Journey of Fire and Night (The Endless War Book 1) Read online

  Jasn circled around it, searching for an entrance, anything that would help him explain why this was here and perhaps why he was here. He found nothing.

  As he started away, a shadow shifted, stepping out from between two buildings then approaching. “Alena,” he said carefully.

  “You think you can have some success and all of a sudden you deserve access to the pens?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Alena stopped a pace away from him. “Just because he brought you here doesn’t give you a pass. Even here—especially here—you have to earn your place.”

  Jasn frowned. Was she angry with him because of Lachen? “The commander?”

  “You think others don’t know? You’re the first one he’s brought in over a year. The last… Well, the last didn’t make it.” She cocked her head and fixed him with her hard eyes. “The commander leads the order, but the scholars lead the camp here.”

  “Look, I get it. You’re not happy that I’m here. You’re not happy to have to teach. But I’m not some shaper freshly raised to the order,” he said. “I’ve spent more time in Rens than most in the barracks combined.”

  “And you think that makes you better?”

  Jasn laughed darkly and looked to the circular stone building. “That makes me what it makes me,” he said. “Still here.”

  Alena studied him for a moment. “You don’t want to be here?”

  “I don’t want to be anywhere,” he said softly.

  She watched him a moment more before stepping over to the circular building—she’d called it the pens—and laid her hand on a spot along the wall. Jasn noted the marking beneath her hand and then detected the steady building shaping that she used, twisting earth in a way that he’d never tried even though he considered himself skilled with the element. A doorway parted in the wall.

  Alena stepped aside and motioned him to come close. “You want to know what you’re doing here? You want to know why I push and others wash out? You want to know why I’m concerned about someone who has spent nearly a year in Rens?” she asked. “Go ahead. Take a look.”

  Jasn approached cautiously. Something felt off as he did, though he didn’t quite know what he sensed. Maybe it was all from Alena’s irritation, or maybe it was the way she’d shaped open the door in the pen.

  When he stopped in front of the entrance, he felt a blast of heat, as if standing in front of a forge fire. In spite of the heat, a chill tingled along his spine and settled into his stomach. What was this?

  He ducked his head in slowly, carefully.

  A sudden surge of light—an explosion of fire so bright that it blinded him—caught him off guard, and he jerked his head back. Anger replaced the chill, leaving a knot in his stomach and his heart fluttering.

  “Draasin?” he whispered. “You have captured draasin here?”

  Alena tapped the wall, twisting it again with some shaping that blocked him out, and then walked away from him without another word.

  6

  Ciara

  Rens understood the war differently. They claimed no control over the draasin, but their worship of the elementals and their continuous support for the attacks continued to drive Rens further into the war.

  —Lren Atunal, Cardinal of the College of Scholars

  Ciara crouched in the shade of a rocky overhang and licked at the moisture around the lip of her waterskin. A hot wind gusted over the flat expanse of Rens, updrafts catching swirls of dust and dirt and sending them into thick spirals that faded the higher they spun. Occasionally, the wind would blow with more force, blasting her face, forcing her to shield her eyes and almost tempting her to pull the shaisa veil over her mouth, but Ciara refused. Already the two nya’shin saw her as weak, and she wouldn’t give them any more reason to treat her differently.

  She glanced at Fas and Eshan leaning against the rock, lounging against the hot stone almost as if to prove they didn’t feel the heat coming off it. They left their long j’na spears resting uselessly next to them, the scooping curved blade catching the light of the midday sun. Even though the wind blew with more strength where they stood, neither gripped their waterskins with the same force that she clutched hers, and neither seemed the least bit bothered by the sand whipping into their eyes and mouths.

  “Won’t find water hiding under the rock,” Eshan said. The blasted man didn’t even bother looking in her direction, just called it casually into the wind, expecting that his words would carry to her.

  Fas chuckled. Ciara grabbed a handful of rock and tossed it at them. Neither bothered to look when she did that. The least they could do was make a play for their spears, but they didn’t so much as flinch.

  Blasted search for water. Her father was wrong, but she wouldn’t convince him of that, and he wouldn’t let her search beyond the waste. Without his blessing, she couldn’t go, not if she intended to survive. Risking that journey meant she’d need to bring stores of water with her, more than her normal allotment.

  Ciara licked the moisture off the lip of the waterskin one more time, carefully squeezing the bottle as she did so as not to waste any, then stoppered it once more. “Bet I find water before either of you,” she said, but she already knew there would not be any found here. She’d sensed that yesterday from atop the rock. There was nothing here for them. Only more of the heat and dry rock.

  Eshan glanced at Fas, who shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if she finds it first. We’ll just claim we did,” Eshan said.

  Ciara searched for a larger rock to throw at him, but it wouldn’t do any good. Besides, the elders would believe Fas over her anyway, and there was no way he was going against Eshan.

  “Maybe we let her lead, let her prove how capable she is,” Fas suggested.

  Ciara glared at them, but it didn’t do any good. Neither man bothered looking back at her.

  She grabbed a fistful of her long black hair and tucked it beneath the shaisa veil as she started out from the rock’s shelter. Even if she didn’t wear the veil around her mouth, the stupid thing could still be useful. Eshan and Fas didn’t even wear theirs. Had they even brought them along, or had they left them back in the village with their sense?

  Ciara kicked at the nearest spear and sent it rolling away from the rock. Fas lunged after it, wanting to catch it before the curved osidan tip struck the rock and damaged it. She let herself feel a moment of victory at the way he moved, forced to crawl like a rock crab scrambling over coals.

  Eshan turned to Fas to help, and Ciara made a point of grabbing his j’na spear and twirling it in her hands. The weight was more than she preferred, but then again, few women were allowed to ever handle the spears. Acquiring a spear was part of the rite of passage for a nya’shin, almost as much for the spear itself as for the markings made into the shaft. If she ever were allowed to become one of the nya’shin—and the council made certain that she never had the opportunity—she might be the first woman to possess a j’na spear.

  “Blast you, Ciara!” Eshan shouted at her.

  She ignored him and started across the waste, clutching his spear as she went. Water seeking told her that no water was out there, but she would look. She made her way south, following the direction of the draasin that she’d seen but didn’t really know if it would matter. Was there any water out in the waste?

  Ciara had learned she could be a water seeker when she was nearly five. Like most eligible to become nya’shin, sensing came first. It was the ability to detect water in all its forms, from the gentle call of the coming rain to the deep underground ponds, and even to the water flowing through plant and animal. Sensing had uses, especially to those living in Rens.

  Unlike the others of the nya’shin, she had never shown any talent at shaping. With water shaping, Fas and Eshan could pull water from those deep ponds and replenish the village stores and ensure the village survived another day. That was the role of the nya’shin. Without it, Ciara wondered if she would ever truly be able to be nya’shin.

/>   This close to the edge of the waste, wind hammered at her like the hot breath of a draasin, blowing sand and sending small fragments of rock flying at her. Even shielding her eyes no longer helped, and she was forced to pull her veil up to protect her eyes and mouth.

  The thin fabric filtered most of the sand and dimmed the light, shading her somewhat, but it forced her to smell her dry, bitter breath. It was almost as bad as Eshan smelled most days. Ciara resisted the urge to lick her lips, not wanting to waste moisture.

  She didn’t have to turn to know that Eshan approached her, running up behind her. The sense of his pulse bounding rapidly through his veins told her that he came. Like most people, he had a distinct rhythm to the way blood flowed through him. With Eshan and Fas, especially after spending so many days out searching with them, she barely had to turn to recognize him.

  Eshan jerked the spear from her hands. He was nearly a head taller and thick with ropy muscle, so resisting would have gotten her nowhere. Instead, she took small satisfaction in the way sweat beaded on his brow and the way his pulse raced. Much longer, and he’d need to take a larger drink. From the way his waterskin pulled on her, he wouldn’t have enough to last much longer, not running like that near the edge of the waste.

  “Feeling thirsty, Eshan?” she asked.

  Eshan rolled his spear between his palms, inspecting the edge of his blade before glaring at Ciara. He pointed the tip of the spear at her, pushing out as if he intended to stab her like she was one of the thick-hided linaas found in this part of the waste. At least the lizard had the sense not to rile up a nya’shin armed with his j’na spear.

  Fas reached them, lumbering at a more relaxed pace. Not quite as tall as Eshan nor as muscular, he somehow managed to chide Ciara as he approached. Ciara blushed, thankful that she had the veil up and that it would keep Fas from seeing the way he managed to get to her.

  She forced her mind away, using her water sensing. His pulse rolled through him at a more relaxed clip. Not like hers when she thought too much about him. Dehydration had not set in with him to nearly the extreme as it had with Eshan, and his easy run had preserved much of what he needed to keep going.

  Fas grabbed the end of Eshan’s spear and pulled him back. “What will the council say when we return to tell them Ciara was stabbed by your spear?”

  “They’d probably understand,” Eshan said, holding tight to his grip. “One less mouth for water and all.”

  If Fas released his hold on the spear, Ciara suspected it would come streaking toward her faster than she could react. She might be able to sense the blood running through his veins, but there wasn’t much that she’d be able to do. Were she a shaper like either of them, she might be able to push away, or slow the blood pulsing through them, anything that might give her a brief advantage.

  “You think Ness will be pleased to learn his girl was left to bleed out on the waste? There won’t be many among the council interested in stopping his spear then. Besides, we’ll need every able body if another attack comes.”

  Eshan relaxed his hands and lowered the spear, not taking his eyes off Ciara. “Your father won’t always be able to protect you,” he snapped. With a hard jerk on his j’na, he freed it from Fas’s grip and continued across the waste, not bothering to glance back at them as he headed west.

  Ciara didn’t bother to tell him that she’d sensed water to the south.

  “You’ll never become nya’shin if you keep pushing against him,” Fas said as Eshan disappeared.

  Ciara grabbed the fabric of her tan elouf wrap and shifted it, not willing to meet Fas’s eyes. “Do you really think they ever intend for me to become a nya’shin?” she asked. “The council seems to think me incapable because I can’t manipulate water as you can.”

  Fas’s mouth slowly twisted into a smile. Blast him, but it only made him more attractive. His dark eyes even managed to twinkle, as if the man knew the effect he had on her. Ciara touched her shaisa veil, ensuring that it still covered her face.

  “I didn’t say that you’d never be a nya’shin,” Fas said. “And seeing the way you’re squeezing your elouf, I’m not sure what it said, either. Stormbringer knows few enough can be water seekers as it is.”

  Ciara forced her hands to relax. It wouldn’t do to tear the fabric. So far, sand hadn’t managed to make its way down her back, but once it did, she’d have to find a protected place to pull the entire wrap off, and she wasn’t about to ask Fas’s help with that.

  “Sorry about your j’na,” she said.

  Fas tilted the tip toward the ground and twisted the end. The long, curved metal tip was designed to pierce the thick hide of most creatures that managed to live in the waste, but it had the added benefit that it helped pull the spear through the air, almost as if it were shaped.

  “Do you know how long it took for me to carve this?” he asked.

  He motioned for her to follow, and Ciara did so reluctantly. She wanted to go south, after the draasin that she’d seen, but Eshan had gone west. There was nothing there but more rock. She didn’t need to be a powerful senser to know that.

  “Two moons came and went,” he said when she didn’t answer.

  “Two moons?” she asked. Figures that he would manage to carve his j’na faster than any other nya’shin. Most took nearly a year to complete their spear, and even then, they continued to add to the weapon over time. According to her father, his j’na still wasn’t complete, and it had been nearly a decade since he served.

  Fas flushed slightly, color blooming in his cheeks like a babe out in the sun too long, then fading. “You know the first pattern is always the most difficult.”

  Ciara nodded, as if knowing exactly that. How could she know what was involved in carving a j’na when the council chose not to share anything with her? Even her father told her little, either thinking to protect her or because she couldn’t shape like Fas and Eshan.

  “After that, they all seemed to come naturally. Like shaping ripples in water. The effort it takes to make the first ripple is the greatest, but after that, the waves come quickly.”

  Ciara pulled away from him. “Since I can’t shape anything, I’ll have to take your word for it. Besides, I’d simply throw a stone into the water to make the waves, but first you have to find water.”

  Ciara turned to the south, but Fas grabbed her arm. “Eshan went the other way. You heard your father. No point in trying to cross the waste. There’s nothing there.”

  “We don’t know that. Why else would the draasin fly to the south?”

  “We can’t know why the draasin do anything that they do. We’re so far beneath their notice.” Fas pointed to the west. “Come on, Ciara. We follow Eshan.”

  “Eshan is wrong,” Ciara muttered.

  She didn’t argue again as they continued after Eshan. A part of her knew she should, that if she ever intended to be nya’shin, she’d need to find the strength to stand up for what she knew she sensed even when others did not believe her. Shaping was different than sensing. At least, that’s what she told herself. What did it matter that she couldn’t shape?

  Except, it mattered to the council. It mattered to Eshan. And it mattered to Fas. Most of all, it seemed to matter to her father. If the ala’shin didn’t think she deserved to be raised to nya’shin, Ciara never would.

  She refused to glance over at Fas, choosing to focus on sensing. In the waste, she could go hours without sensing anything other than the blood in her veins and that of those she traveled with. There was some moisture found in the plants that grew throughout the area, but they had reached the rocky edge of the waste where it flowed into towering dunes. Nothing grew within the dunes.

  Nothing chased either. For Eshan and the elders, that was the most important aspect.

  “Do you sense it?” Fas asked.

  With the comment, Ciara realized that she sensed something but couldn’t tell what it was. She’d been so focused on her irritation with Eshan that she hadn’t bothered to keep her attentio
n on the task at hand. Now that Fas mentioned it, she did sense something different.

  “What is it?” Fas asked.

  Ciara knew him to be a skilled senser and an even more skilled shaper—probably more so than even Eshan, though Fas would never admit to it—so for him to question gave her pause. A pool of liquid was across the nearest dune. Not much moisture, and certainly not enough to summon the council, but it was out of place in this part of the waste.

  Fas tipped his j’na forward and moved more cautiously. He pulled his shaisa veil over his mouth and crouched, getting into a stance Ciara suspected she would only learn once she managed to earn her j’na. With each step, he swept the spear from side to side as if anticipating an attack at any moment.

  Ciara grabbed her long knife, the earliest weapon of a nya’shin, and held it in front of her, feeling woefully unarmed compared to Fas. Even a simple spear would provide her more protection in the waste than the blasted knife they allowed her, but nya’shin were supposed to learn mastery over their knives before they were granted anything else.

  When they reached the top of the rise, Ciara knew immediately what she’d sensed.

  A body lay atop the sand, blood pouring out of it, soaking the sand a deep maroon.

  Eshan.

  She raced down the dune, unmindful of danger. She sensed nothing but his blood. There was no pulsing sense of his heartbeat nor was there anything else she should fear.

  Eshan lay facedown on the sand. The back of his elouf was singed, as if burned by the sun itself, and scorch marks ran along either side of the sand. Ciara carefully rolled him over, checking his neck for a pulse and finding none. Given the amount of blood that she sensed, she hadn’t expected to find one.

  She crouched back on her heels as Fas reached them and felt something firm beneath her foot. Heat had melted the sand, turning it into a sharp sheet of irregular glass. She pried the chunk from the surrounding sand and noted that the glass had a reddish hue, as if some of Eshan’s blood had stained it. It was a thick piece of glass that spiraled toward a wickedly sharp tip. Ciara slipped this into her belt loop.