Prelude to Fire: Parts 1 and 2 Read Free Page A

pushed against his shaping, threatening to overwhelm him.
    He knew enough of water shaping to buy Ilton a moment with him, but that would be all that he would get. Pushing a surge of water through the king, he overwhelmed the heat within his veins.
    The king’s eyes opened.
    “Lacertin,” he said. His voice was thready and weaker than when Lacertin had seen him last, but carried with it much of the authority the king had once possessed so easily. “You have returned.”
    “I’m sorry that I needed to wake you, my king.”
    Ilton pushed against the bed and managed to sit. He looked around his room as if seeing it for the first time, and closed his eyes. “I’ve asked you not to be so formal with me,” he said. The king sighed. “How… how long has it been, Lacertin?”
    “Long enough,” he answered.
    The king took a rattling breath and let out a long exhale. Even his breath was stale, as if whatever remained lingered within his lungs, growing increasingly stale the longer that it did. “Tell me, Lacertin, have you acquired what I asked of you?”
    Lacertin reached beneath his cloak and pulled out the plates that he’d spent the last three months chasing. It had been one of the most difficult tasks that Ilton had ever asked of him, and the first time he had failed.
    The plates were made of heavy gold, and the sides were adorned with runes written in the style of the ancient shapers. What little Lacertin recognized of that language—and given how few knew anything of Ishthin these days, that wasn’t much—told him that these were the parts that Ilton had asked him to find. Not that there had been any doubt. The Great Mother knew how difficult it had been to reach in the first place. Little else would have been that difficult. Beyond that, he had the pages of diagrams that Ilton had given him, a map of sorts that had brought him his prize.
    Ilton let out another soft breath of air. “You found them,” he said. He stared at them with eyes that were far more sunken than they should be, and a face that was gaunter than it had been even a few months ago, when the illness had already begun to ravage him beyond what the healers would be able to delay. “Now we only need to assemble it…”
    Lacertin had tried, and failed. He suspected the pieces went together, but couldn’t determine how. More than that, there seemed to be one missing, only he didn’t know what, and the pages Ilton provided didn’t explain what he should find. “I couldn’t find all of them, my lord.”
    Ilton patted his hand weakly. “Doesn’t matter. What you’ve found will be enough.”
    “What do they do?”
    The king ran his bony fingers along the sides of the top plate. “The archivists claim that it will bring us strength. Perhaps enough to…”
    That had been the hope. That they would have enough strength to heal Ilton, but how could this help heal him?
    Lacertin wasn’t sure that anything would have enough strength, not anymore, but the archivists were some of the brightest minds within the kingdoms, men who had trained in the histories, who chose learning and knowledge over chasing the ability to shape. Understandably, Ilton trusted them.
    The tenuous strength that had filled Ilton failed all at once and he sagged, falling back onto the bed. His head hit the pillow and rolled to the side, his eyes taking on something of a glazed look. His breathing became erratic, and Lacertin wondered if he had pushed the dying king’s body too far and too hard with the shaping that he’d used. It had given him more time, or so he thought, but then again, Lacertin had used a shaping, and like with all shapings, there was a cost.
    The king’s breathing steadied and he opened his eyes once more. “Lacertin,” he breathed when he saw him. “You have returned.”
    Lacertin’s heart fluttered. Had the king declined so much that his memory failed him now, too? If so, then perhaps Althem ruled truly. And if so, then maybe Lacertin should