Zephra drew up to her full height, still barely up to Calin’s chin. “Then I will protect her.”
Calin did not get the chance to respond. Lia placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back. He nodded respectfully to her but glared at Zephra. “Zephra saved me, Calin. We must trust her to lead us to safety.” Lia watched Zephra as she spoke.
The words caused a surge of emotion within Zephra. She would see Lia to safety. Whatever it took. Even if it meant returning to the kingdoms.
“Where does she lead you, Mother?” Calin asked. The heat from his voice had faded.
“Doma,” Zephra said. “We travel to Doma.”
Calin tilted his head and nodded once. “You promise you mean the Mother no harm?”
Zephra looked from him to Lia. Uncertainty about why he referred to her as the Mother was replaced by surprise that Calin thought her a threat. Few ever saw her that way. “I promise.”
“You will lead her to safety?”
“I will do my best.”
“You will protect her?” This last asked with renewed urgency.
Zephra looked at Lia and saw only a child’s face. An injured one at that. “I will protect her.”
Calin watched her before sighing. Then he sagged to the ground in a heap.
* * *
Lia shook her awake with a trembling hand. “We must go,” she said.
Zephra blinked the sleep from her eyes, glancing at the burnt orange sky. The sun barely crested the horizon but hot air already pushed upon her with a suffocating touch. For a moment she smiled at the first breeze she’d felt since she’d been in Incendin. Then she realized that something about it seemed off.
“The shaper nears,” she said.
Lia nodded. “To the east,” she said, pointing weakly toward the rising sun.
Zephra faced the hot breath of air gusting out of the east. It was stale and forced, not the natural eddy she expected. Hotter than it should be as well. The air was not wind shaped, but shaped nonetheless. Few fire shapers had enough command or power to generate such wind.
Calin crouched at the base of the rock, eyes alert and roving the expanse of the waste with nervous energy. She was glad he was up; she didn’t think she could drag him.
Lia coughed, spitting blood-tinged phlegm toward brown rock. The young Aeta appeared to have aged overnight, lines of worry now creased the corners of eyes that seemed even older than before.
“You will find her healing, Shaper?” Calin asked. The last was said as a title and with unexpected respect.
The girl shook just standing next to her. How could she walk? “I will do what is needed,” Zephra answered, forcing confidence into her words that she did not feel.
“Not Doma.” Lia nodded toward the east.
Zephra shook her head, looking east, feeling the hot breeze on her face. How had it grown warmer in such a short time? “Not Doma,” she agreed. Zephra blinked slowly, swiveling to look to the west, feeling the pull of Ethea, as if the city itself knew she would return. “If the shaper comes from the east, there is only one other option.” She hated that it came to this.
“The kingdoms,” Lia said.
Zephra nodded, her mind already spinning through how best to approach. The kingdoms were vast, each kingdom challenging in its own way. Though she had entered Incendin through Nara, Galen was likely closest. At least the winds there might welcome her. From there, she could escort Lia to Ethea and the university.
If she could cross the border. And if they lasted that long.
“Can you walk?” she asked.
Lia took a staggering step forward before falling. Calin was there in a flash, arms under her, cradling her, and then lifting her to his shoulder. Suddenly she looked so small.
“I will carry the Mother,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
Calin frowned at her, a hurt expression flashing across his face. “I may not have your strength, Shaper, but I am strong enough.” He turned and started toward the west, his back stiff.
Zephra stared after him, his words having triggered a memory of Grethan. A powerful earth shaper, but ever so humble. That may be his most endearing trait. Never one to boast of his abilities, she remembered the time she came across him in the training yard at university, shaping a huge boulder aside as if nothing.
“That looks heavy,” she had said.
Grethan had grunted and shrugged, shifting his feet to look at her but did not lose his concentration. Not like she would have. “Just takes practice,” he said. The bead of sweat at the corner of his brow gave away his effort.
“I wish I had your focus,” she had said. “Or your strength.”
Grethan had turned to her fully and let the shaping slip away gently, barely a rumble of earth. He slid over to her and she remembered the deep smell of him, earthy and sweet. “Never doubt that you are strong enough,” he had said.
That had been the day Zephra realized the depths of her feeling for Grethan. Though he probably remembered nothing of that day, she had hoped to master her own control before sharing those feeling with him. She still did.
Zephra shook her head, placing the memory away to think about later. If she survived Incendin and the shaper, she would think about Grethan again. Only then.
Calin led as they made their way across the waste, never faltering as he carried Lia, his steps sure-footed and careful to avoid the dangerous vegetation. Occasionally he would pause and turn to her, waiting for direction. Using a sense of the wind, Zephra traced it toward Ethea. The sense became more pronounced the longer they walked.
The day grew hotter around them and soon even the hard rock baked their feet as they walked. The air became stifling and unpleasant to breathe. She felt herself wilting, only the occasional drag on the waterskin kept her moving.
The vegetation around her seemed invigorated. Spiny brush stood taller than she remembered. The clumps of sharp weeds stabbed thorns into their feet and ankles if they stepped too close. The shooting nettles fired with the smallest of motion, sending their barbs farther than she’d ever seen.
Zephra knew the heat not completely natural, but said nothing, simply awed by the sustained strength the shaper demonstrated.
Over time, Calin began to slow. Even he, solid as he was, could not move endlessly through the rising heat without stopping. Lia stirred occasionally only to cough. Bloody spittle dotted the corners of her mouth. Healing seemed a lifetime away.
“I don’t know how much more of the waste we have to travel,” she said. They were the first words she had spoken in hours and her voice cracked, croaking out the sounds.
Calin grunted and turned. Dirt smeared his face and eyes wrinkled in concentration. How much longer could he maintain such dedication to Lia? What would happen to her when he failed?
She held the water skin to his lips and let him drink, careful to avoid losing any drops. After barely wetting his mouth, he nodded toward Lia. Zephra tipped open the girl’s mouth, letting water trickle into her throat. She swallowed instinctively.
“We cannot outrun him,” Calin said, his voice still strong.
Zephra shook her head. The wall of heat had pressed on them all morning, the gusts of painful air growing more powerful. “Not like this.”
“Take her, then. Save the Mother.”
Zephra frowned, unsure what he meant until realizing that he must have seen her shape the wind travel. “Too dangerous. No controlling it, not for me at least. We could end up blown back to the center of the waste.” She didn’t tell him that she doubted that she could even catch the wind. Saving Lia had been simply a fluke.
Calin grunted, nodding as if slow to understand her words. “Then we go on.”
With that, he turned and continued west.
* * *
Zephra stopped suddenly when she saw the sudden swath of darkness in the distance where the ground fell precipitously away to a rocky canyon below. Any misstep would lead them tumbling down the rock toward the wide Fosa River wind
ing through the canyon.
Calin lagged behind, reaching the ridge a few moments after her, panting with ragged breath. “Hurry,” he huffed, barely slowing as he moved past her.
Zephra frowned, wanting to pause and rest, knowing the waste was nearly behind them. The Fosa marked the western edge of the waste, leading into a craggy brush before finally receding into the heavy forest flanking the border between Incendin and the kingdoms. If she stood atop the peak long enough, she hoped she would finally feel a hint of cool air.
Then she looked back. The wall of heat that had pressed on them all afternoon seemed suddenly solid. Searing heat blasted at her face, sucking the breath from her lungs.
The shaper approached.
Zephra hurried over the ridge.
Calin found a winding path snaking its way across down the rock. He moved quickly, but his once straight back sagged under Lia’s continued weight. How much longer could he hold out?
Zephra slid more than stepped along the narrow path. At the bottom, Calin stood staring at one of the twisted thorny trees, a white blossom blooming from the end of a branch. It was surprisingly beautiful. He plucked the flower carefully, pinching it off with his fingers, and tucked it under Lia’s shirt. Then he hurried to the water and filled the waterskin, pouring the water onto Lia’s chest.
She wasn’t sure if she was more surprised that the flowers actually existed or that Calin appeared to know about the healing properties. She didn’t have a chance to see what happened next. The air shimmered with renewed heat.
A blackened figure stood atop the ridge. The fire shaper practically glowed.
She sensed the building energy and ran to push Calin forward. “The water!” she shouted, slamming into his back as they stumbled toward the Fosa.
Then she splashed into water impossibly warm. She swam, early years spent along the shores of Vette Ver in Doma making her strokes sure and strong. Calin flopped nearby and she swam to him. Taking Lia from him, hooking the girl’s arm around her neck, she pulled Lia toward the opposite shore.
A blast of heat struck the water, turning much of it to steam.
Zephra cursed. The wide river flowed slowly, barely any current at all and certainly not enough to pull them safely away from the shaper. Another such blast and they would burn. They needed to reach the other shore.
Before the second blast, she felt the shaper’s released energy. “Dive!” she hollered, ducking under the water and kicking. Calin seemed to understand and she saw him swimming near her, his strokes more sure and quick, his strength returning.
Lia writhed in her arms, coughing again. White petals from the flower fluttered out from under her shirt, pulled by a current she did not feel. Zephra cupped a hand over Lia’s mouth and nose to keep her from inhaling water before kicking her legs forward, gliding through the water. She felt the explosion as the blast struck.
Pale green shimmered in the water around her.
At first, she thought it little more than her imagination, but the colors seemed to swirl and move, as if alive, swarming from the loose petals toward Lia. In her arms, Lia was engulfed in color. Zephra kicked on, uncertain how much longer she could hold her breath and praying to the Great Mother she could reach the shore before the shaper could unleash another attack. The water cooled the farther she swam, invigorating her.
Lia suddenly spasmed.
With one last kick, Zephra flung herself up and out of the water, a brown grassy shore nearly in reach. Calin stood on the edge of the shore and reached into the water, pulling Lia from her arms. Water slid off the girl.
Zephra staggered out of the water and collapsed. Across the Fosa, the shaper stood, staring with malevolent eyes. Heat simmered from him, rising from the rock like a protective haze. Approaching the edge of the water, he hissed.
“Return the girl to me and you may live.” The fire shaper took a step toward the water. Steam rose around him, the water prevented his easy crossing.
Zephra felt the subtle shaping to the words, something else she had never heard of a fire shaper doing. A blast of heat rolled over the water, threatening to boil away the river.
Again she marveled at his strength. Only then did she make the connection.
The shaping he had worked on himself had strengthened him, bound him closer to fire, and turned him into something more than a simple fire shaper.
She looked over to where Calin cradled Lia. Miraculously the girl breathed. Her eyes even flickered, threatening to open. What was it about Lia that gave the shaper such power? Was there something about the Aeta that he sought?
What would happen were he to recapture her?
The idea frightened Zephra. If this one shaper could become so powerful, what would happen if others did the same?
No one would be safe. Not the Aeta. Not Doma. Not the kingdoms.
Zephra’s strength had returned. Perhaps it getting out of the hot sun or perhaps it was something about the water. Either way, she felt better than she had in days. A cool breeze blew over her like a soft welcoming breath.
“The girl, little wind shaper. Now.”
Zephra shook her head. Whatever else happened to her, it no longer mattered if she ever caught the wind so long as this shaper failed to capture Lia. She was a wind shaper, even if expelled from the university.
“You will never have her,” she said. She spoke softly, letting her words carry on the soft breeze. “Know always that it was Zephra who stopped you.”
Zephra smiled, grabbing at the wind. Somehow she knew she would catch it, no longer chasing. She formed a shaping, pressing against the fire shaper, strength for strength, summoning reserves she did not know she had. The sudden torrent of wind twisted into a funnel, sending water spinning toward the fire shaper.
He roared.
Water steamed, and Zephra intensified her shaping, sending more and more water toward him. With one last surge of shaping, she sent a powerful gust across the Fosa, blasting with every ounce of her ability.
Water and rock smashed into the sheer stone face with a thunderous explosion.
Fatigue stole the remainder of her shaping from her. Zephra sagged to her knees, staring across the river, but saw no sign of the shaper. Whether destroyed or simply escaped, she didn’t care.
She turned toward Calin and Lia.
Calin crouched with his arms around Lia, a look of amazed awe on his face.
Lia’s eyes were open, clearly healed. She wondered if it were the flower or something else about the water that had healed her. Or possibly both.
Lia watched her with eyes wiser than any girl should have. Zephra again wondered what secret she hid, what reason the fire shaper had such interest in her, before deciding it didn’t matter. She was safe.
When Zephra stood, Calin pulled Lia to her feet as well. “Come,” she said. “We near the kingdoms. Safety.”
Lia smiled slightly, soft wind tickling her long hair. “Not Doma?”
Zephra thought about the way the wind played across her hair, pulling on her arms. The wind blowing out of the kingdoms, out of Galen, had a comfort to it. She shaped the wind, no longer feeling the need to chase it, and smiled. “Not Doma,” she said.
About the Author
DK Holmberg currently lives in rural Minnesota where the winter cold and the summer mosquitoes keep him inside and writing.
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Also by D.K. Holmberg
The Cloud Warrior Saga
Chased by Fire
Bound by Fire
Changed by Fire
Fortress of Fire
Forged in Fire
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Serpent of Fire
Others in the Cloud Warrior Series
Chasing the Wind
Drowned by Water
Deceived by Water
The Painter Mage
Shifted Agony
Arcane Mark
Painter For Hire
Stolen Compass
The Forgotten/The Sighted Assassin
The Painted Girl
The Durven (Part 1)
A Poisoned Deceit (Part 2)
A Forgotten Return (Part 3)
The Lost Garden
Keeper of the Forest
The Desolate Bond
Keeper of Light
Chasing The Wind (Novella) Page 3