Autumn Storm (10 page)

The path ended at a downed tree thick enough
to reach her waist. She rested her cane against it and hefted
herself on top to stretch out on her back. The cone-shaped pine
trees almost touched tips in the sky above. The blue was beautiful,
clear and bright. The log beneath her grew warm, and she tensed for
a moment, uncertain.

Magick, she reminded herself. It was
everywhere. The earth was welcoming her, its rumble so faint, she
barely heard it. The air was louder, happy and tinkling, chilling
her as it danced around her while the earth tried to warm her.

She almost heard the earth grumble at the
oblivious air. The air whistled and whirled away, ignoring the
earth.

Autumn laughed out loud at the image in her
mind of the two arguing.

They are happy you’re here.

She held her breath. Did she hear someone
talk to her or was it in her head?

Someone was there. Autumn sat up and looked
around. Her gaze settled on the large creature nearby, and she gave
a faint cry of surprise. The auburn bigfoot was over seven feet
tall with a face ugly enough to be a Halloween mask and thick hair
covering his body.

Sam.

Autumn closed her eyes. His name came with
the force of a memory that wouldn’t form, as if her mind and her
memories were pushing at each other. As usual, her memories didn’t
win. But she felt the same sense around Sam as she did Adam. They’d
been – or would be? – friends. Good friends.

Maybe. Doubt and headaches followed every
partial memory.

“You don’t eat kids do you?” she asked.

The smile that spread across the yeti’s face
made it even uglier.

“Your name is Sam.”

Do you know me?
he asked in her
head.

“No. But I know your name,” she replied,
frustrated. “Are you a nice … monster?”

The smile faded, and the song in the air
turned mournful.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Don’t be sad.”

You have no reason to be sorry,
he
replied.
I am not always a nice monster.

She shivered. Cold, she pushed herself off
the log to lean more of her body against it without losing sight of
the creature.

You are hurt.
The yeti looked her
over.

“No, I’m better,” she said.

Your elements have helped you recover very
fast, but your body isn’t healed yet.

She sighed. “I
know
. But compared to
how I was, I’m a lot better.”

You are more than your cane and scars.

“Exactly,” she said firmly. “It’s tiring to
be treated different because of how you look.”

Sam’s laugh was a strange sound, like a
cross between a yawn and a chortle. Autumn’s face grew hot as she
realized what she’d said to the creature who’d never known what it
was to be normal.

At least no one tries to hunt you,
he
said.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Sorry.”

The elements are happy. You make them
happy.

“I don’t understand them.”

They do not speak in words. They speak in
memories and emotion.

“Why do they talk at all?” she asked,
puzzled.

Because you listen.
He laughed
again.

She didn’t understand his humor but smiled
anyway at the horrifying expressions of amusement that crossed his
face. The air played with him, too, pushing his hair around the way
it did the curls that escaped her bun.

Sit. The earth will talk to us.
He
motioned to the ground.

Autumn hesitated then lowered herself into a
sit, her right leg straight in front of her. It was achy and
throbbing in the cold air after her workout, and she was relieved
to take the weight off of it. She’d need the brace soon.

Push your leg against the earth,
the
yeti urged her.

“It doesn’t really move right yet,” she said
self-consciously. Was he wondering why? She shifted and bent her
good leg until her right leg was stretched on its side against the
ground.

At once, the same soothing warmth she felt
from Beck traveled through her leg. The achiness and pain
dissipated.

“Ooohhh,” she breathed. “Earth magick?”

Sam nodded.
You have two elements. Air
and earth. Earth is the physical protector, the healer, calm and
gentle. Air is the creative, thoughtful element that links the
heart and mind.
He sounded amused.
They are
opposites.

“So they were fighting earlier,” she
assessed. “I needed this.” She sagged against the log. Earth magick
filled her, warming her.

What does it tell you?

She pressed her hands to the ground.
Tingling warmth drifted through her. She didn’t hear it say
anything. Images were at the back of her mind, like a television
playing in the distance. She couldn’t quite make it out.

Draw it into you until it meets the magick
in your blood. Earth is the weaker of your two elements. It will
only answer you when you are in direct contact with it. It should
be easier for you to learn to control it. Air is more
high-strung.

Realizing she’d been resisting, Autumn
relaxed and let the earth’s magick roam her body, like Beck’s did.
It felt weird to let the foreign power have full access to her. The
earth pushed at her, and she pushed back. It pulled, and so did
she. They played tug of war for a moment, until it became easy to
draw and expel the earth magick at will.

The image began to clear. Memories, as Sam
said, but not her memories. The earth’s. A time when a river ran
through this spot and earth, air and water elements were joined. A
tiny tree sprouted in the river bank. The river ran dry as she
watched, and the tree grew tall and strong for many years,
surviving fires, droughts, avalanches and storms, until it was the
oldest in the forest. And then it fell in a violent thunderstorm,
landing in the dried up riverbed. The next winter, it was covered
by snow. After a few years, a new kind of life sprouted from the
tree: bluebells in spring.

“What does this stuff mean?” she asked.

The elements remember everything at all
times. You are viewing what memories it wishes to share with
you.

“But why?”

Only it knows for sure.

The images stopped, and the magick settled
within her. Autumn opened her eyes, dwelling on the memories. The
earth’s grumble was calm and quiet, content. She tested the magick
and pulled it into her again. The past few weeks gave her a deeper
appreciation for her body. She’d learned to listen to herself, to
identify what muscle ached or which pain was serious and which was
her body complaining. She was able to isolate muscles for workouts
and recognize when she favored an injury before she began
hurting.

The magick was exploring her wounds with a
curiosity that made her uneasy. It moved through her blood like
many of the intravenous drugs the doctors had forced into her. It
tested her replaced knee and the scar in her neck, traveled along
her spine and the tender muscles of her shoulder and arm. It pooled
in her chest around the source of her own magick.

“What’s it doing?” she asked at last.

Learning about you. You are strong enough to
wield it. You’ll be stronger with air, and the two will balance
each other. You must only take care what you ask of them and use
their magick for what they were intended: to protect and bring
peace.

“Wow,” she murmured. “That’s amazing. I can
really do that?”

It is potential only. The magicks can be
used for good or evil, Light or Dark, for selfish reasons or to
help others. The earth can protect or destroy. The air can obscure
or enlighten. It is up to you how you use them.

“The orientation book doesn’t talk like you
do. Do you teach at the school?”

I advise those who do, though.
His
gaze turned concerned.
You are tiring.

She nodded, sensing the same from her body.
Autumn stood with some difficulty. The pain relief faded and was
replaced by a familiar, achy throb.

“How do I feel the magick of the air?” she
asked as she reached for her cane. “I can hear it.”

Breathe it in. Let it flow through you.

Autumn took a deep breath. Magick tingled in
her chest. The air pushed at her, and she balanced herself against
the log, not understanding what it wanted.

Later.
Sam’s voice was kind.
You
may be too tired to focus it right now.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Will I see you again
when I come to the forest?”

Sometimes.

The enigmatic response made her roll her
eyes. Sam was like everything else at the school: a little bit
different.

“Thank you,” she said.

He smiled. With a shake of her head, she
turned to the direction she thought led back to the school. As
before, the forest and air cleared a path for her. She limped down
it, her skin chilled by the time she reached the road. Her leg was
swollen. She made her way back to the main house of the school and
inside, pausing at the bottom of the stairs.

With another deep breath, she started up the
stairs. It took a long time, as usual, and her leg was throbbing by
the time she reached the top. The door to her room was open, and
she groaned silently. Dawn had friends over. She heard the voices
before she reached the door and braced herself for a miserable
morning.

Dawn, Sonya and another girl were on Dawn’s
bed, doing their nails. Sonya was nice to her. She smiled. Autumn
returned the smile with effort and sat heavily on her bed for a
quick rest.

“Dawn,” she said. “I need to hop in the
shower. You want in the bathroom first?”

“No.” The blond girl didn’t even look at
her.

Autumn looked twice. Dawn had borrowed
another sweater. Irritated, Autumn said nothing and hurried into
the bathroom before Dawn changed her mind. She took a long shower,
until her skin was no longer chilled and the air was filled with
steam. Content, she dried herself and stretched her leg. Cringing,
she wiped away fog from the mirror.

The dark-haired girl wasn’t there today.
Autumn wondered why briefly before deciding she preferred not to
see some strange ghost in the mirror.

Dawn beat on the door. “Autumn! Hurry
up!”

Autumn bit back a response. She dressed
quickly in a shirt and underwear and exited to see Dawn waiting
impatiently, her eyes on the streak of blue polish that had missed
her nail and ended up on her fingertip. Autumn stepped aside as
Dawn pushed into the bathroom before waiting for her to leave.

“How’s your leg?” Sonya asked as Autumn
limped to her bed and lowered herself.

“Sore. I had to do my rehab exercises
today,” Autumn said.

“Where does it hurt?”

Autumn looked up as Sonya sat on the bed
beside her. The gorgeous girl was looking critically at her
leg.

“Um, around the knee is the worst,” she
replied.

“I learned a trick last week,” Sonya said.
She placed her hand on Autumn’s knee. “Let me know if it
works.”

Autumn waited. There was a tingle of warm
magick, indicating Sonya was an earth element. The swelling
eased.

“Yeah, it does,” Autumn said, surprised.

“It doesn’t last long,” Sonya said with a
shrug. “But I figured –“

“Sonya, little help,” Dawn called from the
bathroom.

“Coming.”

Autumn watched her go then strapped on the
brace, cheered that the girl had thought to help her. The pressure
helped the ache, and she pulled on pants before glancing over at
the third girl. She didn’t remember seeing this girl with Dawn. She
was a little older, with bright blue eyes and … different. Autumn
cocked her head to the side, curious. There was something faint
tracing the girl’s movement, a delayed shadow.

“Alexa, come here!” Dawn barked from the
bathroom.

Alexa.

Autumn paused as she pulled on her boots.
When the headache pricked her temple, she released the memory.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t worth the pain. She took her iPad and
left the room for the picnic tables in the Square.

It was quiet at the dorms. There were a few
teens out in the Square, two at the other picnic table and three
around a bonfire. She didn’t know any of them and sat at the other
picnic table to read more about the school.

The midmorning turned cloudy quickly. Autumn
looked at the sky a couple of times. The fluffy clouds were white
with gray bellies, not rain clouds but maybe … snow? She’d never
seen snow before.

She shook her head. She hadn’t lived in
Idaho her whole life and never seen snow!

Agitated by the sense of not being a part of
her world, she starting reading again. The air tickled the back of
her neck and settled around her. It felt like it was sitting on
her. Uncertain what to do, Autumn took a deep breath, as Sam had
told her. This time, magick filled her from the inside out. It
moved fast inside her body, unlike the warm creep of the earth.

When she breathed out, a cloud formed.
Fascinated, she poked it. It didn’t go the direction she pushed.
Instead, it headed in the opposite direction, towards the
forest.

Autumn followed curiously. The small cloud
led her to the road again, towards the creek. The whispers stopped
suddenly, reminding her they’d been there all along. Autumn’s eyes
went to the memorial and the forbidden trail.

The cloud ventured into the forest, down the
forbidden deer path.

Snow began to fall. Autumn looked up, a
smile crossing her face as she took in the fat, lazy flakes
tumbling from the sky. They melted on her exposed skin and clung to
her clothes. Within minutes, her blue sweater was coated by
white.

The cloud was back. It crossed her vision.
She swatted at it, and it went again into the forest.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” she
told the air.

It pushed her forward. Sam was right. The
air was more demanding than the gentle earth magick. With a frown,
Autumn steadied herself with her cane and approached the trail. The
same snow dusting the trees and road didn’t touch the trail or the
trees lining it.