She slammed the end of the j’na into the ground. Crack. Light exploded from the end once more. She stabbed toward him, and again he brought his hands together, cupping darkness.
The smile faded from his face and he pushed with more intensity. “Fine. I will deal with you first. This will not be pleasant for you, but once you’re his, very little will be pleasant for you.”
The power he pushed overwhelmed the brief brightening of the j’na.
Ciara stepped back. Her shoulder butted against something sharp and hot. The draasin.
She didn’t dare turn, but if Tenebeth claimed the draasin again, if he managed to twist her once more, there might not be anything Ciara could do. She was no shaper. She was only nya’shin.
Not only nya’shin.
The lizard’s voice burst into her mind.
Where have you been?
You must fight. You must push back the darkness.
It was similar to what the lizard had said to her when she first met it. Now that she understood exactly what darkness the lizard meant, she wasn’t sure there was anything she could do.
You are stronger than you know. The power comes from you, not the staff. Focus, ala’shin.
Ala’shin. That was a title her father claimed, but she was not ala’shin. The Stormbringer knew she was barely nya’shin.
The draasin snorted again. Flames moved dangerously close to her.
The man continued to press. Darkness flowed from him, swirling out and around him.
Ciara had only her j’na against a man who could channel the darkness of Tenebeth. Doubt crept through her. What had she been thinking in coming here? What did she think she could do to summon the draasin? Now that Tenebeth had come for the draasin, what did Ciara really think she could do to oppose him?
You must fight, ala’shin.
The lizard’s voice came more distantly, as if it struggled to reach her through the shroud created by Tenebeth’s servant.
Was that the reason the lizard hadn’t reached her before? Had Tenebeth done something to obstruct it?
Ciara strained for the sense of the lizard, but it was gone.
All that remained was the overwhelming darkness flowing from this man.
Her j’na was useless. Her arms grew heavy, and a voice inside her—her father’s? her mother’s?—told her she should lower them.
Doing so meant that Tenebeth won.
He had never won with her. He would not win with her.
Stabbing forward, she struck with the spear, slicing at the man.
The darkness parted around the draasin glass of the j’na.
Could that be the key?
Other nya’shin made their j’na with osidan, but she had not managed to find the stone and had affixed a draasin-glass tip to hers. The draasin glass had served her well, but it was not a traditional j’na. Did that matter?
The draasin snorted fire; this time, Ciara felt it burning along her back and sides.
She spun again, dropping the tip of the j’na. The man grunted as if in triumph. She touched the draasin glass to the draasin’s flames. It began to glow. First a faint red, then brighter orange, and then even brighter still.
Ciara jabbed the end into the ground and slid forward a step. Crack.
The light from the end burst even brighter.
Step. Crack.
The draasin glass glowed almost blue now.
The shadows around the man parted.
Step. Crack. Jab.
This time, she sliced toward him as she weaved around the man in her pattern. The shadows slipped past her, as if the light burning from the tip of the draasin glass scorched them away.
Step. Crack. Jab.
The darkness faded. Now the man was visible again.
Step. Crack. Jab.
The spear came close to his face, forcing him to duck. He pressed his hands together, bringing darkness between them again, but Ciara had moved forward again, continuing the pattern around him.
Step. Crack.
She sliced, swinging the j’na in a sharp arc upward.
The man caught it with the darkness.
Ciara stepped. Crack. Then she swung the j’na again, bringing it toward his face.
Again, he caught the end, but it had gotten closer to him.
Step.
As she brought the end of the j’na down, he lunged, toppling onto her and driving her to the ground.
His weight pressed upon her. His body was cold, too cold for anything alive. One hand pressed on her neck, and the inky black, darker than night, crept from the fingertips of the other.
Ciara tried breathing but couldn’t. She tried throwing him off, but he outweighed her. Her hand found the shaft of her spear, but she couldn’t move it. One of the man’s legs pinned her arm down.
“I will claim you for him,” he breathed. His breath stank, reminding her of what she’d noted when she first came to the clearing. “And then I will reclaim the draasin.”
The darkness surged from him.
Ciara could do nothing more than watch as tendrils of it crept from his fingers, coalescing in his palm. She fought, kicking and trying to free the arm holding the j’na, but she couldn’t move it.
Her vision began to cloud from lack of air.
Ciara brought a leg up, trying to pry the man off her, but it did nothing.
Nobelas, please…
Could the lizard hear her? Would it even answer?
Her vision began to fade completely. Another moment and she would be unconscious, and then this man—and Tenebeth—would win.
Nobelas…
There was a gasp, and the weight on her released.
Ciara took a harsh breath and rolled to her side, ready to swing her j’na. Had the lizard finally come to help her? Stormbringer, but would it really have let her nearly die before intervening?
The lizard was nowhere to be seen. The dark man lay in a heap a dozen paces from her, still breathing but not moving. The draasin stood over her, the elemental’s long tail touching the ground.
The draasin lowered her head to Ciara and waited.
Ciara rubbed her neck, struggling to understand but knowing one thing: the summons must finally have worked.
21
Ciara
The draasin egg poses a real problem. Without Alena, we have no connection to the draasin. I could search for the wise, but Olina would not share anything more with me than she has. The wise left Hyaln long ago, and for reasons only they would know.
—Rolan al’Sand, Enlightened of Hyaln
Ciara stood with her hand out to the draasin, her j’na gripped in her other hand. The only other time she had summoned the draasin, she had done so with her father’s help. Then he had been there to guide her, to suggest what she needed to do once the draasin answered the summons. This time, with the draasin bowing her neck, waiting… Ciara suspected what she needed to do but wasn’t sure that she wanted to. If she rode the draasin and went with it, where would it take her this time?
The man groaned and started to move.
The draasin tapped her tail on the ground and nudged Ciara, reminding her of the lizard when it had pushed her her.
That settled it for her.
She climbed onto the draasin’s back, using the long, hot spikes protruding from her scaled sides to climb on. The draasin lifted her head and Ciara was forced down, sitting abruptly. With a thrust of wings, the draasin leapt to the air.
Thunder echoed.
She leaned over the side of the draasin and saw the dark shaper following.
“Hurry!” Ciara urged.
The draasin snorted fire and streaked off, moving faster than Ciara had ever seen the creatures fly. Mist streamed over the draasin’s head where cool air touched the heat of her body. Ciara glanced back and saw the dark shaper hovering in the air, darkness converging again between his hands.
She pointed her j’na at him.
It made him pause and gave the draasin the chance to streak onward, f
inally putting distance between them.
Ciara leaned back against the draasin and let out a long sigh. “Now what?”
The draasin twisted her head around. A bright golden eye met Ciara’s, and there was something like an image that passed between them. Ciara saw fields of green and massive mountains and water. Not Ter. That much was clear.
The connection was nothing like what she shared with the lizard, but could she use it to show the draasin where she wanted to go? Was there anything she could do to guide the draasin?
Where would she go?
The answer came quickly, and with it an image of Rens and her home flashed into her mind. The draasin snorted, then banked and soared.
The flight went quickly.
Ciara felt the wind gusting around her and the strange mist billowing past. The longer that they flew, the warmer the air became, soon taking on a familiar scent. Dry. Hot. And so distinctly Rens.
The draasin circled and then began to descend. As she did, heat rose up from the ground like a haze, and they passed through thick, dark clouds. Could they have come during one of the great storms?
Wind whipped around her and dust filled her mouth. Ciara wished for her elouf and wished she had her sandals rather than the heavy Terran boots.
A shout rang out.
The village spread out below her. There was the tower of rock she’d attempted to climb, still needing Fas to help her reach the peak, and the entrance to the caves, and there was Nisa Point, where she had first summoned a draasin and had left home.
How had she reached here so quickly?
Ciara looked to the ground and saw Valash pointing. The old man had a stooped back, but he’d once been a strong man, and he served as one of the Stormcallers. A smaller person, one she didn’t recognize, went racing across the ground.
The draasin settled and swung her tail as she lowered her head.
“Will you wait?” she asked. The last time she’d summoned the draasin, the elemental had taken off before she had managed to learn where she was and what she was doing. If it happened again, she would remain in her village.
Would that be so bad?
Her father could answer some of the questions she had. She needed him to provide those answers. But would she be able to understand what it meant that Cheneth was enlightened? Would she learn how to continue her summons? When she’d been with him the last time, he seemed to indicate that he understood what she could do. If he understood, it was possible he could teach her about it, wasn’t it?
That was what she really wanted. She wanted to understand what it was that she did when she summoned the elementals. Would there ever come a time when she would have control, when she would be able to summon what and when she wanted? Or would she always have this uncertainty, this inconsistency?
For those questions, her father might know, but would he know the answers to all her questions? Would he be able to tell her about nobelas and what it meant that she could speak to the lizard, or why the Hyaln seemed so intrigued by that fact?
Ciara didn’t know.
But she would ask. Until she had answers, she didn’t want the draasin to depart. She wanted her to remain.
The draasin snorted. An image of the village came to her, but from a distance.
That would have to do.
Ciara jumped down and the draasin took to the sky, where she settled into wide circle.
Ciara held on to her j’na and started toward the village, thinking about how long it had been since she’d really been here. When she’d ventured across the waste, she’d been gone for nearly two weeks. And now… now it had to have been a month or more.
All that time, and she still knew her people needed help. Those who had been taken—and possibly by others twisted by Tenebeth—were still gone. Was there anything she could even do?
When her father approached, he did so slowly, leaning on his j’na more than he had the last time she had seen him. His weathered eyes squinted against the sun, and he pulled his elouf around him, stopping about a dozen paces from her.
“Why are you here, shaper of Ter?”
Ciara blinked. Could he really not recognize her?
As she looked down, she realized that with the clothing she wore, her boots, and who knew what other changes she’d experienced, it was possible he didn’t recognize her.
She brought her j’na before her and set it into the ground. It struck with a loud crack. Light flashed from the draasin-glass end.
“Father,” she said.
He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Ciara? Is that you?”
She took a step toward him but he raised his j’na. She stopped. “It’s me, Father.”
His gaze turned skyward, where he looked at the draasin soaring beneath the dark sky. Thunder rumbled somewhere nearby, and she shivered. Somehow, the image of the village drifted into her mind, complete with her father standing across from her, as well as others she hadn’t seen circling her.
With a sense of dread, she wondered if she had made a mistake. If others in the village had been taken, would the attackers have returned? She had landed with the draasin, thinking she would be safe in her village, but what if that had been the mistake?
Using water, she strained with her sensing, discovering those circling her. A sense of relief washed over her as she realized they were all villagers, not unnamed attackers. Most were too old or too young to hold a spear, but one of them… one of them she recognized more strongly.
“Fas,” she whispered.
The last time she had seen him, he had nearly died, jumping from the rock. He had been healed. Somehow. She still didn’t understand what had happened there, only that whatever pattern she had used, different than summoning the draasin, had healed him. At least that’s what her father had said.
What if that wasn’t what happened at all?
What if Fas remained tainted?
She didn’t doubt that Tenebeth had been the reason he was tainted in the first place. He must have claimed Fas when they were near the waste, before Fas had returned to the village. Or maybe it was when he’d been injured, leaving him exposed. Tenebeth had tried to come for her twice when she’d been hurt, but not at other times.
“How?” her father asked, pulling his attention from the sky and back to her. “And why have you come now?”
“You told me to go with the draasin. I did. I learned of Hyaln. I met Olina. And I have fought Tenebeth.”
Her father set his j’na to the ground with a sick sound. As he did, she realized that a shadow swirled around it.
Tenebeth.
Had he returned while she was gone?
With a jolt, she sent an image to the draasin for help. The draasin circled and started toward the ground, but not fast enough.
Others started to converge upon her.
Ciara couldn’t fight. She wouldn’t fight. These were her people.
But Tenebeth had claimed them. The closer they came, the more certain of it she was. She could feel it around them, the same way she had felt it around the shaper who had attacked and nearly killed her.
As they closed in, she knew there was nothing she could do. She had returned home only to be destroyed.
22
Oliver
There is only so much that I can teach of the summons, but with Ciara, the summons comes naturally to her, much like it once did to her people. In another time, she would have risen to ala’shin, but in another time, she would already have been sent to Hyaln.
—Rolan al’Sand, Enlightened of Hyaln
Oliver waited in the brightly lit hall, holding the shaping that obscured him. Wind gusted through an open window, pulling on his cloak. The lanterns in this part of the tower were all shaped, and the light didn’t change with the sudden draft. Were it up to him, he would close the windows and keep the chill out, but this was not his part of the tower.
In the past few days, he had mastered not only holding the shaping over his face but had managed to modify the rest
of his body as well. As long as someone didn’t touch him, he could maintain the illusion.
The door opened and Hester stepped out. His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”
Oliver held his breath, steadying his heart at the same time. This would be the first real test of his shaping. If this worked and he could remain close enough to Hester, he would attempt to use the spirit stick on him.
He didn’t know what he would see when he did. He’d practiced with that as well, trying it on some of the newer students in Atenas. Most were still unsettled by the new surroundings and clinging to memories of home, and each time he used the shaping he found a new trick. The most recent was discovering that he didn’t need to even touch the spirit stick to make it work.
“Marak asked that I come to you, sir,” Oliver said, pitching his voice like the novice he was supposed to be. If Hester saw through the shaping, Oliver would find out now.
“That was weeks ago. I haven’t heard anything from him in all that time.”
Oliver waited. A novice wouldn’t speak again and certainly wouldn’t risk speaking up against one of the masters.
“Fine. You can come in, but I’m in the middle of a project and you’ll have to wait.”
Hester stepped into the room, disappearing.
Oliver smiled. At least Hester still offered to teach. Few of the council did anymore, making Hester’s willingness unique. Oliver had counted on the fact that he would be available. He had always shown an interest in teaching, dating back to the time when Oliver still struggled to reach the last of the elements.
He waited in the corner of the room, holding his hands at his sides. The stance was an awkward one for him, but he didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself than was necessary.
Hester sat at his desk, making a few quick notes, ignoring the fact that Oliver was even there. Through his robe, he touched the spirit stick, debating whether to attempt to use it on Hester now or if he should wait.
In his time since escaping from the Seat, he hadn’t come across any of the council members. Oliver suspected they knew he had remained in the tower, but none had come after him. That should have given him a warning that there was more going on than even he realized. But he had decided he could no longer wait to find out what he needed. If there was anything to Cheneth’s fears, he needed to discover what it might be.
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