Prelude to Fire: Parts 1 and 2 (12 page)

T
he street
outside the archives was busy during the early morning. With the sun only beginning to creep over the rooftops staggered throughout the city and a haze hanging in the air, Lacertin made his way toward the archives. The normally cool breeze gusting through Ethea had shifted, leaving a warm, southerly wind. Usually such changes meant storms were coming, but the sky was otherwise clear.

He leaned on a shop across from the archives, ducking his head low and running his hand through his beard. At least he’d taken the time to trim it so he didn’t look quite so wild. Were he to remain in the city, he figured he’d need to shave completely. There were appearances to keep up as a warrior.

With his cloak wrapped around him, he still wished he knew what had happened to his sword. Wallyn claimed the archivists had taken it when he’d returned, but if that were the case, it would have been returned to the university stores or the palace. For what he had in mind, he would need his sword.

First, he had to do what he’d promised Ilianna. She’d asked for help understanding the plates, but he doubted that he would find anything in the archives on his own. The archives were massive, rows and rows of ancient texts, each shelf older than the one before, storing centuries of knowledge. And that was only on the main level.

There were deeper levels to the archives, but few ever were allowed to reach them. Even as a warrior, Lacertin wasn’t sure that he’d be allowed access.

That was why he’d come today.

Early morning, there were few archivists. Those who served at this time of day were usually junior, with less experience. That wasn’t the only reason the early morning mattered for what he needed.

One of the double doors to the archives opened, and a wide, black-robed figure stepped out. He squinted at the sun and looked up and down the street for a moment before crossing and making his way toward Lacertin.

Jax had a wide face, and his nose wrinkled, as if the smells along the street were intolerable after being inside the archives for as long as he had. He wore his hair short, the only nod to a childhood spent in Nara, where Lacertin had known him first.

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Jax asked. He glanced again up the street and hugged his arms around his growing abdomen. When he’d been a boy, Jax had been as lean as Lacertin, and nearly as skilled a climber. Living in Ethea had changed him in ways that were different than what Lacertin had faced.

“Just two old friends meeting to talk,” Lacertin said.

“Meeting on the street? I’d rather a tavern and a mug of ale if that’s all you wanted, Ach.”

At the mention of his childhood nickname, Lacertin smiled. Even when he saw Jax these days, his friend never used his nickname. No one else in Ethea knew it.
Ach
was from old Rens, and a derivative of his full name, but the meaning was what mattered. Sun burnt. In some ways, it was more fitting than ever.

“I don’t have time for taverns,” Lacertin said.

“You never have time. You’re always too busy serving, never taking time to live.”

“If I didn’t, the kingdoms would have suffered a dozen times over.” He glanced up the street and nodded. “If it’s a tavern you want…”

Jax smiled. “Good. At least I can take advantage of the peace you’ve provided.”

Lacertin made as if to poke him in the belly as they walked. “I won’t argue that you’ve taken advantage of it.” Seeing Jax glance over his shoulder again, Lacertin guided him up the street to a small tavern with a fading sign with a pair of dice over it.

Inside was dark. Only a few people were in the tavern at this time of day. It was too early for the regulars and late enough that those coming for breakfast had already departed. A few lanterns hung on the wall, creating a hazy smoke. A musician polishing his lute near the back of the tavern glanced up as they entered before turning back to his work.

Lacertin took a table near the front of the tavern and waved away the waitress who approached. Jax crossed his arms over his chest as he took a seat, considering him with pursed lips. “What do you need from me, Ach? When you sent the message, I thought it some kind of mistake. In all the years we’ve been here—”

“I’ve visited countless times,” Lacertin said. Jax had been the reason he had been allowed into the archives before he’d ever fully learned to control his shaping. Students were allowed access, but not the kind of access that Jax had offered. To this day, Lacertin wondered if the other archivists had learned about his presence.

Lacertin leaned toward the window and glanced down the street, staring out at the stout building that housed the archives. From here—and even from the street—it didn’t seem like much. The stone was darker than the surrounding buildings, and solid. Few knew that the earth elemental golud had been coaxed into the stone by the ancient shapers building the archives, creating a more stable structure than stone alone would have managed. From here, the building didn’t seem all that impressive, but it wasn’t until inside the archives, descending into the lower levels, that the impressive nature of what had been built was apparent.

“Why the summons, then? You’re a warrior, probably the best the kingdoms has. You’re welcome in the archives. Why all this… subterfuge?”

Lacertin suppressed a laugh at the comment, realizing as he did that there was very little funny about what he was doing. Jax had hit directly on his concern without knowing. As far as the rest of the city was concerned, Ilton was dead. What he did now
was
subterfuge, and done at the behest of the princess.

“Because I need something, but it has to be discrete. I don’t want anyone else knowing that I’m searching for it.”

Jax rested his arms on table. At a nearby booth, an older man picked at a plate of runny eggs that Jax focused on. “We’re always discrete.”

“This is not a usual request.”

Jax pulled his attention away from the food and waited for Lacertin to continue.

How to explain what he needed? He didn’t want to risk Ilianna, but he needed to reference some of what was in the books she had. This was the part with which he wasn’t entirely certain how to proceed.

“Where do you keep the oldest books in the archives?”

“Many are old, Ach. That’s the entire purpose of the archives.”

“Yes, I know that many are old, but I’m asking about the
very
old volumes.” What Ilianna had would have been nearly a thousand years old. Would Jax even be allowed to access volumes that dated back so far?

Jax leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “How old are you talking, Lacertin?”

“It’s Lacertin now?”

“When you make a request to the archives, I think it’s best that it come from the warrior, not the friend, don’t you?”

Lacertin sighed. He had hoped his friend would have helped. Would it be necessary to be the warrior to find what he needed? “I need to know where the oldest volumes in the archives are stored.”

Jax leaned toward him. “I can’t answer what you want to know.”

“Why is that?”

Jax lowered his voice and glanced around. It was almost as if he was afraid that he would be discovered here with Lacertin. Going to the tavern had been Jax’s idea. “There are restricted sections of the archives, and then there are
restricted
sections of the archives. The warriors are allowed in the most of the archives, but I’m not even allowed entry into the others, and I’ve been an archivist for nearly a decade.”

“Where are they?”

Jax leaned back and laughed, waving his hand at one of the servers weaving through the tavern. When she stopped at the table, Jax pointed to the booth and smiled. The woman glanced at Lacertin, but he shook his head. He should eat, but he didn’t have much of an appetite. Maybe when this was all done, when he’d helped Ilianna find what she searched for, he would be able to eat, but for now, he wanted nothing more than to finish this last assignment for Ilton. There would not be another.

“Jax?”

“The archives are layered,” he said, setting his hand overtop the other. “The main archives where students and shapers are allowed access. Beneath that are the restricted sections.” He wiggled the fingers of the hand underneath the other. “And then there are still others.” He slipped the top hand beneath the table and poked only his fingers out. “What you’re asking for is where you would find those texts.”

“Why are they so hidden?”

“Hidden?” Jax asked, leaning forward again. “
Protected.
Those works are as old as the archives, as old as the university. Many are written by the founders of the city. They
need
to be protected.”

Lacertin smiled. “You seem to know quite a bit about them for someone who has never seen them.”

“Copies. Copies of copies,” Jax said. “Some have never been copied.”

It was much the same as what Ilianna had. She didn’t have the original texts, but what she had were ancient. The runes stamped on the cover spoke to that. That was why she needed to see the originals. “Do they ever leave things out of the copies?”

Jax frowned. “Who can say? The originals are often left untouched, using the copies to pass on the information, to keep the original safe. Even touching some of those pages is enough to damage them. Many aren’t safe to copy any longer.”

“So you can’t help.” He said it with more frustration than he intended, and Jax only shook his head.

“Lacertin, there are
thousands
of texts in the restricted area of the archives. You could spend days—weeks—searching and not find what you sought.”

Lacertin let out a frustrated sigh. Even if he managed to gain access, he wouldn’t find what he needed in enough time to help Ilton. He would fail his king again, twice now as he lay dying.

“Why the sudden interest in this, Ach? You’ve never been the scholarly type before.”

“Then you haven’t paid attention.”

“I know that you’ve visited the archives and that you’ve spent time understanding the history of the kingdoms, but what you’re asking about harkens to the philosophy of shaping. Some the oldest theories about shaping are stored in those works.”

“It’s not all theories.”

Jax shrugged. “Do you really think there’s anything practical hidden in those books? Anything that they knew has changed in the time since it was written. Our shapers don’t shape the way the ancients did. We don’t speak to the elementals in the same way.”

“What if we could?” Lacertin asked.

He’d been thinking about what would be so powerful that parts would have to be stored separately, and what the runes stamped onto the surface might mean. At the time that the plates were made, the shapers would have been able to speak to the elementals. It only made sense that what they allowed access to included the strength of the elementals. If that were the case, then the shaping created by those plates
would
be much more powerful than anything that was possible today.

“The world has changed, Ach. Shapers have changed, grown weaker over time. You’re a powerful shaper in our world, but do you think it would have been the same had you lived a thousand years ago? Those shapers used all the elements, but it was more than that. They could use the elementals in their shapings.”

“I know what the ancient shapers were capable of doing,” Lacertin said. “I’ve seen examples of their shapings.”

“Examples like the university, and the shapers lanterns,” Jax said. When Lacertin nodded, Jax smiled. “Think about what might be described in those books. What if those shapers describe a shaping that would be too dangerous for you to attempt? What then? Maybe the restricted section is meant to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?”

“From yourself,” Jax said.

“The only thing I need to protect is my king.”

Jax’s mouth turned into a sorrowful frown. “And he’s gone now.”

Lacertin considered his answer. Coming to Jax might have been a mistake. Jax had been embedded with the archivists too long now. The friendship they’d shared had changed.
They
had changed. No longer was Jax the young boy who looked up to Lacertin, who had followed him to Ethea in spite of the fact that he had no potential to shape, and who had somehow managed to talk his way into an apprenticeship with the archivists, one that was so rarely given. Now he was an archivist in full.

“He’s gone,” Lacertin agreed, “but the task he assigned to me is not.”

He stood, smiling at his friend, as Jax’s food was delivered. “Enjoy your breakfast, Jax.”

Jax pulled the plate in toward him and poked at the runny egg with his fork. “What will you do now?”

Such a simple question, but one without a simple answer. Lacertin still didn’t know what he would do. Ilianna needed his help, but if what Jax said was true, they wouldn’t be able to reach the area of the archives where the original version of the text was stored. Without it, would they ever be able to find the solution to the plates?

He patted Jax on the shoulder and left the tavern, leaving his oldest friend to eat alone.

L
acertin sat
in the room for healing at the university, watching Veran as he started to wake. He hadn’t bothered asking for Wallyn’s permission to wake him, not expecting that the water shaper would grant it anyway.

“Is it true?” Veran asked after a fit of coughing that reminded Lacertin so much of what he’d seen from Ilton. “Is he gone?”

Lacertin tipped his head slightly. “He’s gone.”

“And Althem rules?”

“The transition hasn’t taken place yet, if that’s what you’re asking. The time of mourning isn’t complete.”

Another five days remained. Five days before either Ilton would pass on for real or the deception would be known. He hadn’t managed to get to Ilianna again and still didn’t understand why they would have kept the truth from Althem. Unless there was a ploy to try and understand who might have poisoned Ilton, but even that seemed unlikely.

“I suppose I have you to thank,” Veran said.

“It was my fault that we were there.”

“Your fault, but my shaping.” A pained expression crossed his face as Veran rolled on the bed. “You tried to stop me, but I wouldn’t listen. Did you know what would happen?”

“I didn’t know,” Lacertin said, “but any shaping ran the risk of disturbing the shaping used to create the barrier.” He leaned toward Veran and resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose at the stench coming from him. He might have been healed, but the foul stink made it seem as if he hadn’t completely recovered. “I need to know if that’s how Pherah and Roln were attacked.” And he still needed to know what happened to Mal and Issan, but that risked admitting that he’d overheard Theondar.

Veran coughed and grabbed for his chest. “Thought the healers would have made it so it didn’t hurt so much. Every time I cough, it feels like a fish hook pulls on my lungs.” He breathed quietly for a few moments. “I don’t know what Pherah did when she reached the barrier. I wasn’t with her.”

“I thought you helped following the attack.”

“Helped, but I arrived too late. They were already gone by the time I reached the barrier, Lacertin. I know you want to know why she had to die, but there isn’t a reason. This is war.”

Lacertin clutched his hands together. It was war, but it was to be nearing the end. The barrier had been intended to finally put an end to it. Had the barrier not been in place, he didn’t think Ilton would ever have asked him to search for the plates.

Except, it hadn’t really been Ilton who’d asked. The request had come from Ilianna.

“Can you tell me who was there?” he asked. He didn’t know why it troubled him as much as it did, but he had to understand. Pherah and Roln were gone, and Veran had very nearly died in the same place.

Veran pushed up onto his elbows and looked around the room. “Help me up?”

As gently as he could, Lacertin picked him up, slipping his hands underneath him and hoisting him to a seated position. Veran leaned forward and tried to examine the bandages, but Wallyn had him too well covered for him to see. Lacertin pulled Veran’s hands away from the bandages.

“Trust me when I tell you that you don’t want to do that,” he said.

Veran sighed. “I never asked about what happened to you. I think we all take for granted your ability, Lacertin.”

“I am fine.”

“But you weren’t, were you?” Veran asked.

Lacertin hesitated before answering. How much did Veran need to know? There wasn’t any reason to keep from him what had happened, and Veran
had
gone with him to show him where Pherah had crossed.

“The shaping was difficult,” he started.

Veran started laughing but stopped and clutched at his chest. “Difficult? You shaped two people from Nara to Ethea. That’s more than a
difficult
shaping. It’s nearly impossible.” He slipped a finger beneath the dressings around his chest and tried to peek below them before shaking his head. “When I first woke, I thought I was still in Nara,” he said. “I thought I was lucky and knew that you had been with me, so figured that you’d stopped the hounds and done what you could to heal me.”

“I did what I could,” Lacertin said.

“That’s what Wallyn told me. It wasn’t until I began to realize that I was back in Ethea that I understood that you somehow managed to get me back here.” Veran smiled. “You know there are stories spreading about what you did.”

“Stories?”

Veran shrugged. “Lacertin now is a strong enough shaper that he can carry not only himself, but another. And this after fighting off a pack of hounds.”

“It was only a few hounds,” Lacertin said.

“Not in my telling.”

Lacertin laughed. After what he’d seen with Ilianna, and knowing that Ilton was dying, it felt good to laugh. “I’ve tried finding Alice, but—”

The humor left Veran’s face. “You won’t find her,” he said.

“Why not?”

“Theondar asked her to find something for Althem.”

Lacertin frowned. When he’d last seen her, she’d said nothing about searching for something for Althem. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Lacertin,” Veran began, “Althem is our king. He might not have been then, but he was nearly the king, and certainly served while Ilton lay dying. Now that Ilton
has
died, Althem leads. Theondar giving her an assignment is no different than…”

He didn’t need to finish. It had been no different than when Lacertin had made requests to warriors. As First Warrior, he spoke with the king’s voice and led the warriors. Lacertin had already been replaced.

“Do you know what she was sent to find?”

Veran shook his head, and winced. “Not until she returns.”

The door opened and Wallyn entered with Jayna trailing him. She gave him a questioning look, one that told him that he had made a mistake in not finding her after returning from the palace. Considering all that she’d done to help him, he probably
had
made a mistake in not finding her.

“He should not be up, and he most certainly should
not
be sitting,” Wallyn snapped. He pressed on Veran’s shoulders, trying to lean him back.

“I’m fine, Wallyn,” Veran said.

The water shaper sniffed. “Lacertin said the same, but then, he had broken ribs that could have punctured his lung. Your injuries were not nearly so serious. What harm could there be with an attack from hounds and their poisons?”

“Poisons?” Lacertin asked. He had thought the wound itself had been serious enough.

“You didn’t know?” Wallyn asked.

Lacertin shook his head. “I’ve never been caught by the hounds. Either we kill them or they kill us.”

“Well, their bites are venomous like a snake,” Wallyn said.

“But he didn’t get bit,” Lacertin said.

Veran nodded. “No bites. He did, however, have these massive paws.” He held his hands apart as if to demonstrate, and then swiped the air. Behind Wallyn, Jayna suppressed a grin.

“Yes, well, the paws are not thought to be quite as poisonous,” Wallyn said.

“Still poisoned, though?” Veran asked.

“Why else do you think healing has been so difficult? You have received the best care in the kingdoms, and you were lucky to have Lacertin able to bring you back to the city. It’s possible that had he not managed to return you here, you would not have survived.”

Lacertin didn’t think it was merely possible. Had he not attempted the shaping, it was likely that Veran would have died. They’d lost enough shapers to Incendin, and he hadn’t been willing to lose another warrior as well.

Veran leaned back on the cot, resting on his elbows. “Here I thought I knew what I owed Lacertin, and you go and tell me I have to find a way to thank him for more.” He winked at his fellow warrior.

Wallyn grunted, moved alongside the bed, and placed his hands on Veran’s chest, slipping them beneath the dressings. A shaping built quickly and began washing over Veran. It reminded Lacertin of the shaping that Wallyn had used on him, but there was less of the steady rhythm to it and more of a focus.

“Hmm,” Wallyn said.

“What is it, Master Wallyn?” Jayna asked.

Wallyn moved one of his hands and touched Veran on the forehead. “Do you feel flushed?”

Veran shook his head. “Only from sitting up for so long. I’m fine, Wallyn, really I am.”

Wallyn worked another shaping, this one with a steadier sort of control, and let it wash over Veran. He motioned to Jayna, who joined him in the shaping. Between the two of them, the water shaping was more complex than anything that Lacertin could hope to create.

He could only wait. With shaping, it wasn’t often that he felt completely unable to help, but this shaping was as much beyond him as a warrior shaping had been beyond him when he first learned to shape fire.

When they stopped, Wallyn took an unsteady step back.

Veran watched them, glancing from Jayna to Wallyn. “Is that it, then? I’ve been healed?”

Wallyn shook his head. “Not healed.”

“With a shaping like that?” Veran asked.

Wallyn turned toward the door. “You should rest. We’ll attempt another shaping when I recover.”

Lacertin noted how Wallyn used the walls for support as he made his way out of the room.

Jayna pulled her gaze away from Veran and started toward the door. Lacertin caught her by the arm. “What is Wallyn not telling him?” he whispered.

She glanced over to Veran but didn’t make an attempt to pull her arm back. “The… poisoning that runs through him makes his blood hot.” She shook her head. “I’ve not seen anything like it before, and I don’t know that Master Wallyn has, either. We’ll figure something out.”

He let her arm go and Jayna followed Wallyn out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. Lacertin sat for a moment. What Jayna described sounded too much like what he’d seen with Ilton, and if that was the case, using water alone for healing wouldn’t be enough.

Lacertin stood and Veran leaned forward to look at him. “Are you leaving, too?”

He set his hand on Veran and used a combination of water and fire shaping. Veran tried moving and looked up at Lacertin with confusion in his eyes, but Lacertin pressed forward.

Water helped him understand what Wallyn had described. Fire simmered in Veran’s veins, burning with less intensity than it had in Ilton, but it was the same. Lacertin almost lost control of the shaping when he realized that. Not only had Ilton been poisoned, it was done with hound poison.

If there had been any doubt that the poisoning came from Incendin, that answered it.

Ilton might not survive, but there still might be something he could do for Veran.

Drawing on fire, he pulled the burning sense from within Veran’s blood. It came slowly, easing away. Lacertin used more force, drawing on every bit of fire shaping control that he could summon. The slow simmering within Veran faded, drawn by Lacertin’s shaping. Using water, he healed what remained. He didn’t need much skill for that shaping. All he needed was to be able to soothe where Veran’s blood had been damaged.

The door to the room opened suddenly and Jayna charged in. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“I’m helping him.”

It was almost complete. The fire had left his blood, but there was a scar that remained. Lacertin needed only to soothe that…

Jayna pulled his hands back. Lacertin didn’t fight her. He’d already drawn off the fire shaping, leaving only the need for water shaping to help Veran.

During his shaping, Veran had gone limp. Color had faded from his cheeks, so different than what he’d seen when he’d healed Ilton before. His breathing was erratic, much like it had been when they first returned.

What had he done?

A complex water shaping built from Jayna, washing over Veran. She had control and strength, and within moments, the color had returned to Veran’s face. His breathing began to ease and he sucked in a deep breath before opening his eyes.

Jayna held her hands in place a little longer, letting the shaping continue before releasing him, content that she’d done all that was needed to heal him.

“What was that?” Veran asked.

Jayna looked to Lacertin, hurt and anger flashing in her eyes. “Yes, what was that? By your own admission, you’re not a skilled water shaper.”

“That wasn’t a water shaping,” he said softly.

A simple fire sensing told him that the damage to Veran had been repaired. Unlike Ilton, Veran would survive the poisoning.

“There was water mixed into what you did,” Jayna said.

“Sense him,” Lacertin said.

“What?”

He pointed. “Sense him. See what I did.”

Water built again, slower and with less urgency. When she released it, she turned to him. “What did you do?” There was less accusation in her tone this time.

“When you mentioned how the poisoning affected him, I realized that I’d seen something like it before.”

“You’ve seen another poisoned by the hounds?” she asked.

Veran watched him, a frown furrowing his brow.

Lacertin swallowed and worked his tongue inside his suddenly dry mouth. “I’ve seen it before,” he said again. “This wasn’t as far along as what I’d seen. To heal hound poisoning, fire is needed.”

“Fire doesn’t heal, Lacertin.”

“Tell me that he’s still poisoned,” Lacertin said. “That was fire that healed, not water. I had to draw away the fever in his blood.”

Jayna ran her hands over Veran, checking his mouth, his eyes, his heart, before nodding to herself, as if content that Lacertin spoke the truth.

Veran looked past Jayna and nodded slowly. He mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

Lacertin didn’t say anything more and Jayna didn’t seem interested in talking to him, so he turned and left.