Changed By Fire (Book 3) (20 page)

Z
ephra
, who was familiar with the route out of the palace dungeons, took the lead. The place stunk of rot and human waste. Several times, he gagged as they made their way along the rows of cells until his mother crafted a tiny shaping she fitted over his nostrils, blocking the stench but not stopping him from breathing. Again, he marveled at her control.

They paused at a wooden stair at the end of the cells. Many of the stairs were cracked. Some were missing altogether.

As his mother paused, flickers of translucent ara passed in front of her, quickly disappearing. She turned her head and waited.

“Where’s Roine?” Tan asked.

“Up. You should know that Theondar was injured. He managed to protect his mind more quickly than I did. In order for the First Mother’s shaping to take hold, his shaping had to be lowered.” She looked over at him. “I do not know how much he’ll be able to help.”

“And Lacertin?”

“I did not see Lacertin.”

Outside the city, when the warriors came, he felt certain it was more than simply Roine. Lacertin would have come too, but what if he hadn’t? If his goal was to destroy the lisincend, would he not take the opportunity to attack them here?

“Are you finished with your shaping? Can we go?” he asked.

“You knew I shaped?”

“You spoke to ara. I don’t know what you said, but…” He trailed off and shrugged.

She offered a tight smile. “It is unfortunate there are none who can train you.”

“Why?”

She stroked her chin, studying him. “It’s curious that we haven’t seen a warrior in generations. And now there’s you—not only a shaper, but one able to speak to the elementals. I wish I knew what it meant.”

His mother started up the stairs without saying anything more.

Tan watched her go. Rips gouged the fabric of her heavy cloak. Wind fluttered it behind her and it trailed up the stairs, reminding him of Elle and her too-large clothes. When she nearly reached the top, he started up after her.

The steps groaned under his weight. About halfway up, the wood cracked and he buckled forward, barely catching himself in time.

A pillow of wind coalesced beneath his foot, propping him up.

Tan looked to see if his mother had shaped him but she was focused on the door rather than on him. Ara then.

Thank you
.

A nearly translucent face shimmered in the wind before fading.

He hurried up the rest of the stairs, meeting his mother at the top.

She held one hand against the door. A soft shaping built from her, pressing through the door. Her breath held for a moment and then she let it out with a quiet whisper. The door opened softly, inching forward.

Tan readied a fire shaping, uncertain what they would find on the other side.

His mother also held a shaping, stepping through the door. Then she grunted, letting out her breath. Her shaping disappeared in a huff as she dropped to the ground.

The door opened the rest of the way. Tan’s shaping faltered as he saw Cianna standing on the other side. Energy practically sizzled off her, mixing with the heat radiating off her body. Even her expression, her gaze fixed on him, smoked, and her hair stood on end like she was electrified.

Fire leapt from her hand, shooting toward Tan.

He inhaled quickly and pushed the flame away, using a shaping of fire and earth.

A determined expression stole across her face. “It was a mistake for you to return here.”

Tan met her eyes. “Why have you done this, Cianna?” He recognized the heat coming from her: the transformation had already begun.

For a moment, a struggle worked across her face. He remembered little from his time under the influence of fire, from when he strained to find some measure of control, but he remembered the battle to hold himself together, to avoid pushing too much of himself into the fire. The same was happening with Cianna.

He tried crafting a shaping of spirit to gauge her injuries.

She attacked before he could pull it together. Fingers of flame flickered from her, too fast for him to keep up. Each nearly reached him—nearly reached his mother. Tan wrapped himself in a shaping of air, sending a request to ara for strength as he did. Between his shaping and ara’s assistance, he managed to hold her fire shaping away, but it wouldn’t last. Not with the strength she now commanded.

“You spoke to me of control. You need to control it or it will take over.”

Her eyes cleared for a moment and her shaping faltered. “I—” she began.

Tan dared not wait. He pushed the shaping toward her, wrapping her in a funnel of wind fueled by ara and his shaping. With it, she struck the wall behind her and fell, dropping to the ground.

Fire raged in her but fell silent for the moment. Tan touched his mother’s cheek, checking on her. She breathed evenly.

Tan reached Cianna. She lay splayed across the ground, her bright red hair spilled around her, almost like blood pooling. Rather than touching her, he took a deep breath and forged a shaping of all the elements, binding them together to let him reach for spirit. As he did, he pressed it toward her, listening, asking again for ara to guide his shaping. Nothing happened, not as it did with his mother.

Would fire help? Would the draasin?

The sense of Asboel came closer, itching at the front of his mind: The draasin neared Ethea. As he thought of Asboel, his sense of the fire elemental came closer. There weren’t many miles left before the draasin attacked the lisincend. Tan had to move faster, to free Cianna so she could help him help Asboel.

Tan needed all the help he could find. He would need to free Cianna from the spirit shaping.

Asboel
.

His call went out quietly, enough to reach through the connection he shared with the draasin, sending with it a request for help.

He held the shaping on Cianna in place. Would Asboel guide it as ara had guided him?

At first, nothing happened. The shaping remained unformed and without direction. Then, with a sense of irritation, it surged toward Cianna. The shaping raced over her, flashing through her. It was there and the next moment it had burned out, pressed against her.

Cianna’s eyes fluttered open.

Tan readied another shaping, prepared to restrain the fire shaper if needed.

“Tan?” she asked. “You… you
did
something to me.” For the first time since he’d met her, she sounded uncertain.

“A spirit shaping worked through you. I did what I could to free you from it. I’m not certain it worked.”

She shivered and rubbed her hands over her arms. “They forced it on me.”

Tan didn’t need to know what she meant.

He offered his hand, intending to help her to her feet. Hesitantly, she took it. Heat flowed from her fingers but Tan could tell it wasn’t the same as before. The transformation had reversed. “Can they…can they force me again?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. I don’t know enough about the shaping used on you—”

“You said you freed me from it.”

“And I think I did.” Asboel gave him a reluctant confirmation. “But the shaping
I
used was guided by the elementals.”

“The draasin? It is here?”

“No.”

Relief flooded through her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You freed me.”

“And I think this shaping protects you.” He didn’t know how it would protect her—if he had more time to ask Asboel, he would find out, but he suspected the shaping had done more than simply remove the effect of the First Mother’s shaping.

Cianna must have felt better because she scanned the room. “Zephra lives!” she breathed.

“You didn’t know?”

“We were nearing the Fire Fortress. A pair of lisincend approached. Zephra attacked one, drawing him off. I had not expected her to survive.”

His mother hadn’t told him about the lisincend. “And the other?”

“Theondar and Lacertin destroyed it.”

How many lisincend remained? How many had transformed into the twisted lisincend like Alisz?

“Theondar is here?” he asked.

“I… I was to guard him, I think.” She motioned toward a nearby door.

Tan jumped toward the door, shaping it open to reveal Roine hanging from chains. His face was blistered and charred. Most of one side of his body was damaged. Burns worked across his feet, peeling much of the skin away. Rot had already started to set in. Something sharp stuck out of his back. A quick glimpse showed Tan it was Roine’s own sword.

He gagged, turning away. There was no way Roine still lived—but the chains holding him stirred. Roine’s chest rose and fell slowly.

“Roine?” Tan asked hesitantly. How could he live after what had been done to him? Why would they force him to live? What purpose did it serve?

Roine twitched but then stopped moving.

“Theondar?”

One eye wouldn’t open. The other blinked slowly, peeling back to look at Tan. He opened his mouth and croaked out a word. “No.”

Before freeing him from the chains, Tan needed to remove the sword. If he didn’t, anything else would only cause more damage.

His shapings depended on the elementals. Here, in the palace, access to the elementals was limited. Ara had followed, but likely more for his mother. He could call the draasin, but using the fire elemental for a shaping was limited. If he were right, the nymid were down below, mixed in the water around the golud-infused stone.

The shaping would have to come from him.

He hated that he would have to use fire on Roine, especially after what he’d been through, but what choice did he have?

Tan steadied his breathing and grabbed the sword. He pushed a trickle of fire shaping through it and, as gently as he could, slipped the sword out of the warrior’s body. Another delicate fire shaping sealed the wound. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do for now.

Then, with a shaping of wind following how his mother had done it, Tan broke Roine free from the chains and lowered the man slowly to the ground. He had held Roine’s sword before, but never unsheathed. Surprisingly, the blade felt cool.

Roine held onto him with the single eye. “No,” he said again.

“You can have your sword back when you’re better.” Tan swallowed, finding it hard to keep from vomiting. Roine’s skin felt leathery and it cracked at Tan’s touch. He needed healing, but healing of the sort that was beyond anything Tan could fathom.

The elementals, however, could heal and the nymid were down in the tunnels. He could shape water and have the nymid guide him to heal his friend.

“Cianna!” he called.

She came into the cell. Her face tightened, revealing none of the weakness Tan had felt at seeing Roine so injured. “Theondar?” She spoke softly. “Did I do this to you?”

Tan jerked around. Had Cianna tortured Roine? “You did this?”

Pain shone in her eyes. “I don’t know. I remember being shown shapings I had never seen before, feeling the overwhelming urge to try them. I think there was another with me, watching. Suffering.” She swallowed. “I am so sorry.” Her voice came out hoarse and caught toward the end.

Theondar took a struggling breath. “No!” This time, he spoke with more force than before.

“She won’t harm you, Roine. She’s been freed of the shaping.” He twisted and called over his shoulder. “Cianna, help me lift him. We need to carry him down the stairs.”

“Down? He needs healing—”

“And he’ll get it. Help me.”

Cianna carefully grabbed Roine’s feet and helped Tan carry the warrior. They made their way out of the cell and down the hall, pausing long enough for him to glance at his mother. Roine saw her too. A surge of violence worked through him as he tried kicking himself free. “No!” Roine finally sagged, falling into a state of unconsciousness.

Cianna held onto him as they reached the door leading down the stairs, back toward the tunnels.

Cianna pulled open the door. “These stairs haven’t been used in ages. Even the lisincend weren’t willing to go down them.”

Tan shifted Roine so he could carry the warrior more easily. “I came up them.”

“Up? How did you come from below?”

“I’ll show you. But we have to hurry.”

Cianna started down the stairs, moving cautiously—maybe too cautiously. At this rate, they wouldn’t reach the nymid in time to help Roine.

“Cianna?”

“These won’t hold us.”

“They held well enough—”

But they hadn’t. As he said it, one of the wooden stairs cracked, splitting with a loud explosion. Cianna fell, dropping Roine.

Tan reached for her but couldn’t catch her. He adjusted his grip on Roine before the warrior could follow Cianna down, but froze. Cianna had stopped falling. She hovered in the air, held up by a wind shaping Tan hadn’t made. Had he?

Cianna’s chest heaved with deep, fear-laden breaths. She looked up, past Tan, and said, “Zephra?”

Zephra’s small form stood in the doorway, somehow filling it. “It’s Roine. He needs healing,” Tan said.

Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll guard you from this side. Be careful.”

“I will. I need to hurry.” He hesitated. “Mother—” He caught himself and swallowed. “Amia is somewhere in here. Find her for me. Make sure she’s safe. If anything happens to her…”

A pained expression came to his mother’s face. “I will do what I can.”

It would be enough.

Cianna sucked in a quick breath. Zephra’s shaping carried Tan, Cianna, and Roine to the floor below.

Far above, worry and fear wrinkled his mother’s forehead, but she had a determined set to her jaw.

“Where now?” Cianna asked.

Tan pointed toward the door at the end of the hall and they hurried to it as fast as they could while still carrying the unconscious Roine.

Cianna tried the door. “This is shaped closed. Like those in the lower archives.”

“I will open it.”

“You?”

He focused on the shaping, mixing fire and earth and wind and water together. It became easier with each shaping. As they joined, he quested out with spirit, pressing the shaping into the rune carved into the door. It glowed softly for a moment before opening with a quiet hiss.

She eyed the stairs leading into the tunnel below. “At least these are stone.”