they neared. Tan wished for nymid armor for protection. This time, he would have to stop the lisincend by himself.

  A dark shadow swirled overhead. He looked up to see Asboel circling.

  Do not do this!

  The great fire elemental had to answer this time. Tan was too close for him to ignore.

  Maelen. Leave this place.

  They seek to draw you here. They seek to call the Mother. They have the device.

  Asboel hesitated. A moment of calm returned to his mind. Twisted Fire must suffer.

  That is fire speaking, not the draasin.

  Draasin are fire.

  No. Draasin are more than fire.

  Tan may not understand the elemental powers as well as Asboel, but he had grown to know Asboel; the bond between them created a shared understanding. Asboel was no more fire than Tan was. And if he lost himself to rage, he could lose control of fire the same as Tan.

  He focused on a shaping, wrapping earth and wind and water before finally adding fire. Spirit burst from his shaping and he sent it toward Asboel, hoping to provide calm.

  And realized he was too late. Another shaping wrapped around Asboel’s mind.

  The draasin began dropping from the sky. His wings beat weakly as he crashed.

  How had he been shaped? The only way Amia had managed to shape the draasin was because it had been at the place of convergence, and then they had liquid spirit to aid her. Who could be strong enough to shape the draasin?

  “Tan!”

  Amia stared at the palace, where Asboel finally came to rest in the courtyard.

  Earth erupted and lightning cracked overhead. A warrior. Not Lacertin or Roine. Neither could shape spirit. That meant the king had escaped.

  “You should go. Leave Ethea,” he warned Amia. “I will do what I can here.”

  “I’m not leaving you to face this alone.”

  “I have to be here. I have to help Asboel. You can find safety.”

  “None will find safety if he succeeds.”

  He took her hand. With a quick shaping of wind—copying what he’d seen his mother perform and augmented by ara—he lifted into the air, pulling Amia with him.

  Quickly, he urged ara and they sped into the palace courtyard.

  It took one glance for Tan to take in the changes. Where had once been a combination of scenes from the kingdoms—a mixture of forest and water and sand and grassland—was now laid waste by flames. A winged lisincend stood near one corner of the courtyard. Not Alisz.

  Alisz prowled toward Asboel. The king stood between her and Tan, a triumphant expression on his face. The artifact glowed with soft white light, still powered by his shaping. Alisz glanced from the king to the draasin, excitement practically steaming from her.

  Asboel lay crumpled on the ground, one wing bent behind him at an awkward angle. Several of the spikes on his back were damaged, broken and scattered across the ground. Blackish blood oozed from a wound where a tree had pierced him as he landed. His head moved slowly.

  Alisz would kill Asboel. And then? Could she use his energy to ascend to elemental power or would she have to kill the others? Would the king allow her to kill Asboel before he used the draasin in his plan?

  Tan needed to stop them both.

  Asboel?

  Maelen. Finish me. Do not let them use—

  He didn’t have the chance to finish what he was saying. The king formed another shaping, pulling it through the artifact. It built with painful pressure and slammed over Asboel. The massive draasin twitched and fell still.

  He breathed, but slowly. The shaping over his mind muddled his thoughts.

  The king finally noticed Tan. “You served well, Tannen. Perhaps I will allow you to continue to serve.”

  “You don’t know what you’re doing. The ancient scholars kept that device from here for a reason.”

  The king sneered at him and slammed a shaping toward Tan. “Because they were scared.”

  Tan drew power through the sword and the shaping dissipated. “They were wise. The elementals should not be controlled.”

  The king snarled, “Maybe I was wrong about you.” He motioned toward Alisz. “Finish him.”

  She blinked as if debating whether to obey. Althem forced a shaping upon her and she leapt into the air. The other lisincend followed.

  They dove toward him.

  Tan pressed through the sword, drawing upon all of the elements at the same time he drew upon the elemental power. Already, he engaged golud. Now he called ara to buffer his shaping and mixed what he could of the nymid, though they were distant.

  The lisincend hit a barrier created by his shaping and bounced off.

  “You can’t do this!” Tan yelled at the king.

  Althem ignored him. His shaping built, pulling through the artifact. Tan recognized how the shaping pulled on the elementals, drawing from golud beneath him, ara fluttering in the wind, the nymid deep beneath their feet in the lakebed that once had existed here, and lastly pulling through Asboel. He mixed that power, drawing it through the artifact.

  Tan sent a shaping at the king but it wasn’t strong enough, not against the power Althem now wielded.

  The ground next to him exploded.

  Lacertin shot from the ground, sword glowing with runes. Roine followed. His skin shone and still carried with it a hint of green from the nymid’s healing. Zephra followed on a shaping of wind infused with ara. As Tan watched, ara faltered, drawn by the king’s shaping.

  “We need to stop the king—” Tan started, but the lisincend attacked as he did.

  Lacertin twisted, sending a shaping of fire and wind and earth toward Alisz, pulling through his sword. His mother shot toward the other lisincend, unafraid and drawing a shaping of wind as she went. Only Roine remained.

  “Roine?”

  He stared at the king with an unreadable expression. “This is not my friend,” Roine said. “This is not Althem. He must have been shaped.”

  Amia gave him a sad expression. “Althem is the shaper. What he does has been years in the planning.”

  “What does he attempt?” Roine asked.

  Tan nodded toward Asboel. “He draws forth a pool of spirit. With that—” he pointed to the artifact “—he can change anything.”

  Roine took a step back. “I can’t stop him.”

  “Theondar can.”

  H
is eyes widened. “I am Theondar, Tannen. And I can’t stop him.” He looked at Lacertin battling the lisincend, at Zephra sending whips of wind at the other, before shifting his attention back to Tan. “You’re the one who speaks to the elementals. You will have to do this. You are the only one. Go. Do what you can. I will help the others.”

  “Your sword,” Tan said, holding it toward him.

  Roine pushed it back to him. “That is a warrior’s sword.” Roine shifted his attention back to Alisz. His shaping built suddenly and he shot toward her, leaving Tan and Amia together.

  Tan looked at Asboel. He had come to save his friend, but to do so, he needed to stop the king. “Can you do something about the shaping?” he asked Amia.

  She focused on Asboel, biting her lip as she considered. “There is still my shaping holding him.”

  Tan closed his eyes, thinking. Amia’s shaping—the warning not to hunt man—would restrict Asboel. “Remove it.”

  “Tan?”

  “Remove it.”

  Amia set her jaw and started toward Asboel, working around his broken wing and sidling up to him.

  Tan focused on Althem.

  The shaping still built, growing more powerful with each passing moment.

  If he did nothing, Althem would control enough of the elementals to draw spirit here. Tan didn’t know what would happen then, but if the ancient scholars were unwilling to keep the artifact here—if they were unwilling to risk that—then he would not, either.

  Althem shot him a dark look. “You can’t stop this, Tannen. Perhaps in a few years, you might have learned enough, but not now. And once I learned of your ability, I wasn’t willing to risk those years. It’s why I convinced your friend to take you to the Gathering. I thought you could be coaxed toward fire—”

  He threw a shaping toward Tan.

  Tan barely reacted in time, pushing it away with a shaping drawn through the sword. He took another step.

  Althem sent another shaping at him. Again, Tan barely deflected it.

  Behind him, someone screamed.

  Tan ignored it, focusing only on the king. Another step.

  A few more and he would reach him.

  Althem shifted his focus, pressing all of his shaping on Tan.

  Elemental power burned through him, threatening to destroy him. Tan recognized it. He’d felt it before. Nymid. Ara. Golud. And draasin. Althem could not speak to them, could not do more than try to control them. But they were elementals, not meant to be controlled.