Prelude to Fire: Parts 1 and 2 (15 page)

Ilton pulled a bony hand out from beneath the sheets. Even that appeared a taxing effort. He clasped his hand on Lacertin’s wrist. Surprisingly, some strength remained in his grip. “You fear that you let me down because you didn’t draw fire away from me in time?” Lacertin nodded. “Don’t. If this was Incendin, understand how. They have taken so much from us, and it must stop. Make that your final assignment from me.” He coughed again, but it was weaker this time.

“Incendin would have to have had help,” Lacertin said.

Ilton’s hand eased its grip. “Then find out who.”

Lacertin didn’t know if he could learn who had poisoned Ilton. Incendin would have to have had help, but could he discover who?

“There’s a reason I woke you this time, my king,” he said.

Ilton’s eyes had fallen shut. Lacertin feared that he’d taken too long, and that Ilton wouldn’t open them again.

“Ilton,” Lacertin said. He pulled on the shaping of fire, drawing as much strength from it as he could. Ilton’s breathing stabilized again, coming in steady but shallow breaths. “It’s Ilianna.”

Ilton’s breath caught and he coughed again. “Anna? What of Anna?”

Lacertin touched the pocket in his cloak where he’d stuffed the books. “She’s—”

He didn’t have a chance to finish.

A massive shaping built behind him and Lacertin turned, expecting the door to the king’s room to be open, but it wasn’t.

He could hear agitated voices on the other side. One in particular caught his attention.

Theondar.

His voice thundered, and rage filled it. “Tell me why someone is
shaping
inside his quarters after the princess was killed?”

Lacertin lost control of his shaping. The king gasped, and then breathed no more.

L
acertin didn’t need
to check on Ilton to know that the sudden release of the shaping had killed him. It might not have been the primary reason that he died, but Ilton died because of Lacertin.

As much as he wanted to, he didn’t have time to mourn.

The shaping from the other side of the door continued to build, pushing pressure on the door. Soon, it would burst open.

Lacertin could hear others trying to stop Theondar, but he shouted, the anger in his voice as clear as the bells tolling through Ethea announcing the king’s death had been.

He turned back to the wall, skirting past Ilton, still holding the king’s sword. As he touched the wall, his shaping of fire and earth combining to form the border that created the doorway, the door burst open.

Theondar slid forward on a shaping of wind. His eyes widened when he saw Lacertin.

“First Ilianna, and now
this
?” he raged. A shaping of wind buffeted against Lacertin, attempting to pin him to the wall.

Theondar was a strong wind shaper. Much like fire had been the first element that Lacertin learned to use, wind had been Theondar’s. Had he been born a century before, he might have been the strongest wind shaper in ages, but Theondar had the misfortune of living when another wind shaper lived, one who was even more powerful.

“He still lived,” Lacertin shouted over the wind.

Theondar shaped water, sending it through Ilton. “You think I can’t tell that he died? You think that our shapers didn’t know that he died? And you—his favored shaper, his
First
—have violated the sanctity of his final rest.”

Lacertin couldn’t even argue. Without Ilianna, there was no one who would know that Ilton had still lived. And since Lacertin’s shaping had been disrupted, he hadn’t been able to save the king.

Now he had nothing.

“What happened to Ilianna?” Lacertin asked.

He glanced past Theondar as two other shapers entered. One was the earth shaper Gild, and the other was a young fire shaper named Seanan, also from Nara. The hard expression on his face told Lacertin that a shared heritage wouldn’t give him any help.

Theondar advanced on him with a shaping of wind. “That was you who went into her rooms, wasn’t it?” Theondar demanded.

Lacertin stared at him. Rage boiled out of Theondar, and there was nothing that he could say that would temper Theondar’s anger. Lacertin didn’t even blame him for feeling as angry as he was. “What happened to Ilianna?” he asked again.

Theondar used a shaping of earth, attempting to trap Lacertin with it. Lacertin drew through the sword and waved the shaping away.

“She’s gone. The healers don’t understand it. A shaping, they say, but not one that they’ve ever seen.”

He had been too late. Even if Ilton had lived long enough to provide an answer, there was nothing that he could have said that would have brought Ilianna back.

Her own shaping had killed her. It seemed impossible that she was gone.

“They wouldn’t have seen it,” Lacertin said softly. “They couldn’t do anything?”

Theondar was barely a few paces away now. His sword was drawn and he used a combination of wind and water, pushing on Lacertin, who managed to wave each shaping away, but others came at him from either side, thinking to pen him in.

Lacertin pulled on fire and pushed with a shaping of steam, pressing them back. Only Theondar remained unfazed.

“Is this what you want?” Theondar asked. “Your king has died and you want to be remembered as the shaper who violated custom? The shaper who stole from Anna?”

“I stole nothing,” Lacertin said. But that wasn’t true. He’d taken the books that he’d hoped would help him find answers.

And now there would be no answers. Ilton was gone. Ilianna was gone.

Theondar was right.
Was
this the memory that he wanted of himself?

There was nothing that he could say that would change Theondar’s mind. Nothing that would stop his attack. They would find a way to confine him, place him in the dungeons. Even shapers could be confined with the right elements. Worse, warriors would be sacrificed to confine him, wasted when they were needed in the fight against Incendin.

And Lacertin still had the final task Ilton had asked of him. How would he find the secret of who had poisoned the king if he was confined?

Theondar took another step forward. As he did, Veran appeared at the door. He’d been healed and the color had mostly returned to his face, but his cheeks still had some of the waxy appearance that Ilton had. When Veran saw Lacertin, his shoulders sagged and he lowered the sword in his hand.

Whatever happened here, he couldn’t do what Ilton asked if he remained confined. He couldn’t complete the final task if he was captured and jailed. Lacertin had no doubt who Althem would listen to. After what had happened to the princess, Lacertin couldn’t even blame him.

That left only one option: escape.

But escaping meant fighting through shapers and warriors who were supposed to be friends. It meant abandoning Ethea, and going… where? Lacertin didn’t even know where he would begin his search.

But he did. The answers were in Incendin.

Hating the necessity, he pulled on a shaping of fire and wind, sending it swirling through Ilton’s rooms. Flames touched on the wardrobe and flashed brightly. They touched on the lacquered dresser and danced. Fire burned from the carpet lying near his feet. Only Ilton’s bed remained untouched, flames held at bay by the force of his shaping. He had already allowed Ilton to die; he would not burn his king as well.

Seanan tried shaping the flames, but Lacertin had known fire longer than Seanan, and he added wind to his shaping, forcing the flames to dance even more than they would otherwise. Only Theondar didn’t step back from the heat of the blaze.

“Don’t do this,” Theondar said.

“I’ll do what I must,” Lacertin said. “Some day you will understand.”

He pushed with a combined shaping of each of the elements, twisting them together in the way that Ilianna had suggested.

Lacertin didn’t really expect anything. The shaping was too unfocused, too vague, but he pulled at it through the sword, drawing more strength than he’d ever before attempted, even when he’d been trying to heal Ilton.

There came a flash of bright white light from the end of the sword and everything seemed to stand still.

Lacertin ran.

He darted past Theondar. The warrior swung his sword, but it was too slow and missed. He ducked past another shaper, who started to turn toward him, moving so slowly that he might as well have been stuck in mud. Then he reached Veran.

Veran looked at him with a troubled expression. He made no effort to raise his sword, nothing that would attempt to stop Lacertin. After all these years in the university and Ethea, had he finally managed to find a friend, only to do this to him?

Lacertin wished he could say something—anything—to Veran to explain himself. With Ilianna gone, there was no point. Now, he needed to reach a place where it would be safe for him to shape so that he could get to freedom, and then… then he would begin his search for Ilton’s poisoner.

He bounded down the stairs. Even the servants seemed slowed by whatever his shaping had done. Bren looked at him, and there was a mixture of sadness and something like understanding on his face. Far down the hall, Lacertin caught the flash of dark, navy robes. Althem, he suspected. He needed to get free before the new king found him.

Then he was outside, standing in the garden. He glanced up at the sky, noting the thick clouds hovering over the moon and the scent of the coming rain joining with it.

Drawing once more on Ilton’s sword, he crafted a warrior shaping and streaked away from the city on a bolt of lightning.

T
he shaping carried
Lacertin out of Ethea, lifting him high above the city. With as much as he’d shaped already today, creating a shaping powerful enough to lift him took almost the rest of his remaining strength. He wouldn’t be able to travel very far.

At first, he guided himself to the south and east. Toward Nara. That would be where Theondar would expect him to go. Lacertin needed to find a way to get rest before continuing onward. Nara wouldn’t be a good place to hide, not with the sun burning down on him and the fact that all the warriors would expect him to be there.

No, if he wanted to reach Incendin, he would need to go at it from a different direction. Other than Nara, only Galen abutted Incendin enough for him to make it through.

Lacertin’s shaping began to fail as he neared the rising mountains of Galen.

The trees and cool mountainous air of Galen made him nearly as uncomfortable as the hot, arid lands of Nara now did. Ethea might not have ever truly been his home, but it was more a home to him now than anyplace else. Now… now he would need to find a way to make a new home.

He dropped to the ground in a small clearing halfway up the mountain. These lands weren’t as familiar to him as some. There were shapers here; some, like Grethan and Zephra, were incredibly skilled. Others came to Galen for the quiet and calm. He would need to move quickly to avoid other shapers. If Lacertin was searching for a shaper, he would put earth shapers to work, using them to track. Likely Theondar intended the same.

Lacertin hurried through the trees, climbing up the slope of the mountain. Occasional howls echoed through the air. The first time he heard them, he paused, using earth sensing to search for the source. Had he gone farther than he realized? Or had the hounds crossed the barrier again? It had proven to be incomplete, so it was possible that they had found another way to cross. When the howl came again, this time closer, he realized it was nothing more than a mountain wolf. Still to be avoided, but not the same dangerous creature as an Incendin hound.

Lacertin paused near a stream around midnight, still not certain how far he’d gone. He was tired and his strength was slowly returning, but not enough for him to risk a shaping. Besides, going by foot had advantages as well. It wasn’t just the escape he had to manage; it was what came afterward.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t hold you here,” a deep voice said from behind the trees.

Lacertin let out a soft sigh and stood, letting the water cupped between his hands drain back into the stream. With earth sensing, he quested into the darkness and recognized the shaper.

“Grethan,” he said.

The earth shaper stepped forward. “Theondar sent warning that you might come through here. I thought he was wrong, or that this must be some kind of mistake.”

Lacertin searched the trees around him for someone else, but sensed nothing. “Where is Zephra?”

“She’s not here.”

“Truly? You have been inseparable of late.”

“She has another assignment these days.”

Lacertin frowned for a moment and then chuckled softly as he remembered the way Zephra had held her stomach when he’d last seen her, and the soft flush to her cheeks. “That’s why you left Ethea, isn’t it? What did you have?”

Grethan appeared at the tree line, his broad shoulders outlined in the moonlight. The man made an imposing figure, and Lacertin knew not to underestimate him. Few matched his strength in earth shaping. Combined with his wife, they made a devastatingly effective shaping pair, or they had before leaving Ethea.

“We had a boy. Tannen.”

“The name…”

“It was my father’s,” Grethan said.

Lacertin moved his hand slowly toward the sword sheathed at his waist, careful not to make any sudden movements. As tired and weakened as he was, Grethan would be able to hold him fairly easily. Lacertin didn’t want to harm him, not if it wasn’t necessary.

“Why are you here?” Grethan asked.

“I imagine Theondar sent word of that, as well,” he said.

Grethan tipped his head. “He sent word. I would have yours.”

Lacertin swallowed. “The king is gone, Grethan.”

“I heard the bells.”

“No. Not then. Tonight.”

The massive earth shaper stepped forward and crossed his arms over his chest. The earth seemed to groan under each step he took. “The king died tonight?”

“It… it is complicated. He was poisoned, and his last task for me was to learn who poisoned him.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because it was Incendin that poisoned the king.”

Grethan glanced over Lacertin’s shoulder, as if he could see Incendin from where he stood. “You mean to take on Incendin alone?”

Lacertin still wasn’t sure what he intended. He needed to learn what happened. He needed to understand how the king had been poisoned, and ideally he would do that from within Ethea, but now he could not.

“If I must,” he said. “I intend to find out who helped Incendin, find out why the king was poisoned.”

Grethan turned back to him. “Why? This is war, Lacertin. There is no
why
.”

After two decades of fighting, perhaps the reasons had faded, but that didn’t mean the fighting was right—or necessary.

“What of Althem? Do you not fear for his safety?” Grethan asked.

He sighed. Leaving Ethea now that Ilton was gone felt less of a betrayal knowing that he followed Ilton’s command, but that didn’t mean it was any less treason. It was his responsibility as a shaper, as a warrior, to serve the kingdoms. “Althem has Theondar to protect him.”

“As Ilton had you.”

“Ilton never had me for protection. He used me for other purposes, but never protection.” Perhaps if he had, Ilton might still live.

Grethan took another step forward. “If what you say is true, then Althem remains in danger. Ilianna remains in danger.”

Lacertin shook his head. “Ilianna is gone.” Lacertin said the words more harshly than he intended, but thinking of her gone hurt more than he would have expected.

“Gone?”

“A shaping went awry…”

“You were there for that as well, weren’t you?”

Lacertin nodded.

Grethan lowered his arms and let out a long sigh. The trees around him seemed to sigh with him. “That’s why Theondar is so angry.”

“I was there. It wasn’t my fault, but I couldn’t save her, either.” Lacertin stood across from Grethan for a moment. Neither spoke, leaving the quiet sounds of the night all around them. Lacertin breathed softly. “What now?” he asked, disturbing the silence between them.

The large shaper laughed softly. “Now I get to admit the great Lacertin overpowered me.”

Lacertin was relieved that he wouldn’t have to try to shape his way past Grethan. He was a good man, as good a man as the kingdoms produced, and strong enough in earth that the outcome was not certain. Earth would counter his ability with fire, possibly enough to trap him until Theondar arrived. “Return to Zephra and your son. Don’t mention that I came through here.”

“Theondar might know either way.”

Lacertin wondered if he would, or if it mattered. Once he reached the barrier, he could slip past.

“Once you cross, you won’t be able to return,” Grethan said.

Lacertin had thought of that as well. With the barrier in place, he could get past, but returning… there would be no return. “I won’t need to return until I’ve learned what happened.”

Grethan considered him a long moment and then nodded. “May the Great Mother watch over you and bring you some measure of peace.”

With that, Grethan disappeared into the woods.

Lacertin stared after him but didn’t think that he’d be able to follow the earth shaper even were he to want to. With a sigh, he continued into the trees, following a path and almost drawn toward the sense of the barrier.

The massive shaping pushed against him, a warning that tingled against his skin, leaving it raw, as when he’d baked in the sun too long as a boy. Once he crossed the barrier, he would know nothing but heat and fire, and only if he managed to survive.

For Ilton—and Ilianna—he would risk it.

He hiked for most of the night, passing through the long valley set in the Gholund Mountains, never considering using a shaping. Doing so risked another shaper finding him before he could cross. Lacertin didn’t want to risk a confrontation. Not when he was so close. As the first streaks of sunlight began to filter through the valley, he could almost see the barrier appear before him.

As he neared, he felt the building pressure of a shaping rising around him. Lacertin unsheathed the sword and sent a mixed shaping of earth and fire into the barrier before facing the shaper approaching on a bolt of lightning.

Veran stepped away from an eruption of earth left by his shaping. Long, blond hair flowed around his shoulders. Color had mostly returned to his face, but he still wore a pained expression, none of the relaxed confidence that he had carried himself with before he’d been injured by the hound.

He glanced at Lacertin, then looked past him and toward Incendin, stretching in the distance. Near the border with Galen, there was still lush grass and trees, but it quickly changed, growing increasingly barren, more like Nara than any other part of the kingdoms.

“I am tasked with returning you to Ethea,” Veran said.

“And I’m tasked with finding Ilton’s killer.”

Veran sighed. “Tell me, Lacertin, is that all that this is about?”

Lacertin smiled sadly. “For me, it can be about nothing else.”

“Nothing? Not finding what happened to a brother?”

“My brother has been dead for years.”

“That’s not what you told me when we were in Nara.”

Lacertin took a step toward the barrier. He didn’t think that Veran would detain him, but he didn’t want to give him the opportunity to do something that would make Lacertin have to fight back, especially not after how hard he’d worked to save him.

“I told you the truth in Nara. You heard what you chose to hear.”

Veran cocked his head to the side. “What of the princess? What secret of hers did you run off to keep?”

Lacertin let out a slow sigh. “That is not mine to share.”

“But the student. The water shaper—”

Lacertin squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of Jayna. “Keep Jayna safe, Veran. If anyone ever learns what she knows…”

“You don’t have to do this. Return to Ethea, let us work together to find whatever answers you seek, and give the king peace.”

Peace would have been Lacertin never being the one to create the barrier. It would have been him having the chance with Ilianna. It would have been his brother never making the crossing.

He said none of that to Veran. “Keep her safe,” he said.

Lacertin approached the barrier and felt it against his skin. Another step and he’d be through. There might not be a way for him to return, not once the barrier was secured. Had the barrier been anything like that in Norilan, he wondered if he would even have been able to pass.

Perhaps it was best that it only prevented shapers from crossing.

“Lacertin—”

He stepped across. The barrier washed over him, like the after-effect of a heavy storm, a jolt of lightning that threatened to knock him from his feet. His chest squeezed, and he held his breath. His skin felt tight, almost as if it shrunk as he passed.

And then the sense lifted. He was through. He was in Incendin.

Veran stood across from him, sadness turning his brow. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s better this way. Tell Theondar I escaped before you had a chance to reach me.”

“Theondar doesn’t need to know where you’ve gone.”

“Tell him I search for Ilton’s killer. Tell him that I will find out what happened to Ilianna.” Lacertin surveyed Incendin stretching in the distance. Already, he could feel the heat rising, the sharp change from Galen, so different even than his homeland. “Tell him whatever you need to.”

Through the barrier, Lacertin felt a shaping building. He didn’t turn, not wanting to watch Veran depart, but waiting for the strike of lightning to tell him that he traveled by the warrior shaping.

When the shaping released, Lacertin felt it differently than expected.

He spun to see Veran studying the barrier. His shaping had been powerful and focused high up along the barrier, a place no simple shaper could reach. Lacertin sensed the weakness there.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

Veran offered him a smile. “In case you ever need to return. You might think you’re alone, that you have to do this for the king yourself, but you’re a Cloud Warrior of the kingdoms. You may not know it, but you have friends.”

With that, Veran smiled tightly as he pulled together another shaping. He tipped his head in a nod as the shaping drew him away.

Lacertin stared at the barrier for a few moments more and then turned toward Incendin, starting forward. He would find what happened to Ilton. He would understand what happened to Ilianna. And then he would return and seek justice for his king.

* * *

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