Serpent of Fire (13 page)

Had he already become someone the other shapers could ignore?

In spite of everything, the rest of the kingdoms still feared Incendin more than they feared Par-shon, even those who had seen the effect of the Par-shon shapers, who had seen how Par-shon could bind and attack their shapers. But Tan knew what they could do. He knew how they would steal the elemental powers, the traps they had placed around the kingdoms, and what that would mean for the elementals.

Tan glanced over at his mother again and then disappeared on a shaping of lightning.

A
caravan arrived in Ethea the evening after the attack.

Tan sensed them coming, alerted by a combination of earth sensing and spirit sensing telling him that something was different. Since the attack along the border, he tried remaining vigilant, keeping himself alert, and holding onto an almost constant sensing.

“What is it?” Cianna asked.

They were beneath the city, checking on the draasin, and were in the tunnels when he paused. Asboel was still hunting, but Tan had wanted answers. What was this other elemental of fire? Why had he never heard of it before?

“I don’t know,” he began. “A large caravan approaches the city.”

“You have seen this?” she asked.

“Asboel is far from the city. He… remains silent to me.” He hadn’t figured out
why
, but with Asboel, there would be a reason.

Cianna frowned. When Alan and Zephra returned with word of Incendin attack, even Cianna struggled to believe him. “How would you know of this if you are not seeing it through his eyes…” She shook her head. “You can’t sense something like that from here. Even you are not that powerful, Tan.”

“Earth and spirit. I’m drawing through the sword. It augments my ability.”

Cianna grunted. “And drains it as well. Do you think it’s wise for the Athan to waste himself so uselessly?”

“Not wasted, and I’m not drained. Besides, the others don’t see me as Athan. I think only you and Ferran even would respond if I needed something.” Especially after today, after the attack. Tan began to suspect that he was Athan in name only.

“Then you’re more stupid that you look,” she said. She touched his arm to soften her words. “When Theondar was Athan, do you think we ignored his commands?”

“You didn’t know him as Theondar. And I would argue that you did ignore Roine when he was Athan.”

Cianna smiled slightly. “Perhaps somewhat, but he was Athan. He spoke with the voice of the king. Were he to choose, he could see our service changed or could return us to Ethea, where we would be forced to teach indefinitely. Or worse: He might send us to stand watch over the border with Chenir.”

“Why would that be worse?”

“Have you been to Chenir?” she asked. “Galen can be a dour and bland place. Chenir is worse. Though the men there…” She smiled as she trailed off. “They are said to have a different set of skills. I would not mind meeting a nice Chenir man.”

Tan laughed and opened the door leading into the palace. He chose not to bring Cianna through the lower level of the archives, though not because he didn’t trust her. Cianna knew the draasin now nearly as well as he did. There wasn’t much that he was going to be able to keep from her. But the archives were
his
place, even if he wasn’t able to find anything useful yet.

They hurried up the stairs, Cianna always a step behind him, never trying to push past him. The caravan continued toward the city, now nearly upon the outskirts itself. He couldn’t tell if there were shapers with the caravan. At least there didn’t seem to be any spirit shapers, but more than that was difficult to tell.

At the top of the stairs, they hurried into the lower level of the palace and proceeded quickly to the main level. They passed white-clad servants and even a few of the children running freely, but no one else. The servants tipped their heads toward Tan and Cianna, each time respectfully. Tan made a point of meeting each person’s eyes and greeting them, much as his mother had always taught was polite.

Cianna chuckled as they made their way to the main level of the palace. Tan turned on her. “What is it?”

“You’re much like him.”

“Who now?” he shot.

She planted her fists on her hips and faced him. “You would snap at a master shaper?”

“I would snap at my friend. And I thought you said you would follow the Athan.”

A wide grin peeled her lips. “Good. At least you’re not so stupid that you can’t learn.”

She pushed past him and continued down the hall, her slightly swaying hips drawing his eye. Cianna began whistling and stopped in front of a large, gilded door covered with ornate decorations. Cianna pulled the door open and stepped inside, unmindful of who might be on the other side.

This was the room he’d first met Althem in. Then the king had asked about his shaping ability and his connection to the elementals, likely beginning to plan for his next steps. Tan had brought the artifact, handing it over to him. What would have happened had he not managed to get it back? What would have happened had Althem managed to use it sooner?

Or maybe he
had
learned to use it sooner. Could he have shaped spirit through it, forcing the archivists to complete their task? Or maybe there was another way that he’d used it, one that they still had yet to learn. Tan didn’t
think
that he’d been shaped, but he couldn’t really know, either.

Tan made his way Cianna, who waited at the other end of the room. A latticework of gold worked around the walls. Massive pale marble pillars rose through the room. Decorative sculptures were worked into the pillars, most in the shapes of elementals. Like the last time he’d been here, Tan noted the draasin carved around one of the pillars, fire billowing from their nostrils. There were no signs of anything like kaas, nothing that would indicate another ancient fire elemental.

Roine sat on the throne dressed in a long robe striped in navy and a deep, forest green. His eyes were drawn, and his mouth pulled into a thin line that tightened when he saw Tan.

“You finally return. I thought you might come here first,” he said, eyeing Cianna for a moment, “but something else was more important?”

Would Roine even understand if Tan told him that he’d gone to the draasin for answers? Would he believe it when Tan explained that it wasn’t Incendin attacking at all?

“I’m sure Zephra told you,” he said.

Roine chuckled. “Zephra most certainly did, but you’re my Athan. I would hear from you.”

“It wasn’t Incendin, Roine.”

“Zephra said there were hounds, and the veil.”

“There were, but it wasn’t Incendin.” He explained what he’d encountered, and then, “I think Par-shon released the next phase in their attack.”

Roine frowned.

“I told you that I thought Par-shon would attempt something else. I’ve been thinking about this attack, and it seems that it was timed intentionally. First the traps and then this new elemental attack.”

“I don’t have your connections to the draasin. Explain it to me in a way that I can understand,” Roine said. “From where I sit, you’ve told me how Par-shon binds elementals. Why would they risk loosing something like this onto the kingdoms?”

“I thought it bound to one of their shapers. When we faced them along the border, there was a connection I couldn’t sever.”

“What if it’s not bound?” Roine asked. When Tan frowned, he went on. “You’ve always been able to break the bond used by Par-shon. What if there was no bond?”

Tan thought about the possibility. If that were the case, then Par-shon would have released something even the Utu Tonah couldn’t control. “If that’s true,” he began, working through what had happened in the kingdoms and the way the traps were placed around the city, “then the traps weren’t intended to steal the elementals, but to draw them into the kingdoms.” There was even more reason to find out more about this elemental. If only Asboel wouldn’t ignore him now. No, not ignore,
avoid
him.

Roine gripped the arms of the throne. He sat motionless for long moments. When he finally moved, he breathed out heavily. “If this is true, then you must remain here, Tan.”

“Roine—”

“No.” He slapped his hands down onto the throne. “If Par-shon loosed a creature into the kingdoms, there isn’t anyone else able to do anything to protect us. Between your connection with the draasin and your ability with the elementals, it seems the Great Mother placed you here with the intent that you would protect us from just this sort of thing. Now. You may remain here while I receive the envoy from Chenir, but do not put the kingdoms in danger.”

“Chenir?” Tan asked. “Why would they have come?”

Roine sighed and leaned back, his shoulders lowering with a sigh. “Only the Great Mother knows why they chose now to make a visit. Ferran tells me they come to visit the king regent.” Roine’s tone made it clear that he doubted that to be the case. “Which is another reason I want you to remain in the kingdoms. You can help me understand why Chenir has chosen
now
of all times to send a delegation to the kingdoms.”

Tan wanted to argue and tell him that he had too many things he needed to do. Not only to try and discover the traps that might still remain, but to understand this new elemental, make certain Par-shon wasn’t attacking, and somehow find time to visit Incendin and work on forging an alliance with them. He didn’t have time to watch a Chenir delegation.

“Who did they send?” he asked.

Roine only shrugged. “Probably some bland ambassador. That’s usually who gets sent on this kind of thing.”

“Didn’t you say that you used to make these sort of trips?” Tan asked.

Roine shrugged. “And I hated every minute of it. Too much ceremony.”

Tan glanced at the long, dark robe Roine wore. “You truly struggle, Roine.”

Cianna laughed. “He struggles to finish the plates he’s given, too.”

Roine poked a finger at his stomach and shrugged. “I can’t say that
all
the trappings of king regent disagree with me. As soon as we find Althem’s heir, I won’t be the one to sit this chair. Then I’ll have no choice but to return to life as Athan.”

“You think the new king would replace me?” Tan asked.

“Well, I have served as Athan longer,” Roine said.

Tan tried not to let himself get too excited by the thought. If Roine were to become Athan again and Tan were released from his commitment, maybe he and Amia could finally have a moment of peace together.

“But for now, I serve as regent, and you as Athan. And I need you to help with this, Tan.”

Tan nodded, trying to understand how he would manage to do everything that was asked of him.

T
an stood just off the side of the road as the Chenir caravan passed the circle of Aeta wagons as it headed toward the city. Chenir clothing was all heavy woolens, darkly dyed, making a sharp contrast to the bright colors of the Aeta, and sweat poured off of them. The soldiers riding on their horses wore war heavy helms and did not turn away from the main caravan, so out of place in Ethea. Tan wondered how many of them were shapers. Even in a place like Chenir, there had to be at least a few.

Why
had
they come to Ethea? This many soldiers seemed like more than simply to meet the king regent. Roine had asked him to learn why, and Tan suspected he could understand more by remaining hidden, at least at first.

There was so much that he needed to do. Even taking the time to watch the caravan arrive was time that he should be spending trying to find the hidden traps, or Par-shon, or helping Asboel, or understanding this other elemental…

Amia took his hands and forced him to meet her eyes. “Tan, I know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not so sure that you do,” he said.

“You’re thinking that you need to go to Incendin. You’ve been planning to go for days.”

“With what’s happened, that plan had to change.”

“It doesn’t change what
you
have to do.”

What did he have to do? The problem was, Tan wasn’t certain, not anymore. Once, it had been simple: stop Incendin. Since learning of Par-shon, life wasn’t nearly as clear-cut.

Roine was right in that he needed to protect the kingdoms. That was
the reason the Great Mother had gifted him with his abilities, but Tan remained convinced that he was meant to protect more than the kingdoms, that he was part of something greater, something that would keep all of the surrounding lands safe and protected. And if that meant working with Incendin to ensure that the elementals found there were safe as well, then he would have to do it.

Except Roine had now asked him to remain within the kingdoms. That put Tan in a difficult spot. He didn’t want to disobey Roine, but he also didn’t want any elemental to suffer, not if there was something that he could do about it. It became about more than protecting the elementals from a forced bond. At least the bond could be severed, broken by Tan’s shaping of all the elements. But this elemental was something different, and he had to understand why.

Tan glanced around, but they were alone, standing along the side of the wagons. Behind them were the sounds of children playing, running and laughing as they chased each other around the fire. There was the sense of spirit shaping taking place, for the first time openly done in the kingdoms. There were other sounds, that of the steady murmur of voices or the crackling of the flames at the Great Fire. And then the smells of the camp, that of the oils used on the wheels, the smoke from the fire, the bread and meats cooked around the flame. It was a happy place, one that suited Amia. Tan wished he could stay here as well.

“If the elementals are in danger, you know I must do whatever I can to help. Par-shon and what they plan needs to be stopped.”

Something about Roine’s comment bothered him. Why would Par-shon loose a free elemental? It was even more reason he needed to reach Asboel and force the draasin to stop avoiding him.

Amia smiled and looked over at the wagons before glancing back at Tan. “Even if it means losing what Roine has bestowed upon you?”

Tan hesitated before answering. “I never asked to be named Athan. I’m not even sure I’m the right person for the position. The kingdoms need a shaper willing to do anything for the kingdoms.”

“And you don’t think you will?”

“What happens when I have to make a choice between the elementals and the kingdoms? What will I choose?”

“That you have to wonder tells me that you’re well suited for this role,” Amia said. “You have to do what you feel is right in your heart, even if others don’t see it.”

“Anything I do is risky,” Tan said. “But doing nothing, remaining only in the kingdoms, puts other places in danger. Doma. Chenir,” he said, nodding toward the tail of the contingent as it disappeared over a shallow rise. Soon they would reach the city, and then they would meet with Roine. From there? That was what Tan had to learn. “And yes, even Incendin. How can I not attempt to try and help the elementals?”

“I thought you would come and find me,” Amia said. She didn’t need to finish. Like Roine, she was insulted, if only slightly, by the fact that he’d gone to the draasin first.

Tan smiled at her. “I needed…” He trailed off and shook his head. “I don’t know what I needed. Maybe to understand what happened with the draasin. Why Asboel continues to hide what happened.”

“What happened today? I felt your fear, but before that… there was something else. Regret?” She took his hand and pulled him to sit next to her in front of her wagon. The soft breeze played at the ends of her hair, and sunlight made it practically glow.

Tan sighed softly. “Probably all of that?” he said. “I went back to Nor. Mother was there.”

“That would be the regret.”

Tan nodded. “I haven’t been back there since… well, since you and I met. I’ve flown over
Nor and been in the mountains near it, but something has always kept me from returning.”

“What did you see?”

“About what I expected to see,” Tan answered. “When I was there the last time, the attack had just happened. Everything was a smoldering ruin, leaving little more than a crater where the village had been. There was nothing left of my home.”

She squeezed his hand. More than nearly anyone else, Amia understood what he’d gone through. Like him, she’d lost her entire family, taken from her by the lisincend. Unlike Tan, Amia had been witness to it. She had watched as her family was burned, as the lisincend tortured them in order to force the Aeta to reveal the fact that they had shapers among them. Could the lisincend
not
have known, especially since the First Mother had shaped Doma shapers for them, forcing them to serve Incendin?

“And now,” Tan went on, his throat getting tight as he spoke, “now Nor is still nothing more than a crater, but life has returned. The forest presses inward, filling in the hole of what had once been my village. Grasses and flowers and…”

Tan trailed off, unable to go on. He
wanted
to move past what had happened to him, but he still found it difficult at times. Trying to work with Incendin and her people was very different than the idea that he would need to work with the lisincend. The lisincend had hurt him, and had hurt those he loved, time and again.

Yet, the rational part of him, the part that could separate the emotion and the hatred that he felt when thinking of the lisincend, recognized what the lisincend went through and how they suffered to serve their people. Fire consumed them, burning within them as it had once burned within Tan. There had been nothing but the thought of serving fire, of allowing fire to consume, when he had nearly transformed. It would be much the same for the lisincend.

“What happened with Incendin?” Amia asked.

“You sensed the attack, didn’t you?”

She shook her head. “I was distracted. The People needed me. I was teaching one of the Mothers, working with her on her shaping.” When he frowned, she spoke in a rush. “I don’t intend to serve as First Mother indefinitely. I will see that another can take my place. I want us to be able—”

Tan cut her off by giving her a gentle kiss. “I want the same.”

They sat silently, not needing to say anything to enjoy the comfort of each other’s company. Eventually, Amia leaned back. One hand reached for the band around her neck, running her fingers over its surface until she reached the clasp around the back. She fingered it for a moment before dropping her hands into her lap. “What happened?”

“Mother would claim the lisincend attacked,” Tan said.

“You don’t think it was them?”

“There was fire, but not twisted fire.”

“And you know the difference?”

Tan arched a brow at her. “The fire bond shows me the difference, but even without it, I know how fire consumes the lisincend. It changes something about them, turns fire differently. What I sensed there wasn’t the lisincend, but an elemental, and bound to a shaper strong enough to nearly overwhelm me.”

Amia smiled at him. “There aren’t many shapers that strong.”

“The Utu Tonah is.”

“And do you think he’d risk himself along the border of Incendin? As far as we know, he’s only come for the draasin, and when he failed, he escaped so he didn’t risk himself any more than necessary. That’s not the sign of someone who would simply appear in the kingdoms.”

Tan rubbed his chin and closed his eyes while he thought. “And he didn’t have an elemental like this when we faced him the last time. If he had, I don’t know that we would have been strong enough to stop him, even with three of us bound to draasin.”

“What was it?”

“Honl called it kaas. It was a powerful fire elemental.” Amia arched a brow at the comment. “It nearly overwhelmed me.”

“But it didn’t.”

Tan shook his head. “I got lucky. Or it didn’t want to risk attacking anymore. I don’t really know. But it’s gone for now. Only Asboel won’t answer when I ask what it is.”

They sat in silence for a moment. “What’s next, then?”

Tan still wasn’t certain. “I don’t know. I need answers. Not just about Chenir, or the draasin, or this elemental…”

Amia squeezed his hand. “Where do you think to find the answers?”

“I don’t know. I need… I need to find Asboel.” That would be a start. At least it would help him with the understanding, but then? “Everything seems to be happening too fast and there’s too much for me to do. Par-shon. The traps. The kingdoms fearing Incendin. And now this elemental. I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

“You’re strong enough, Tan. And you don’t have to do this alone. There are others who can help, who will have to help.”

“The others all think that Incendin attacked.”

“Then you have to prove to them it was not Incendin. Or you have to find a different type of help. You’re Athan now,” she said, twisting the ring on his finger. “That means you lead the other shapers. They might not always agree, but you speak with the voice of the king. You need to remember that.”

“King regent,” Tan corrected. “And if my mother refuses to see me as anything more than her son, then how will the others?”

Amia smiled and leaned in to him. “There will be those who choose not to follow, but you can’t let them force you from what you know to be right. You can explain, you can ask, but eventually you must convince them to follow. My mother taught me many lessons about leading the People, but that was the hardest for me to understand. Roine chose you for a reason. It’s up to you to show the others
why
.”

They sat silently for a moment, listening to the crackling flames of the great fire, the soft breeze whistling around the wagons, and the happy voices throughout the Aeta caravan. Eventually, Amia smiled rested her head on his shoulder.

“I can almost imagine staying here with you, staying in this wagon,” she said, tapping on the colorful wall for emphasis, “leading the People by your side. I can almost imagine the peace we would have.”

Tan slipped his arm around her. “We can have that. We will know that peace.”

Amia’s smile faded and she pulled away from him. “That’s a false promise, and we both know it. You… you serve the elementals as you’ve been called to do. You are a warrior.
Their
warrior. I don’t know if they’ve ever had a champion quite like you.” She peered through the space between the wagons, staring toward the gathered Aeta. “And I am needed here. I fought it for so long, but this was what
I
have been called to do. Maybe we will never—”

Tan placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her. “I am called to serve the elementals and you are called to serve the Aeta. For now. But there will come a time that we will be free of our obligations,” he said, thinking of his parents and how they settled into the mountains around Galen. Still able to serve but separated from the rest of the kingdoms, allowing others to take their place. If Althem’s true heir could be determined, then Roine could return to Athan and Tan could be released. Then he and Amia could finally have what they wanted. “We
will
have the peace we want. Whatever else happens to me, I will not give up on that.”

Tears welled in Amia’s eyes. “I’ve lost so much, Tan, but through it all, I’ve had you. Every time something worse has happened, I wonder if it will be the time that you
don’t
return. We are connected, and I feel everything that happens to you as if it happens to me.”

“As do I,” Tan reminded her. “And I wouldn’t change anything.”

Amia laid her hand on his chest and closed her eyes. “I can’t lose you, too.”

Tan swallowed, wishing there was something he could say that would reassure her, wishing that he could tell her that he couldn’t lose her either, but knowing that no words were necessary. The shaped bond between them sealed them tighter than any vows or promises ever could.

I will always return,
he told her through the bond.

Until you don’t.

“There are others, Tan, who can do what you do.”

“Others can’t do all that I do,” he said. “I won’t risk the elementals to those with no interest in seeing them saved, just as I won’t risk the kingdoms’ shapers if there is something I can do.”

Amia sighed. “You try to do too much. Someday you’ll need help, and if you keep pushing it away, it won’t be there when you ask.”

“And you?”

Amia smiled up at him. “I’ll always be here. We’re bonded. But you need to create a different sort of bond with others or you’ll lose them.”

Tan stared off at the walls of Ethea, wishing he knew how.