Cloud Warrior 05 - Forged in Fire (16 page)

He was near the outer edge of the city, using his elemental bond to hold him aloft. He readied a shaping of spirit and fire, and mixed earth within it. The shaper spun and twisted, streaking toward him.

Tan used Honl to help him slide to the side and avoid the shaper, but earth reached for him and pulled him from the air.

Too late, he realized this shaper had bonded two elementals.

Honl!

Honl could do nothing to free him from an earth elemental bound to a Par-shon shaper. The shaping was powerful and gripped him, holding him in place.

The arm holding his sword was trapped. With his free hand, he jerked on the other while sending an earth shaping through the ground, but the bonded elemental overpowered him.

The fire shaper spun into place overhead. He smiled darkly.

Using a mixture of all the elements, with spirit binding them, Tan breathed out a shaping.

It took nearly all the energy he had remaining. Without his sword, it was unfocused, but caught the fire shaper in a flash of white light.

Still holding the shaping—or what remained of it—Tan jerked his arm free and shifted his focus to draw through the sword, at the same time pulling on Honl, on Asboel, on the other unnamed elementals all around him, drawing strength from them. He jumped to the air to figure out what else he could do. The fire trap burning on the edge of Incendin seemed to have faded, but it still held the elementals within.

There must be another holding it in place.

Tan found another earth shaper destroying the wall to the village, burying a shaper beneath the earth. Earth sensing told Tan that the Incendin shaper still lived, but barely. The Par-shon shaper was a solid man, his head shaven, with a patch of beard growing from his chin. His black eyes widened when he saw Tan.

Tan used an earth and spirit shaping to dissolve the Par-shon shaper’s bond. His shaping failed and he crumpled.

The Incendin shaper was still trapped beneath the earth. Tan’s strength was fading, and he feared lingering much longer. He needed to leave, but knowing that someone—even an Incendin shaper—was trapped by earth made him pause.

Could he really help Incendin? Hadn’t he already by allowing Amia to remove the spirit shapings from the Incendin shapers the archivists had used?

He felt the pressure from the shaper attempting to wrest free from the earth.

Whatever else happened, he wouldn’t let the shaper die.

He sent a demand to the earth elemental.
Release him!

He wasn’t sure if the earth would answer or if he was still strong enough to send, but the earth rumbled and a faint sound rolled through the back of his mind. The ground parted and the Incendin shaper crawled free. She was thin and covered with dust. Black hair was tied in a thick braid and her sharp eyes scanned the city first before catching the Par-shon shaper lying unmoving.

Tan took a moment to press out with spirit and earth. No other shapers were there.

“Who are you?” she asked, taking in his clothing and the warrior sword gripped in his hand. A fire shaping built from her, and she kept it readied and unused.

Tan considered answering, but was too tired to think of the right thing to say. Would Incendin think a kingdoms’ shaper had attacked or would they realize that he’d done what he could to help?

“An ally,” Tan said.

His strength sagged. If he waited, he might not be strong enough to return to Amia.

He pulled the travel shaping down on him and disappeared in a bolt of lightning. As he did, he briefly glimpsed the Incendin shaper watching him.

N
ight had fallen
by the time Tan returned to the Aeta. Amia was waiting for him, the worry on her face reflected strongly through their bond. She half-carried him to the caravan, pulling him between two wagons. She said nothing until she had him settled comfortably. The dark rings around her worried eyes said plenty.

The fire shaper he’d first rescued sat nearby. Amia’s shaping had already helped him. How much longer until he was fully restored?

“What happened?” she asked him, drawing his attention away from the fire shaper.

“I… I killed one of the archivists,” he said, making a point of keeping his voice lowered.

Since leaving here only hours before, so much had changed. The camp had nearly tripled as Aeta had been brought from the other two caravans to join this family. The wagons had been set into a tight circle, and a single fire pit glowed warmly in the middle. The sounds of a soft lute mixed with the strumming of a mandolin, almost as if unmindful of the fact that they camped in the midst of Incendin and might be discovered. Singers added their voices. Some people danced while others sat around the fire, speaking softly to one another.

“Cianna told me,” she said.

“Where is she?”

Amia inclined her head toward the fire. Tan caught sight of the fire shaper’s red hair. She chewed on a lump of bread and laughed as one of the Aeta spoke to her.

“And her draasin?” he asked.

He sensed Asboel, but he was faint. Tan suspected he had returned to the den beneath the city. Cianna would know where Sashari was.

“Ethea, I think. There were a few surprised faces when Sashari carried the first wagon and set it near the others. There were a few more surprised when Asboel came with his wagon.”

Tan allowed himself to smile.

“I’ve been working with the Incendin shapers.” She motioned to the one sitting nearby. “There isn’t much more that I can do for him. Some healing requires him to choose.”

“And the archivists?”

“The Mother saw them bound and separated. Tan,” Amia started, hesitating as she peered around the camped wagons. “I worry what will happen when they reach the Gathering. What would make them rejoin the caravans?”

Tan shared the same concern. If the archivists were openly attacking, what would they do when all of the Aeta gathered? Was there anything he could do, or would it have to come from the Aeta? And
why
had they chosen to attack?

“I’m sorry I took so long to return,” he said.

“Are you?”

“If the archivists can do this to their people, if they could attack…” He couldn’t finish. The archivists had attacked their people, but he had destroyed the archivist in anger. Was that who he had become?

“You’ve only done what’s been needed,” Amia said.

“That wasn’t needed.”

Tan stared at the fire, watching the flames dance within it, swaying to the sounds of the Aeta music. Even here, saa was drawn to the fire.

“Par-shon attacks Incendin,” he said after a while. “And they trap elementals.”

Amia’s breath caught. “You saw it?”

The longer he sat here, the better he felt. Not that he felt good, only that his strength had returned. With the help of the elementals, he was refreshed more quickly these days.

“I saw it,” he admitted. Amia might have known anyway. The bond between them would have given her insight about what he saw, but she’d also been distracted trying to heal the Incendin shaper. “There were three Par-shon shapers attacking a city. Incendin had only one fire shaper for protection.”

A soft voice spoke with a harsh whisper in the dark shadows near the wagon. “Where was the attack?” The fire shaper stared at the dancing flames but didn’t move as he spoke. No shaping built from him. There was no fight in him.

“I don’t know. A city to the north and east. A stone wall surrounded it. There were trees.” Tan said the last as if it was somehow important. He knew so little of Incendin, not enough to know how common copses of trees like he’d seen were found.

“Lashasn.”

Amia nodded, touching the gold band around her neck as she did. “I have been there once before. The people were welcoming. Happy traders.”

“They were attacked?” the fire shaper asked. “What happened?”

“I stopped Par-shon. Your shaper lives.”

The fire shaper stared at Tan with hollowed eyes. “But you are of the kingdoms. Why would you let them live?”

“She did nothing but protect her home. I did what I could to help.”

The man studied Tan for a moment and then turned his attention back to the fire, the light sending shadows shifting across his features.

“There were two from the other caravans,” Tan said. “What happened to them?”

Amia pointed toward a wagon to his left. “They are within that one. The Mother set men to watch, but you left them restrained.”

He sighed. What he needed from Incendin started now. If they were to use Incendin—no, if they were to work
with
Incendin—he would have to see them fully healed. Amia would have to help. “If they were shaped, I wanted to give you a chance to remove it.” From the way the fire shaper stiffened, Tan could tell the he was listening. “All will be needed to face Par-shon.”

“I will do what I can.” Amia took his hand and squeezed. “These families…” she started.

“They must reach the Gathering. They will mourn the First Mother, as they should, but these families must reach the Gathering.” He looked into her eyes, not certain how she would react to what he needed to say next. “You will need to be there, Amia. If the archivists attempt something more…”

Amia nodded slowly. “I will do what I can,” she whispered.

F
or the trip
to the final Gathering summoned by the First Mother, Tan shaped earth and wind to carry all the wagons, horses, and Aeta across the lands.

Amia spent her time working with the Incendin shapers. The Daughter stayed with her, watching her work, and Amia didn’t seem bothered by the company. On the contrary, she began teaching the young Aeta, allowing her to assist where she could.

The Mother came to him as they camped their second night. The landscape of Incendin had changed little in spite of the speed they traveled. The waste was barren and bleak, and the hot sun burned constantly.

Tan sat alone, off to the side of the fire. Cianna had remained with them as they traveled, more for curiosity, he suspected, than any need for protection. Tan was happy to have her with them just the same. If they were attacked, it would be good to have another shaper to help.

“This is you, is it not?” she began. “You’re helping us reach the Gathering.” A coughing fit overcame her and she covered her mouth, hiding the thick phlegm that she coughed up.

“I’m doing what I can to help,” Tan said. “There’s only so much that I can do, but you need to reach the Gathering.”

She studied him. “I cannot sense you, or the Daughter, but I’ve grown skilled at reading people in other ways. There is something you do not wish to tell me.”

“It is not mine to share. I am not of the People.”

The Mother snorted. “You have saved three caravans from attack.”

“And what of the caravans that were lost?” he asked.

“What of them? What would have become of the caravans had you done nothing? You deserve no blame for what happened.” She coughed again as Tan watched her, but her eyes were bright, still vibrant and filled with strength. “Now, tell me what you think I should not hear.”

He sighed inwardly. The Mother deserved to know, but should he really be the one? “You remind me of Amia’s mother. I didn’t know her long, barely a few days, but she had the same strength.” Tan smiled at her memory, and of the way she had stood up to Zephra. “Amia is much like her. She pushes me the same way.” He inhaled deeply, and met the Mother’s eyes. “She is gone, Mother. That is why she called the Gathering. I suspect that she knew her time was short.”

The Mother’s breath caught and she began to nod her head slowly. “Perhaps she did. She has served for many years. She has guided the People through many difficult years. Her wisdom and leadership will be missed.” She coughed again and abandoned an effort to stand. “I will need to share with the others.”

The Aeta didn’t know what else the First Mother had done, or how Theondar had held her at the end. What purpose would that serve, other than to stain her memory? It was best that only those who knew what she’d done were tainted by those memories.

“The Gathering will choose a new First Mother?” Tan asked.

“Normally, a successor has already been chosen, but only when the families are all gathered will she be revealed.”

“The Mothers have some idea,” Tan said.

“Some,” she agreed.

“The last Gathering was interrupted. Do you think she has chosen a successor?”

The Mother stared at the Daughter, shaping spirit with Amia as they worked to heal the wind shaper. Tan still suspected the wind shaper to be one of the Doman shapers, stolen by Incendin.

Another coughing fit overwhelmed the Mother. Then she smiled at Tan. “I don’t know what plans she had in place. So many families have been lost. Perhaps her choice was among them. That is what
they
hope,” she said, motioning toward the remaining archivists, who sat in a ring near the fire.

“They want to influence the choice?” Tan asked.

“They are afraid,” she began. “That one,” she pointed to the sharp-faced man who had attacked her wagon, “was in Doma when the attacks began. I think he fears them.”

Tan studied the archivist, wondering if there was a connection to what Par-shon did and the archivists’ return. The man seemed to sense Tan’s eyes on him and turned and met Tan’s gaze. “We should all fear them,” Tan said.

“We have nothing to fear if we choose to honor the Great Mother,” she said. “Her hand guides us all.”

She smiled and then the Mother stood, taking a moment to compose herself, and made her way to the fire, touching her people lightly as she greeted them. Occasionally, she stopped and joined in a song, but only until she began to cough. Her way of touching her people reminded Tan of the First Mother.

T
he Incendin shapers
remained behind when the caravan crossed the border into the kingdoms. Even the wind shaper wanted to remain behind. Amia wasn’t able to tell whether he had been shaped by the First Mother or not, but said that all signs of shapings had been removed from him.

Now that they were closer to Ethea, Tan risked even more of his strength to power the wagons, and they moved even faster toward the Gathering. He wanted to get the Aeta to the others as quickly as possible, not only so they could reunite with their people and find their strength again but because this journey had cost him two days in his search for Elle, two days that he’d begun to see how far Par-shon had already pushed.

Did he dare wait until Roine was ready to face the threat, or did he need to do something on his own?

Answers didn’t come, at least none that were easy.

By the evening of that third day, the wagons reached the Gathering. Tan had grown increasingly tense the closer they came and the Aeta grew increasingly somber. Word had spread about the First Mother, and a mournful sense had come over everyone. Amia sat next to him atop the lead wagon, silently staring at the gathered families.

He let the wagons slow, conserving some of his energy as he prepared for the possibility that he would need to shape spirit if any archivists remained. There was at least one more, the one who had summoned when he and Roine had answered. What would happen when these three archivists joined the other?

Without needing to say a word, the wagons already gathered parted, splitting and widening the circle. Their caravan rolled into place, filling the gap. Tan didn’t feel that he should be a part of this, but didn’t move away from the circle. The Aeta were in the kingdoms and as Athan, it was his responsibility to ensure their safety.

When the wagons came to a stop, the Mothers joined the other gathered Mothers.

“What will happen now?” Tan asked.

“They would have been mourning this entire time. They waited for the remaining families to arrive.”

“Will there be others?” he asked.

“I sense that this is it.”

“What of the archivists?” Tan asked. He scanned the Aeta, looking for signs them, but couldn’t see them. Using a shaping of earth and spirit, he quested for them, searching in the wagons. Anyone standing in the middle of the circle able to shape would be one of the Mothers, or possibly the Daughters.

“It depends upon the Mothers,” Amia said, “though it really depends on who is chosen to follow the First Mother. She will decide.”

The sickly Mother motioned to Tan and Amia. The others stared, watching them, as the Mother spoke.

“Is that our sign to go?” Tan asked.

“Not yet,” Amia said.

There was tension in her voice, though he didn’t feel it through their bond. Instead, he sensed a hint of apprehension—and also a sense of reluctant acceptance.

What did Amia know?

The Mothers started toward them, moving together. As they did, three men emerged from wagons on the far side of the circle. All wore the black robe signifying the archivists. Tan felt their shaping build simultaneously, with more power than he thought he’d be able to contain.

Amia stood casually, as if expecting this. The shaping she crafted was more immense than anything he’d seen her perform outside of working with the First Mother while attempting to heal Cora. This was nothing like that shaping. This was elegant and complex, but powerful as well.

As she shaped, Tan realized she drew
through
him, borrowing from his stores, and used this to lash out at the archivists.

They didn’t have a chance to struggle. There was strength to their combined shaping, but it was nothing compared to what Amia managed. She overpowered them easily.

They stopped near the fire as if to run. Tan held them with earth.

Amia touched the band at her neck as the Mothers approached. The sense of apprehension from her intensified.