Elemental Release Read online

  MAP OF THE UNITED TERRITORIES

  “I want the bottom bunk,” Isaiah said, dropping his bag on the floor in our new quarters. Bits of soil bounced, though the Elemental Academy had been deemed structurally sound, safe to inhabit, and “clean.”

  Clearly, though, it wasn’t clean. I seriously doubted that Isaiah was ever clean.

  “Sure,” I said, knowing it would be easier for him to crash on the bottom bunk, what with his blindness and all.

  My new quarters inside the diplomacy wing of the Academy weren’t as nice as the apartment I’d enjoyed in the Supremist’s fortress, but it was vastly better than the sentry barracks where I’d spent a dozen years.

  We had a kitchen, which consisted of a fridge, a stove, and four cupboards. Everything was empty, and I had a suspicion it would stay that way. Neither Isaiah nor I was much of a cook, though I’d been trained in the culinary arts in the sentry program.

  The Academy had a dining hall, and I’d be eating there. Hopefully with Gabby. She still feared where her next meal would come from—a hazard from having been starved as she ran from the accusations that she’d torched the Elemental school in her home city-state of Crylon.

  When I’d first met her, the hunger in her eyes was unmistakable. I knew how she felt. I’d gone days and days without eating, even getting to the point of unconsciousness.

  I ran my hand along the counter, noting my skin came away coated with dust. The new Supreme Elemental, Michael Davison, had sent Airmasters through the living quarters. They were supposed to have sent their cyclones in to clear out the fine dust that remained when the previous Surpremist had buried the Academy under thousands of tons of earth. But I supposed that after being completely submerged in earth, the room would take a while to really be free of soil.

  The kitchen merged with a living area, which held one couch, an end table, and a cabinet that held a pile of books. We also had a bathroom, and then the bedroom with a double bunk. At least there was a balcony in the living area, though I preferred such fixtures in the room where I slept.

  I sighed as I returned to the living room, where Isaiah had stretched out on the couch. His feet dangled off the end of it, and his eyes were closed. I took his bag into the bedroom, as well as mine. I unpacked the extra set of clothes—the only ones I owned—and my spare pair of boots. With that done, I didn’t know what else to do.

  I wanted to talk to Gabby, try to really make her understand that I was her Airmaster, that I’d abandoned my life as a sentry months before I met her. All the same, I knew she needed time. Finding out I could read minds, and making my actions reconcile with what I told her, would take a girl like Gabby at least a few weeks to sort through.

  She hardly ever vocalized what she thought, but the girl had a lot going on in her mind. I tried not to eavesdrop on her, as she was my Councilman and all, but I found I needed to know what she was thinking. I’d never felt like that about anyone before I’d met Gabby, but what she thought was important to me.

  Or maybe you just want to know what she thinks about you, I thought. I hadn’t decided why Gabby’s opinion meant so much to me. I was tired of trying to riddle it out. For that matter, I was tired of trying to convince her that I was loyal and trustworthy.

  I returned to the living room and stepped onto the balcony. Instantly, I felt like I could breathe a bit better. The stone walls of the diplomacy wing felt so caging after living under the open sky for so long. Gabby was right about that. So while we’d had a rough go of things for the past several weeks, and neither of us wanted to go back to living off stale crackers and decades-old beef jerky, there was something containing about having a permanent residence.

  I re-entered our quarters. “I’m going to see Gabby,” I told Isaiah as I headed toward the door.

  “Mm,” he said. “Tell her hello from me.”

  I waved at him, though he couldn’t see me, and entered the hall. Across the hall from our apartment was another door leading to Cat and Liz’s quarters. Cat was a talented Watermaiden, and Liz was the Unmanifested on our Council. I felt a rush of appreciation for them, which I knew to be a remnant of the chartering magic.

  During that ceremony, which had taken place in Gregorio, a strengthening bond had cemented me to Isaiah, Cat, and Gabby. I felt my Councilman’s fire as hot now as I had that night. Sometimes, I caught a whiff of rich earth when I wasn’t anywhere near such things. As a chartered Councilmember, my own airmaking abilities had been increased.

  We’d re-chartered with Liz after the death of Hanai. My chest caved in at the thought of him. He’d been my best friend, the only person I really trusted. I knew how my brother would react to certain situations. I could predict his movements and the protocol he’d follow. But I didn’t know him, and he didn’t know me.

  But I spent weeks with Hanai in his settlement. He’d taught me how to trap rabbits, which plants were safe to eat, and how to collect rainwater with only a single leaf.

  His exuberance for life had infected me from the moment I met him. The hole he’d left in my life was bigger than I expected—and definitely wider than I’d let anyone believe. Gabby was struggling with his loss more than anyone else. Though she didn’t say much, I didn’t need to hear her words to recognize the signs of grief.

  She cried more than she used to, and her thoughts constantly ran around Hanai. The few times she’d wondered if she really loved him, I blocked her thoughts and left the room. I hadn’t been able to figure out how to keep the jealousy out of my voice, the flint out of my eyes. I didn’t want her to know I was eavesdropping on her mind, number one. And number two, she certainly didn’t need the responsibility of making sure I was happy.

  Standing in the hall outside Cat’s room, I knew I wasn’t happy. I missed Hanai. I wanted Gabby to wonder about me, and think through her feelings for me, and love me.

  “You want to be a different guy,” I muttered.

  Suddenly, Cat’s door opened. “Oh, hi Adam,” she said as she stepped past me. “Is Isaiah in your room?”

  I grunted as she opened the door to my apartment and entered. “Hey,” she called, and when Isaiah answered, “I’ve been waiting for you, Cattails,” I knew I couldn’t return to my quarters for a while.

  The door clicked closed, but I heard Cat’s giggle through the wood. Annoyance shot through me. Immediately following that, I wished I could elicit such a playful sound from Gabby.

  I didn’t know why I was standing in the hall, pining over her. I glanced down the corridor toward her quarters. Maybe I’ll just see if she needs any help….

  A concocted idea just to get me inside her rooms, but the best I could come up with. I strode down the hall, stopping outside her closed door. Hers was solid steel, cold to the touch. Mine and Isaiah’s was mere wood, easily flammable and quick to concede to heavy boots.

  I fisted my hand and knocked, recoiling from the metallic sound of my bones on the steel. Several moments passed before the door swung open.

  “Sorry,” Gabby said before she appeared. “I can’t open this thing myself. There’s some sort of mechanism—” She cut off when she saw me. I waited for her to rake her eyes from the top of my head to my feet. When her gaze finally came back to mine, I smiled.

  “Hey, beautiful,” I said. “Can I come in?” I kept my attention on her. I didn’t want her to think I was checking out her apartment, though I realized that was exactly why I’d come.

  “Adam,” she said. I’d heard her say my name a thousand times before. Once when we were kissing—and the breathy sound of that kept me awake at night sometimes. But now she simply said it. No breathiness, no surprise, no anger. At least I had one thing to be happy about.

  She stepped back and gestured for me to come in. I moved around her mon
strous door and entered her apartment.

  “Wow, your place is way nicer than mine,” I said, noting the two couches, luxurious rugs, and spacious windows. She had a balcony off the living area, and when I glanced in her bedroom, I saw the double-wide doors that indicated another terrace. I quickly turned from her bedroom, but I had a sudden yearning to spend a lot more time in that particular room. Preferably with her.

  I cleared my throat. “Need help moving in?”

  She studied me like she could find the real reason I’d stopped by. “I don’t own anything,” she said. “What could I possibly need help with?”

  I clasped my hands behind my back in a very sentry-like stance. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s just that….” I trailed off, unsure of how to tell her I had nowhere else to go, that she was my favorite person to spend time with even if we didn’t say anything.

  She waited, and I swirled my fingers through the air. “You know.”

  “I know?” she asked.

  “My room is…unavailable.” Heat crept into my neck, but I kept my face straight.

  “Oh,” she said, her cheeks turning the color of poppies. “Well, it’s not much, but you can hang out here.” She moved into the living area, her long legs mesmerizing me though she wore her usual jeans and T-shirt. I swear, the girl could look good in absolutely anything.

  “Davison said there were some books.” She rifled through a shelf. “And some games, and….” She tossed me a look over her shoulder, and I imagined that with that simple glance, she was asking me to forget about reading or games and take her into her bedroom.

  I took two steps toward her to do exactly that before I remembered she didn’t even like being in the same room as me.

  I escaped Gabby’s superior room, making a lame excuse about being hungry even though we’d just finished dinner. I didn’t intrude on her thoughts to know what she was thinking—I didn’t need to. Her face displayed her apprehension, her confusion, and her guilt.

  I wished she wouldn’t feel guilty, but I learned a long time ago that I couldn’t change how someone else felt. Felix didn’t understand why I would give up the life of a sentry for the life of an Airmaker. I’d tried to explain it to him. Sentries functioned in almost an identical role as Airmasters. We both pledged our talent, our time, and our lives to a Firemaker.

  I hurried past my quarters and outside, thinking the fresh evening air would relieve some of the pent-up frustration I felt. As soon as the breeze met my face, I could breathe easier. But the release only lasted a moment, and then the crushing hopelessness crowded back into my lungs.

  I didn’t know how to make Gabby understand why I’d done what I’d done. I could usually distract myself from my worries by training, exercise, or hunting. Since the only option I had at the moment was exercise, I took off at a dead sprint, hoping to outrun some of my problems.

  Eight days later, Davison opened the Academy. Finally. He’d sent for Elemental mentors throughout the United Territories, and it had taken them a few days to get everything in order and arrive in Tarpulin. The diplomacy wing filled up as mentors and students continued to receive, accept, and carry out their assignments.

  Elemental training was scheduled each morning, seven days a week. I’d overheard the inner workings of Davison’s mind, and he fretted about the loss of so many Elementals. Alex had buried over thirteen hundred here in Tarpulin alone, and those were people from all over the Territories who had already completed years of training. Their deaths had been a huge loss of talent, and most of the mentors had also perished in the attack.

  The students arriving now were younger. I towered above most of the guys, and at nineteen years old, I knew I had a few years on most of them as well. Seeing them scurry through the Academy in pairs only served to remind me that Hanai wasn’t at my side. So I strode through the Academy alone, avoiding the fearful stares, hurrying to my new mentor’s office.

  The door was ajar, so I pounded three times and leaned into the room. “Hello? Airmaster Rusk?”

  A billowy man entered from the balcony. He stood at least six feet tall, maybe more, and his limbs were long and spindly.

  “Adam Gillman,” he said, his voice as smooth as cream. He grinned, a gesture that matched the warmth in his tone. “Come in, come in.” He sent a chair toward me with a blast of air. I barely had time to catch it before it could nail me in the midsection. I gripped the fabric, wondering where this guy had come from.

  He settled into another chair behind his desk, his attention wandering to the window again. I sat, waiting for further instructions.

  In Gregorio, I’d spent my Elemental training in the orchards, learning how to harness the air currents and spin them into usable threads of power. As the minutes stretched, I wondered what this Airmaster would teach me.

  “Airmaster Rusk?” I asked.

  “Please, call me Peter,” he said, finally turning toward me.

  “Okay,” I said. “Peter. Would you…I mean, should we get started?”

  “We already have.” He smiled at me again, but this time I had the distinct impression that he was crazy, not welcoming.

  “Um—”

  “The air tells me you have had only a few months of training.”

  “The air tells you that?”

  “You think Mother Earth doesn’t know each of her Airmasters?” He shook his head. “I can see we will have to start at the beginning.”

  The beginning sounded like a great place to start. “Okay,” I said again.

  “I have also learned that though you have had very little formal training, you are quite skilled. You….” He cocked his head to the side as if listening to a secret. “Created a hurricane from only cold air currents?” He looked at me for confirmation, which I gave in the form of a nod.

  I’d created that hurricane in Cornish, to save Cat. I wasn’t interested in talking about it with him—or anyone.

  “You can create cushions for travel, tethers to transport others….” He nodded, painting that slightly disturbing smile on his face again. “You have considerable airmaking talent.” The windows behind him shook violently. He chuckled. “Okay, okay. You are one of the most talented Airmasters Tarpulin has ever seen. Or, at least, you will be when I’m finished with you.”

  He stood before I could make sense of his words, or ask what that gust had told him by banging into the glass.

  “Let’s go, Airmaster,” he said, moving onto the balcony. “We will practice on the beach, where the currents are strong enough to knock a man down.” He turned back and scanned me as I stood. “Well, a man of my stature. Perhaps you will be able to resist them.”

  He laughed again as he launched his willowy frame into the air.

  I landed next to Airmaster Rusk, who had touched down where the surf met the sand. The wind coming off the ocean was indeed stiff. His robes flapped away from his body like the fabric on a flag. The rippling noise grated against my nerves.

  “Airmaster!” he yelled into the gusting breeze. His eyes were closed, and he leaned his whole body into the wind. He flung his arms wide and grinned, like he was enjoying every moment of this oceanfront experience.

  I didn’t know what to think of him. I turned toward the wide waters too, but didn’t have to lean nearly as much as him. I’d never felt like a huge person until this week. Now I felt like the muscles I’d developed during my sentry training were too bulging, and the width in my shoulders that I’d used to protect Gabby a hindrance.

  After a few moments of the wind whistling past my face, I began to hear its voice. It rejoiced to be flowing over land again, and it was willing to do whatever I asked of it. I lifted one hand, but Airmaster Rusk motioned for me to drop it.

  When I looked at him, I found him studying me. He turned his back into the squalls coming off the water and gestured me closer. “You need to quiet your mind,” he said, barely louder than the air rushing past us. “And your emotions. The air is perfectly willing to obey you, but only if you’re calm, quiet, and
in complete control.”

  “Okay,” I said, though I puzzled through what he meant. I felt calm. I was in complete control of myself. And I hadn’t said a word since flying the few miles to the beach.

  “Very well then,” he said. “Meditation at night, meditation in the morning. Learn to contain the emotions you have.”

  My sentry training had advocated meditation too. I could hold perfectly still for hours. I’d trained to do such things, both mentally and physically. Sentries didn’t make rash decisions, they didn’t rush into situations without a thorough assessment; if they did anything on an impulse, they died.

  At least that was what I’d been taught. Having survived the past few weeks as I journeyed from Forrester to Gregorio and then Tarpulin, I had experienced dire conditions. Circumstances had constantly changed, and I’d had to adapt with them. I’d turned everything over in my head—again and again.

  “Mr. Gillman?” Airmaster Rusk asked.

  “Hmm?” I tore my thoughts from the events that had caused me to return to Tarpulin as a chartered Councilmember and not a prisoner.

  “Clear your mind before our lessons. It will not serve you well to have lingering thoughts, doubts, emotions, or worries.” He gave me a small smile, but this time it looked like he was pitying me. “I am going to work you extremely hard, and you will not have energy for anything else.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, wondering how he could work me harder than the sentry instructors.

  “Excellent,” he said. “Well, let’s begin.” He took a few steps up the beach, away from the water. “First, I would like you to pull the westerly jet stream from the atmosphere, divide it into smaller currents, and send them east.”

  I looked at him like he’d lost his mind. I’d never touched a jet stream. I didn’t even know how to find one. I hadn’t taken any classes beyond government, history, and first aid. Every other course in the sentry program was about assassination, or survival, or mending weapons. I certainly hadn’t taken meteorology, or weather, or any type of science course. It was the first day of my training.