Serpent of Fire (18 page)

Tan suspected that Asboel
did
remember, but that the price paid was too high. If the elementals suffered, would Asboel have any choice but to share with him what had happened?

“She knows something?” Cora asked.

Tan shifted his focus away from Enya and met Cora’s eyes. He saw disappointment there. She wanted to know what the draasin knew. She wanted to have a connection with Enya, but the bond had been formed in haste and driven by necessity rather than desire. “She says she was a hatchling when kaas attacked the last time. The Eldest would know, but I am bonded to him and he has not shared.”

Cora nodded thoughtfully. “There might be another way for me to learn what we need,” she said. “I will summon when I learn.”

“Cora,” Tan started. The warrior turned from her seat between Enya’s spikes. “I fear we don’t have much time.”

“I know. Know that what I must do will be difficult for me.” She glanced down, staring at Enya. “But for her, it will be done.”

T
an wanted to return to Ethea, but a part of him hesitated. Cora returned to Incendin to see what she could learn about kaas, but what if the records she could access didn’t provide the answers he needed? While Tan had nearly lost Honl, the elemental had consumed ara. They needed to understand
why
.

Asboel might not want to share whatever had had happened in the past with kaas, but if he didn’t, there might not be a way to stop it.

Asboel
, Tan sent.

Reaching through the bond, he sensed the draasin and was not surprised to find him surrounded by warmth. A warrior shaping mixed with spirit carried him far to the south on a bolt of lightning, where Tan emerged to heat radiating around him.

Asboel perched on his hind legs, staring to the east and toward the tall Gholund Mountains. His long, barbed tail curled around him. The broad spikes on his back practically shook with irritation.

Maelen.
Asboel did not turn toward him.

I nearly lost Honl.

Ashi is stronger than you credit. He was fine.

No. He is
not
fine.

Asboel turned his massive head to look at him, staring at Tan with a gaze heavy with the centuries he had lived. Asboel was an ancient creature, but there was something about the way that he looked at Tan now that gave a certain weight to it. Tan had focused almost entirely on what
he
had to do, on learning to understand the elementals, to learn shaping, but had not taken the time to really understand what Asboel had gone through. Not only the time he was lost, frozen in the lake, but before that, in the time when draasin flew freely across the land.

You saved him, did you not?
Asboel asked.

Tan nodded, meeting and holding Asboel’s gaze.
I saved him. He is changed by it. I don’t understand, but now Honl is visible. I don’t know what it will mean for him.

The connection to wind remains?

It does.

Asboel snorted, letting heat and steam billow out from him as he turned to stare at the mountains again.

What is it, Asboel? What is this kaas?

To understand, you need to understand fire, Maelen. You are growing strong with your connection to fire—few men have ever reached the fire bond—but you still do not understand it the way that elementals do.

You’ve always told me that draasin are fire.

Asboel’s tail twitched, catching on a massive rock with a loud, echoing crack.
The draasin are fire, but fire is not only draasin. As I said, it is complicated.

Tan made his way around Asboel, standing in front of him.
You need to explain it to me. For me to help, I must understand what I’m doing, how
I can best help. I’ve seen what kaas can do. I’ve seen it nearly devour my bonded elemental. Ara was lost to it. I know all this, but I don’t know why.

Because you know little about the time before.

Before what?

Before,
Asboel simply said again.

Before you were trapped in the ice?

Yes.

Then tell me,
Tan said, reaching out.
I’ve tried learning all that I can, but I’m forced to read from records, from texts written over a thousand years ago. Our language has changed in that time.

Not for me.
A hint of the repressed anger about what he’d experienced came through.

Tan still didn’t know what it must have been like for the draasin to be trapped for a thousand years. Had they suffered, or had the shaping made it so they were less aware? That would have been more humane, but he didn’t know what the ancient shapers had managed. They were powerful and skilled, but had harnessed elementals to guide their shaping and would not have cared about the draasin’s needs.

If I could change that, I would,
Tan said gently.

Asboel snorted again.
You accept too much blame, Maelen. I do not blame the men of this era. As you have said, much time has passed.

Tell me about kaas,
Tan urged.

For you to understand requires a greater understanding of fire than you possess.

Greater than the fire bond?
Tan asked.

The fire bond is but a start, but fire is deeper than only the fire bond. The connection is greater.

Is it like that for the other elements?

I do not know earth or water the same way that I know fire,
Asboel answered.

But you know wind.

Wind is a part of the draasin. Different, not bound like fire, but together.

Tan had thought the connection to wind was about how the elemental was drawn
to
the draasin. Ashi certainly seemed compelled.
And you said that kaas is fire, but also of earth.

Kaas is fire different than draasin are fire. Draasin control fire.

Tan frowned, trying to understand.
Kaas doesn’t control fire?

You have felt fire attempt to consume,
Asboel said.
Not all elementals work with fire the same way. Some are drawn. Some control. Kaas is consumed. Each an aspect of fire.

The way that Asboel described it actually made sense. Tan had seen the way that saa was drawn to fire. From his experience, Asboel really did have a certain level of control over fire. When Tan had nearly transformed, when he had drawn fire into himself, he had felt the way fire threatened to consume him. It had twisted him as it twisted the lisincend.

But wasn’t even that a part of fire? Was that what Asboel was saying?

You stopped kaas once before.

Not stopped. Banished.

What’s the difference?
Tan asked.

Too many were lost. The Mother demanded that kaas be contained.

Where was it banished?

Asboel was silent for a moment.
A place far from here, far from the others.

Tan didn’t have to ask how the elemental would have managed to return. Somehow, Par-shon had learned about kaas and had learned a way to capture it. Possibly someone had even bonded, though Tan wondered how anyone could bond to something like Asboel described. What must the bond be like? How must it control the shaper?

Unless that was the secret the Rune Master had hidden. Could
she
have been the one to have bonded kaas? Had she released the elemental with her death?

That meant that Par-shon had brought kaas here to destroy the elemental power in these lands. Doing so risked the elementals bonded to the Par-shon shapers as well, unless the Utu Tonah thought the bond able to control the elemental, even freed.

Were you a part of making certain that kaas was sent from here?
Tan asked.

The Mother asked. The draasin did what was needed.

What did it take?

Asboel continued focusing on the mountains.
A sacrifice.

A chill went up Tan’s spine at the comment.
What kind of sacrifice?

The only kind that kaas would accept.

From his limited experience with the elemental, he couldn’t think of what that would have been, but seeing Asboel’s response, the quiet way he studied the mountains, made Tan wonder if maybe what had happened a thousand years ago was somehow tied to what happened today.

Was the artifact used?
he asked. If there was any valid reason for the ancient shapers to use a power like the artifact, facing a creature like kaas would be it.

Asboel swung his head back around and met Tan’s eyes.
Even you must not use that device, Maelen. It is powerful, almost more powerful than the Mother. Such power is not intended for elementals, let alone man.

They stood side by side, shaper and bonded elemental. Tan rested his hand on Asboel’s side, feeling the steady breathing coming from him, the way his chest rose and fell, and the fire that raged within him.

The artifact is damaged,
Tan told him.
Possibly destroyed.

Relief came through the bond.

Cora and Enya search for answers in Incendin. They would understand kaas
.

There will be no answers found there.

Why?

Had they answers, they would never have harmed the draasin.

Asboel settled his head to the ground, signaling that he was done with the conversation.

T
an returned to Ethea after leaving Asboel. The draasin resumed his search for the hatchling, but with every day they failed to find her, Tan had a growing concern that they would not reach her. He still didn’t know what could have happened, especially if what Asboel said about her need for connection to the land was true, but he would not give up hope. The growing possibility that kaas had devoured the hatchling made maintaining that hope difficult.

When Tan reached the city, there was a certain pall hanging over it. Tan wondered whether it was him, or had something really changed in the time that he’d been gone.
He
had changed. Honl had changed. The understanding that something needed to be done about kaas was there, driving him with an urgency that he might not have had before.

A soft, steady music played in the center of the city. The sound brought a smile to his face. It had been months since the minstrels dared play, since they had any reason to play. Ever since the attack, the evenings had been calm and quiet, with people preferring to return to their homes rather than remain out in the city and celebrate. When Tan and Amia had first come to Ethea, the nights were the most boisterous part of the city. There were traders and taverns and minstrels and the general chaos that lived within the city, a thriving sense all around. Since the draasin attack, and then the lisincend, that had all changed. It had taken time to rebuild, but the city was coming back, finally reaching the place where others felt comfortable walking the streets at night.

As Tan stepped away from the shaper circle in the center of the university plaza, a steady and rhythmic drum beat built. It started as a faint sound, but he was drawn to it, pulled along the street toward the source of the music, reminding him of the sense he’d been feeling in the city the last few days. He should not have been surprised that it led him toward the palace.

Ara pulled with less intensity now. Perhaps that was nothing more than his imagination, but to Tan it seemed that ara faded, receding from the city, replaced by a slightly warmer wind, that of the steadily blowing ashi.

Maybe it was nothing. But Tan didn’t dare take the chance that the attack hadn’t changed something about ara. He might want to watch the musicians, especially as so few bothered to play anymore, but he needed to find his mother, the only person who might know what had happened with ara.

He reached the wide patch of green in front of the palace. Once, massive walls had circled the palace, preventing anyone else from accessing it. Roine had seen the walls removed, or at least not rebuilt. Now a tiered garden rose away from the street, planted with flowers and trees from all over the kingdoms. It was near this that he found the source of the drumming.

On one of the stepped tiers leading toward the palace, a series of massive drums was set out. Standing alongside were drummers dressed in animal hides and with streaks of paint worked along their arms and faces. Tan had never seen anyone dressed quite like that, and realized that they must be the Chenir visitors.

A crowd had gathered along the street to watch. Tan inched closer, slowly pushing his way toward the front so that he could see better. Were Roine or his mother among the people watching the performance, or had they remained behind in the palace?

The drumming rolled though him. There was something very primal about it, and it practically set his bones to vibrating, almost with a voice.

“It is much like golud, isn’t it?”

Tan turned and saw Ferran watching the drummers. His eyes were wide and his body moved with the sounds, almost as if unintentionally. Now that Ferran put words to it, Tan realized that was exactly what the drumming reminded him of and that it had been this drumming that he’d been sensing, at least something like it. Could he have been hearing the drumming since Chenir’s arrival?

“Can you understand it?” Tan asked.

“Understand? Not the drumming, but there is something about it that is much like the way golud sings to me.”

Tan would never have considered the rumbling way that he had to speak to golud a song, but maybe Ferran was right. There certainly was a rhythm to it, and if he focused, he could almost understand it. Speaking
to
golud had always been easier for Tan than listening to them.

“Chenir must have shapers, then,” Tan said.

Ferran glanced over at Tan. “All lands have the potential for shaping, Athan. Some never develop anything beyond sensing, but it is not for lack of potential.”

Tan hadn’t thought of it that way, but he understood that Doma had shaping, though it was typically water based. There were other shapers from Doma, many who had come to the university over the years to learn. Others had been lost to Incendin. Even Incendin had shapers other than fire. Cora was evidence of that. Why shouldn’t Chenir have shapers?

“We still don’t know why they’ve come,” he said to Ferran.

“Likely to greet the new king.”

“Have you been a part of their visit?” Tan asked.

“My duties have kept me elsewhere.”

“The children?” Ferran nodded in answer. “How do they progress?”

“Some will never be able to do anything more than sense. Some will learn to do more. Even fewer will ever go on to master their elemental power. It was the same at the university when I came.”

“What about the students here when I came?” Tan asked.

Ferran shrugged. “Perhaps a dozen or so remain. Many were killed during the attack on the city. Others chose not to return, or maybe they wait until the university is rebuilt. Perhaps they saw what they would face as shapers and were afraid. Better for them to understand now than when they make their commitment to the king.”

The drumming picked up urgency, coming with a wild intensity.

“Why does there have to be a commitment?” Tan asked.

Ferran’s brow furrowed as he studied the drummers. One foot tapped at the ground in time with the rhythmic playing, and he said nothing for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was distant and pitched low, as if mimicking the sound of the drums or speaking to the earth elemental. “The commitment ties the kingdoms together, Athan. Service to serve. Each land bound together, Ter and Vatten and Galen and Nara. We are all servants to the throne.”

Ferran said nothing more, maintaining his focus on the drummers.

Tan moved past him, working his way up and around the tiered gardens, letting the sounds around him push him as he made his way toward the palace. Once there, he saw windows and the grand central door thrown open, as if welcoming the celebration. Tan paused at the palace door and debated whether he should simply go to Amia and explain what had happened. But first he needed to find his mother to understand what else had happened to ara.

The main hall was filled with white-clad servants, more than Tan had ever seen before. Most carried trays or bustled from one end to another, but a few stood near the windows and listened to the sounds of the drumming, a different kind of crowd than was found out in the street.

Tan paused at a few of the rooms, looking for signs of Roine or the Chenir delegation.

“Have you seen Zephra?” Tan asked a passing servant

The man’s wire-framed spectacles slipped down his nose and his eyes widened as he took in first Tan’s warrior sword and then his Athan’s ring. “No, Athan,” he said, bowing low. Another servant, a younger woman with pale skin and red hair that rivaled Cianna’s, bowed as well. “Zephra is in her quarters, Athan.”

Tan nodded and muttered a hasty thanks, feeling uncomfortable with the formality they treated him with. Maybe Roine was right that he needed to spend more time around the palace.

He made his way down the hall and descended the stairs to his mother’s quarters. The door was closed and a rune was now fixed on the center. Tan studied it, then ran his fingers over it, recognizing the mark for wind mixed with the elemental mark for ara. Only a wind shaper bound to the elemental would be able to open the door.

His connection to the elementals would likely allow him access, but that would likely only anger his mother. Tan knocked.

As he waited, he reached through the bond he shared with Honl, searching for the ashi elemental. Tan found him, a distant sort of awareness. The more time that Tan had to recover, the more he recognized that Honl had fundamentally changed, but he didn’t quite know how.

Pulling Honl back from kaas had done something, twisting him into a different form, maybe forcing him away from the wind. Tan wished there had been another way, something else that he could have done rather than altering the elemental.

The door opened a crack and Zephra stood before him. Her graying hair hung loose around her shoulders. A simple brown robe draped around her and was cinched at her waist. Her usually hard mask of a face softened when she saw Tan.

“Tannen.”

“Mother,” Tan began, wondering how to phrase the question that had plagued him since forcing kaas away. “I need to speak to you about ara. Have you noticed anything different?” he asked in a rush.

Her breath caught. “It’s real?”

Tan felt as if his heart skipped a beat. “What’s real?”

She glanced past him and then motioned him into the room. She grabbed a small, circular shape—the summoning rune coin, Tan realized—and shaped wind into it. When she turned back to face him, her face had resumed her usual hard expression.

“Something happened with ara tonight, didn’t it?” she asked.

“You didn’t know,” he said softly. Why hadn’t ara summoned Zephra? Unless ara knew there was nothing Zephra could do to help. “That’s what I came to ask you about.”

Zephra’s eyes went distant for a moment. “Ara is weakened. Aric has… gone… for a time. I sense him still, but there is uncertainty about him.”

Tan swallowed. “Then it’s true.” He took a few steps into the room and turned, wishing he had more space to walk, feeling a restless sort of energy burning within him.

His mother watched him, cocking her head as she studied him. “You were there.”

“Ara summoned. I answered.”

“
You
were summoned?”

He stopped pacing a moment and met her eyes. “I serve all the elementals, Mother. Golud summoned me as well.”

“Theondar warned that there was a different sort of danger you’d encountered.”

“Yes. Theondar. You were there as well, but you don’t want to believe that it’s anything other than Incendin.”

“Tannen, I saw the hounds. I might not have been able to pierce the heat veil, but there is no one other than the lisincend who controls the hounds.”

Tan still didn’t have an answer for that, and Cora had been surprised by the idea of the hounds being there. Finding out what had happened with the hounds would be essential to convincing the kingdoms shapers that Incendin hadn’t attacked along the border.

“That was elemental power, Mother, not lisincend, and the kind of power that hasn’t been seen in these lands in over a thousand years.”

“Then how do you know?”

“How? Because of the draasin. They flew freely once, thousands of years ago.”

“And led to much destruction,” she reminded him.

That was what the histories claimed, but Tan hadn’t seen anything like that from the draasin. What if it had never
been the draasin who caused the destruction, but kaas?

The idea opened up several other questions. Why would Asboel have kept that from him?

“What do you know about what happened to ara?” he asked. He needed to get his mother to focus on the elementals, not on the hatred she felt for Incendin. It was hatred that Tan had shared, but he’d also managed to move past those feelings. He’d needed to move past them or more would suffer. Standing in a pool of liquid spirit and drawing power through the artifact had shown that to him.

His mother sighed. “Ara… has weakened. I can’t explain it any better than that, only that something happened tonight and the elemental was affected. What did you see?”

Tan tried to keep the memories of the attack from crawling back to the forefront of his mind, but it was difficult to do. They were painful, and not knowing what happened to Honl made it even more so. “Par-shon drew ara for kaas. They set traps, much like the ones that were set for earth, only this time, they used wind traps. Ara summoned and had I not answered, I suspect many of the elementals would have been lost.”

His mother studied him. “Something happened to you, didn’t it?”

Even after all that had changed between them, she was still his mother. She still knew when he was hurt. “My wind elemental was nearly destroyed.”

Zephra gasped softly.

“He wasn’t, but in saving him, something is changed.” Tan closed his eyes. “The ashi elemental is visible now, Mother.”

“How? What did you do?” she asked softly.

“I did what I had to.” As he said it, he realized that he needed his mother for more than her support. He was Athan to the king regent, a position where he spoke with the king’s voice. It was time for the other shapers to remember. “As I need you to do something.”

“I’m not certain that I like the sound of that,” she said.

Tan wished there was another way, but he couldn’t keep chasing kaas around the kingdoms, not if he intended to learn enough about keeping the other elementals safe. But he didn’t know of any other way for what he needed to do.

“You won’t like what I’m going to ask of you, either.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Tell me, Athan, how would you have me serve?”

“We’ve been focused on supporting the borders, rebuilding the barrier, but that is wasted energy. We need to gather the elementals to safety. We can’t do that if there are walls that keep them out.”

“Tan—”

He shook his head.

“Athan,” she said, “what you’re asking means risking the people of the kingdoms for the safety of the elementals.
If
you’re right—and I’m not certain that you’re right that Incendin still won’t attack us—then this other elemental is even more dangerous than anything we’ve ever faced.”

“Not quite. I still think the Utu Tonah—”

His mother shot him an annoyed expression and the door slammed open behind them. Roine stood there, concern wrinkling his brow. Tan quickly told him what he’d learned.