Tan was startled away then. The draasin was not only bold, but proud and caring, much like Asboel. There was much of his father in him, but he was different in significant ways. He didn’t fear the connection to others. The draasin had seen how Maelen had helped, and other than the chains, had not minded working with Incendin.
Would that be enough to find his name?
It would have to be. It was all that he had.
Tan thought about a name, praying his choice would have the necessary power. It had the potential to decide much of the draasin’s future. Any name he chose had to be fitting.
The fluttering sense of the draasin faded even more. There wasn’t any more time for him to wait. Delay meant that he would lose the draasin altogether.
He considered what he knew of
Ishthin.
The ancient language was at the heart of Asboel and Sashari’s names. It was the heart of the name Asboel had given him. Whatever he chose had to match the draasin. Bold. Caring. Unafraid. And fire.
Amia pressed to the forefront of his mind.
Asgar
.
The word circled in Tan’s mind, the translation coming to him, the gift of understanding
Ishthin
coming from Amia months ago. As he considered the word, the way that it felt when using it for the draasin, he decided that it fit.
Now to bind the name. He feared that would be the hardest part. Shaping together each of the elementals, he pulled on fire most strongly. He borrowed spirit from Amia and pushed this through the connection with the sword, and then through spirit and the fire bond.
The sense of the draasin faded.
Tan grasped toward it and, on a powerful surge of shaping, said the name:
Asgar.
The sword flared brightly, mixing with the shaping, powering the connection to the draasin. The name itself seemed to flash, burning with power. Tan drew on it, adding this power to the strength of his shaping, mixing spirit and fire and merging it with the name.
Then he waited. Tan didn’t know if it would work—if it
could
work—but there was nothing more that he could do.
He released the power that he’d been holding, letting it out from him, and sagged to the ground, energy drained completely. His eyes fell closed and he couldn’t tell if he blacked out.
Maelen.
Tan rolled toward Asboel—his friend—and met his eyes.
I’m sorry, Asboel. Maybe I’m not strong enough.
Asboel made the strange clucking sound that Tan had learned was laughter.
You should look through my eyes sometime, Maelen.
He rested his head next to Tan.
Asgar. He lives.
Tan blinked, but it had grown dark and his vision didn’t completely clear. He sat up slowly, looking over at the hatchling. The hatchling breathed.
It worked?
You served the Mother, Maelen.
You approve?
Asboel snorted again.
You have done well.
T
an stood along the shores of the Valish River as it flowed toward Ethea. Here, on the banks of the river as it wound from Vatten and into the capital, the river wasn’t nearly as wide as it was where it spilled into the sea far to the north, but it moved swiftly, whitecaps forming around the massive smooth stones scattered through the riverbed, as if long ago tossed by earth shapers.
The river had cut through the earth over the years, leaving a deep canyon cutting through this part of the land. Steep, sheer walls rose up nearly a hundred feet on either shore, black stone peppered with streaks of silver and red. The steady rushing of water echoed off the walls, bouncing up and out of the cavern. High up along the wall near him was the shadow of an opening. This was where the draasin entered into the tunnels that eventually reached all the way to Ethea.
“Why are we here?” Amia asked.
In spite of the shade of the canyon, her blue eyes caught the light, making them practically glow. Her golden hair was pinned up behind her ears and a wide band of gold circled her neck. She still had not replaced the silver band the Aeta Mothers wore.
Tan wondered if she ever intended to reclaim the silver. Memories of what had happened to her weighed heavily on her mind, preventing her from wanting to reclaim her past, but she was now First Mother. Without the band of silver, she was more of the kingdoms than of the Aeta. Even her dress leaned more traditionally Ethea, a simple yellow gown still more formal than should be worn when traveling with Tan. She had not yet retaken the colorful garb of the Aeta, if she ever would. She might be First Mother, but she stood in that position with one foot outside the People.
“We still haven’t found the other hatchling,” he said.
“Asboel still searches?” Amia asked.
Tan nodded. “And Sashari remains here. I think she wishes to be out with him.”
“You know her thoughts now, too?” She asked it with no suggestion that he should not.
“The fire bond is easier now that I know what it is.”
Even here, down near water, Tan sensed fire. Now that he understood how to reach it, he could access the connection within him, much as he’d once reached for his connection to spirit. Reaching for the fire bond took focus, and strength of will, but awareness of fire blazed within him.
All around, fire came from the rocks baking in the sun, leaving them warm. The veins of color running through the rock caught and stored more of the sun’s heat and let it radiate away. Strands of greenery growing along the shore had threads of fire burning within. Even the reeds nearly covered by water carried fire. Perhaps Asboel had been right: fire
was
life.
“You did well.” She took his hand and pulled her toward him, kissing him gently on the lips.
He kissed her back, welcoming her to him as he slid a hand down her back, thankful for this one moment of quiet. These days, such moments were few. Lately, it seemed as if he were destined to battle constantly and not have the quiet life he dared dreaming of having with her. Perhaps if they managed to stop the Utu Tonah, they could finally settle, though even then, Tan doubted he would have peace. The elementals would still call to him, demanding his aid. And given the gifts that he possessed, how could he not help? That was the reason the Great Mother had granted them to him. So he would take these quiet moments and enjoy them.
“I fear that Par-shon has the other hatchling,” he said. That was the only explanation that Tan could come up with. It didn’t solve
how
Par-shon had managed to reach the hatchlings. Reaching them would have required drawing them from the caverns. Perhaps when Asgar was fully healed, they could understand what happened.
Amia pressed against him, hugging him tightly. She radiated peace and relaxation, though Tan didn’t know whether that was shaped or simply from the fact that they were together. “I trust that you’ll find her.”
“And if he’s bonded her?”
Amia tensed. Such bonding would make the Utu Tonah incredibly powerful, but they didn’t know what that would mean. Tan could barely count the number of bonds the Utu Tonah had stolen when they’d faced each other the last time.
At least Enya had already bonded, providing some protection. Separating a bond from the draasin was not easy. But the hatchlings were different. The young could bond, but would it be with the same strength as the older draasin? Even Asboel didn’t seem to know.
“Eventually, I have to face him. I think I’m the only one who can,” Tan said, putting words to the fear that he’d felt since they last faced the Utu Tonah. It had taken the strength of the draasin, and the help of many shapers, and still they hadn’t stopped him. He’d turned away of his own accord.
Amia rested her head on his chest. “I’m afraid for you.”
Tan felt a hint of her fear through the bond but suspected she held some back from him. “I don’t know enough to survive. I’ve bonded three elementals, but he’s bonded dozens. Even if I were to manage to bond as many elementals as the Utu Tonah, I’m not sure it would make a difference.”
“What if the key isn’t bonding to each of the elementals?”
“How will I compete with his power?”
Amia glanced around her, motioning toward the rock and the water. “You sense the elementals here, don’t you? You could speak to them?”
“You know that I can.”
“And you’ve shown that you can summon the strength of the elementals without needing to bond to them. That was how you called the other shapers to you in the place of convergence. That calling… it was incredibly powerful. It gives you an advantage that he does not have. You can use it, and I think he knows it and fears you for it. Without his bonds, what is he? Without yours, you still speak to the elementals.”
Tan suspected that the Utu Tonah was able to shape, but did he rely on the bonding to give him most of his power, or was he a powerful shaper as well? If he could somehow separate the Utu Tonah from the bonds, he would learn, but that would take more strength—and time—than Tan dared. He didn’t have any other ideas about how to stop him.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
They embraced for another moment, the soft sounds of the water swirling around them, and then Tan lifted them on a shaping of wind, carrying them toward the shaded cavern entrance. It was narrow here, and he’d wondered how the draasin—especially Asboel and Sashari—managed to squeeze through it and out into the open. He’d never seen the draasin use the passage, so maybe Asboel wasn’t completely honest with him and there was another way out that the larger draasin used.
The tunnel turned sharply, darkening as it did, the light from the canyon unable to penetrate this deep into the cavern. Tan shaped a ball of flame, drawing saa toward it and then releasing control of the fire to the elemental. The flame remained steady in spite of the gusting wind.
Tan shaped them along on the wind. This part of the cavern was natural, formed long ago, before the river had cut deeply into the rock. Probably the cavern had been here before the land had been reclaimed from the sea. Once, all of this part of the kingdoms had been underwater, the land nothing more than the seabed. The ancient warriors had shaped the land, drawing it away from the sea to expand the kingdoms. Doing so had shifted the center of the land, pulling it away from the place of convergence high up in the mountains of Galen, moving it toward Ethea itself. He still didn’t fully understand how that shifted the elemental focus of the land, but he knew that somehow, it had.
A wide opening branched off from the natural cavern, and they floated along that. Now they were nearer Ethea, the walls were shaped. They were smooth, almost perfectly so, and set periodically with shaper lanterns. Tan did not light them, preferring the light from saa. Other tunnels branched off, one of them, he’d learned, leading directly into the draasin den. Tan stuck to the main tunnel.
Now that he’d discovered the fire bond, he could feel the way saa pulled on it, the way that saa was
drawn
by it. He’d never spoken to saa, but had seen the strength the fire elemental managed in Par-shon. For some reason, different lands had elementals of differing strength. He had yet to understand why. In the kingdoms, saa was weakened compared to what he had known while in Par-shon. Not weak, though. He had a growing appreciation for the hidden strength of the elemental.
The fire bond drew him toward Sashari, and toward Asgar, now restored and returned to the den where he recuperated with Sashari watching over him. Tan had not seen him since the healing. The draasin had been determined to move their young by themselves.
At the massive door, he shaped spirit and fire, opening it. A pile of pale white bones was scattered in the corner. A wide hole in the back wall, made with the assistance of golud, gave the draasin the exit to the outside world, merging at some point with the tunnel and the cavern before emptying out by the river. Now Sashari filled the den, her head nearly brushing the ceiling, spikes scraping across the rock. Had golud not invested the stone, she would have destroyed the room.
Asgar curled along the wall. His long tail wrapped around him. Papery wings were rolled and tucked under him as well. He breathed steadily, hot breath coming out in steady hisses of steam.
Sashari eyed him as he entered. Tan tentatively reached through the fire bond to her.
Asboel hunts, Maelen,
she said.
I sense Asboel. I came to see how the hatchling heals.
You may use his name, Maelen. You were the one who gifted it to him.
Tan pulled the door closed behind him. Amia stayed near, remaining close at his side. She did not fear the draasin, but neither of them had spent much time around any draasin other than Asboel.
You have not shared your feelings about the name,
he said.
It is… fitting. It is early for one of the draasin to be named. He had barely made his first hunt, and none yet solo.
She let out a slow breath.
Without the name, he would have returned to the Mother, so I must accept that this was her choosing.
Sashari flicked her tail slightly.
Asgar. The word… It has strength in the old tongue. You chose well, Maelen.
Tan stopped near the hatchling. The light from Asgar’s flame reflected off his scales, making them bluish-silver rather than solid blue. Tan reached with the fire bond, touching briefly and lightly on Asgar’s mind, hesitant even to do that much.
Awareness of the hatchling surged into him. The draasin was weak, but growing stronger. Lying near Sashari, he was content. But another emotion simmered within him, that of concern for his sister. That had been what had driven him, nearly leading him to lose his life.
I would like to know how he escaped,
Tan said to Sashari.
Asgar’s eyes fluttered open and he stretched, letting his thin wings unfurl. He reached out with his forelegs, his claws scraping harmlessly across the stone. He twisted his neck, turning his head to face Tan.
Their eyes met and Asgar did not look away.
Maelen.
Asgar’s voice sounded thin and soft and carried none of the ferocious roar that Asboel so easily managed. He tilted his head as he spoke, as if considering what to say to Tan.
What happened to you?
Tan asked.
He knew much from the memories he’d borrowed to help determine Asgar’s name, but there were parts that remained unclear. Where had the draasin been when they were captured? It mattered for Tan to know how far into the kingdoms they had risked coming. They knew that Par-shon shapers had learned to hide themselves using shapings of earth, but that didn’t explain how far Par-shon had already reached. How many of the Par-shon shapers had it taken to capture them?
Asgar glanced at Sashari.
Mother will be angry to know.
Tan almost laughed at the response.
Mothers only want their children to be safe. Now that she knows you’re alive—
She will never let me hunt.
That brought a true surge of laughter. He imagined Sashari much like his own mother in some ways, the way that she sought to protect her young. Tan’s mother was a shaper of amazing skill, and in spite of everything that Tan had become, she still sought to protect him. At times, she even worked against him, trying to keep him where she thought he would be safe. Now that he’d been named Athan, and in some ways led the kingdom’s shapers, there might not be a way for her to do that.
You chose the Name.
Tan crouched next to Asgar, getting down so that he could be at his eye level.
I did what was needed for you to live.
The hatchling draasin shuffled toward the wall, moving away from Sashari and keeping his tail tucked around him. His wings unfurled and then rolled back toward his body. He stretched again before setting down to the ground.
Would you have chosen differently?
Asgar. Mother shared what it means.
It’s a strong name. Wear it with pride.
The draasin yawned.
Like you wear Maelen?
Your father gifted me with the name. I have no choice but to wear it proudly.
He sensed amusement from Asgar as he relaxed against the den wall. Even sitting up and speaking to Tan wore him out. It would take time before he fully recovered. Tan would see that he had the time needed and the necessary safety. Ethea would keep the draasin safe. The place of convergence around the city would keep them safe.
You will find her?
Asgar asked as he set his head back to the ground. His words became distant and thick with his fatigue.
I will do what I can to find her,
Tan promised.
To do that, I need to know where you were taken.
We traveled north. Toward the mountains. It was where Mother taught us to hunt. We thought we could go alone, that we would be safe.
You weren’t drawn out of the den?
Asgar turned away from him and Tan knew the truth.
You should have been safe in those lands.
The wind was taken from us. I think Mother and Father might have known some way of escaping, but we didn’t. When they came for us, there was nothing I could do. I struggled. Two fell because of me!
Asgar said the last with a sense of tired pride.
But as much as I wanted, I could not get her free.