“What about what the Stormcallers say?”
He offered her a look that answered everything. They had claimed the storms for the people’s benefit, but if none would come, what would happen to them?
“You’re a strong water seeker, Ciara, and almost nya’shin. Go with the others and see what you can find. The people need your focus, not some fanciful idea.”
“But Father—”
“No. None can cross the waste. That way is too dangerous for us. There is nothing for us there.”
Fas pulled on her as she opened her mouth to object, but arguing with her father would do no good. He’d made up his mind. At least she could go with Eshan and Fas and search for water, but Ciara already knew that would be a waste of time. There was no source of water near enough to help the village. They needed something different, more drastic, or they would all die here on the edge of the waste.
3
Jasn
In the earliest days of the war, Ter pressed the advantage, sacrificing many of their strongest warriors to secure the strip of land along the border, claiming cities and struggling to hold them. They did not appear to recognize how this weakened them.
—Lren Atunal, Cardinal of the College of Scholars
Jasn again stood next to Lachen, this time feeling even more unsettled than he had the last. He had followed Lachen’s shaping, letting the commander draw him here. Now that they had arrived, Jasn wasn’t certain he would have managed to find it on his own. There was something about this place that masked its presence.
They stood on a ridgeline within the Gholund Mountains, cool mountain air swirling around him in irregular patterns. Wind sensing told him that the wind seemed to come from every direction, but Jasn knew that to be impossible. Likely it was nothing more than a trick of the elevation. Earth surged around him, a constant presence.
He looked down at a series of utilitarian buildings all made of stone. There was no artistry to their design, nothing like would be found in Atenas, even for the warriors. These were arrayed in lines and designed for function. More than that, there was a shaping hanging over them that helped blend them into the mountains. Jasn had never seen anything on such scale before. Much effort had gone into keeping this place hidden.
“This is the place?” he asked.
“They call it the barracks.”
Jasn laughed. “Why?”
Lachen swept his hand toward the buildings. “Because it is the barracks. This is a place of the scholars, not the order.”
“That is why I’ve never heard of it?”
“There are many reasons you would not have heard of it.”
“Why bring me to a place of the scholars?” The scholars had little to no ability with shaping and had done little to help with the war.
“How many shapers have we lost?” Lachen asked.
Jasn shook his head. “I’m not privy to the numbers.”
“You have lasted in Rens longer than most. What would you suspect, given what you’ve seen?”
“A couple each week,” Jasn said. Losing shapers was bad enough, but when they lost members of the order…
“The scholars would change that.”
Jasn considered the buildings and the way they spread across the ground. “Can they?”
“I don’t know. They have ideas that have not been considered before. Few know what they attempt here.”
“And you do?” With the scholars, that wasn’t a given. Even the commander of the order could be kept from secrets the scholars wished to keep.
“As much as I’m allowed. That’s why I brought you.”
With that, Lachen floated down the ridgeline using a complicated shaping of wind and earth, leaving Jasn watching him. He could still turn back, could still decide that this task Lachen asked of him would be better suited to another, but then he would never come to understand what the offer meant. A promise had been hidden in that offer, one that Jasn wanted so badly to believe.
And if he left, what would he do but return to Rens? If Lachen’s promise was real, he would have every opportunity to do that anyway.
As they settled to the ground on the outskirts of the barracks, Jasn noted that few people moved in the wide streets of hard-packed earth between the buildings. He wondered why a place like this would need buildings spaced so far apart. From the ridgeline, it hadn’t been clear how much distance was between them, but down here, he noted that the streets were nearly twice as wide as those in Atenas.
Shaping burst all around. There was no clear focus, only the understanding that shapers worked with great energy here.
Lachen strode down the street, and Jasn followed. After passing the third building, he caught sight of a statuesque woman with sandy blond hair stopped at an intersection. Her eyes took in Lachen and then Jasn, narrowing as they fell on him. Another shaping built. This time, he sensed how it came from her before easing. Jasn turned, but she was already gone.
An older man with light blue eyes that matched the sky and deep gray hair hanging shaggily around his shoulders stepped away from one of the buildings. “Commander,” the man said, nodding in a respectful gesture.
Lachen stopped. “Wyath. It’s been too long,” he said with real warmth in his voice.
Wyath smiled, and there was a playfulness to him in spite of his age. “Last time, we nearly died, I seem to remember.”
“Nearly, but here we are.”
Wyath grunted. “Here we are is right. New recruit?” he asked, nodding toward Jasn.
A few others had stopped and watched from side streets as Lachen spoke to Wyath.
“Jasn Volth. He has spent some time in Rens.”
“Some? Not many remain in Rens any longer than necessary,” Wyath said. “How long were you there?”
“Nearly a year,” Jasn said.
Wyath blinked and looked over to Lachen, who only nodded once. “Are you sure that is wise?” He lowered his voice and leaned forward. “Think of what we’re doing here.”
Jasn noted a difference in the way Wyath spoke to Lachen compared to others in the order. In Atenas, there was always a certain respectfulness in the way others addressed the commander. Wyath spoke as if they were friends.
Lachen’s smile faded. “You think I have not?”
Wyath only nodded at the slight admonishment, seemingly unperturbed at having the head of the Order of Warriors, the commander of the Atenas Shapers, irritated with him. Jasn decided he needed to know more about this man.
“He should study with Alena,” Lachen said.
“After what happened—”
Lachen cut him off with a single shake of his head. “He needs to learn quickly. She may not want to, but she can help. A dark storm is coming, and we are unprepared.”
“You know I don’t make those decisions.”
“Then tell Cheneth my request.”
Wyath smiled again, shaking his head and running his fingers through his hair. “I will do what I can. No promises. Not when it comes to that one.”
“That’s all that I can ask.” Lachen started to turn and flashed a tight smile to Jasn.
“You don’t intend to see him?” Wyath asked.
Lachen hesitated, a sour expression pinching his mouth. “I am not certain he would welcome me. Take care of this for me, won’t you, Wyath?”
“You already owe me as it is. I suppose I can do this for you as well.”
“That I do.”
Then Lachen left, leaving Jasn standing alone with Wyath, watching his old friend walk to the edge of the barracks before shaping himself into the air and disappearing on a bolt of lightning.
“What does he owe you?” Jasn asked after he was gone.
Wyath chuckled. “Only his life.”
The older man turned and started away, motioning for Jasn to follow. Wyath had a slow gait with a bit of a limp. The clinical portion of Jasn’s mind kicked in, a habit he hadn’t managed to break even after nearly a year away, and Jasn noted that one of Wyath’s hip
s seemed to be rotated outward as if he’d broken it and it had poorly healed.
“What happened to you?” Jasn asked.
Wyath patted his hip and grunted. “You mean this old thing? That’s the reason I don’t get to venture too far anymore.”
“Venture too far from where?”
Wyath glanced at him, a hint of confusion on his face. “From here,” he said as if that explained everything.
“I’m still not sure that I know where here is.”
Wyath stopped and faced Jasn. “Lachen didn’t tell you what you’d be doing at the barracks?”
Jasn shrugged. “Something about hunting fire. Considering what I’ve spent the past year doing, that seemed explanation enough.”
“That’s not enough,” Wyath muttered. “Damn him, but he should have warned you before you came. Do you even know why he asked you?”
It had something to do with what happened with Katya, but Jasn wasn’t entirely certain, not after what he was seeing here. “He asked because we knew each other once.”
Wyath’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know the commander?”
“We grew up in the same village. Friends. We used to hunt together in the forest.” A forest that was much like the one surrounding the barracks, he noted. So much had changed since then. Not only Lachen, but Jasn as well. He had learned to shape, had been raised to the order, and had lost so much since then. He wasn’t even certain who he was anymore.
“You were close?” Wyath asked.
“Like brothers,” Jasn answered softly.
Wyath sighed. “Come on, then. Commander wants you here, so you’re here. First we need to see Cheneth.”
Jasn discovered that Cheneth was the elderly scholar who ran the camp. Like most of the scholars Jasn had met, Cheneth was frail and pale from the hours he spent inside, poring over notes shared between the scholars. Wyath led him into one of the simple stone buildings, this one no different than any of the others, where Cheneth sat behind a long table stacked with books and loose pages, making notes with a pen in a book. He barely glanced up when they entered, peering through thick spectacles.
“What is it, Wyath? One of the creatures get loose again?”
Wyath laughed. “Not this time, Cheneth. Damn things are clever, though. Not even our best bindings manage to keep them confined for too long.”
“That’s what the pens are for,” Cheneth said absently. He scratched at his cheek and his quill brushed his face, staining it with a dark red ink that looked like blood.
“And they seem to work. You’ve passed on word to the others?”
Cheneth set his quill down and rested his hands on the table, blinking as if seeing Jasn for the first time. “The others know what they need to know, Wyath.”
His gaze held Jasn, and an unsettled feeling passed through him, starting with a chill that ran along his spine. It passed quickly, and Cheneth smiled.
“Another was brought for testing?”
Wyath shook his head. “Not testing.”
Cheneth arched his brow and steepled his fingers as he looked at Jasn. “Then what?”
“The commander brought him.”
“The commander was here?” When Wyath nodded, Cheneth sighed and stood. He had a stoop to his back and he moved with a fragile gait that was more unstable than Wyath’s. At least the old warrior could shape himself if needed. Jasn didn’t know if the scholar had such ability. Most scholars were warriors who dedicated their lives to studying the elements and the powers behind them, but not all. Some simply were strong sensers, able to detect the elements but not manipulate them the same way that shapers could.
When Cheneth reached Jasn, he clapped him on the shoulder with a bony hand. “Well, we will see how skilled you might be. If the commander brought you to us, then he must have faith in your abilities. Where did you serve before he brought you to us?”
Jasn glanced at Wyath, who watched him with a curious gleam in his eyes. Wyath leaned back, favoring his bad leg, and crossed his arms over his chest. A shaping built from him and Jasn took a moment to realize that he used it to steady himself.
“Rens.”
“The border?”
Jasn shook his head. “The waste.” At least, that was where he spent most of his time.
Cheneth leaned toward him and pushed his spectacles up on his nose. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.”
The scholar smiled and tapped the edge of his nose. “No. Of course you didn’t. But the commander brought you for a reason, and he wouldn’t choose someone unable to succeed here.”
“He wants Alena to teach him.”
Cheneth flicked his gaze to Wyath and then back to Jasn. “Alena? He knows she doesn’t teach since… Ah, you’re Jasn Volth, aren’t you? The Wrecker of Rens. The man who cannot die.”
Jasn shouldn’t be surprised that word of him had spread. Time in Rens had given him a reputation. “I can die the same as any other. Prefer it more than most, too.”
Cheneth managed to say, “Death comes to us all eventually,” before he was overcome by a coughing fit and had to cover his mouth and turn away.
The scholar shuffled toward the table and took a seat, moving with a deliberate pace. When he sat, he rested his head on his hands and took steady breaths. Jasn didn’t need to be skilled with water sensing to know that something was off with the scholar.
“Take him to Alena then. Tell her I sent him.”
“Not the commander?” Wyath asked.
“Do you think Alena would respond well to such a command?”
Wyath chuckled. “Doubtful.”
Cheneth coughed again and then picked up his pen. “That’s why it must come from me.”
Wyath nodded and led Jasn from the scholar. The change from the darkness to the bright overhead sun was jarring. Within the building, Jasn had the vague sense of earth pressing in around him; that left as he stepped out of the building. Now that it was gone, he was aware of the pressure of the stone. Within the building, he had felt as if he climbed through a deep tunnel, reminding him of the time he’d gone with Greml while first learning to shape, crawling deeper and deeper into the earth as Jasn chased the ability to sense earth. That hadn’t worked and had only given him a distinct discomfort with such tight spaces, a feeling that Greml apparently did not share. The man loved boring holes deep into the earth, claiming he chased the ancient energies themselves as they moved beneath the surface. Jasn could never tell if he was serious or not.
“Who’s Alena?” Jasn asked as they made their way through the barracks.
“Only the best we have here.”
“The best at what?”
Wyath didn’t answer but led Jasn through the streets, past four more buildings that looked no different than the next. Each was made of a dark stone, built low to the ground and recessed half into the earth, almost as if shaped into existence. Maybe they had been, he thought. That might explain the sense of pressure he’d had while in the building with Cheneth. There was nothing about the old scholar that would make him feel that way, and Wyath was too old and too relaxed to give him that sense.
They stopped near a massive circular structure. Earth sensing told him how this was set deeper into the ground than the buildings around it, ending at almost the same height, but sensing couldn’t tell him what purpose there was for it. Jasn had never seen anything like it.
It appeared to be made of a single slab of stone, as if pulled up from the ground intact. Carved into the stone were strange shapes that almost looked like letters—but no letters that he’d ever seen. Power emanated from the structure, almost like a shaping.
Wyath regarded the building with wariness.
“What is it?” Jasn approached the stone carefully, holding his hand outstretched and forming a shaping as he went. Time spent in Rens had given him a fearlessness.
A snap of wind caught his hand and sent him spinning, eventually landing on the ground and facing the sky. The woman he’d seen
when he first came into the barracks with Lachen stood over him, her lovely face now painted with an expression of irritation. One hand hovered over the hilt of her sword.
Jasn resisted the urge to shape her away from him. That wouldn’t serve whatever purpose Lachen had for him here. Instead, he stood and slowly dusted himself off. “Alena, I presume?”
Her eyes flickered to Wyath and then back to Jasn. “What are you doing here? Why did he bring you here?”
“Cheneth called him here,” Wyath said.
Jasn glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye, wondering why he would lie to Alena.
“And he wants you to teach him,” Wyath went on.
She gripped the hilt of her sword tightly enough to whiten her knuckles and for a moment, Jasn thought she might unsheathe her sword and swing at him. Then she took a deep breath and shook her head. “I said that I had enough as it was and that I wasn’t willing to take on another.”
“You can’t make that choice, Alena,” Wyath said softly.
She turned to the man. “You know what happens. Each one who comes is the same. Most are battle hardened, and even then, they fail. This one,” she said, disgust heavy in her voice, “does not seem to be even that.”
“He served in Rens for a year.”
Alena considered Jasn for a moment. “Then why am I to train him? A man who survives that long knows all that he needs.”
Wyath took a step toward her and shrugged. “Because it’s what Cheneth wants. You know what’s at stake if we don’t do this—”
“I know what will happen if I do,” she snapped.
Jasn stepped toward them. “What is it? Why am I here?”
Alena jerked her head around to face him, fire in her eyes. She looked as if she wanted to say something but then stormed away, back toward the center of the barracks.
4
Jasn
The draasin attacked along the border, controlled by shapers able to command the creatures. The Order of Warrior believed Rens controlled the draasin, and many were lost.
Journey of Fire and Night (The Endless War Book 1) Page 3