Endless Night

by D. K. Holmberg

  Hester paused and Oliver wondered if he was going to get up, but then he turned back to the page.

  Now was the time. It had to be.

  He glanced at the door. If he needed to get free, he would have to reach the door quickly. He tried to gauge the distance to freedom and counted the steps he would have to take. Maybe ten if he hurried. Could he reach it and get down the stairs if the shaping went awry?

  Hester stood.

  Damn. He’d waited too long. Now he either needed to attempt the shaping or wait for a better time. He had expected Hester to take longer with his work before getting around to him. That would be more in line with what Oliver knew of his patterns.

  “Marak sent you for what type of training?” Hester asked.

  He was only a few paces away. A shaping built from him, but Oliver didn’t dare try to determine its intent.

  The rod in his pocket went cold.

  Was Hester attempting some sort of spirit shaping? Cheneth had claimed that the rod would keep him safe, but he hadn’t expected any of the council to be able to use spirit.

  Hester’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  Damn! He had to act now.

  Pulling on the shaping, Oliver forced it through the spirit stick and upon Hester.

  The shaping settled with resistance.

  Oliver pulled on more shaped strength, but mostly on water.

  Through the shaping, he detected irritation. Anger. A flash of hatred. Emotions he would never have expected to come from Hester.

  Oliver pushed again.

  Deeper.

  Memories started to drift to the surface. Seeing the tower for the first time, the way the city looked to him, the sense of filth spread all around, the hated people…

  Oliver blinked. He’d gone too deep.

  There was the memory of steps made through the tower. Of seeing a man, knowing who he was, watching him turn.

  Oliver lost the shaping.

  This man was not Hester.

  “You killed him.”

  Hester, or whoever he was, took a step forward, but Oliver released his illusion and pushed back with water.

  “Interesting. I had not known that you would have mastered such skill here. You will be an interesting one to study.”

  The rod went cold again. Oliver felt something attempting to crawl in his mind.

  Cheneth had warned him that a strong shaper could overwhelm his ability. He hadn’t expected Hester to be the one to do so. If the imposter managed to complete the shaping, Oliver didn’t know what would happen to him. Maybe nothing, but he wasn’t about to risk it.

  Using the sharp edge of water, he sliced through the shaping, driving that wedge through to block this Hester from reaching his ability, praying briefly that he was strong enough to make the shaping work.

  When Hester’s eyes widened, Oliver knew it had. Then a shaped illusion failed, and a dark-skinned man stared at him.

  The man darted forward, a knife appearing in his hand, likely the same knife he’d seen in his vision, the same knife “Hester” had used to kill the real councilor.

  He didn’t have much time.

  Using water, he constricted Hester’s heart, reducing blood flow.

  Oliver was a healer, but there was a fine line between life and death. Knowing where one ended and the other began gave him the ability to stop Hester, at least for now.

  He dropped.

  Oliver held on to him, keeping the flow of blood through his heart reduced to a trickle. It was enough to make him lose consciousness, but not enough to kill him.

  He didn’t want to kill the man. That might be necessary, but he wasn’t a soldier and wasn’t sure that he would be able to do that even if it was necessary. But he had questions. And they could only be answered with the imposter awake.

  23

  Ciara

  A rider has returned. This is unexpected.

  —Rolan al’Sand, Enlightened of Hyaln

  You know what you must do.

  The voice of the lizard drifted into her mind with such clarity and such volume that Ciara almost needed to grab her head to press it out.

  I can’t hurt my people.

  You must heal them, ala’shin.

  But I’m not ala’shin.

  Then you will fail.

  To her left, Fas approached. His eyes had changed color, taking on the darkness that she understood to be Tenebeth. Others approaching had the same. It was her father who troubled her the most. Hadn’t she learned that he had trained to resist Tenebeth? What had happened to him that he would fail?

  His j’na rose and came toward the earth slowly.

  A part of Ciara knew that if he managed to connect, darkness would stream from the j’na much like it had streamed from the shaper who had attacked her.

  Without thinking about it, she took a step and sent her j’na to the ground. Snap.

  The sound rang out. The people—her people—converging on her slowed.

  She didn’t want to hurt them, but if they reached her before the draasin, she ran the same risk as when the shaper had attacked. Of those drawing near, only Fas and her father could shape, but that didn’t mean the rest of them weren’t dangerous, especially as she had no interest in harming them.

  Another step. Snap.

  The draasin-glass tip surged with color, but this time it was a bluish-white light. Immediately, the light began flowing from the end of her spear. Clouds parted over her and fingers of light streaked through.

  Ciara hurried forward, suddenly understanding what this pattern did. It would not harm her people, but if she managed to work it successfully, and if it were bright enough, she might be able to burn the effect from them. Tenebeth had not bothered them here before, so could she scare him away?

  Three more steps. With each one, the clouds parted more. Now she was bathed in a bright shaft of sunlight. It beat on her back, shining hot overhead. If it was going to happen anytime, it would have to be now, under the light of the sun and before Tenebeth managed to pull the clouds together again.

  Someone lunged.

  Ciara danced away, tapping her j’na.

  Another person tried reaching her.

  Again she danced, this time barely avoiding capture.

  More steps, each accentuated by a loud snap.

  Light poured from the end of her j’na.

  Someone grabbed one of her feet. Another hand reached for her arm, but thankfully it wasn’t the arm holding the j’na.

  The draasin roared overhead.

  Flames spilled through the remaining clouds, parting them, but the draasin herself cast shade upon the ground.

  Ciara slammed the j’na once more, this time with as much force as she could.

  With a massive crack, something akin to thunder exploded from the end of her spear. There was a flash of light so bright that she was forced to close her eyes. Even the draasin took to the sky, climbing back into the air once more.

  The pressure on her leg eased, as did that on her arm.

  “Ciara?”

  Her father’s voice pierced the confusion around her, the familiar warmth back in his voice.

  “Father,” she said, going to him. He stood alone, with nearly two dozen others nearby blinking slowly, as if clearing sleep from their eyes. His j’na rested against him, and she noted that the shaft of the spear had blackened, leaving the shapes that he’d once carved into the side obscured. Would he even be able to use it anymore, or had the attack damaged it permanently?

  “How is it… how did you?”

  She wished she had more of an ability to know whether Tenebeth still influenced him, but maybe it was enough that her father seemed happy to see her.

  As the draasin’s shadow drifted overhead, his gaze went to it. Ciara watched, waiting, but there was nothing more to his eyes than the usual brightness. When he turned his attention back to her, a troubled expression passed over his face.

  “What happened here?” she asked softly. She moved so that she co
uld keep not only her father in view, but the others as well. If she were attacked again, she wasn’t sure she could stop them or if she could even repeat the pattern she’d just done, but she wanted a warning, if nothing else.

  Fas stood outside the circle of others. Once a strong man, the weeks that she’d been away had changed him, lessening him in many ways. His face had a gaunt quality to it that it hadn’t before, with his eyes nothing more than dark hollows. The strength that he’d carried himself with had faded, leaving him like bones beneath his elouf. He glanced at her but pulled his eyes away quickly, unwilling to meet her gaze for long.

  “What happened?” her father said. He seemed like the others, as if in a daze, slow to respond. “I don’t know what happened. Darkness touched my heart and my mind. I can… I can feel it there, the remnants of it.”

  “Is it still there?” Ciara asked. If Tenebeth still tainted him…

  “I don’t think so, but… but I don’t know how it reached me. I should have been protected.”

  “Because you studied in Hyaln.”

  “Not there, but taught by one who did.”

  Who would that have been? “I met Olina. The draasin that we summoned took me to her.” She had thought the draasin had taken her to some random place, but the elemental must have known where she needed to go and what she needed to learn.

  “I do not know Olina.”

  “One of the wise of Hyaln.”

  He nodded. “The wise. You would be better served studying with one of the enlightened.”

  “I am.” When he frowned, she explained, “She sent me to Ter. To a man named Cheneth.”

  “Cheneth.” He repeated the name in such a way that she knew he recognized it. “And he taught you to call the draasin.”

  “He’s taught me nothing. He won’t work with me. I’m left in the mountains, repeating different patterns, and with each one I summon something different, never the same elemental twice.” The frustration she’d been feeling bubbled up from deep within her. Had Cheneth actually taught her, she might have reached the draasin sooner. Maybe before she had been attacked by the shaper. Instead, Ciara was lucky to have escaped.

  “Nothing. I would say that you have learned more than nothing, Ciara S’shala. If you can summon more than one of the great elementals, then you need to continue your studies.”

  “I’m needed here. I need to help my people.”

  Her father smiled at her sadly. “You have, Ciara. Without you, we would have remained under his touch. We’re free now. You have done more than I could have hoped.” He sighed. “Share our water. Sit by our fire. Then you must continue to learn, because what attacked us here is greater than our small village. Greater than all Rens.”

  The fire crackled inside the cave, giving off a steady warmth that pushed back the growing chill of the night. With the Ter cloak she wore, Ciara found herself not needing the heat of the fire, not as she once would have. The bowl of fella-leaf stew that she ate had a familiar taste, mostly leaves with only a hint of water added. She brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply.

  Voices bounced softly off the cavern walls, a familiar sound. In the village, you were never really alone. Even the curtain separating her father’s space from others did not do much more than mute the sounds.

  “It was Fas, wasn’t it?” she asked her father when he finally settled onto the thick shepa hide next to her. “He brought it into the village when he returned.”

  “I didn’t think so,” he said. “But now? Now I don’t know, Ciara. With the darkness…”

  She didn’t need her father to confirm it for her. She had seen the darkness in his eyes and the change that had come over him. But why would Fas grow weaker while the shaper grew stronger? He could shape water, so why was he not affected the same way?

  “It was Fas,” she said.

  “You’re probably right.” He stared blankly at the fire for a moment, as if still trying to clear the effects of Tenebeth from his mind. With a shudder, he turned away. “We haven’t seen fire… or the sun… since you left.”

  “I didn’t know that mattered.”

  “We know so little about what matters. Darkness is a force unlike any other.”

  “Where did he come from? Why attack now?”

  “I think you’re asking the wrong person, Ciara. Cheneth might know.”

  Ciara didn’t think even Cheneth knew why Tenebeth attacked now. Did the elementals?

  If she could ever consistently reach nobelas, she would have to ask.

  “What is nobelas, Father?”

  He pulled his gaze from the fire. “Nobelas?”

  His tone answered the question for her. He didn’t know.

  “Nothing. I thought that maybe…”

  “I’m not enlightened, Ciara. Stormbringer, I’m not even one of the wise.”

  “If you didn’t study in Hyaln, how is it that you know about these things?”

  Her father sighed. “I didn’t grow up in the village. When I was younger, I knew a different home.”

  “You said you were pushed away from your home by the attack.”

  “The attack. Yes. It sent me away, and many others. A city near the border, one where we didn’t have to suffer for want of water. So different than the life we lead now. But this is peaceful in its own way.” He sighed again. “A man came to the city as it fell to Ter, searching for those with particular skills. These would save our people, he claimed. The people of Rens would be needed, if only we were willing to listen and learn and forgo the homes we knew.” His eyes went distant as he stared into the fire. “He taught me my first pattern, a way to summon power, to call the draasin. There were others, all of them taught to do the same. This man named us ala’shin and told us we would need to train others.”

  Her father took a deep breath. “Others. I tried teaching others, but none were able to master the patterns. Over time, it no longer mattered. We settled here, and the Ter attacks eased until they were no more.”

  “The nya’shin. That’s who you tried to train?”

  He nodded. “Out here, ability with water was prized. The other villages focused on it as well, and the nya’shin became the seekers. We have survived here, Ciara.”

  “Maybe survived, but not lived.”

  “What is life when Ter attacks? What is it when draasin destroy your homes? The ala’shin learned to summon draasin to fight on their behalf. They gave us time, but only to escape. And now they do not answer the summons. Did not,” he said, his gaze going to the entrance of the cavern. Outside in the night, the draasin perched somewhere on the rock.

  Ciara could almost sense the connection but knew at least that the draasin had not left her as the other had. “Why did they stop answering?”

  “They have lost, Ciara.”

  “Lost what?”

  “Don’t you understand what is happening?”

  “I understand that our people cower in caves, suffering, while the people of Ter attack. I understand that you knew much more than you ever shared, knowledge that could have saved us. And I understand that I’m now mixed up in something I can’t begin to understand.”

  “But you must. You must try to understand it. And we don’t cower. We survive. If we make it through this season, we will survive the next. And the next. There is nothing we can do to overcome these attacks.”

  “But Ter—”

  “Has shapers. They attacked because they thought the draasin controlled by Rens, and they were controlled, only not by Rens.”

  Ciara didn’t think she understood. How could she understand what he described? “What did you mean when you asked me if I understood what was happening? What is happening?”

  “This is a war. One between powers greater than man. A war for control of the elementals. And if the darkness comes, I fear it means the war is nearly over.”

  24

  Ciara

  She can summon with strength, and she can ride the draasin. If I had faith that Hyaln would assist me in thi
s, I would send her, but I fear that they will offer no help.

  —Rolan al’Sand, Enlightened of Hyaln

  Ciara slept fitfully, finding the hard stone of the cave much less comfortable than she once did, especially now that she’d grown accustomed to something as soft as the stuffed pallet Cheneth had granted her. Dreams intruded upon her sleep, some filled with flickers of light and shadow, almost as if they fought.

  Once, when she awoke, she thought that another was in the cavern with her. She focused on water, straining to know if someone was near, but there was no one other than her father, and she didn’t need water to know that. His slow, labored breathing told her so as well as anything.

  Ciara drifted back to sleep. In the morning, she awoke but didn’t feel fully rested. She made her way out of the cavern and back onto the still-cool rock to find the draasin perched atop the tower. She considered a summons, but part of her wanted to climb to the draasin.

  The last time she’d attempted that climb, she’d nearly fallen. Had Fas not been there, she would have fallen. This time, there would be no Fas to catch her.

  She started up the side of the rock. It was nearly sheer, with only a few handholds, but there were natural cracks in the rock, and she dug her fingers into those as she worked her way higher.

  About halfway up, fatigue started to set in, but she ignored it. She would make it up this time. If she didn’t… she wouldn’t think about what would happen if she didn’t. Hopefully the lizard would reach her and heal her if she fell. Jasn Volth wouldn’t be able to help. He didn’t even know she was here.

  She ignored the flush that worked through her as she thought of Jasn Volth. The man was strong, and a powerful water shaper, but he was of Ter. And he had a history with Rens that he hadn’t shared with her.