Broken of Fire (The Cloud Warrior Saga Book 9) (3 page)

Amia didn’t need him to compare it to Honl. And he sensed her concern through the bond, and shared it. The elementals were part of the oldest power of the land. When they changed—when
he
changed them—he impacted that power, using what the Great Mother had intended to be used in ways that he was not convinced were intended.

Cianna didn’t see the problem with what he’d said. She only nodded, her eyes still focused on the draasin. “Well, you managed to heal her. That is enough, don’t you think? Another draasin! Not only one, but three!” She shook her head and looked up. “When will you return and share with Theondar?”

Tan hadn’t considered when he would return to Ethea. Roine—the warrior once known as Theondar—understood that the draasin had helped, especially with everything that had happened with Incendin, but that didn’t mean that he trusted the draasin’s return. More than anything, Roine still held onto some of the ancient beliefs about the draasin, as if they might terrorize cities, attacking as if for sport. From Tan’s connection to them, he knew there was nothing about hunting man that the draasin would find enjoyable. The risks from attacking shapers simply weren’t worth it.

“As I’ve said,” he started, but the hatchling squawked until he reached for her and took her back. He cradled her and caught Amia suppressing a smile. “There is much that I must do here before I can return.”

Cianna crossed her arms and faced him. “Are the rumors true, then?”

Tan blinked. “What rumors?”

She looked around the library and swept her hand around the room in a wide gesture. “You. Par-shon. This place. There are rumors about you, and Theondar has done nothing to tamp them down.”

“Cianna, I still don’t know what you mean.”

“No? Then you haven’t decided to abandon the kingdoms? You haven’t ignored the peace that you have created? You haven’t decided that you are the Utu Tonah?”

Tan opened his mouth to answer, but he didn’t need to. Maclin spoke from the back of the room, his voice a deep, accented tone.

“Not the Utu Tonah. The Maelen rules in Par now. And he is needed to help us find the same peace you describe.”

Cianna stared at Maclin a moment before turning her attention to Tan. Through Sashari, she knew the title the elementals had given Tan. “Be that as it may, the Athan has been summoned back to the kingdoms.”

He looked at his hand, where the ring of the Athan remained. He still wore it, though no longer felt the same sense of responsibility, not when he had so much
more
that he was responsible for.

“Why?”

“Must you ask?”

Tan glanced at Maclin. The old servant set down a pitcher of water and then bowed before departing.

“Given everything that I’ve been through, I think I need to ask.”

Cianna laughed. “Theondar thought that you’d want to be present for the ceremony.”

“Ceremony? What ceremony?” As he asked, he remembered what Roine had told him when he’d seen him last, and suddenly understood. He glanced down at the draasin, wishing the timing were better, but how could he not return to the kingdoms to attend his mother’s—and his friend’s—wedding?

“
W
hat do
you mean asking if we need to do this?” Amia asked, looking back over her shoulder at Tan. One hand gripped her long blond hair and the other pulled her cloak around her waist, protecting her stomach from the wind. “This was your idea!”

Tan fought the grin threatening to spread across his face. Warm wind whipped past him, filled with the heated mist that spread around Asgar’s spikes as they flew, soaring over Par. Tan could simply have shaped them, but there was a different kind of peace found riding on the draasin. And with Amia’s pregnancy, he didn’t know how the shaping would affect her.

She patted his hand. “You worry too much. Anything that I can tolerate, the baby can as well.”

Tan wrapped his arms more tightly around her waist, cradling her against him. “I know what happened. Or nearly happened. Can’t I be a little protective?”

“Not when it makes no sense,” Amia said. “And we don’t
have
to return. It seems the Utu Tonah is busy enough.” She offered a playful smile.

“Even were there not the ceremony, we have to return, if only for a little while. Roine deserves to know what happened to us. And I need to determine if there’s anything to Honl’s claim that the convergence in Ethea needs protecting.” Even if those were the only reasons, he would still need to return.

“That’s the only reason?”

Tan smiled and shrugged. “I suppose we could tell my mother as well.”

Amia elbowed him and he smiled. “She’ll be happy for you, you know, as you should be for her.”

“I
am
happy for her. Plus, she’ll be happy for both of us.”

Amia’s smile faltered.

“Your mother would be pleased as well,” Tan said softly.

“I… I know that she would. I would give anything for her to know what we’ve survived, what you’ve accomplished. I think she saw something in you when we first met.”

“What
we
accomplished,” Tan said. “I could have done none of this without you. The Great Mother knows I might never have learned what I could do if not for you!”

Asgar tilted, his wings flapping hard against the wind. The draasin hatchling tucked beneath Tan’s cloak squirmed and crawled free. He released his tight grip on Amia and slipped a hand around the draasin, fearing that she might fall from Asgar’s back. The hatchling turned her head and seemed to glare at him, attempting to spit fire at him. She’d already learned how useless the fire she
could
generate was against him.

You haven’t learned to fly,
he reminded her.

And you forget that I’m draasin.

She nestled into the spikes on Asgar’s back, as if she were meant to fit there.

Through the fire bond, he sensed Asgar’s amusement.

This one has a different fire, Maelen.

That’s what I’m afraid of,
he said but looked down at the hatchling with amusement. There was something about her precociousness that he appreciated. In some ways, she reminded him of Asboel and his casual arrogance, but in others, she reminded him of Honl, and the way that he had changed since healed by spirit. That change had brought the two of them closer together as well. Maybe the spirit connection reminded him of Amia, and that was why he appreciated it.

What of the other hatchlings?
Asgar asked.

They are in their den. I left nearly an entire hog with them.

That will last two days. And then what will become of them?

Tan laughed. The first two hatchlings
had
taken to eating everything that the butcher Balsun brought. Eventually, he figured he would need to share with the butcher the reason behind his strange requests, but for now, the butcher simply provided anything that Tan requested.

Then they will simply waste away,
Tan answered.

Asgar chuckled until the hatchling nipped at one of his spikes. He twisted his long neck and looked at her with his bright golden eyes. The hatchling stared back, an amusing defiance in her refusal to back down.

This one pleases the Mother, I think. I understand why you were able to heal her.

Tan wished that
he
understood why he was allowed to heal the hatchling, but that wasn’t an answer that he possessed.

They crossed beyond the ocean and over Incendin. There was a time when simply flying over Incendin would have made him nervous, when he would have feared the lisincend, or the hounds, or any of the strange and terrifying life that existed in Incendin, but like so much else since the Utu Tonah had been defeated, Incendin had changed. No longer did wide swaths of brown and broken rock stretch around below him. Now there were patches of green, as life began to return. How much of that had to do with the changed shaping that burned atop the fire fortress, and how much had to do with the fact that the kingdoms no longer held the barrier in place? It was even possible that the healing of the lisincend had been the greatest change. Regardless of what had caused it, the change made Incendin appear less intimidating.

These lands have started to heal,
Asgar said as if reading his thoughts.

I see that, but don’t know why.

Everything you have done has allowed healing. In time, these lands will return to the way the Mother intended.

Tan sat back, settling into the spikes on Asgar’s back. Incendin healed. Peace, at least as far as Cianna had said. And yet, he chased a new battle.

Couldn’t he remain in the kingdoms and simply enjoy the peace that would be found there? Why did he feel compelled to find a new battle, and a new threat?

Then again, had he not, would these draasin have returned?

The hatchling growled at him, and he patted her on the head. She attempted to nip at his finger, but without the same ferocity as she had attacked Asgar’s spikes.

When they passed the border between Incendin and Nara, the southernmost of the four ancient realms that had united into what were simply known now as the kingdoms, there was no tingling sense as there once had been, nothing that hinted at the barrier remaining. The realization made him smile.

They streaked north and passed a caravan of brightly colored wagons. He pointed to them and leaned into Amia. “Would you like me to leave you with them?”

She shook her head. “The First Mother does not need to be ever present.”

“When did that change?”

She shot him a look. “When the People were trying to recover after the attacks, I needed to remain with them, but some families have begun to wander again. The Aeta will heal, as they always have.”

“I never questioned whether they would,” Tan said.

“I did.” She sighed. “And eventually, I will need to call a Gathering. I do not think I’ll hold the gathering in the same place as it was before.”

“I’m sure Roine would allow the Gathering near Ethea.”

“Probably,” she said softly, “but there is something about hosting a Gathering that requires it not to be so open.”

They flew on, soaring through Ter. In the distance, Ethea rose up from the plains. Much about the city had changed in the time after he first arrived. The university had been rebuilt. Parts of the palace had changed. And much of the city had been destroyed and then reborn, repaired over time following both a forced draasin attack, and that of Incendin.

And now he flew to the city on one of the draasin.

We should enter through the tunnels,
he suggested to Asgar.

Of course, Maelen.

Tan sensed a hint of frustration from the draasin. They wanted to fly free and not fear the reception the draasin would receive, which was the same thing Tan wanted for them, but there was still the need for them to remain somewhat hidden. The time would come soon enough when the draasin would fly freely, especially if he managed to hatch the remaining eggs in the cavern in Par.

They reached the tunnels, and Asgar dropped them outside the den. Tan felt a pang of sadness as he saw it. Once, he had come to the den regularly as he visited Asboel. Now it held nothing but memories.

I don’t intend to stay long, Asgar.

Then I will not, either.

Tan reached toward the draasin and touched him gently on his long, sharp snout.
You do not have to remain with me if you don’t want to.

Asgar sniffed a breath of steam.
I would not remain if I did not choose to do so.

Even though he had no bond to Asgar, his presence helped put Tan at ease. Not because he was nearly a fully grown draasin, something that others might find intimidating—useful as he sorted through his role in Par—but because he was a friend.

As are you, Maelen.

Tan smiled and patted Asgar again. The hatchling nipped at him from beneath his cloak, and Asgar practically smiled, if one of the draasin
could
smile.

Hunt well, Asgar.

Always, Maelen.

* * *

T
hey reached
the palace via the tunnels, passing through the lower section where the warriors once kept their quarters. Tan knew that Roine once kept a room here, as did his mother, but he found the rooms emptied. Only the furniture remained.

He looked over to Amia. “Where would they have gone?”

“He is the King Regent. And she is his betrothed.”

“You think they would have claimed different quarters?”

Amia shrugged. “Seeing as how they aren’t sure who else could take the throne, I don’t see how he can remain King Regent for much longer.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know what it means, even if he has refused to acknowledge it. It means Roine will be king.”

Tan shook his head and laughed as they took the wide stair leading up from this level.

“What is that reaction about?” she asked.

“You thought my mother was bad enough when she was simply Zephra. Wait until she’s the queen.”

Amia covered her mouth and laughed.

The draasin continued to squirm as they made their way up the stairs, but Tan forced her back under his cloak. He hoped she didn’t bulge out too much and make it obvious that he smuggled a draasin into the palace, but he didn’t want to carry her openly and hadn’t felt comfortable leaving her in Par, especially since she had only recently been born.

At the top of the stairs, he hesitated, taking in the sight of servants scurrying around, a few shapers pacing the halls, and a general sense of activity that had not been here before. The palace was more decorated than it had been the last time he’d been here, with colorful banners, and streamers hanging from the arched ceiling over the door into the palace. He recognized only a few of the shapers standing guard. Seanan nodded to him and then focused his eyes ahead, standing at the doorway. He leaned in to whisper something to the other shaper, a young woman with pudgy cheeks and the wide frame that reminded him of Wallyn. Tan wondered if she might be a water shaper as well.

“Where do you think we’ll find them?” Amia asked.

Focusing on ara, he sent the question.
Where is Zephra?

After a moment, the wind gusted, pulling him gently down the corridor, leading him to a private hall where Roine kept his office. Tan shut the door behind them, sealing off the commotion from the servants, and made his way to the office. He paused at the door, using earth sensing to determine if anyone was inside.

“You can enter, Tannen,” his mother’s sharp voice called from the other side.

Tan glanced at Amia before opening the door. Inside, Roine sat leaning against the wall. His mother sat across from him, and the irritation on her face evoked an emotion Tan had known all too well over the years.

“So Cianna found you, it seems,” his mother said without looking up.

Tan nodded. “She did. I didn’t realize that the ceremony was to be held so soon.”

“You would, if you would ever return to the kingdoms.”

Tan blinked at the sharpness to the tone. “I think we’ve established that I have other responsibilities, haven’t we, Mother?”

She sighed and looked over, dragging her irritated gaze away from Roine. Roine gave Tan something of a look of thanks. “You have been in Par-shon for far too long, Tannen. It’s time that you return to the kingdoms and your responsibilities here.”

“My responsibilities extend to Par.”

She cocked her head. “Par. Not Par-shon?”

Tan nodded. “There is much for me to share with you, but it can wait.”

“What can wait, Tan?” Roine asked. He sounded as if he appreciated the interruption, and Tan wondered what had happened.

“You know why I went to Par? That they named me the Utu Tonah?”

“You can’t really intend to rule there,” his mother said.

He didn’t answer that question. It was one that he wasn’t entirely prepared to answer. Tan hadn’t decided what his intentions were with Par. First, he needed to help stabilize whatever had happened with the destruction of the bonds. Then he had to understand why the Utu Tonah had come to Par. With each passing day, he felt knowing the answer was the key to something greater. And then, he had to understand why Marin would intend to destroy the Records of Par. What did she think to hide? Beyond that, he had to understand the strange elemental force that had attacked Amia.