Endless Night

by D. K. Holmberg

  She caught herself, taking another step and flicking the j’na to the ground. Crack. But the next step was wrong. She felt that it was wrong, though didn’t know why she should.

  She flicked her j’na. It hit the ground at a strange angle, the sense of wrongness intensifying.

  The spear went flying away from her as if repelled.

  Ciara scrambled after it, cursing. She had failed. Again.

  Usually when she lost control of a summoning, the elemental slipped back to wherever it came from. This time, the earth continued to rumble deeply beneath her.

  She was tossed, thrown away from the j’na.

  Her arm struck the ground at an odd angle, and she heard it crack as much as she felt it.

  Ciara cried out and reached for her j’na. If nothing else, then for comfort.

  The ground continued to rumble. The wind that had picked up swirled around her nearly as violently as the rumbling earth. Sharp needles of rain fell.

  Ciara tried moving but screamed when her arm got caught on the ground with another surge.

  Stormbringer! Would she survive the waste only to suffer and die here in Ter?

  And much like in the waste, this would be her fault. She had been the one who thought she could summon the elementals, who thought she could control them, who foolishly listened to Cheneth’s suggestion that she try. But there was no control, was there? Not with the draasin. Not with earth. And not with the lizard.

  Where was the lizard? If he came, he could heal her. She’d seen it, had experienced him do it more than once, but why would he leave her now?

  Nobelas!

  She tried calling out, but the connection to the elemental did not feel natural, and she wasn’t certain she reached him the right way.

  The ground continued to rumble. Wind tore at her hair, her clothes, her skin, forcing her to wrap her injured arm around herself, shielding herself as much as she could.

  Likely it wouldn’t matter. The storm that came felt no different than a great storm of Rens. And when those struck, they were powerful. Too powerful to survive in the open.

  A chill worked through her.

  Something about the cold felt familiar. She had experienced it before, even if she hadn’t realized it at first.

  “Look where you got yourself.”

  The voice came from all around, a deep and angry sort of sound. Ciara shivered, trying to withdraw, but the pain in her arm prevented her from moving.

  “I can see to it that you feel no pain,” Tenebeth said.

  “Go away,” Ciara told him.

  Laughter echoed in time with peals of thunder. “You don’t want me to go away. You summoned me, little nya’shin.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Had she summoned him? She didn’t think so, but what if she had? She possessed no control over her summoning and simply let the pattern guide her, so it was possible that her summons had been meant for Tenebeth.

  But he wasn’t an elemental, was he?

  Nobelas!

  She cried out for the lizard but was met once more with silence.

  Tenebeth laughed again, peals of thunder echoing him. “You cry out when you could walk the clouds proudly. You cower when you should stand tall. You could be so much, my little nya’shin.”

  Ciara shook her head. “Leave me alone. I didn’t summon you.”

  Tenebeth came closer. She felt it as the cold in the air grew sharper. Had it been that way when he approached her in the waste? Maybe, she decided, but she would have been too tired and sick and thirsty to notice.

  “You think you didn’t, but I felt the stirrings within you. I felt the way you drew me. How could I resist when my little nya’shin sent her summons?”

  Ciara tried pushing herself along the ground, working her legs across the rock, but pain shot through her arm as she did. She screamed, and the sense of cold washed over her, the pain easing, if only for a moment. Then it returned, as sharp and fresh as it had been. She screamed again, a sound the loud cracks of thunder drowned out.

  “See how little you would have to feel? I can teach you, guide you through your skills. You would not be the first. Many summoners come to me. How could they not, when they receive no power otherwise? With each day, I grow stronger and soon you will lose your chance to join me.”

  “The enlightened will teach.”

  Tenebeth laughed again. “Enlightened. You think the enlightened know even a fraction of what I know? I am power. I am darkness. I am the beginning and the end. They know nothing but the light.”

  Ciara shivered. Right now, all she wanted was the light and warmth, anything to send Tenebeth away from her, to force him to leave her alone. “Go,” she begged.

  The sense of chill washed over her again, this time with increased intensity. Her body spasmed and pain shot through her injured arm.

  Ciara kicked in the direction of Tenebeth but knew it would do no good. What use was there in kicking at the emptiness? What could she do against a power like him?

  Rain continued to pelt her in sharp needles, so painful that she lost sensation of anything else. Her mind went blank. All she could remember was to push back against Tenebeth.

  She kicked again. And again. Each time she did, Tenebeth laughed, punctuated by the heavy rain.

  One more kick. This time, her injured arm struck something solid.

  As numb as she was from the rain and from the pain she felt, she recognized the shaft of her spear. Ciara constricted her injured hand around it, letting the familiarity of the runes press against her palm. She tried to squeeze but had no strength.

  If she could only twist, she might be able to put the j’na between her and Tenebeth.

  The thought stayed in her mind, and she rolled.

  Blinding pain shot through her with the movement.

  But she got her arm free. Using her good arm, she grabbed the spear and held it out. The rain sheeted down, and she couldn’t see anything in front of her, but she could feel the chill in the air that Tenebeth created.

  She thrust the spear away from her.

  Laughter echoed again, but the chill receded.

  She jabbed again. In her mind, she thought she saw a flash of light, either her spear or—more likely—a flash of lightning. She was in too much pain to be certain of anything.

  The chill in the air receded even more.

  Once more, she thrust with the j’na. Did the rain seem to be easing? The ground continued to rumble as it had with her shaping… No, not the ground. Thunder. A steady, rolling sort of thunder that filled her. The rain definitely slowed, no longer so painful.

  Ciara lifted her head and opened her eyes and saw only darkness. But she felt none of the same chill. Nothing that would make her think Tenebeth remained.

  He was gone. For now. But would it ever be safe for her to attempt a summons again? If he answered the next time, what would happen to her?

  Ciara knew that she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—risk it.

  15

  Ciara

  If the darkness is real, how do we reach the light?

  —Rolan al’Sand, Enlightened of Hyaln

  The walk back down the mountain was more painful than any walk Ciara had ever experienced. It was worse than nearly dying of thirst while trying to cross the waste. Pain jolted through her injured arm with each step, regardless of how much she leaned on her j’na. She stopped at least a dozen times to rest, more fatigued than she would have expected from simply walking, but the effort of fighting off the pain took more out of her than she realized.

  Again, she was thankful for the constant source of water.

  She followed the stream down the mountainside. If she stayed with the stream, she would reach the north edge of the camp. Why had she not encountered anyone else? Weren’t there others from the blasted camp, or had Cheneth truly left her alone? Had he known what would happen to her, that Tenebeth would come for her when she attempted a summons? If he had, why had he left her?

  And why had she been so fo
olish to continue attempting summoning alone?

  There had been no good reason. Pride, perhaps. The foolish determination that made her think she could complete a summons.

  Maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe it was about more than that. The fact that Cheneth knew she could summon the elementals but had done nothing to assist her. How could she learn if the person she was sent to learn from wouldn’t teach?

  Better to return to Tsanth and to Olina. At least the old woman had taught her something.

  She reached the lower part of the mountains. Here, even the trees changed, no longer the thick, prickly things with their sharp aroma. Now, they were wide-leaved with silver bark, growing tall, shielding the light from the sun. Still she hadn’t seen anyone. Shouldn’t she have come across one of the shapers from the camp by now?

  The rain. They would have stayed inside with the rain. It was what she would have done.

  Her arm throbbed and bone poked against the skin of her forearm. She tried to ignore it, but she really should have splinted it. That would have helped, at least to take the edge off the pain, to keep her from suffering quite as much as she did. How would she have bound the splint with only one arm?

  No, instead she suffered, wondering with every step why the lizard hadn’t come to help and why it seemed to ignore her plea for assistance when she so badly needed him. When Tenebeth had come the last time, the lizard had been there.

  But it hadn’t. The last time she’d faced Tenebeth, it had been while in Tsanth. There had been no lizard that time.

  What was different? Why would it come to her, to speak as if taunting her, but not reappear when she actually needed it?

  Ciara tripped and staggered over a loose rock, tumbling forward.

  She thrust her spear out, trying to catch her fall, but it lodged in the soft mud and she sprawled, thankfully landing on her good side.

  Ciara lay there for a long moment, not wanting to move. Any motion caused pain to shoot through her arm, and lying like this kept her if not comfortable, at least not hurting worse.

  She lost track of how long she lay like that. The mud beneath her was soft and seemed to suck her down. She lost track of where to find her j’na, though she knew it was nearby. Maybe it had gotten caught in the mud too.

  As she lay there, her water sensing returned and she detected someone coming toward her. Ciara tried getting up, but her body betrayed her as it had too often this day.

  Footsteps squelched through the mud. She reached for her j’na, wanting to have something to protect herself, but it was too far away.

  “What happened?”

  She recognized the deep male voice. There was almost a sense of warmth to it. “I fell,” she said carefully.

  Hands touched her arm, and then a painful cold washed over her.

  Panic set in with the cold. She’d sensed a similar sense of cold from Tenebeth. She didn’t want to risk another attack.

  “Easy,” the man said, soothing her as she would one of the shepa of her village.

  She managed to turn so that she could see him, and forced herself to relax. Jasn Volth. Why would he have come here?

  A moment of fear fluttered through her at the thought that he might serve Tenebeth as well, but she reminded herself that he had fought Tenebeth. That without his contribution, the powerful shaping of water that he accessed, the draasin would not have been saved.

  “I’m only trying to help. I am… was… a healer. I can help.”

  She forced herself to relax, finding it more difficult than she expected. Wave upon wave of cold washed over her, like the sheeting rain she’d only just escaped. But this had none of the pain. There was nothing, only the cold.

  The pain in her arm eased and she flexed her fingers, found that they worked again. The cold continued to press through her even though she felt as if the injury was gone. Ciara tensed.

  “There’s something else…”

  He said it more to himself as he worked his water shaping. The cold moved from her arm up through her neck and into her head. With another surge of almost blinding cold, it eased, settling back and out of her.

  He leaned back. “Can’t do anything for this dirt, but we’ll get you washed off. You’ll need to rest a bit and eat. Some people heal faster than others, but you were pretty hurt. I think you’ll need more rest than most.”

  Ciara brought her arm around and stared. Where the bone had pressed against the skin, it now had mended, and the bone no longer threatened to burst through her flesh. She ran her fingers over the injury and felt only a slight sense of cold where she touched, nothing more than that. No pain remained. The only pain she had was the memory of what had happened to her and of the way Tenebeth had attempted to attack. She had survived this time, but would she manage it if he came after her again? Three times now he had come for her, and three times she’d resisted. And this time, she’d come away barely able to use her arm. What would happen the next time? What injury would she walk away with the next time Tenebeth attacked?

  “Let’s get you back down into the barracks,” he said, offering his hand.

  Ciara looked up at him, still struggling to wrap her mind around the idea that she should trust shapers of Ter after everything they had done to her and her people over the years. These were not the same ones who attacked. She had to convince herself of that fact. And they had not shown her any sign that they wanted to harm her. Nothing. The injuries she had sustained had been of her own doing.

  She took his hand and came to her feet. “Where were you going?”

  Jasn Volth paused. “To see the draasin.”

  “Draasin? The same one from K’ral?”

  “If you want to see her…”

  As he had predicted, she felt tired, but not so tired that she wasn’t willing to go see a draasin. They were rare enough in Rens and should be even more so in Ter, but then, this draasin had been tainted by Tenebeth. If not for the shaping she had somehow participated in, the draasin would have continued to attack and would have continued to be twisted by him. That she was not… Ciara should be thankful for the fact that she was not, but all she could think about was the most recent attack. What if Tenebeth used her to reach the draasin again?

  “I should return,” she said.

  “Listen. I’m not going to hurt you. Damn, I made a point of healing you, didn’t I? I haven’t tried to hurt someone from Rens—”

  “It’s not that,” she said, but the comment made her wonder when he’d last hurt someone from Rens. This man was a powerful shaper, probably stronger with water than her father, and she had always thought her father was strong. Besides that, he spoke to water elementals. Cheneth had told her that others spoke to the elementals. No wonder Rens struggled against the Terran attack.

  “No? Then come with me. It’ll give me a chance to monitor you after the healing.”

  “Why would you need to monitor me?”

  He shuffled his feet slightly. “My healing tends to have… unexpected effects sometimes. Best if I keep an eye on you.”

  When he started forward, Ciara debated following him or returning as she had said she would. If she returned, it meant sitting with Cheneth, or alone, but not comfortably. When the enlightened did speak to her, he rarely said anything she could use. Occasionally, he had questions for her, but Ciara never felt as if her answers satisfied him.

  The water shaper glanced back, and Ciara started after him.

  She held on to her j’na, her eyes darting around as she tracked where he led. Using water sensing, she suspected that she could return to the stream, and from there she could find her way back to the camp. Could she make her way back to Rens from here?

  Ciara wanted to learn, but she wanted to help the people of her village as well. She didn’t know what had happened to them while she was in the waste, only that many of them had been abducted, leaving the village essentially emptied. Everything that she knew was gone. And now she was asked to learn from her enemy.

  Jasn glanced
at her again, eyes narrowed as if he knew the direction of her thoughts. “You haven’t shared why you were hurt.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  He waited, as if expecting her to say more, but she wouldn’t. Not about the fact that Tenebeth had come for her again. How would she explain that? If he came for her here, would she ever be safe? Could anyone here be safe?

  They stopped in a wide clearing. The trees formed something like a circle, and fresh earth was heaped in places as if it had been recently tilled. The air smelled of dampness, and grass, and the earth, but also held the remains of heat, as if a massive fire had blazed there. She saw no sign of damage. Nothing but an expanse of grass.

  “Why did you bring me here?” Ciara asked carefully. Could he want to assault her? Had he wanted to harm her, he would have found it easier to do while she was still injured and lying on the rocks near the stream.

  He took a step forward, and the grass seemed to shimmer. Another step and he disappeared. There was no sound of thunder. No lightning.

  What had happened?

  Ciara followed. After three steps, the landscape seemed to bulge. A tingling sense washed over her and then was gone. She blinked and realized that not only had the strange sensation disappeared, but also so had the grasses. Now in front of her was a simple stone structure that reminded her of those in the Ter camp, though this one was damaged and hastily repaired, but even that wasn’t what caught her attention. Rather, it was the massive draasin simply curled alongside the building, her long tail disappearing around one end of it.

  Jasn Volth stood in front of the draasin, hands held out before him. He approached the elemental slowly, but still more quickly than Ciara would have been willing to do.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Calming this draasin.”

  Ciara watched the draasin but didn’t think there was anything about her that wasn’t calm. “Is that necessary?”

  He took a step forward and the draasin lifted her head. Golden eyes looked at Jasn but then turned to Ciara and fixed her with a heated stare. She shrank back, stepping to the point where she felt the tingling once again on her skin. Whatever illusion had been placed seemed to have been done with shaping, and she felt the boundary of it.