Pain seared through her lips and tongue. She dropped it, and the bowl shattered on the ground.
Olina stood over her, studying her with a frown pinching her face. “Perhaps I was wrong with you. I thought a girl of Rens would know how to reach for fire without fear, but maybe that was expecting too much.” She snorted and went toward the fire and grabbed a strip of cloth that she tossed to Ciara. “Wipe it up, and we will begin again.”
Ciara stood outside Olina’s home, staring at the village of K’ral. It was late in the day and the sun set behind the horizon, leaving swirls of orange and pink streaking across the distant sky. The colors were so different than what she knew in Rens, more vibrant as the sun filtered through the thick white clouds, but then everything that she’d seen here had been more vibrant.
She held another bowl in her hands, cupping it carefully. It boiled continuously, even though it had been hours since Olina had pulled it from the fire. Whatever the old woman did—some shaping, Ciara suspected—kept the liquid within the bowl at a roiling and continuous boil. Each time Ciara attempted to drink the liquid, she burned her lips. She half expected to lose sensation over time, that the liquid would stop bothering her so much, but that hadn’t been the case so far.
“You should be careful with that.”
Ciara turned and saw the man she’d met outside town standing in the shadows of Olina’s home. They seemed to swirl around him until he stepped forward, out of the darkness. “The first time she allowed me to try, I dropped the bowl. Twice.”
Ciara smiled. “At least I only dropped it once.”
“I’m Nevan,” he said. “I’m sorry about…” His mouth pinched into a thin line, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry I brought you here. I didn’t know Olina would think to test you as she did.”
Ciara suppressed a shiver at the memory. Shadows from that night had faded from her mind, but she was left with the clear memory of the way the cold had seeped into her, threatening to change her. What would have happened to her had she allowed it to consume her? What would she have become?
Nevan approached, taking her silence as an invitation, and looked into the bowl before nodding. “Never learned how she keeps it boiling.”
“It’s shaped, I think.”
He frowned. “Shaped?”
“Fire element. She uses it to keep the broth boiling.”
“That,” Nevan said, turning to look toward Olina’s house, “would explain much.”
“You don’t know about shaping?”
He shook his head. “Only the elementals have such power.”
It was Ciara’s turn to frown, surprised that there would be elementals of fire in these lands. The draasin weren’t here, and saldam belonged to Rens. “Which elementals?”
“Saldam of fire. Golud for earth. Udilm crashes along the shores. Wyln gives breath to the land. They are the elementals that I know.”
“There are others?” She knew of the draasin and saldam, but not of the others.
Nevan shrugged. “There are probably others, but not many know them. Olina might. Those in Hyaln will, but they share nothing with us.”
“Hyaln?”
Nevan nodded. “A place to learn power.” He barely disguised the hunger in his voice.
“What of the draasin, then?”
“They are different. None have ever answered why. You cannot see udilm or golud or wyln, but the draasin? When they appear, there is no way to miss them.”
“Where am I?” she asked. Where had the draasin brought her?
“Where? I thought you knew that you had come to Tsanth.”
Tsanth. He’d said that when she first arrived, but what did it mean? Where was this place the draasin had brought her, and why here, so far from her home?
Olina had said she needed to learn to listen to fire, and that only once she did would she be able to speak to it, but what if she never figured it out? Would she be stuck here in Tsanth? How would she ever reach her people?
She could try summoning the draasin again, using her j’na to call to one, but there was little guarantee that it would work. In these lands, so cool and different from her home, it was unlikely.
“I didn’t know where I was going,” she said. “The draasin brought me here. I wanted to understand…” She shook her head. What did it matter that she wanted to understand the darkness and why it might attack? “The draasin answered the call,” she went on, “but I don’t know why it brought me to Tsanth.”
Nevan dropped his gaze to the bowl she clutched in her hands. “Perhaps the draasin have decided to allow the riders to return.” There was a bitterness to his voice, but Ciara didn’t know why.
“I never wanted to be a rider. I want only to help my people, but I fail each time I try.” When she’d thought to cross the waste, she’d nearly died. That hadn’t helped anyone, had probably made things worse. She had returned to find the village nearly wiped out, the people abducted. Had the shadows been to blame? Was it her fault the village had nearly fallen? And now here she was, stranded in this strange land, surrounded by life and water, and she wanted nothing more than to return to the only home she knew. Except, in order for her to return, she would have to somehow summon the draasin again and convince it that it should carry her back to Rens.
“Ah, but the riders are said to have been spectacular. They soared, keeping all lands safe, including Tsanth. Our people are different now.”
“Mine too,” Ciara said, “but not because of the draasin. Ter attacks us, pushing my people away from lands that once sustained us, forcing us closer to the waste where nearly nothing can live.” The village had survived, but only because they nya’shin had learned to find water and the Stormbringer provided. What would happen when that changed?
Would it even matter? Her people were gone, weren’t they? The attack on the village had taken them in ways that Ter never had.
“You would only choose to return? You don’t want to control the draasin?”
Ciara shook her head. “They are not meant for people like me to control.” Maybe no one should control the draasin. The great creatures were too powerful, too beautiful, to be forced anywhere. They should be allowed to fly freely.
Nevan watched her a moment longer. “Maybe you were not meant to be a rider then. Riders must be forceful and strong, and they must choose what the draasin do.”
Without thinking much about it, Ciara brought the bowl to her lips and tried to take a sip. It burned her mouth, but she actually managed to take a swallow, even if it was only a few scalding drops.
“Are you a rider? Is that how you know?”
He shook his head. “There have been no riders in my lifetime. Many hope they will be the first to return, but none have managed.” He looked to Olina’s home. “Now even the draasin have left our lands.” Nevan nodded to the bowl. “That’s but a step. Take it carefully, if you think you can take it at all. You do well simply holding it. Most can’t stand to touch the bowl.”
Ciara felt the heat pushing through the clay of the bowl. “It’s no worse than clinging to hot rock, climbing in Rens. Nothing filters the sun, and there is not usually much wind, and what comes can take your breath away.” Her hands had grown accustomed to it, practically numb. She hoped her lips and mouth would as well, so that she could learn what Olina intended to show her.
Nevan touched his fingers to the lip of the bowl and pulled his hand away. “I’m not sure I would like your Rens very much,” he said with a laugh. “Much better to remain covered and stay cool.”
The door opened to Olina’s house and the old woman poked her head out, considering Ciara and then Nevan. He nodded to her respectfully before placing his hand over his heart and turning away.
Olina waited until he was out of sight before coming from under her doorway. “Have you any more success?”
Ciara thought of the few drops she’d managed to drink, barely anything to brag about, and decided to try again. She held the bowl to her lips, feeling the way the
heat drifted up from the softly boiling liquid. Did she dare try taking another drink? Could she dare not to?
She tipped it back, steeling herself for pain. When the broth touched her lips, it was scalding, but this time she managed to take a small swallow. She gulped it down and nearly screamed as it burned its way down her throat.
Olina pulled the bowl from her hands and tapped the edge. “That is a start,” she said. “Better than most. Tomorrow will be more.”
She turned and started into her home, leaving Ciara staring after her and wondering how she would ever return home.
Darkness had fallen over the town, and Ciara rested on pile of blankets Olina had given her, snuggling toward the fading embers within the hearth and wishing for more warmth. Gusts of wind howled outside and occasionally managed to work through the door and around the window of Olina’s home, stealing the warm the hearth provided and leaving a gentle breeze behind. Ciara shivered. Nights in Rens could be cold, but never quite like this.
At least she had the blankets. Some were finely made, woven of a thick wool much like the shepa the village produced, but they were softer and more brightly dyed than anything her people would have found practical. Others were soft and smooth and simple. Ciara preferred these the most, piling them beneath her head and overtop her body as she struggled to find sleep. After spending the past night outside, hanging from the post, she wanted nothing more than for the dead of sleep to claim her, but it wouldn’t.
The darkness frightened her tonight. Ciara had always found her people’s fear of the dark foolish, but now that she’d met the shadow man and now that she’d felt his touch, she no longer believed it was silly. Now she trembled in ways that had nothing to do with how cold she might be.
A steady pattering struck the top of the house and her eyes snapped fully open.
Rain?
It had been nearly a month since the last storm, and that had been brief, barely more than enough to refill their stores, leaving them with water that should only have lasted a few days. They had managed to stretch it longer—her people always managed to stretch their water supply longer—but no rains had come after.
Ciara sat up and stared at the fire, wishing Olina hadn’t tamped it out for the night. The old woman might be able to shape fire, but Ciara had no such ability. She wrapped one of the blankets made of thick fur around her shoulders and went to the door. The wind gusted with more force, driving as if trying to enter the house. It blew back her hair, and she pulled the blanket more tightly around her shoulders, straining to remain warm.
As she stood there, she felt the cold creep through the cracks, and she shivered. The way it seeped around the edges of the doorways, the way it slowly oozed into the house, it reminded her of the shadow man.
Ciara took a step back, afraid to be too close.
“He is out there tonight.”
Ciara turned to see Olina watching from the doorway leading to her room. “Who is?”
“Darkness. We call him Tenebeth. He stalks the night, promising power and control. Once bound, a part of him has become free.”
“The shadow man,” Ciara whispered.
Olina tipped her head and studied Ciara. “Shadow man. As good a name as any to describe him. He is powerful and seductive. Far too many have lost themselves to Tenebeth.”
“What is he? An elemental?”
“Not an elemental, but something greater. He possesses power the elementals do not. He is darkness and night, suppressed for thousands of years by the light. Now something has changed, and he touches the world once more.” Her gaze lingered on the fire. “It is because of Tenebeth the wise departed Hyaln, for Tenebeth forces the draasin to fight in ways they would not.”
“The wise?”
Olina nodded, waving her hand around her as she motioned toward the rest of K’ral behind the walls of her home. “These fools would call them riders, but they were more than that. They shared a connection, but that has been lost. Corrupted by the darkness.”
Darkness. Her father warned of darkness like this, and she had known it was real, had walked alongside the shadow man, but somehow had managed to stay apart. The lizard had helped, guiding her back into the light, but why?
“If he’s darkness, what is the light?”
“You must find your own light,” Olina said.
Ciara shook her head. “My father said the old priests once spoke of a battle between darkness and light. He said the draasin fight on the side of the light.”
“They try to,” Olina said. “But Tenebeth’s touch is powerful, and those who serve him are capable of wielding a dark power, one strong enough to compel even the draasin. Others think they can wield his power without serving. They are even greater fools.”
“I don’t understand.” But she did, didn’t she? She’d felt the way the shadow man had touched her; she’d been seduced by his call, drawing her across the waste with the promise of power. Ciara had very nearly claimed that power and would have followed him had it not been for the lizard and the memory of its touch on her skin and the way it had healed her.
The lizard was an elemental as well, Ciara suddenly realized. That explained how she had been saved, how she still lived when she should have died. But why help her? What reason did the lizard have to save her rather than letting her go? Why risk her going to the darkness?
“You felt it when he came the other night. I know you did because I felt it. I was there, watching with you. And he comes again, though this time he becomes impatient. Tenebeth is powerful, more than even I can withstand when he forces his will. You need the assistance of others if you will survive.”
Ciara sighed and nodded toward the rattling door. Wind gusted against it, growing ever more powerful. She wanted to back away, but where would she go? If Olina refused to help, what would she do? What could she do?
“What others?” He’d already come for her twice. What if he did again?
“The elementals, child of Rens. If you can’t learn listen to fire, he will come to possess you. Little by little, he will swallow the light.”
22
Ciara
With each summons, they unleash more of the darkness. They do not even see it, but as one who has seen many things and lived many years, I can feel it. Much longer and there might not be any way to reverse what they have done.
—Lren Atunal, Cardinal of the College of Scholars
Daylight had returned and Ciara now stood well outside K’ral, overlooking the sweeping plain before her. The tall grasses were even greener than the day before, if that was possible, as if the rain from the night had brought out colors that weren’t there previously. Her feet were damp and covered by mud that squished around her toes as she walked, an unpleasantly soft sensation.
Olina sat on a stump with her arms crossed over her chest. Her gray hair was pulled back and tucked behind her ears. The simple robe she wore provided warmth in the early morning chill, likely more than Ciara’s elouf and the blanket she wrapped around her shoulders. She’d chosen the one with fur, thinking she might find a little more warmth with it than the wool. Still, she shivered.
“What can you tell me about Tenebeth,” Ciara asked. Olina had been vague about the shadow man, and Ciara wondered how much of it was out of fear and how much simply because she didn’t know the answers. But this, she felt certain, was part of the reason the draasin had brought her here.
Olina glanced at the sky, and the tips of the fingers on her right hand went to her neck before dropping back into her lap. “You know as much as I know.”
Ciara doubted that. She had experienced the shadow man, she had nearly been drawn to him, but what did she really know about him?
“Why does he fear the draasin?”
Olina grunted. “You think Tenebeth fears the draasin? You haven’t been listening, girl. Tenebeth fears nothing and seeks to draw more into the shadows. With each summons, he grows stronger. I feel it, even if the fools in Hyaln do not.”
Each time sh
e’d tried understand Hyaln, Olina had changed the subject. Something had happened, but the old woman didn’t want to share.
“You need to learn a way to resist,” Olina said. “If you don’t…” She snapped her fingers together, as if Ciara she know what she meant.
Whatever the shadow man might be, there had been reluctance when it came to the draasin. Wasn’t that part of the reason Fas had been healed? There had been shadow within him when she’d returned. She hadn’t known what it was at first, but she’d seen the way the shadows departed, only leaving when the draasin were summoned. Somehow that summoning had freed him.
She had her j’na. Olina hadn’t taken it from her, though the woman sought to study the marks made on the shaft of the spear and had traced them onto a thick sheaf of parchment she’d coated with wax. Ciara thought the process strange until seeing how heavy the rains were the night before. Now she understood why the parchment was waxed, but not why Olina would go to such effort to copy the marks carved into the shaft of her spear by her father.
“Then what can we do?” she asked. “If he fears nothing, why fight?”
“I didn’t say he fears nothing, only that it is not the draasin.”
Ciara lifted her j’na and tapped it into the soft soil. It sank deeply and she pulled it free, wishing she could have learned how her father managed to summon the draasin before she departed Rens. At least then she might know what it was she needed to do so that she could return. Without the draasin, Ciara wasn’t sure she even had a way to return. She would be stuck in Tsanth, working with Olina, trying to find some way back to her home. Only this time, she wouldn’t be able to simply walk back.
“What are the lizards?” Ciara asked as silence stretched between them. She wasn’t sure why Olina had brought her here, only that the woman seemed to believe Ciara could learn something simply by sitting atop the hill with wet and muddy feet while staring at the morning sky. All that Ciara had learned was that having too much water was nearly as bad as having none at all.
Darkness Rising (The Endless War Book 2) Page 19