Elemental Rush (Elemental 0.5)

MAP OF THE UNITED TERRITORIES

Winter in Tarpulin,
the capital city of the United Territories, was mild. Perched on the edge of the ocean, we enjoyed a somewhat regulated weather pattern. I stepped onto my balcony at the end of January, wearing only a thin undershirt and shorts. I woke early every day in order to complete my hour of mandated exercise before my sentry classes began at seven o’clock.

The balcony stones radiated the morning chill, something the sun wouldn’t warm for a few more hours at least, especially considering that it wasn’t even up yet. That was something I hated most about winter—the late arrival of the sun.

I took a cleansing breath, my insides starting to shiver and my skin pimpling. Using my Element, I warmed the air on my tiny terrace, a small enough space that my wind wouldn’t be noticed by my neighbors. Not that Felix was awake. He preferred to do his workouts late at night.

Sentries lived in tight quarters; our single-room living spaces were stacked on top of each other. But my balcony was my sanctuary. I spent every morning exercising my airmaking Element outside because I couldn’t use it anywhere else. No matter what.

I sighed and turned back to my studio. I never made my bed, which I’d pushed against the wall closest to the balcony. I craved the light, the nearness of the outdoors. I had ever since my Element had Manifested last year.

A single closet stood opposite the end of my bed, and next to that was the bathroom. I had to step over the toilet to get to the shower, which barely accommodated the width of my shoulders. The architect of the sentry barracks clearly didn’t care about our comfort.

I also had a mini-fridge and a hot plate on a short counter. Along with my standard-issue black uniform, they encompassed the entirety of my possessions. I’d never complained about the meagerness of my living conditions, or wished for more. I spent hardly any time in my studio, and I’d never wanted for heat, or food, or security.

The life of sentry wasn’t bad. Almost the highest ranking for Unmanifested boys, the sentry position was actually coveted. I’d enjoyed attending the Elemental ceremonies, eating in the mess hall until I puked, and then falling into my warm bed. I had ultimate freedom to venture anywhere within the city walls, and everyone looked at me with eyes edged with fear.

Yes, I’d definitely appreciated my sentry status.

It wasn’t until my airmaking Element Manifested that I realized what else I could have. I pushed away the thoughts of rooms—plural!—four times as big as this one, with a balcony that wrapped around the entire side of a fortress. I squashed the idea of having a Council, of experiencing the mystical chartering bond I’d heard about.

I served Firemakers, who acted as Councilmen. They relied on me, the same way they relied on their Airmasters and Earthmovers and Watermaidens.

You have a good life,
I told myself as I got in the shower. I wasn’t sure if I believed it, but by the time I’d donned my uniform, I only had one thought pressing against my consciousness.

Today was assassin training, and I’d need every wit about me to survive until lunch.

“Adam, focus.” The voice came from everywhere, echoing through the cavernous room, and doing exactly the opposite of what it wanted me to. My concentration slipped, and with it, the laser sight drooped below my target.

On my right, my brother glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. I heard his thoughts in my mind, a gift I’d possessed since birth. Only Felix knew about it; he’d said that if anyone else found out, I’d be taken to the science wing, where I’d never be allowed to leave. The gory stories he told about experimentation were enough to scare me into silence as a child, and I saw no reason to start talking now.

Get it together, Gillman
, Felix warned, turning his attention back to his own task. We were in a simulation, but that didn’t matter. Every situation we practiced gave us the experience we needed in the dangerous job of being a Councilman’s sentry.

I wanted to please my brother. Last week, he’d been selected as the Supreme Elemental’s personal sentry. The Supremist was vamping up his security, and Felix got to handpick his crew. I was hoping to be on it.

As an assigned sentry, I wouldn’t have to endure training anymore. I’d move out of the barracks and into the fortress. And to be assigned to the Supremist himself? I’d have everything I’d worked for over the past twelve years.

So I dialed out Felix’s thoughts. I’d learned to quiet them by the age of five, when it became necessary for me to focus on only what someone said, not what they thought. I’d begun sentry training as a six-year-old, and I learned quickly that I didn’t want to know what my trainers thought of me.

With silence in my mind, and my attention drilled into the target, I aimed the laser and fired. Felix completed his assassination a split-second after me, and together we lowered our weapons.

He grinned at me, his face nearly identical to mine though he was six years older. He’d protected me after our parents died. Natives of Gregorio, a city-state a few hundred miles north of Tarpulin, they’d been journeying to the capital for my dad’s new assignment.

Wolves, combined with a terrible storm, caught them on the plains, where they both died with their bodies caged around me and Felix. He kept me warm. He fed me the food he’d taken from our parents’ frozen bodies. He got us to Tarpulin safely.

I was a year old; he was seven. He started in the sentry-training program immediately, and he only asked that I be assigned as soon as I was of age. I’d lived with a widow until I turned six, and then I’d moved into my studio. Felix fed me for the first few years, but by age eight, he started insisting I learn to cook and take care of myself.

“Nice job,” he said, clapping me on the back. I wanted to be a good sentry for him. I craved his approval.

“Nice enough for the Supremist?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

He scrutinized my long hair, which fell into my eyes. “Maybe if you cut that hair.” But he said it with a smile, and I knew I wouldn’t have to cut my hair to be on his squad. I’d do it if I had to, but he wouldn’t require it.

At least I hoped not. My hair was the one thing about myself that I liked. I could kill a man twice my size with my bare hands. I could pick any lock with a pin I had tucked under the top layer of my skin. I could endure more pain than anyone else, except maybe Felix. I knew, because I received transmissions through my electronic tattoo, which hurt with a hot, white pain every time I sent or received information.

All sentries were masters at controlling pain, masking emotions, hurting others enough to get the information we needed to protect our Councilman. Felix always said someone had to do the dirty work, and that was what we sentries did.

I’d never served a Councilman, so I wasn’t sure exactly how dirty my hands would get. But I wasn’t stupid, and I’d been taught so many diverse ways to torture that I knew what my role would be when I was assigned.

Some sentries went mad as they progressed through the training. Weak-minded, Felix called them.

Some trainees killed themselves when they realized they’d spend their lives killing others. Fragile, Felix labeled them.

He constantly told me we would’ve died on the plains between here and Gregorio if he’d been weak-minded or fragile. He wasn’t either of those, and I didn’t want to be either, lest I should disappoint him.

“I’m going to talk to the Supremist this afternoon,” he told me as we left the training facility and made our way to the mess hall in the sentry barracks. As we went, the windows became smaller and farther apart, effectively blocking the light and air I craved.

I didn’t say anything to Felix’s remark. He already knew what I wanted; it was the same thing he wanted. I didn’t know half of what he’d done to protect me on the plains, or throughout the years of my life. I just knew he’d done everything he could to make sure I had what I needed, that I was the most comfortable I could be.

I only hoped I could make him proud.

The next morning
a knock came on my door before I’d risen. Shocked someone was up before me, I padded barefoot across the stone floor to my bolted door. I listened first, something sentries were taught on the first day of training.
A knock is never a knock
, I heard in my trainer’s voice.
A knock could kill you.