Changed By Fire (Book 3)

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opyright © 2015 by D.K
. Holmberg

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S
moke hung
low over the valley like nothing more than an early morning fog. Had it not been for the stink of charred bodies—lives Tan had watched burned alive—it might have been peaceful. Perched on an outcropping of rock, he looked down on the lake. Clear water tinged with the hint of green spilled down from the wide river flowing from the mountains, emptying into the lake below. Tall pines and oak trees lined the lake, though fewer now than before the attack.

If he focused and stretched his sensing out and around him, he could still feel fires burning on the edge of the lake in places the water elemental nymid could not reach and extinguish. The great earth elemental golud could not be moved to extinguish the fire. The wind elemental, ara, flittered through the air, barely enough to make its presence known, careful not to stir up any embers, knowing the danger were the twisted fire from Incendin shapers to rekindle. Only the draasin, the great winged fire elementals, did not fear those flames.

Here, in this place of convergence, all the elementals mingled.

Even spirit, though calling spirit required more effort than the others. And spirit had been the reason this place had experienced what it had.

“How long will you sit here?”

Amia stood over him, early morning sunlight catching her golden hair so that it nearly glowed. The narrow band of silver around her neck—the mark of her people—seemed wider than he remembered. Had bathing in a pool of liquid spirit changed it? She pulled a long, grey cloak over her shoulders, leaving the hood to fall around the back. It took him a moment to realize where she had found it; the dead archivist wouldn’t miss it.

“I’m just thinking,” he answered.

He felt her concern through the shaped connection between them. The shaping had come on accidentally, made by a spirit shaping placed on him by Amia in a time of great need as they ran from the lisincend. It was stronger now, especially after what he had done to save her.

Amia crouched on a rock next to him. “I wonder if we will be able to find this place again when we leave.”

Tan nodded. He hadn’t been certain he could find this place again either, but the draasin had known. “Asboel can find it, but I’m not certain he wants to return after what he’s been through here.”

“It’s amazing, isn’t it, the sacrifice they made.”

Tan turned to her, tearing his eyes off the lake. “Did you know? When you went into the pool of spirit the first time, did you know what this place could do?”

Amia inhaled deeply. “I sensed the importance of the other elementals, but it was not the same as this time. Maybe because the draasin had already departed?” She pushed strands of golden hair behind her ears. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “This time was different. Until you healed me, I couldn’t sense anything.”

Her contentment came through the connection. Amia would stay here with him as long as he wanted, but she understood he could not stay. Not knowing what he did.

“There’s so much to do,” he whispered. “I’m… I’m not certain I can do it.”

Amia pressed her palm up to his chest. “You might not be certain, but I am. You’ve stopped Incendin twice already.”

“Did I? The first time, the draasin stopped Incendin, hunting the lisincend to keep us safe. And the last time… had it not been for Lacertin appearing—”

A shout rang up from the valley, interrupting them, and they both turned. One of the shapers had found something.

Amia grabbed his hand and started down the slope. She moved quickly and easily, hurrying down the side of the rocks. Tan followed her, using earth sensing to find the safest way down.

At the bottom of the valley, Master Ferran stood over a fallen body. Ash covered the body’s face and fire streaked through his chest, but Tan recognized him all the same: the archivist who had attacked during his rescue of Amia. The archivist he’d killed—or thought he’d killed.

A low groan worked from his throat.

Ferran stood over him. Earth swirled up and around in a controlled shaping, trapping the fallen archivist and preventing him from moving.

Next to him, Amia performed a shaping. Tan felt it as pressure building behind his ears, a soft and steady buildup that she slowly released, easing out in her shaping.

The archivist convulsed softly, his back arching into the dirt. His eyes flickered wide before turning and looking up at Amia. A dark laugh escaped his lips. “You,” he spat. “You should have been the one sacrificed.”

Tan started toward him, boot already moving to kick the man. After what happened with Amia—how the archivists had nearly killed her—he felt a certain crazed anger. Amia held him back, sending a soothing shaping of spirit through him to calm him.

He took a deep breath and relaxed, lowering his foot.

Master Ferran watched. “I found this one when searching through the wreckage. I did not expect to find any living.” His eyes darted over all the damaged wagons, destroyed by water and fire during the attack. More Aeta, fallen because of Incendin desires.

“He shouldn’t be,” Tan said. “I thought I’d killed him.”

The archivist grunted and thrashed. Tan turned to him and crouched down before him. Any empathy he might have felt for the man faded as he remembered the painful scars down Amia’s back. The time in the pool of spirit had healed them but didn’t take away the memory Tan had of what the archivists had done to her.

“Why would you do this to your kingdoms?” Tan asked.

The archivist laughed and turned his head toward Tan. A pointed nose stabbed at the air. Spittle and blood coated his lips. A deep gash split his forehead. Without healing, he would not survive long. “
My
kingdoms? You think I can claim these lands?”

Tan glanced at Amia. The archivists were descended from the Aeta, but could they be more than that? Could they
be
Aeta, not merely their descendants? But why would they have attacked Amia? What would have motivated them to hurt one of their own? What could Incendin offer that would entice them?

He leaned close to the archivist. “You won’t harm her again. You will never harm her.”

The archivist looked up at him with eyes that alternated between glassy and clear. In one of the moments of clarity, a dark smile twisted his mouth. “You might control much power, Warrior, but you are untrained. And there is much you don’t know.”

“Then tell me.”

His laughed continued. “It is too late for that. Now that we have the artifact…”

“But you don’t. Incendin has the artifact. The archivists have fallen, dead and gone. You have failed.”

The archivist blinked. “Failed? The plan is only now in place.”

Tan frowned. “What plan?”

The archivist coughed. Blood burbled to his lips.

“What plan?” Tan repeated.

The archivist gasped one time and then breathed no more.

Tan crouched next to him, eyes closed. A hand gripped his shoulder and squeezed. He opened his eyes and turned to Amia. “Could you tell what he meant?”

“He’s a spirit shaper. I can’t tell anything from him.”

Tan stood slowly and wiped his hands on his cloak. What could the archivist have meant? What plan did they mean?

Too much remained uncertain. The archivists could have shaped the king. Incendin had the artifact—and a new, twisted lisincend. And the draasin were in danger. Where did he even begin?

Ferran shifted his attention from Tan to Amia. “When I first met you, I thought you exaggerated what you went through. If anything, you underestimated.”

The master shaper had taught one of the earliest classes Tan tried attending, but he hadn’t believed what Tan said about the lisincend, and he certainly hadn’t been willing to teach. “Doesn’t change anything, does it?”

“It does not.” With that, Ferran turned and left Tan and Amia standing with the lifeless body of the archivist.

They stood for a moment until Tan could no longer tolerate the proximity to the fallen archivist. Amia took his hand and led him away, back to where the ground sloped back toward the cavern. As much beauty as there was in having all the elementals converge, part of him hated this place. Each time he’d been here, he’d nearly died.

“Some good has come from here,” Amia said, reading his thoughts.

“The draasin. You.” Tan stared at the valley and the rocks where he’d once died. If not for the nymid, he would have been gone. Amia would have been gone. “Other than that? I’ve nearly died here twice. If not for the draasin, I
would
have died here twice.”

“You really think so little of what you did?”

Lacertin stood behind them. He wore a short sword with runes carved along the surface, nearly a twin of the one Roine carried. A warrior’s sword, one only those capable of shaping all the elements could carry and use. He was dressed strangely for the kingdoms in pants of deep red leather and a black jacket buttoned tight across his chest. Hard lines worked around the corners of his eyes.

How had he appeared without Tan sensing him? Earth sensing was his strength. He’d spent years climbing mountains like these with his father—a man he only recently learned was an earth shaper—learning to stretch his sensing so that it became easy. Somehow, Lacertin still avoided detection.

Tan stood, putting himself between Lacertin and Amia.

“Lacertin. I thought you’d left.”

Lacertin considered Tan with an amused smile. “Theondar would like it if I left,” he agreed. “As would the others, I think. But this place is not theirs to defend. As shapers, they recognize that.”

“What do you want from me?”

Tan asked it with more agitation than intended. He
should
be thankful. Had Lacertin not arrived, the Incendin shaper likely would have succeeded and they would have been destroyed. But it was hard thinking of him as anything different than the warrior who had led the lisincend into the cavern after the artifact. Could they really forgive him for what he’d done?

Lacertin looked at him askance. “When you stop thinking others have power you do not, you will be formidable, Tannen.” He smiled. It appeared forced, stretching the corners of his eyes even more. “Besides, you alone in the kingdoms recognized that it was not simply the draasin attacking, but that Incendin was behind the attack as well. Had the kingdoms succeeded—had they destroyed the last of the draasin—Incendin would be one step closer to their end goal.”

“You knew what they were after?”

“Not at first, but Incendin has records dating back nearly as far as the archives at the university. As I had seen both…”

Amia looked from Tan to Lacertin. “What is Incendin after?”

“You’ve already seen it,” Lacertin said.

“The twisting of fire?”

“They wish to connect to fire more directly. That has always been their goal. From the first of the Incendin to this…new creature. They claim the shaping allows them to serve fire more directly. And that is what Fur tells the king. But even Fur must serve—not control, not like the draasin.”

Amia’s eyes grew dark the way they did when she was troubled. “I still don’t understand.”

“Incendin wanted the draasin destroyed, but not because they attacked the lisincend,” Lacertin explained. “There was another reason, a reason they were willing to risk a bargain with spirit shapers.”

“If the draasin were destroyed, another elemental would replace them,” Tan explained. “I found records of it in the book I took from the archives.”

“But the other fire elementals are saa and inferin. They’re almost too weak to be considered lesser elementals,” Amia said.

“Which was Incendin’s plan all along,” Lacertin said.

The archivist said the plan was in place. Could that really be it? Had they worked with Incendin to displace the draasin? But for what reason?

“There has to be a greater elemental,” Tan answered. “When I stood in the pool of spirit, that became clear to me. They have not always been static. Even the udilm have weakened over time, with the nymid growing stronger as the kingdoms were claimed from the ocean.”

Lacertin studied Tan. “How is it you know? It took me years of studying to learn.”

“I found it in the archives,” he answered.

He considered telling Lacertin more, explaining the book on the draasin he’d come across in the race to escape the Incendin fire shaper and the archives, but how much should he trust Lacertin? After everything he’d heard of him,
could
he trust him?

“Much of what is written in the archives is done in
Ishthin
.” Lacertin waited. When Tan didn’t say anything more, he chuckled. “Even knowing what I do, you still surprise me, Tannen.”

Amia looked at Lacertin. “Are you implying the lisincend sought to become one of the elementals?”

Lacertin took a deep breath. “It is the artifact,” he began. “A creation made by the oldest scholars and likely with the best intentions, but it is apparent there were other uses for its power.”

“What is it? What does it do?” Tan asked. “And how is it you know so much about the artifact?” Roine suspected it allowed the user to communicate with the elementals, but Tan thought that unlikely to be the only reason. If that were the case, the ancient warriors would not have placed such heavy protections around it.

Lacertin motioned toward the rock and raised his eyebrows as if waiting for Tan’s approval. Tan stepped to the side, letting the warrior pass. He stood atop the rock, staring out over the valley, looking from the lake to the trees and finally to the sky.

“I have spent the last twenty-five years trying to understand the artifact. It was the last assignment given to me by King Ilton before he passed.”

Tan blinked. “You were serving the king all this time?”

Lacertin’s face hardened and his body stiffened. “I have never stopped serving the king. Everything I have done has been at his command.”

“But when he died… what they claim you did…”

“In a way, all of it was true. I entered the king’s chambers after his passing. I went to Ilianna’s quarters. I tried to convince...” Lacertin trailed off and shook his head. “It no longer matters. Not after all this time. Only reclaiming the artifact matters. The ancient warriors knew they needed to protect it. That’s why they placed it here. But there must have been another reason for placing the artifact here, in this place of convergence.”