Broken of Fire (The Cloud Warrior Saga Book 9)

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opyright © 2016 by D.K
. Holmberg

Cover by Rebecca Frank

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T
annen Minden sat
cross-legged in the cavern deep beneath the ground. Heat pressed on him, but he ignored it, as he ignored most heat. The draasin crawled around his shoulders—still thinking himself small but already much larger than he’d been a month ago, before nestling in and resting around Tan’s neck like some sort of necklace.

“Are you finished?” he asked.

He didn’t expect an answer, not even through the fire bond. The draasin sat within the fire bond, but not strongly enough—not yet, at least—for him to be able to answer.

With a shaping of fire cupped in his hand, Tan surveyed the cavern. The other draasin, the second hatchling, rested along the wall. She wasn’t nearly as rambunctious as the first hatchling, at least not with Tan.

Most of the remaining eggs lay dormant. Tan hadn’t attempted to hatch them, not until he knew whether he had the capacity to sustain them. His hesitance was more than that, though. Sashari claimed the draasin were tied to the land, and he didn’t know which egg belonged where. More than that, hatching one of the draasin required strength and commitment from the fire bond, and each time that he attempted the hatching, he feared sacrificing too much strength.

A distant laughter rolled through his mind.
Fire does not end, Maelen. It merely changes form.

The bond can be weakened,
he said to Asgar. The draasin remained near the tower in Par, mostly to keep watch over Amia. Tan felt protective toward her, and always had, ever since the shaped bond that she’d placed on him demanded it, but now… now there was another reason for him to be protective of her.

And more reason to fear what might be coming.

That was the reason that he had come to this place. Studying the ancient Seal, he hoped to glean some understanding from the Records of Par, but so far found nothing but confusion. The runes were helpful but required him to decipher them slowly. What he really needed was a way to simply understand them, but Honl had been gone for too long and Tan didn’t know when he would return. As far as he knew, the wind elemental might not return, at least not anytime soon.

Tan understood Honl’s need to complete whatever quest he’d taken. Honl sought understanding, and given the new challenge they faced, what else could they do? They didn’t understand what had motivated Marin, but Tan had a growing suspicion that the Utu Tonah had come to Par for something other than conquest. And not necessarily power; at least, not at first. Still, he hadn’t managed to determine
why
the Utu Tonah had come.

The draasin jumped from his shoulders and slithered to one of the eggs. With a streamer of fire—now strong enough to melt stone—he focused his attention on one. This was green, with streaks of red.

“Again?” he asked.

Asgar chuckled again in his mind.

Maybe he would not be given the choice of when the draasin would hatch. Maybe the draasin would choose.

Fire calls to fire
, Asgar said.

You’re starting to sound like him,
Tan sent.

I consider that a compliment.

You should.

Asboel—Tan’s first bond—had been a powerful and wise elemental, and had sacrificed himself so that the other elementals might survive. Most days, Tan missed him, but some days were worse than others, leaving an aching within him. Watching the young draasin had helped, but it would not—and could not—take away the pain of his lost friend.

The egg began to glow a bright orange, filled with the heat and flame from the first hatchling. Tan focused on the egg and added a shaping of his own to what the draasin did, pulling strength from the fire bond, feeding the fledgling flame from the draasin. Within the egg, he sensed the growing connection, the awakening, as the draasin started to stir.

The second hatchling crawled away from the wall and shook her head. The light from the flames in the cavern played off her spikes, leaving a silvery reflection. She coughed, and a weak finger of fire sputtered from her before adding to the others.

“You want to help?” Tan asked.

He lifted the hatchling and she curled her tail around his arm, pinching with her claws. She made a soft growling sound deep in her throat, one that he had at first thought was some kind of warning, but had learned that it was more of a contented sound. This time, he thought it more a sign of the effort she exerted.

The egg continued to heat. Brilliant green flashed and the red streaks along the side glowed darker than the rest. Inside the egg, the draasin began to move with even more agitation, pressing on the shell. The soft shell began to bulge, and then, slowly, a claw poked through.

Tan didn’t help pull the draasin from the egg. Something within the fire bond—maybe his faded connection to Asboel—told him that the draasin had to emerge on its own. If it did not, fire might reclaim it. Even hatched, it was still possible to be reclaimed.

Now that the draasin began to poke its way free, Tan shifted his shaping, feeding no longer into the egg but into the draasin itself. As he did, he felt the growing connection within the fire bond. This little draasin—another female—clawed and stumbled toward it. Tan surged power and flame, shining a path. When the draasin joined the bond, there came a flash of light, and then the draasin began to feed on the fire bond without his help.

He sighed.

The second hatchling growled again, and her tiny wings unfurled and flapped. She wasn’t large enough—or strong enough—to fly quite yet. Tan hadn’t learned how long it would be before she managed flight. But she still tried.

“A girl,” he said.

He fought the urge to name the draasin. With the first hatchling, it had been easy, but with the second and now the third, he had a strange desire to place a name on them, but refrained. Names had power, especially to the elementals. Tan had named Asgar, but that had been at a time of need. Asgar’s sister still hadn’t claimed a name.

The draasin crawled free from the egg and staggered before falling to the stone.

Tan frowned. Neither the first or the second hatchling had done that.

The fire bond had told him that he couldn’t help the draasin from the egg, but once free? How could he leave her if there might be something he could do to help?

He set the second hatchling down. She growled and spat fire at him; it washed harmlessly over him. The first hatchling licked at the newest with a long, rough tongue, but the third hatchling didn’t move.

Tan lifted her and cradled her against his chest. Life fluttered within her, but with less of the strength than he remembered when the other two hatched.

Asgar?

Hatching does not always succeed, Maelen.
Tan recognized the sadness in his tone, and knew that Asgar thought this hatchling would fail.

Is there anything that can be done?

The draasin would not.
Sashari, Asboel’s mate and Asgar’s mother, spoke to him through the fire bond, her voice growing more distinct with each word.

But me?

You are Maelen,
she answered.

What does that mean?

It means that I do not know.

Tan ran his hand along the draasin’s back, feeling each of the spikes. Heat attempted to surge from her, but it was weak, and even with the fire bond feeding the draasin, there was not the same connection that he’d detected with the others.

He couldn’t do nothing. Tan cared too much for the elementals, too much for the draasin in particular, to watch as one failed and died. Seeing one draasin die was enough for him.

Using spirit and water, mixing fire within it, Tan sent the shaping through the hatchling. First, he sensed for the injury the draasin had sustained, and then building the shaping and using that as he attempted to heal the failing connection to the fire bond.

Fire and spirit told him that the draasin sat on the edge of the fire bond but the connection was fractured and injured. Luckily for the hatchling, he had experience repairing connections to the bond.

But it took calling on strength from the fire bond itself.

With the draasin feeding on the bond, pulling more strength from it strained him. Tan pulled as much as he could and then drew on his own shaping strength, avoiding the fire bond. Taking more from the bond, especially as the hatchling fed, ran the risk of the hatchling not having enough to feed upon.

Tan felt the fracture within the draasin. It wasn’t new, as if it had been present when the draasin had been little more than an egg. Could it be that this draasin was not meant to survive?

Tan used fire and spirit and attempted to seal the fracture.

Nothing happened.

He pulled on more fire, but that ultimately drew from the fire bond. Tan had wound so tightly within the fire bond that he drew upon it without intending to do so. Releasing that connection, he shifted to the other elements. Spirit called to him the most strongly, and he recognized that spirit would be necessary to heal this draasin.

But he didn’t have enough strength pulling
only
on spirit.

Combining the elements, though, could increase his strength. Normally, he would have pulled through his connection to Amia and draw strength in spirit from her, but in her current state, he had no interest in weakening her any further. And he didn’t know what effect that might have if he
were
to pull on spirit from her. Probably nothing. Amia would know if there was an issue and would prevent him from taking too much. But what if he was unable to control what he drew?

So he combined each of the elements, melding them as he had when first learning to shape spirit. A surge of spirit came from him, and Tan pressed this into the draasin, separating out a mix of fire. Would it be enough? Could he actually heal the draasin? Or would this be one who failed to survive the hatching?

The draasin shivered.

And then spoke within the fire bond.

Maelen.

The voice was soft, weak and thready, but there was no doubting that she was there within the bond, more fully than either of the other two hatchlings. Had Tan’s healing sealed it more tightly to the fire bond? Had he done something that the Great Mother would not have approved of?

But the draasin lived. Tan felt that life, that energy, as it fed upon the fire bond. It was a raw sense, and full of strength and potential. Alive. That was enough.

You should not be here so strongly,
he said to her.

The draasin crawled to him and attempted to spit fire, but failed. Thin wings unfurled, and the draasin shook.
There are so many here
.

Where?

In this place. In fire.

Tan wondered what the draasin might mean, but realized that he must be referring to the fire bond.
You hear the others within the bond. There are many other elementals.

Not elementals. Like me.

Draasin?

The newest hatchling reached Tan’s feet and circled around them before sinking her claws into Tan’s leg and starting to climb. As she reached Tan’s waist, and the claws began to pierce his skin, Tan scooped her up and held her so that he could look upon her. Pale yellow eyes stared back at him with more insight than Tan would have expected.

You hear the other draasin?

They are quiet, but they are here with me. Most would like to awaken.

Tan looked around at the other eggs. Did this hatchling imply that she could reach the other draasin? But they were still dormant, still waiting for the right time.

You are Maelen. What am I?

The question surprised Tan. Neither of the other draasin had questioned him about a name. Either they hadn’t cared whether they had a name or they didn’t understand that they did not. Tan would not be the reason that they suddenly questioned.

But this one, she already asked.

He used a sensing of fire and spirit and sent it through her. As he did, he realized there was a connection within her to more than fire. Much like with Honl, spirit had lodged within her, almost as if the healing from the fracture had required the placement of spirit.

Had Tan fused spirit to her? Doing so would change something about her. That much he had seen with Honl, and had seen with what the Utu Tonah had done with the hybrid elementals. Tan hadn’t
wanted
to change her. He had only wanted to heal her, but hadn’t been able to do that with only fire.

You are too young to have taken a name,
he finally answered.

You will give the name?

I have before. The draasin can also choose the name.

The newest hatchling attempted to spit, and a surge of fire, but also something that felt like a pulse of spirit, came from her.
What name should I choose?

Tan smiled. Regardless of her change, this one was precocious. There was something about that that he appreciated.
You should choose whatever is fitting. You will know.

And if I have you choose?

What would he do if she asked him to choose? Would he agree? Normally, he would say that she was too young for him to assign a name, but if she were to choose on her own, why would he not?

I would help,
Tan said,
but there is someone you should meet before you decide.

Amia would know whether there was a connection to spirit that he needed to account for, though Tan already suspected that there was enough of a connection from what it had taken for him to heal her. And if that were the case, would she change as much as Honl had, becoming something as different from a draasin and fire as Honl now was to ashi and wind?

Then I will wait.

The draasin squirmed in his arms until he set her back down. Once on the ground, she approached the others and sniffed. Each snorted, sending steam and flames, but there was no communication in the fire bond, not as there would be when they were older. All he heard was the third hatchling in the bond, trying to reach them—and failing.

After a few attempts, she looked up at Tan, the question clear in her eyes: what was she?
You are draasin,
he said, but other than that, Tan had no answers.