Elemental (5 page)

“I saved his life many years ago, and now he
is bound to me by an Oath. Of course…” His black eyes went flat.
“Never mind.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I should
get you cleaned up.”

Meir left the room, taking my empty bowl
with him, and returned minutes later with a large, metal tub of
steaming water and a bar of soap. He’d draped a thick, white towel
over his shoulder, tied the skirt of his robes above his knees, and
pushed his sleeves up above his elbows. He set the tub on the floor
at the side of my bed and dropped the soap into the water. He then
pulled a package of clean bandages out from the sash around his
waist and set it on the table.

I sat myself up and swung my legs over the
side of the bed and let my feet skim the hot water. It was
euphoric. I moaned as I wiggled my toes and let the velvet liquid
lap around my parched skin.

Meir began to unwrap my soiled bandages,
starting at my leg. His dark fingers brushed against my sickly pale
limb. I blushed, but let him take care of me. He was gentle and
careful around my wounds, like a surgeon, skilled and professional.
The warm flush of blood in my cheeks seeped away as he continued in
his care. I had no reason to be embarrassed. This was not a man who
looked upon me as a woman. No, his soft black eyes and tender hands
moved over my body much the same way a father’s would over his
beloved daughter. I smiled. Maybe Meir wanted the same thing I
did.

Each wound—and there were many—was scrubbed
clean and then coated with a thick, clear gel that smelled of mint
and lavender. Instantly, my open sores began to cool under contact
with the herbal balm. He placed new bandages on my legs, arms, and
waist, scrubbed my face and cleaned the wounds there as well,
leaving the balm to soak into my skin. I was glad he chose not to
use bandages on my face—I was swollen enough as it was, making
movement difficult.

He then handed me a white robe. With my
teeth clenched against the throbbing pain, I forced my sore muscles
to work and my aching elbows to bend.

When I’d finished putting on the robe, Meir
washed my hair. It had been months since my hair had been
washed—ever since my yearly washing on
Sho’ful
. My dry and
itchy scalp nearly sang with relief as Meir scrubbed the layers of
dead skin away. He pulled a bottle of creamy soap from a hidden
pocket in his robes and poured a liberal amount onto my head,
working it in. The scent of roses filled my nostrils.

I couldn’t help sighing. My bliss could not
be ignored.

Meir chuckled.

“You’re too good to me, Meir. I don’t
deserve this.”

“Hmmm…” He seemed to be thinking, weighing
his answer. “I would disagree.”

I ducked my head over the bin as he poured
hot water through my hair to wash out the soap. He was careful to
keep it out of my eyes. When he’d completely rinsed out my hair, he
dried it off with the towel, and brushed through my waist-length
hair before it had a chance to snarl.

When he had finished, I placed my hand on
his arm. “Thank you.”

He smiled and pulled me into a fatherly hug.
He muttered something I couldn’t quite make out.

I pulled away from him and searched his
face. The way his eyes took me in with a crease of a smile at their
corners, I knew that, for some reason, this man was happy I had
come to him.

I chewed on my lower lip and dropped my
gaze. There was no way my good fortune could last, and I was
terrified of the moment fate would see how lopsided my life had
become. I didn’t deserve Meir, but I didn’t ever want to lose
him.

My savior.

He left me then so he could clear away the
tub and soiled bandages. Being alone, I decided to brood. I hadn’t
forgotten the night before. The force that’d built up in my body
and poured out of me as a surge of flames wasn’t something I could
ignore. It also wasn’t something I really wanted to think about,
either. My ever-logical mind tried to convince me that I’d fallen
into hallucinations and what I had seen hadn’t really happened, but
I couldn’t buy it.

Something had happened.

Meir said he’d seen burning Shakai carcasses
on the ground where he’d found me. So I
hadn’t
been
imagining anything. The question was, should I talk to Meir about
this? Should I admit to him that not only was I an escaped
prisoner, but apparently, I was a freak, too?

I shook my head, partly in answer and partly
to get the popping and burning Shakai images out of my head. He
wouldn’t understand. Who would?
Oh by the way, my mysterious
ability to create fire just
might
have something to do with
why I’m on a god’s hit list.

Yeah, no.

I’d just have to figure this one out on my
own. And in order to do that, I needed to find my home… and the boy
with the green eyes from my memory. I smiled for a moment,
remembering. But to go home, I’d need to first follow Meir. Meir,
who could never know what kind of person I was.

When he returned several minutes later with
a set of clothes, I was completely resolved—I would keep my secret.
He set the clothes down on the bed next to me and I realized they
weren’t anything I would’ve expected. They were black and hard, but
they crumpled with each movement, like some kind of flexible body
armor. I looked at Meir questioningly and was shocked to see he
already wore an outfit like the one he’d given me.

“We’re getting out of here tonight,” he
said. “My friend’s son is escorting a cargo ship to Soltak, and it
leaves in an hour. We’re going as soldiers—Tarmean slaves, charged
with guarding the goods.”

I gulped. This was going to be a
nightmare.

“Go ahead and get dressed.”

I realized with a start that I hadn’t moved
since he’d shared our good news. When he spoke, I pulled myself off
the bed and started to fumble with the uniform. With a little help
from Meir, I got the pieces on. It fit a tad big on my skeletal
form, though it was surprisingly light and airy. I ripped a strip
of cloth off of one of the bandages left on the table, tied my hair
back, and tucked it into the back of the suit.

Meir appraised me. “Well, hopefully they
won’t be paying too close attention.”

I looked down and realized the uniform was a
little more than a tad big. The flexible armor plates hung off my
limbs while Meir’s fit tight against his muscles. I hadn’t realized
until just that point how massive Meir was. His long, gray beard
and defined wrinkles had given the illusion of weakness, yet out of
his loose robes and in this form-fitting uniform, Meir looked more
like a war hero than an old man.

I took a deep breath and shrugged. “I guess
I’m as ready as I’m going to be.”

Meir chuckled and put his hand on my back to
lead me out the door. “Come on.”

Apparently, our uniforms were not complete.
When we got to the shipyard just outside the city limits, Meir’s
friend, Pallaton, handed us two helmets with grotesque metal faces
of snarling mouths and deep, soulless eyes. I shuddered.

Two heads taller than me, Pallaton was about
Meir’s height, but much paler. His skin was more like a creamy
olive and his well-trimmed, black beard had been brushed into
glossy waves.

He appraised me with grey eyes—not nearly as
friendly and welcoming as Meir’s. I put my helmet on to escape his
searching gaze. When he didn’t look away, I lowered my head and
shuffled my feet. I knew I shouldn’t have been embarrassed. With my
uniform now complete, he couldn’t see the guilt written all over my
face as if “Shadra” had been tattooed onto my skin. But I was
embarrassed, and terrified. I knew right then and there Pallaton
was not a man to be trifled with… or lied to.

Chapter Five
:

The Meridian

Pallaton did finally look away from me, to
my great relief, when his son walked down the loading ramp of the
smaller, shinier vessel in the yard.

Black robes billowed around the son’s
muscular form as he joined our small group. He looked very much
like his father—the same olive skin, same clear grey eyes—though
he’d kept his beard trimmed close to his face and his hair short.
His glossy curls pooled tight against his head.

I looked away and bit my lip. This was the
first time I could ever remember being in front of someone my own
age. Something warm and altogether pleasant broiled beneath the
surface of my skin. I wondered if he would think I was pretty. Then
I remembered what I looked like—my skin was sallow from poor
nutrition and my bones jutted out at every angle. No, he wouldn’t
find me pretty at all.

But I could pretend.

He had two weapons in his hands that he
handed to Meir and me. I took mine and nearly dropped it, surprised
by its sheer weight. The boy scowled at me. Although that wasn’t
quite the right term—he was hardly a boy, but I needed to believe
we were equals in some way. I was by no means a woman. The Mamood
had taken that away from me when they’d chosen to have me live on
nothing but a loaf of stale bread for a whole week. I knew my
growth had been stunted. I would never recover.

“You are lucky.” Pallaton turned his
piercing eyes back to me. “The
Meridian
is the only ship
permitted to leave Talia since,” he grimaced, “your escape.”

Ah, so Meir told him I’d been a prisoner,
but Pallaton knew nothing of my being named Shadra. It was a tight
line Meir and I were walking. I’d owe him forever.

“It is also lucky that my son, Malik,” he
gestured to the boy next to him, “will be escorting the crew of the
Meridian
to Soltak.”

“We owe you many thanks, Pallaton.” Meir
squeezed his friend’s shoulder, and then put his own helmet on. I
recoiled from him, nearly forgetting it was my savior in the suit.
With the uniform now complete—the screaming face and ghostly
eyes—Meir looked like a monster.

Malik ignored my reaction as he stepped in
front of us. “Have either of you ever handled an NK-4 assault laser
weapon before?” He pointed to Meir—already guessing the truth.

“Yes.”

He turned to me.

“No.”

He sighed.

I bit my lip and studied Meir’s hold on the
weapon. I moved mine, trying to mimic him, but lost my grip and let
the rifle fall to the ground.

Malik growled and stooped down to pick it
up. “Try to look like you know what you’re doing.” He grabbed my
hands and forcefully—painfully—put them in the correct positions.
“You hold it tight against your body, like this, with one hand on
the barrel and the other grasping the pistol grip. Whatever you do,
do not point it at anyone unless you mean to shoot them.”

Indicating a small red button on the side
near the trigger, he continued, “Press this to turn it on.
Hopefully, you won’t ever have to as you aren’t actually a real
guard.” He sneered. “But, if you do, you have to allow the weapon
5.3 seconds to warm up before firing. You’ll know it’s ready to
fire when the switch turns green.”

I clenched my fingers around the weapon,
completely humiliated and furious that Malik couldn’t give me a
little leeway. Of course I’d never handled a weapon.
His
people had made sure of that.

“Fine,” I snapped at him.

“I’m guessing you know how to pull the
trigger?” His lip curled up on one side and he chuckled.

Right then and there my initial attraction
to him was completely tossed aside. The only thing my mind could
comprehend was a pure and utter hatred for this boy. I wanted to
burn the flesh from his bones and desperately wished I could
control my newfound power at will.

I leaned my body toward him and
concentrated. Nothing happened. So, frustrated from not being able
to burn him where he stood, I growled.

He laughed.

I was just about to spring at him to wrap my
fingers around his neck when Pallaton stepped between us and put
his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Enough. The inspectors will be
arriving shortly and our friends should be in their places by
then.” I wondered if Meir had also caught the poison in Pallaton’s
words when he’d said “friends.”

All sign of humor left Malik’s face as he
turned his dark, furious eyes on Meir. “Just make sure this girl
doesn’t mess up, or else it’s
my
head that’s going to need
saving.”

Meir gave Malik a sharp nod, and then
motioned for him to lead the way.

The ramp up the rear of the ship was fairly
steep and smooth. I had a hard time keeping my footing while
forcing my stick-like legs to push myself forward. Every time I
lunged one foot forward, the other would try to slip out from under
me. Meir had to wrap his arm around my waist and carry most of my
weight.

Malik growled.

I blushed a deep crimson, grateful my face
was hidden behind the mask. I knew I was weak, and I hated it. I
was tired of Meir having to help me, and of Malik looking at me
with such disdain.

It was hard to believe I’d ever found the
young Mamood attractive. The little sneer that now seemed a
permanent fixture on his face pulled his features down and warped
what might’ve been pleasant to look at into something hideous.

After a few precarious steps, during which
Meir had to catch me before I planted my face against the smooth
ramp, we walked into what I guessed was the cargo hold of the ship.
The small, square room was much darker than outside, but the lenses
on my mask adjusted quickly. After just a few short seconds, I
could see just as clearly as if I were standing in a well-lit room.
Dozens of metal crates littered the hold, piled in random heaps
rather than stacked up neatly against the walls. Long, narrow
spaces snaked among the piles like aisles in a maze. Each crate was
latched to the floor and bore the same “LM” initials, as well as a
diamond-shaped symbol.