Darkness Rising (The Endless War Book 2) (18 page)

“Where are you going?” she asked Wyath.

“The same place that you must go, Alena. To see if there is anything we can do to help the draasin.”

They flew over a copse of trees and down a rolling valley, quickly moving away from the ocean. When she’d first learned the trick to the traveling shaping, she had used it frequently, visiting places she never would have thought herself able. Often she had come to the ocean, simply to sit and listen to the waves crashing as they rolled toward the shore, but she had always gone to the water along the western coast of Ter. It was hotter there, the sand so white that it sparkled along the beach, burning hot beneath her feet.

Then she felt a sharp stab of pain and nearly lost control of her shaping.

With it, she was aware that they neared the draasin. How had Wyath known and she did not? She was the one connected to the draasin, wasn’t she?

Lren
.

The call was weak and nothing like before. There was a desperation that Alena had never known the draasin to have.

I am almost there.

Darkness. You should not have come. Turn back—

As the draasin cut off, a terrible roar echoed toward her, splitting the air like thunder.

Her shaping faltered and she dropped to the ground. Wyath stumbled, the control he’d so easily demonstrated failing.

“We must hurry,” she said.

Wyath shook his head as he looked to the sky. There, a dark streak of black and purple rose on massive wings, Sashi’s spikes steaming and her massive sides bellowing lungs full of flame toward the ground, leaving nothing but burned and charred remains that reminded Alena of the Sanash.

“We are already too late,” Wyath said.

Alena knew he was right. A dark shadow sat atop the draasin, blacker than the night. Almost as if knowing she watched, the shadow turned toward her, and the draasin heaved fire at them before taking off toward the north, faster than Alena could keep up.

S
ashi disappeared
, not only from sight but also from within her mind. Alena tried calling to her, but the draasin didn’t answer, as if the shadowed figure she’d seen riding atop Sashi had obscured the draasin from her, much as she’d learned to obscure her shaping from others.

“Where did she go?” Wyath asked.

“I thought you could hear them now?”

“Not as you do,” he said. “Something was wrong with the creature, but I don’t know quite what it was.”

“Someone rides the draasin,” Alena said. “With her, I don’t think that should be possible.”

Wyath lowered himself to the ground and squeezed the hilt of his sword for a moment. “What do we know of what’s possible with the draasin, Alena? What do we really know of them?”

Alena followed him to the ground. “Why ask this now? You’ve seen how much we’ve learned from them.”

“I’ve seen what they’ve
wanted
us to know,” Wyath said. “That’s not the same as what we
need
to know.”

Wyath had always been one of the draasin’s best supporters, so why would he change now? “You think they allowed themselves to be captured simply to gain our trust?” She couldn’t shake the way Sashi had called to her, the desperation in her voice. She needed to reach her and discover what had happened, but there was a part of her afraid of what that shadowed figure meant.

“They’re creatures more powerful than us. How can we know the reason they allowed their capture? What if they’ve sided with Rens all along?”

“You’re a fool then,” she snapped, and Wyath frowned at her. “You know how I speak to them, and you think I wouldn’t know if they were hiding something from me?”

They didn’t share everything, but then the fact that the draasin would fear something was enough to make her nervous. That alone would mean the order should prepare, but she had the sense that none within the warrior’s caste had any intention of doing so.

“You’ve told me they hold back. And from what I can tell, they have a way of withholding much more than we might realize. What if they keep from us the secret of why they attack in Rens?”

“There is something more than we know, Wyath, something that Cheneth suspects but doesn’t share. And whatever else you think, I’m going after the draasin to see if I can help. They deserve that much.”

“Then I will go with you. That is why I brought you here.”

“Not to help?”

“There may not be much that I can do on that front.”

Lren!

The draasin’s voice slipped into her mind again, briefly but with enough strength that Alena dropped to her knees and grabbed her head again. This time, she didn’t try to squeeze the sense of the draasin out of her mind. Instead, she embraced the connection, wanting to reach to Sashi, to learn what had happened.

Where are you? What happened?

Darkness. You must come—

The draasin cut off, the voice in the back of her mind going silent as if it had never been there.

“What was it?” Wyath asked.

“The draasin suffers,” she answered. And what was it that she said about the darkness?

Wyath’s face contorted as he looked toward the sky. “And you want to learn what happened.”

“I need to learn. I need to go after her. There is something… a darkness. That is what the draasin fear, Wyath.”

He watched her a moment before turning toward the north and the direction Sashi had disappeared. His face began to look troubled. “If you do this, you can’t go alone. If it is strong enough to overpower the draasin…”

Wyath was right, and for the first time, she wished that her students were with her. Always before, she had feared sharing too much with them, never wanting to open up about what she did or how she understood the draasin, protecting that secret at any cost, but now that it was out there, now that Jasn Volth—and likely Bayan—knew about her, she needed their help. Jasn particularly, especially with his connection to the elementals, but Bayan, and her ability to detect shapings and the intent behind them, would be invaluable.

“You won’t help?”

“I… I need to find Cheneth. There are answers we need.”

“But the draasin—”

“Might be the key to more than we understand. If the scholars know something, I think it’s time they share.”

Alena sighed, wishing for easier answers, but they didn’t come.

“We need help,” she said. And from those who could reach elementals. That left her with limited options, but she needed to try. “Eldridge, Volth, maybe Bayan.” There might be a few others, but it would involve much more exposure than was probably wise. But could she risk
not
exposing herself? Maybe it was time those within the barracks who had been groomed for this revealed themselves.

The old man actually smiled at her. “Good. I was beginning to think you as foolish as everyone else in the barracks.”

Wyath walked over to her. It was strange to see him walking without his limp, and with a purpose and determination to his stride.

“Where can I go? Volth is gone. Eldridge too. And I’m not certain where Cheneth went, but I know that it’s related somehow. If we go back to the barracks—”

“What help do you expect to find in the barracks?”

“Do you know another way to reach Eldridge? To reach Cheneth?” She thought she might be able to reach Volth, but the connection was tenuous. The shaping had been one of the first things she’d done when working with him, taking the lesson from what had happened when she’d lost Issa.

“There might be something I can do. You find Volth. I’ll go for the others.”

T
he fire crackled softly
in the hearth along the far wall. For some reason, Ciara could sense the way the flames pulled on her, sending warmth sliding along her shoulders and trying to press back the cool morning air. She pulled her elouf tightly around her, drawing in the heat and the warmth, but it did nothing to truly keep her warm.

Her other hand gripped a large chipped mug full of spiced water. Olina claimed the spice would help her heal, and Ciara had drank carefully, not wanting to take the risk in case it was poisoned, but the spice was a familiar scent, though Ciara didn’t know why. She sipped slowly at first and then with more urgency. With each taste, her sense of water returned. Tension eased from her shoulders, helping her relax. Her wrists still burned, though, where the ropes had held her in place.

Other than the old woman Olina, she was the only one here. She sat on a chair that seemed made for a child, the wood smooth and clear and the backrest coming to the middle of her back. Her j’na rested out of reach in the corner. There was a part of her that longed to reach for it, mostly because she still wasn’t completely comfortable with what Olina intended.

Olina leaned over the hearth, stirring a long spoon within a pot suspended over the fire. In that way, she reminded Ciara of all of the women she’d ever known in her village, but the smells coming from the pot were unlike anything she had ever experienced. There was a mixture of sweet and salty, and her mouth watered. She took another sip and ignored it.

The old woman turned and offered her a cup of steaming broth. “Drink this, but do it slowly. You’ve been too long from warmth.”

Ciara set her mug down and took the bowl, holding it between her hands as she brought it to her nose and inhaled. The smells wafting up were even better this close. The liquid seemed to bubble softly. She tipped it to her mouth and took a small sip, wincing as it burned her lips.

“Careful,” Olina warned. “It will burn if you’re not ready for heat.”

Ciara pulled the bowl away. “What do you mean? I’m from Rens. I’m always ready for heat.” Since returning from the darkness, Olina hadn’t done much more than speak in cryptic phrases. Nothing that would make Ciara believe that she could learn anything.

Olina’s mouth pinched at the mention of Rens. “Is that what you believe? Tell me, girl of Rens, how growing up in the waste prepared you?” She pulled the bowl from Ciara and put it to her mouth, tipping it back and drinking slowly and with no sign that the hot liquid bothered her. She passed it back to Ciara and wiped an arm across her face. “You might know the heat of Rens, but you don’t know fire. You might understand fire, but do you know it? If you are to be a rider, then you must know fire.”

Ciara glanced at the bowl and the liquid that still bubbled as if boiling. “Why do you think I can know fire?”

“You summoned the draasin. That much I have seen. There is little doubting your ability to know fire, but you must learn to listen. Once you can listen, only then will you be able to speak. Then you can become a rider.”

Ciara pulled the bowl of boiling liquid up to her face again and inhaled softly. The sweetness she smelled within drew her, but not as much as the salt. She didn’t know what Olina intended to teach her, or how, but she
did
want to drink the liquid. Her rumbling stomach compelled her.

Heat pressed on her face and her sensitive lips. She resisted the urge to blow on it, doubting that it would make much difference. The water within the bowl pulled on her senses, but not nearly as much as the heat. She felt it in much the same way she felt water, but why should that be? Why should she sense it?

Ciara tipped the bowl and took the smallest sip.

Pain seared through her lips and tongue. She dropped it, and the bowl shattered on the ground.

Olina stood over her, studying her with a frown pinching her face. “Perhaps I was wrong with you. I thought a girl of Rens would know how to reach for fire without fear, but maybe that was expecting too much.” She snorted and went toward the fire and grabbed a strip of cloth that she tossed to Ciara. “Wipe it up, and we will begin again.”

* * *

C
iara stood
outside Olina’s home, staring at the village of K’ral. It was late in the day and the sun set behind the horizon, leaving swirls of orange and pink streaking across the distant sky. The colors were so different than what she knew in Rens, more vibrant as the sun filtered through the thick white clouds, but then everything that she’d seen here had been more vibrant.

She held another bowl in her hands, cupping it carefully. It boiled continuously, even though it had been hours since Olina had pulled it from the fire. Whatever the old woman did—some shaping, Ciara suspected—kept the liquid within the bowl at a roiling and continuous boil. Each time Ciara attempted to drink the liquid, she burned her lips. She half expected to lose sensation over time, that the liquid would stop bothering her so much, but that hadn’t been the case so far.

“You should be careful with that.”

Ciara turned and saw the man she’d met outside town standing in the shadows of Olina’s home. They seemed to swirl around him until he stepped forward, out of the darkness. “The first time she allowed me to try, I dropped the bowl. Twice.”

Ciara smiled. “At least I only dropped it once.”

“I’m Nevan,” he said. “I’m sorry about…” His mouth pinched into a thin line, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry I brought you here. I didn’t know Olina would think to test you as she did.”

Ciara suppressed a shiver at the memory. Shadows from that night had faded from her mind, but she was left with the clear memory of the way the cold had seeped into her, threatening to change her. What would have happened to her had she allowed it to consume her? What would she have become?

Nevan approached, taking her silence as an invitation, and looked into the bowl before nodding. “Never learned how she keeps it boiling.”

“It’s shaped, I think.”

He frowned. “Shaped?”

“Fire element. She uses it to keep the broth boiling.”

“That,” Nevan said, turning to look toward Olina’s house, “would explain much.”

“You don’t know about shaping?”

He shook his head. “Only the elementals have such power.”

It was Ciara’s turn to frown, surprised that there would be elementals of fire in these lands. The draasin weren’t here, and saldam belonged to Rens. “Which elementals?”

“Saldam of fire. Golud for earth. Udilm crashes along the shores. Wyln gives breath to the land. They are the elementals that I know.”

“There are others?” She knew of the draasin and saldam, but not of the others.

Nevan shrugged. “There are probably others, but not many know them. Olina might. Those in Hyaln will, but they share nothing with us.”

“Hyaln?”

Nevan nodded. “A place to learn power.” He barely disguised the hunger in his voice.

“What of the draasin, then?”

“They are different. None have ever answered why. You cannot see udilm or golud or wyln, but the draasin? When they appear, there is no way to miss them.”

“Where am I?” she asked. Where had the draasin brought her?

“Where? I thought you knew that you had come to Tsanth.”

Tsanth. He’d said that when she first arrived, but what did it mean? Where was this place the draasin had brought her, and why here, so far from her home?

Olina had said she needed to learn to listen to fire, and that only once she did would she be able to speak to it, but what if she never figured it out? Would she be stuck here in Tsanth? How would she ever reach her people?

She could try summoning the draasin again, using her j’na to call to one, but there was little guarantee that it would work. In these lands, so cool and different from her home, it was unlikely.

“I didn’t know where I was going,” she said. “The draasin brought me here. I wanted to understand…” She shook her head. What did it matter that she wanted to understand the darkness and why it might attack? “The draasin answered the call,” she went on, “but I don’t know why it brought me to Tsanth.”

Nevan dropped his gaze to the bowl she clutched in her hands. “Perhaps the draasin have decided to allow the riders to return.” There was a bitterness to his voice, but Ciara didn’t know why.

“I never wanted to be a rider. I want only to help my people, but I fail each time I try.” When she’d thought to cross the waste, she’d nearly died. That hadn’t helped anyone, had probably made things worse. She had returned to find the village nearly wiped out, the people abducted. Had the shadows been to blame? Was it her fault the village had nearly fallen? And now here she was, stranded in this strange land, surrounded by life and water, and she wanted nothing more than to return to the only home she knew. Except, in order for her to return, she would have to somehow summon the draasin again and convince it that it should carry her back to Rens.

“Ah, but the riders are said to have been spectacular. They soared, keeping all lands safe, including Tsanth. Our people are different now.”

“Mine too,” Ciara said, “but not because of the draasin. Ter attacks us, pushing my people away from lands that once sustained us, forcing us closer to the waste where nearly nothing can live.” The village had survived, but only because they nya’shin had learned to find water and the Stormbringer provided. What would happen when that changed?

Would it even matter? Her people were gone, weren’t they? The attack on the village had taken them in ways that Ter never had.

“You would only choose to return? You don’t want to control the draasin?”

Ciara shook her head. “They are not meant for people like me to control.” Maybe no one should control the draasin. The great creatures were too powerful, too beautiful, to be forced anywhere. They should be allowed to fly freely.

Nevan watched her a moment longer. “Maybe you were not meant to be a rider then. Riders must be forceful and strong, and they must choose what the draasin do.”

Without thinking much about it, Ciara brought the bowl to her lips and tried to take a sip. It burned her mouth, but she actually managed to take a swallow, even if it was only a few scalding drops.

“Are you a rider? Is that how you know?”

He shook his head. “There have been no riders in my lifetime. Many hope they will be the first to return, but none have managed.” He looked to Olina’s home. “Now even the draasin have left our lands.” Nevan nodded to the bowl. “That’s but a step. Take it carefully, if you think you can take it at all. You do well simply holding it. Most can’t stand to touch the bowl.”

Ciara felt the heat pushing through the clay of the bowl. “It’s no worse than clinging to hot rock, climbing in Rens. Nothing filters the sun, and there is not usually much wind, and what comes can take your breath away.” Her hands had grown accustomed to it, practically numb. She hoped her lips and mouth would as well, so that she could learn what Olina intended to show her.

Nevan touched his fingers to the lip of the bowl and pulled his hand away. “I’m not sure I would like your Rens very much,” he said with a laugh. “Much better to remain covered and stay cool.”

The door opened to Olina’s house and the old woman poked her head out, considering Ciara and then Nevan. He nodded to her respectfully before placing his hand over his heart and turning away.

Olina waited until he was out of sight before coming from under her doorway. “Have you any more success?”

Ciara thought of the few drops she’d managed to drink, barely anything to brag about, and decided to try again. She held the bowl to her lips, feeling the way the heat drifted up from the softly boiling liquid. Did she dare try taking another drink? Could she dare not to?

She tipped it back, steeling herself for pain. When the broth touched her lips, it was scalding, but this time she managed to take a small swallow. She gulped it down and nearly screamed as it burned its way down her throat.

Olina pulled the bowl from her hands and tapped the edge. “That is a start,” she said. “Better than most. Tomorrow will be more.”

She turned and started into her home, leaving Ciara staring after her and wondering how she would ever return home.