Endless Night (19 page)

The egg cracked.

The other draasin roared, and flames shot from her nostrils.

And Alena breathed out in a sigh. “Finally. It is done.”

She handed the j’na back to Ciara, who finally looked to the sky. The darkening clouds and the painful cold coalesced there.

With a sharp
crack
of her j’na, she sent light streaming toward the sky. Clouds parted and the wind died. As it did, she could almost hear a voice mixed in the wind, calling to her as if summoning
her
.

Ciara shivered at the thought.

R
olan al’Sand
, Enlightened of Hyaln, who now went by the name Cheneth, kept himself obscured as he made his way through Atenas. He had rarely come to the city since taking up residence in the barracks. There had not been the need, and with the help that Eldridge supplied, he had managed to stay away. But the summons had brought him back and now he felt the need to investigate further.

He leaned on his cane, wobbling it as he walked, letting it strike against the stones quietly as he made his way through the city, weaving between wagons and horses and the throngs of people. Supplying the war took a massive effort, and Atenas had been geared up for it for decades, but it meant that thousands of people were required for the simplest of tasks, from manufacturing the tents and clothing needed by the soldiers, to the cookpots or oil lanterns or even the wax for candles. Not all the soldiers fighting in Rens were shapers. In fact, very few were shapers. Except it was the shapers who would turn the tide of the war.

As he drifted through the shadows, he shifted his shaping, changing his appearance from that of an old man to a youth, one who looked decades younger than himself. The cane became a sword, and he hooked it on his belt. Cheneth released the subtle wind shaping he’d used to give himself the stench that had so offended Oliver. A fine trick, that. And he had maintained it far longer than he had intended, mostly because of the way Oliver had reacted.

He passed beneath the shadows of the great Tower of Atenas. A place of power, the Seat of the Order, and where men and women came from all over Ter—and beyond—to learn whether they could shape. Few ever managed anything more than sensing, that subtle touch of the elements, but one that gave them a greater awareness than most of the powers of the world. Fewer still managed to control the elements, to twist that power and use it in ways that could be wondrous—or deadly.

Then there were the warriors. The Order, as they called themselves here. They were talented, but lacking in ways that they didn’t even know. The barracks had given those shapers power that was more like what Cheneth knew from Hyaln, enough power that they could hide a shaping, shield it so others wouldn’t know what they did. The shapers in the barracks were as much above those of Atenas as he was above those of the barracks.

He paused, glancing at the tower. Oliver’s summons was particularly worrisome, but not for the reason that he knew. An attack on the head of the Healers Guild, while surprising, would not have made him nervous. No, it was the evidence that Cheneth had discovered while shaping Oliver that troubled him. A spirit attack, and one with significant—and oddly familiar—power.

Enlightened. That was what he had been called when he served Hyaln. There he had learned to connect to the power of the elements in ways that the shapers of Ter had only now begun to understand. Hyaln had known the power of the elements for centuries and had worked out shapings and ways to use and access that power that others—even the College of Scholars—had yet to understand. Not all was about shaping.

No, and
that
power was what had attacked Oliver.

Which meant that Hyaln was here, within the tower.

Why would they have begun to assume control here after years hiding in shadows? Not the darkness. Such a thing was the domain of Tenebeth and led to nothingness. No, the Hyaln
sought
enlightenment and sought understanding.

But if Hyaln had come to Atenas, Cheneth needed to know. Too many years had passed since he had been in contact with Hyaln, years spent on his own, working to slowly increase the knowledge found in Atenas, to guide the shapers of Ter closer to the elementals. That was where the real power would be, and that was how he would be able to best protect such power. He had a hope that he would even be able to bring an end to this endless war—or had, until the new commander had assumed his position.

A door at the base of the tower opened, and Cheneth made his way toward it. He moved casually, not daring to hurry. Even a shaper of Ter would not have hurried. But he didn’t want to shape anything that might expose him. The name Rolan was a name that had died many years ago when Cheneth had been born, died at the same time that he had finally left Hyaln, departing to take his first assignment.

But in Hyaln, there would be those who still knew the name Rolan. And they would recognize his shaping were he careless. And that was something he definitely could not afford to be, not when so much was now at stake.

He caught the edge of the door and slipped inside.

This entrance to the tower led into a darkened hallway. No lanterns lit the way, and no light filtered through, leaving it nearly black. Cheneth had last passed through these halls years ago, at a time when he sought to understand the warrior shapers of the order, at a time before he had assumed command of the barracks. The hall hadn’t changed much and still had the same smell to it, that of stale air and the stagnant mold from within the tower.

The hall led eventually to the main entrance of the tower and he paused, peering around. A young girl scurried across the room and hurried faster when she saw him. Another person entered, this one a warrior from the look of his sword, and frowned as he considered Cheneth.

“What are you doing here?” the man asked. He had a deep voice, a sweeping expanse of a brow, and wide-set eyes, but they stared at Cheneth with a bright clarity. As dull as the man might appear, his eyes spoke of intelligence.

“Called to Ajan, warrior,” Cheneth answered. For a moment, he feared that he’d made a mistake. Was Ajan still here? As of a year ago, he was, but much could change in the tower in that time. Learning what happened with the Seat proved that.

The man grunted. “Ajan. Perhaps I will accompany you.”

Cheneth nodded and waited for the warrior to start up the wide stair first. It was the expected response for his station. He could have created the illusion of a warrior, but doing so only ran the risk of meeting someone who would know him. There were enough students in the tower that he
should
have gone unnoticed.

As the man started up the stair, Cheneth risked a hint of spirit shaping. Nothing more than a trace, letting it settle onto the man. At first, he saw through the man’s eyes. The connection settled deeper, and Cheneth caught the traces of a name, Elian, and even memories of his home in the village Desyl at the base of the Gholund Mountains. Desyl was near the barracks, close enough that Cheneth had actually been there and didn’t need the images that fluttered through the shaped connection to share what else he might need to know.

Elian had been a miner and had never expected to learn shaping, thinking he would continue after his father, pulling iron from the mountain, when he discovered his ability. Earth first. Given the man’s size and his history, Cheneth wasn’t surprised. It was possible that Elian’s father had also shaped earth, or at least sensed it. That would have made him a more skilled miner.

“Warrior Elian,” Cheneth said, “can I ask why you seek Ajan?”

They stopped at a landing and Elian turned. His jaw clenched slightly and his hand touched the hilt of his sword. “How do you know my name?”

Cheneth frowned. “I have been in Atenas long enough—”

“Long enough. I think that you have
not
been in Atenas long enough.”

A powerful shaping surged toward him.

Cheneth hadn’t been expecting it, and had he not been holding spirit layered over Elian, he might not have known. The earth shaping was masked, one that he wouldn’t have detected before it was too late. As it was, Cheneth barely had the opportunity to deflect it, sending the shaping rumbling through the reinforced bones of the tower.

Elian’s eyes narrowed to slits. Another shaping built, a combination of earth and wind.

Cheneth didn’t have time to battle Elian, and from the power of the shapings he detected, he might not have the strength, either.

Using spirit and combining it with the other elements, he sliced through Elian’s connection. The man shouted until Cheneth silenced him, drawing tight bindings of wind around him so that he couldn’t move. Elian might be strong, but Cheneth had shaped the elements for many years and had been trained by the best in Hyaln.

Voices in the hall made him hurry. He didn’t want to risk capture, so he dragged Elian with him, pausing at the first door to listen. He heard nothing, and better, using earth and spirit, he
sensed
nothing. With a tight shaping of earth, he unlocked the door and shouldered his way inside.

Only then did he release the wind gag he’d placed on Elian. The man’s eyes bulged and he opened his mouth to scream, but Cheneth replaced the gag.

“Quiet,” he hissed.

The voices in the hall continued until they moved past him.

Cheneth released a frustrated sigh. He had intended to find members of the council and determine for himself what Oliver might be up against, but if he’d been caught already, it wasn’t likely that he would even be able to reach the Seat.

“Yell and I keep this in place. Do you understand?”

Elian nodded.

“Good.” Cheneth released a trace of the gag and Elian took a few breaths. “Now. Where did you learn to shape earth like that?”

Elian glared at him. “I’m an earth shaper. If you think assaulting a warrior of the order will get you—”

“Why did you ask about your name?”

He could discover the answer by probing into Elian’s mind, but he didn’t want to risk pushing too deep. Doing so required focus, which meant that he might lose control of the wind that bound the man and kept him from screaming.

“Release me,” Elian hissed.

“In time. For now, you’re going to answer my questions. Your name. Tell me about it.”

Elian thrashed against the wind bindings, but Cheneth held them tight. Wind had the advantage that he could dissipate it quickly without others ever knowing he’d used it. That wasn’t the same with earth. Fire would harm Elian, or could, depending on how strong a shaper he was. Water had many uses, but holding a man was not one.

“I do not use my name in Atenas.”

Cheneth frowned. Such a thing was common in Hyaln, but not in Atenas. In Hyaln, you were given a name when you entered, another when you transitioned to the next level of training, and finally another when you departed. And, in his case, still another when you violated your assignment. Rolan had become Cheneth.

“What name would you use?” Cheneth asked.

Elian continued to push, straining against the bindings. That time, he managed a shaping even while Cheneth thought he had him separated. Cheneth checked his shaping and realized he
did
have him separated. Which only meant…

“An elemental?” Cheneth whispered in annoyance. He grabbed his staff and tapped a quick circle around the small closet, the sound like thunder in such a confined space. There was really no getting around it, not if he wanted to confine Elian and discover what he might know. The pattern was a plea for peace, one of the first that he had learned, and as he completed it, the elemental assisting Elian began to ease, relaxing the strain on the bindings.

“How did you—”

“You aren’t the only one with secrets,” Cheneth said. “Now. Again. Tell me your name.”

“In Atenas, my name is Gor.”

Cheneth frowned, watching the man and wondering if he understood how the word translated in Rens. It was possible that he did. “Did you give yourself this name, or did another provide it for you?”

“When I was raised to the order. The Seat provided my warrior name.”

The Seat of the Order. The same council who had attacked Oliver with spirit, and now they used a tradition of Hyaln.

Cheneth had come to Atenas searching for answers, but he had only found more questions.

Why would Hyaln have a presence in Atenas?

And why would they attack Oliver?

A
lena carried
the young draasin in her arms. For a creature destined to be enormous and powerful, it was certainly quite small right now. The draasin nipped at her, but his—and from the spikes on the tail, she knew the draasin was male—teeth were not yet sharp enough to harm. Neither were the spikes on his back and sides. They were soft and pliable, bending beneath her hand more like quills than the dangerous weapons they would eventually be.

She still couldn’t fully believe she was alive. And not only alive, but her connection to the elements, and to shaping, restored.

Without Ciara, both she and the hatchling would have died.

Something had happened when she was healed, and she still didn’t know the ramifications. The connection to the egg remained, only now it was a connection to the young hatchling. She felt it within her mind, a constant presence so different than what she sensed from the other draasin. Through that, she recognized the draasin’s emotions. Contentedness right now, but hunger earlier until she had found the youngster a small rabbit to devour.

At a knock on the door, she looked up. Using water and earth, she recognized the person on the other side.

“How are you?” Jasn asked when she opened the door.

The connection between them remained, but it had changed as well. Less pronounced in some ways. She no longer could detect as much from him, as if the new connection to the draasin had supplanted the one that had forged between her and the healer. And hopefully it no longer placed him in the same danger as it had.

Alena smiled. “Better, I think.” She considered not sharing with him what she experienced with the draasin, but it was possible he already knew. She had wanted to wait for Cheneth to return, but that might not be for days. As it was, she feared the consequences of what had happened that night.

“Good. You look better. More color in your cheeks.”

“I didn’t realize I hadn’t looked good to begin with.”

Jasn smiled in the disarming way that he had, a smile that belied the heat and power beneath it. He was a dangerous man. The way he had held back the five other shapers when Ciara had done her shaping had proven that.

And still, when confronted by Thenas, there had been nothing he could do. Against an opponent powered by Tenebeth, even a skilled shaper—one who essentially couldn’t die—struggled.

How were they to ever win? If the odds were that stacked against them, how would they ever manage to defeat Tenebeth?

And maybe, Alena decided, defeat wasn’t the plan. Maybe what they needed was survival.

“There’s a connection now,” she said.

“With us? It’s changed since this happened to you.”

She thought she heard a note of disappointment in his voice but wondered if maybe that was her being hopeful. “Not only us,” she said, “but the draasin.”

“You speak to them. What more connection is there?”

Alena had wondered the same. She hadn’t thought she could be any more connected to them, but now that she felt the hatchling’s emotions, she knew the bond was stronger. Deeper.

“This is different.” She studied his face, but it remained neutral. Somehow—and maybe it was a residual of the bond that had formed between them—she knew trouble brewed. “What is it? You didn’t come only to ask me how I am.”

“That was part of the reason,” he said. “But not all of it, no.” He watched the draasin as it curled in her arms. The hatchling was warm, not hot, and kept his wings wrapped around his body much as he had when he’d still been in the shell. She hadn’t seen him unfurl his wings yet. “It’s Calan. With Cheneth gone as often as he’s been, and since you’ve been… absent, he’s taken to attempting to rule the camp. The others defer to him.”

“There’s only so much damage Calan can do, Jasn.”

“Maybe. But now that you’ve exposed yourself as helping the draasin, he has support he didn’t have before. I’m not sure what he’ll do, but there is unrest.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

Jasn sniffed. “Talk. I’m not sure that works with Calan. Were it not for Ciara, he would have gone after the female, but she managed to move her and hid her somewhere higher in the mountains.”

Strange that Alena hadn’t noticed that, though she hadn’t really focused on reaching the female, had she? Since recovering and regaining her strength with shaping, she had focused more on the strange and new connection to the hatchling. She needed to understand it, what it meant for her—and the draasin.

“Then she’s safe.”

“But the other is not,” Jasn said.

“Calan can’t get in there without—”

“Without Wyath? Calan is strong in earth. He discovered the secret. He’s placed the draasin in chains again and has Ifrit watching it when he is not.” Jasn sighed. “Listen, Alena, this is getting out of hand.
We
know what we face and what this darkness is, but the others do not. Cheneth wants to keep it from them until he better understands it, but I think that’s a detriment to the rest of the barracks.”

“Not detriment. Protection.”

She didn’t know if keeping them ignorant, giving them a chance to learn their abilities, to master shaping in ways that Atenas couldn’t teach, was the only way they would be safe.

But, she realized, that was no longer an option. Not if Tenebeth continued to attack.

And after the other night, especially after what five of them had faced, seeing the strength and awful power Thenas commanded now that he was tainted by Tenebeth, the others needed to know.

“Blast it.” She took the hatchling and placed him in front of the hearth. Heat radiated from the fire, and the draasin stretched out his legs before curling his long tail around himself and settling in, his nose almost
in
the fire.

She nodded to Jasn and started out of her dorm. If Calan wanted to create trouble, then she needed to be prepared. Others needed to understand what was at stake. Now that she had recovered at least some of her ability, she didn’t need to fear being outmatched.

“I didn’t mean that you had to do something
now
,” Jasn said.

“If not now, then when?”

She hurried through the barracks and paused at the pen. This close, she sensed the draasin inside and realized that Jasn was right. Stone chains again draped over his wings and were cuffed to his legs. The draasin would not be able to escape if something happened. Once, she would have thought that unlikely, but then, she had imagined Cheneth’s grip on the barracks was tighter than it really was. Calan had killed one of the draasin already in the camp and nearly killed another.

“He has to be freed,” she said.

“Fine. If that’s what you want to do.”

“Not now. But we can’t hold them any longer. What more do we think we’ll learn from them?”

“I still don’t understand why they agreed to remain here in the first place.”

“They thought we could learn not to fear them,” Alena said softly. That had been the only reason the draasin had agreed to come. But now… now there was no reason for them to stay. The only thing that could happen would be for them to be injured. Destroyed. And she was not going to tolerate that.

But they had to find some way to protect them from Tenebeth.

“You finally emerge.”

Alena turned to see Calan standing at the end of the street. Ifrit stood next to him, eyes darkened, her expression unreadable. “Calan. You saw what we faced the other night.”

“I saw that you used the draasin. That you
helped
a draasin. And now there is a small one in the barracks.” He strode forward, his hand on his sword. “I presume Cheneth knows of this.”

“Cheneth isn’t in the barracks, from what I’ve been told,” Alena said.

Calan snorted. “That’s not what I meant, and I think you know it. He knows of your plan with the egg?”

“It had to hatch, Calan, or she would have died.”

Alena was surprised to see Jasn speak out to Calan, and on her behalf. The connection to each other had changed him more than she realized.

“Careful. You’re still little more than a novice here.”

Jasn snorted. “A novice. You think you understand what you face, Calan? You saw what happened to Thenas and you think hunting
draasin
is what this is all about?”

Calan’s face clouded and his grip tightened around his hilt. He stormed forward and stopped a nose length away from Jasn. “And you’ve been here two months and you think you can question me?”

To Jasn’s credit, he didn’t blink. He didn’t move, really. Water sensing told Alena his heart rate didn’t even increase. “I think you’re a skilled shaper. I think you have proven adept at hunting draasin. But I think you’re ignorant.” Jasn paused, and his gaze swept around the barracks.

Alena looked up and realized that others watched them. She counted the shapers who might side with them if it came to it, but prayed it didn’t. Maybe a dozen. That left them outnumbered two to one. How had Cheneth managed to meld them all into a functional barracks?

“I’ve been ignorant,” Jasn went on. “I spent a year in Rens without your training, facing the draasin.” Alena suppressed a smile. Jasn was using the rumors about him to his advantage. “They called me the Wrecker of Rens, but I should never have gone there. I should never have been that person. I might have survived what others couldn’t, but I didn’t know what I do now.” Jasn calmly leaned toward Calan. “But my eyes have been opened. As were yours the other night,” he said softly. “If you think there’s nothing to what happened to Thenas, then go ahead and try to get past me. And
if
you can get past me, then try to get past
her
,” he said, nodding to Ciara, who stood to the side between a pair of dorms. As Jasn looked over at her, Ciara turned and started away.

Alena hadn’t noticed her, but she held her spear in hand, watching with an unreadable expression before she turned. Dressed as she was and with her hair grown longer, she
almost
looked like she came from Ter. The spear gave it away. Alena had seen others in Rens with the spears but had never understood their purpose. Now she thought she did. If all were as powerful as Ciara, then Ter would have truly been in trouble in the war.

Calan’s gaze darted past Jasn and paused when he saw Ciara. “If you think a girl of Rens will scare me—”

“She should,” Jasn said. “After seeing what she’s capable of, you
should
be scared of her. And know that she has Cheneth’s backing. Without him, she would not even be here.”

Calan’s jaw clenched. Alena waited, expecting him to attack, or shape, or something else, but he didn’t. “What was that the other night?”

Thunder exploded, and Cheneth appeared on a flash of lightning.

He glanced at Jasn and then to Calan. With a sweep of his hands, they were pulled apart, earth and wind separating them. Calan grunted and finally pulled his eyes off Jasn.

“That,” Cheneth said, sweeping his gaze around the barracks as if he hadn’t just revealed himself, “is a question that should have been answered for you long ago, Calan. You have operated in ignorance, and that is my fault.”

“Cheneth?” Calan said, fixing the scholar with a disbelieving stare. “What are you playing at?”

Alena realized Cheneth didn’t wear his glasses. Without them, his face had a stern, almost frightful appearance. He exuded strength and power in a way that the Cheneth most knew—or thought they knew—did not.

“There’s a darkness in this world that’s trying to get free,” Cheneth said. “The elementals call it Voidan, but to men, he is Tenebeth. He lives in the darkness and in the night. He is that which we fear, and should fear. A great and destructive power who seeks to twist man and elemental alike. And he has begun to make his attack.”