Tobin slapped the page. “You’ve been speaking too long with Ilyana for you to ask a question like that. Do you think fire is harmless?” Tobin made a quick mark on the page, and it began to smolder. “Or what of earth?” Another mark and the page began to crumble. “Wind?” This time, the crumbled remains began to swirl in the air.
Jasn waited for him to demonstrate water, but he didn’t. Jasn made a mark on what remained of the page, fusing a shaping to it, and water flashed, restoring the entire page. The crumbled pieces filled with water and settled back with the others. “And water?”
Tobin smiled. “Water. An interesting element, is it not?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Only that most would use it for healing, but water can be as destructive as any of the other elements.” He tapped the mark that Jasn had made and added an extra flourish. It remained water, but the single change did something to it, turning it from a mark for healing with water to one that saturated the page, leaving the paper destroyed completely. “This is creation. With the addition of water, this page changes, turning into something else, creating something else. It is not the act of the element, but the intent of the man that matters.”
“There is other darkness in the world,” Jasn said.
Tobin waved his hand dismissively. “You speak of rumors, but even in darkness, does not day follow night, a new beginning?”
Jasn didn’t want to imagine the kind of beginning that would come from Tenebeth. He’d seen the dark power that Thenas managed to control, and he’d seen the way that the draasin had been tainted, used to attack in Rens. But what if Tenebeth was nothing more than a shaper? A man with summoning abilities or the ability to shape darkness, or even to use these rune traps? What if Tenebeth were nothing more than someone like him?
It made him something less terrifying.
“Try again,” Tobin suggested. “You have talent, man of Atenas. I understand why you have come to Hyaln and why the Varden has allowed you to remain.” He tapped the top of the table, where the remains of the page swirled in the water that he’d shaped. “There are not many who have managed to use water in such a way. Now you must understand the others equally well, and you might have skill to go with your talent.”
19
Ciara
Moving Jasn into position took less subtlety than I am accustomed, but then, Jasn has never been one for subtlety.
—Lachen Rastan, Commander of the Order of Warriors
Ciara sat in a chair, her arms resting across her lap, her fingers still unable to move well. There seemed to be more movement in them than the last time that she’d tried, but less than there should be. She couldn’t hold the cup that they brought to her, not without pressing her hands together as hard as she could, squeezing with all the strength that she could muster, so that she didn’t drop it. And she didn’t dare lose the cup. Water was precious, wasn’t that what she had learned growing up?
The walls of the room practically glowed. She no longer doubted that she was the source of the green light. It seemed to flow from her, seeping from her, creating shadows that almost moved of their own volition.
In the days since she had been trapped—she thought it was only days, but Ciara had no way of keeping track—Shade had come to her several times a day. Each time, he made claims about her ability to access power, but little else. There had been conversations about her childhood, questions about what she had seen and known in Rens. Ciara had answered them willingly. What point was there not to answer? But each time she attempted to question him, he deferred answering. She got nothing from him, only the sense that there was much he would not share with her.
Yet she had managed to catch glimpses. He spoke of Rens in a way that told her that he’d been there. And his j’na—or staff, or whatever he wanted to call it—had been of Rens. When Ciara had been to Tsanth and found Olina, the old woman had used a cane much like her j’na, but it was not the same. Shade’s staff was too close to what she had carried for it to be coincidence.
Then there was his dress. The fabric might be thicker, designed for cooler climates, but was it not an elouf? Even the way that the fabric pooled around his neck making it more like a shaiza than anything else.
When the light shifted, growing brighter—the only sign she now had that Shade came—she sat more upright and turned toward the spot she knew he would choose for his arrival. Shade did not disappoint.
“You have been waiting for me,” he remarked as soon as he appeared.
“I’ve been waiting to eat,” Ciara said.
“You are fed as often as you need.”
“And water?”
Shade pulled a chair from the shadows along the wall and sat across from her. “Do you have thirst?”
“Do you?” she asked.
“Not here. A hunger, though, but I sense a similar hunger within you, ala’shin.”
Even the way he said the title was too much like someone from Rens. There was a hint of the old tongue in it. Shade might not have experienced the same Rens as her, but he knew Rens. “What hunger is that? For a simple shepa stew, the broth flavored with the dterra leaves, heated all day?”
She watched his expression, but her stomach rumbled as she thought of the stew.
“You think this is a time for celebration?” he asked.
Ciara hid her satisfaction. He would not have known that shepa stew was reserved for celebration unless he came from Rens. “There are different kinds of celebration. In my village, we celebrated the great storms, and we celebrated the Bloom. We would celebrate all night on midsummer.” That last day, the celebrations would last until the sun dipped below the sky, but on midsummer, it would not do so until late in the night, rising again barely an hour later. She would have missed midsummer this year, but then, her village had changed, left with nothing like it should have, so few of the people that she once would have celebrated with.
“This is not midsummer, and there are no shepa here,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest. As he did, Ciara noted the way that he rubbed his fingers together, slowly and in a steady circle. The other hand did the same, though the pattern was opposite. A summoning that she had seen from him before.
What did he do?
The movement was subtle and had she not been paying close attention to him, she might have missed it.
“No shepa. You’ve brought me vegetables and dried bread.”
“You’ve had venison as well, ala’shin.”
Was she still in Ter? If that was the case, if she managed to find a way free, would she be able to summon the draasin? Sashi might be close enough that she would only have to call to her, convince her to reach her, and carry her back to the camp.
And then Ciara would convince Cheneth to teach her. She no longer doubted that she had much to learn. She had thought that she would chase after the tainted draasin, but how could she do anything to help the draasin if she couldn’t even keep herself safe?
“Why do you come to me each day?” Ciara asked.
“As I have said, you have potential.”
“Potential, yet you have not done anything to try to draw that potential from me.” So far, there hadn’t been any attempt to force her toward Tenebeth, but then, the attempt might be more subtle than she realized. Ciara could no longer deny the green light that she saw even when Shade was absent, the same green light that she had seen when Tenebeth had called to her, trying to claim her from the waste. Had Reghal not been there…
How long had it been since she thought of Reghal? A day at least. Maybe longer. The longer that she was separated from him, the less she thought of him. Maybe that was Shade’s intent, but then, she didn’t think that he even knew about the connection to the lizard.
“Have I not? You now sit here, willing to talk. That was not the case days ago.”
“Has it only been days?”
Shade smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Drink, ala’shin.”
She glanced at the tab
le next to her and lifted the cup, squeezing it between her hands as she now had to do, and brought the cup to her lips. A bright and crisp scent hit her nostrils, and she set it back down. “This isn’t water.”
“I thought that you might prefer wine today.”
“You said this was not a celebration.” In Rens, wine was rare enough that the elders reserved it for celebrations. Most of the village was allowed talin root, a brew that left you heady and happy, but few were allowed wine. It was a remnant from old Rens before the attacks began.
“Must it be a celebration for wine?”
“In my village,” she said, pulling the cup back to her lips and taking a long drink. The wine was sweet and burned slightly as it washed down her throat, much better than anything she had ever had in her village, but then, most of those bottles were holdovers from a time long ago. Few bottles made it as far as her village anymore, especially with as infrequently as they saw traders.
“How long will you keep me from using my hands?” She set the cup back on the table next to her and rested her hands in her lap.
Shade smiled, and this time, it did reach his dark, piercing eyes. In some ways, they reminded her of Jasn Volth. “I have seen what happens when you are allowed freedom of movement, ala’shin. Had you come to us less prepared, it might not have been necessary.” He shrugged. “When you choose to no longer threaten us, then we can see what can be done.”
“How do you do this to me?”
Shade leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist. “There are many different types of shaping. You have been exposed to only a few.”
“This is shaping?” She held her hand out and flapped it at the wrist, trying to move her fingers and failing. “And my legs?” She could pull her legs up, but there was no coordination, partly because they felt heavier than they should. It had taken her days to manage to reach the chair, left sitting across the room as if some sort of taunt. She doubted she would be able to create any patterns, nothing that would pose a danger to Shade.
“Again, you must choose not to threaten.”
“You serve Tenebeth. I will always be a threat to you.”
Shade lifted his chin from his fist and shook his head. “And I have said that we do not serve.” He paused and stared at her for a moment before nodding to her. “Come with me. There is something you can see.”
“How? I can barely walk to the chair.”
“Barely? Do you expect me to believe that you haven’t grown more competent in reaching the chair in the time that you’ve been here? You walk as well as you need.”
With that, he disappeared into the shadows.
Ciara thought he might have vanished, and if he had, how would she follow? But she found him near a door to the room she hadn’t realized existed. As she studied the door, she recognized why she hadn’t known it was there. The door was made of stone, as if a section of the wall had pulled away, revealing a hall on the other side.
Each step she took required focus and effort. Her legs felt heavy, as if they were made of the same stone as the walls, or her bed, and she lumbered forward, staggering through the halls as she tried to follow Shade. Every so often, he paused to give her a chance to catch up, but he did not look back, as if he knew that she followed.
A shaper then. Most of the nya’shin were water shapers. She was one of the few unable to shape, but then, she didn’t think the others had the ability to summon the elementals, so perhaps she had some advantages that they did not.
The green light trailed along with her. It was brighter from Shade, and less so from her, but it definitely still surrounded her. Had she already begun to progress toward Tenebeth, already drawn toward him so much that she reflected his light, or might there be another explanation? She didn’t think that she had been that tainted, but she didn’t know with any certainty. Shade had done nothing more than speak to her, nothing that would draw her toward Tenebeth.
Or had he?
Was it possible that there was something in the drink or food? Or was it something in her? Was that the reason Tenebeth had been so insistent that she join him?
Shade disappeared around a bend in the hall. She tried to move quickly, but each step was painful, slow and hobbled, as if extra weight were chained to her feet. When she reached him, she found an open door and stepped inside.
The heat struck her first.
She took an involuntary step back and stumbled. Shade was there, catching her under the arm and propping her up. After the brutal way they had attacked her, smacking her with their staffs when they found her in the forest, it seemed strange that he would be so gentle with her now.
Ciara shook him off. Shade smirked at her and raised his hands. As he did, she noted that his fingers still worked in small circles.
Maybe that was the pattern that disrupted her ability to walk or move her fingers, but if that was the case, how did he direct it at her?
There was so much that she wanted to know, things that Cheneth had been unwilling or unable to teach. And now Shade, with his clear ability with summoning, offered to teach her. All she had to do was move past the belief that he served Tenebeth.
And did he? With Thenas, she had seen the way that he commanded the darkness. Shade had not used the darkness like that, not even when he had attacked her the first time. Instead, he had used a staff more like a j’na and had summoned power that seemed more like shaping than using the darkness.
He watched her, almost as if understanding the questions that sat in the back of her mind, the debate that warred there.
But if he had anything other than malicious intent, why would he hold her here?
“What is it that you wanted me to see?” she asked, needing to get past the questioning way that he looked at her, the piercing intensity to his gaze.
“You question whether I serve or whether I am served. They are questions that are valid, and questions that must be answered. But in time.”
“In time. The same answer you give when you say that I will be allowed to use my hands, or my legs. What measure of time are you using? What will it take for me to get free?”
“Free?” Shade asked. “Why would you think that you will be able to get free? You were brought here for a reason, ala’shin, one that you have only begun to understand. This is but another lesson.”
He pointed and greenish white light burst from his hand, stretching out from him.
Across the room crouched a draasin, one that was more massive than she would have expected.
Not any draasin. This was Sashi. Ciara would know it from the spikes on her back, or the color of her scales, or the way that she looked at her with orange-tinted eyes, a question burning deep within them.
Ciara tried sending an image to Sashi but had no response and no way of knowing whether the draasin saw what she wanted. Ciara tried connecting, bridging her with an understanding, a request for help so that they could both escape. But Sashi did nothing.
“You have tainted her again.”
“Tainted? She is one of the draasin. There is no need to taint.”
“She would not be here willingly.”
Shade chuckled. In this room, with the draasin sitting across from him, his laughter took on a darker tone. “Perhaps not willingly, but she is fire, and fire serves when summoned.” He did something, though she wasn’t able to determine what it was, and Sashi lowered her head, dropping it to the ground. Her wings unfolded, resting on the stone next to her. Ciara noted that nothing else seemed to confine Sashi, not even as she had seen in the Ter shaper camp where the stone chains were used to hold them.
As Shade said, she hadn’t been tainted. When Sashi had gone to Tsanth, there was a wildness about her, and a darkness that circled with her. This was nothing like that. This was a subdued creature, one who allowed herself to be controlled.
Could Shade really have summoned her? Could she have come here on her own?
But she remembered what she’d learned of Sashi, and how the elemental had been drawn
to these lands by another summoner. There was regret in Sashi, and though she might not mind what she was asked to do now, she didn’t want to remain forced into servitude.
“This is not right,” Ciara said.
“Right? This is how the elementals are meant to be used. We call and they answer. We are given the authority over them.” He turned away from Sashi, and the draasin pulled her head back, resting it on her talons, ignoring Ciara completely.
Had she never seen the draasin before, Ciara would have thought that she was trained, that she served Shade, but this was a draasin she knew to be proud, one who had helped fight against the influence of Tenebeth, even when doing so frightened her.
“This is how you will learn to use the darkness, ala’shin.”
She swallowed. Was this what she would do to Sashi? “When?” she asked.
Shade left her standing alone with Sashi, the ability to reach the draasin taken from her. “When you trust the process.”
20
Alena
I did not reveal to him what I knew of Katya. That would have been too aggressive a move. Rather, I let him learn, placing rumors with the one person I knew he would believe. Oliver is nothing but a willing gossip.
—Lachen Rastan, Commander of the Order of Warriors
The tower still had the same chill that Alena remembered from her days here. It was a steady breeze, almost as if the building itself breathed, blowing through windows and hidden cracks in the stone and other places only the wind would be able to reach. Some called it the tower’s breath, but Alena preferred to think of it as nothing more than the blasted chill. Even the warmth of her barrack’s cloak, one that had been chosen specifically to fight off the chill of nights like were found in the mountains, didn’t keep her fully comfortable.
Partly, she suspected that had to do with what she’d committed to do. Cheneth might have sent them here to help, but she was still a member of the Order, and because of that, she knew without his prompting what she needed to do.
Summoner's Bond (The Endless War Book 4) Page 10