Elements (Tear of God Book 1) (30 page)

“Excuse me?” Mink, suprised by her being so direct, leaned away from Gyov enough for Obyr to elbow him out of his space. “What makes you think I’m sad?”

“I notice. I have confession. Every day at school I walk by you, hoping you remember me and talk to me.”

It was almost too much to hear, coming straight out of Gyov’s mouth as if they were going over answers for a test. Mink’s face reddened, then tears backed up in his eyes. She was hoping he would talk to her? Daily?

Mink wiped his face with both hands in a hurry. “Whew. That sausage is hotter than it looks.” He looked back at Gyov, who now seemed so serious he had to smile big to snap her out of it. “I’m not sad. Maybe that’s just how I look.”

“Did my confession upset you? I don’t want you to think I stalk you or something.”

“No, no. Not upsetting. Don’t worry about it. Just a little surprised is all.”

“Oh dear. I have upset you. You think I’m weird now and won’t like me.” She gave Mink a playful pout and a huff, going back to eating and giving him sidelong looks.

“What?” For the first time, Mink was starting to think Gyov was a little weird. In a good and fun way, he had to admit to himself. “I do like you.”

There it was, hanging in the Air like a Fire user’s Flame Ghosted Candle, Mink’s professed undying love for Gyov, only not in quite so many words. He watched her pout turn to a giggle. She pretended to tuck her hair, already braided, behind her reddening ear. Her eyes met his and then traced down his face to his mouth, watching his lips as he continued.

“I like you a lot, actually.” Mink refused to let the moment slip away. She would not fade from him again. To have returned to him now, like this… “I went out of my way to see you at school.”

“You should have said ‘hi’, or something.”

“I should have. From now on, I promise I will.”

As they ate in the comfortable silence that followed, Mink reveled at the recent developments of his life while Obyr, Tralé, Frèni, and Corporal Ankrim argued Theology and Science in the background of his awareness.

“Then, please,” a debate-weary Tralé countered, “explain to me the scientific facts behind the Dedication Dream.”

With this, both Alré and Ankrim, the only two at the table to have had a Dedication Dream, shot to attention. Obyr shrugged off Tralé’s challenge with a smirk. “Simple power of suggestion. By the time anyone turns twenty-five, they’ve heard so much about the Dream, they’re bound to have one.” Tralé threw up his hands and continued to eat. Obyr went on, “A lot of people can’t even remember their Dream. Even if memory of a dream was reliable. Everyone just keeps repeating what they’ve heard all their lives.”

Ankrim leaned toward Obyr with an eerily calm authority. “Until you’ve had a Dedication Dream, you have no right to form an opinion on them.”

Obyr’s silence relayed his discomfort at challenging his direct superior, but Frèni offered up some defense as Alré plopped her head back on her bag. “I think Obyr has some good points. We Elementalists certainly aren’t any better off holding on to echoes of bygone religions. And we aren’t any worse off for abandoning them.” No one seemed interested in responding to Frèni’s late interruption in the debate. “After bringing the nations together, our founding mothers refused to build temples for a reason. Different Elemental types needed to get out of hiding and mingle for us to progress as a society.”

Theen added his voice. “All of this debate is pointless. In a couple of days we’ll have a Tear of God or we won’t. Then we’ll know.”

Undeterred by anyone else’s doubt, Mink held his own opinion on the Tear of God. He had seen it. Now he was preoccupied by more relevant matters. Mink’s whole attitude toward life seemed to have changed drastically, even just in the last minute. Food tasted better. He, the boy with no Element and a loser by such standards, had unburdened his heart to its desire, and here she remained beside him. A few inches closer, even.

“Hey, Mink,” Mouké called from the end of the table. “I’m going to get a head start on cleaning up camp. Wanna change clothes now?”

Mink went to rise and realized he was semi-erect, with no way of hiding the protrusion as he walked in front of everyone. “Uh… do I have time to finish breakfast?” he stalled.

“Well, be snappy about it. Can’t have everyone waiting on the Guide Cell.”

Mink engrossed himself in last of the debate. He repeated every word in his mind enough times to push out any echoes of Gyov’s voice. If only Alré would wake up and join the discussion, he might be turned off enough to get up and change his clothes.

“I’m not saying I don’t think massive power exists in the world.” Obyr seemed to be calming down. “I just think it’s limiting and even damaging to think it comes out of the ether. Out of our control.”

“Really?” Tralé had grown much more concerned with his food. “I think it’s dangerous to think it’s something you can control.”

Obyr shrugged and started talking more to himself than anyone else. “You’re obviously not the best Wood user under twenty-five then.”

Tralé shot a smile and a wink to Mouké, who raised an eyebrow and bowl of kwona in salute. Albeit slowly, Mink was less aroused, continuing to buy some time by picking at his plate.

“That’s snappy?” Mouké complained. “Mink, I’d hate to see you in slow motion. Are you going to use the cabin or not? I want to get the camp cleaned up so we can start clearing a path.” Somewhere in Mouké’s pressing, Mink’s crisis was averted. He scraped the last of the food off his plate and into his mouth. He chewed while he hurried to fetch his clothes from his pack, and headed into the cabin.

It was more spacious than it looked on the outside. Vent holes for Air and light were situated high on each of the eight walls. Under each vent, the wall was adorned with the Elemental symbol that correlated to the direction the wall faced. Devoid of Alré and Ankrim’s belongings, there was only one four-post bed pushed against the far wall, complete with a latticed headboard. This was just how Tralé and Mouké operated.

It felt so good to wear fresh clothes. Mink brushed his dry, tangled hair as best he could with no mirror or glass. This was perhaps the first time he was thankful that his face only managed to grow hairs on his lip and chin. Not having shaved for at least ten days was making him scruffy. His obsidian razor had been chipped slightly, but retained enough of a workable edge to get the job done. A quick rub of leaf oil on his face confirmed that he hadn’t cut himself, and left a lingering spicy, sweet scent.

He wanted to appear the handsome suitor when he emerged from the cabin for Gyov to see. People had told him this shade of blue on his jacket was particularly flattering to his complexion. The pockets on his arms made them look bigger, even if they were useless for storing anything other than small crystals. The chest pockets had a similar effect, especially when he left the top three hooks unfastened.

He also wore a flesh colored mock-turtleneck and his only pair of zip pants, which were a gift from his parents for his sixteenth birthday. Zippers, fashioned from natural Wood, were rare on clothes, and these pants had eight of them. The pockets were internal so all that could be seen against the burnt-brown pants were red Wood zippers. Upon close inspection, the growth rings, indicative of natural-grown Wood, lined up perfectly when zipped up. His parents had spared no expense.

After lacing up his boots, Mink felt quite attractive indeed. If only he had some bronzer to darken his skin to a manlier shade like his Uncle Durren’s, but no matter. Chin high and chest out, Mink strode from the cabin with his winningest smile.

Mouké was the only one to see. The table had been Dispelled and everyone was settling into formation down the trail. Impatiently, Mouké tossed Mink’s pack to the ground by his feet.

“Man, Mink. You take all day for everything, don’t you?”

“Can’t rush perfection.” Mink shrugged off the disappoinment, still high on his conversation with Gyov, and stuffed his old clothes into his pack.

“Well, Mr. Perfection, Tralé’s waiting for you down on his scooter. I’ll be the last one ready because I had to wait on you before Dispelling the cabin. Perfection…” Mouké continued to mutter to himself sarcastically before he chanted the Wood user’s Dispel effect, Unroot,

“Atriarb undoes the effect.

Take back the power which you gave.”

He reached out to the cabin, which subsequently vibrated only a couple of seconds until it had completely disappeared. According to the order in which each aspect vanished, Mink observed that the twins had built the roof first, raised it with walls, made the bed an extension of one wall, and then finished with the floor. “Sorry for holding you up, Mouké. And thanks for letting me use the cabin.” Mink shouldered his bag and set off down the the slope to the trail.

“Don’t worry about it. And don’t forget to put your pack on the wagon!” Mouké yelled after him.

M
INK WOVE
his way down the trail toward the wagon. The rest of the Cells were Dispelling their campsites, packing their bags, and falling back into formation. He got a sense that some of the looks he received were positive and some negative, but it only mattered to him now what one person thought. And she seemed to like him. The realization was so freeing.

Bag secured on the wagon, Mink jogged up to the front of the procession. The sun had risen well over Octernal on the eastern horizon, having burned off the cool morning mist that fed the mountain trees. He waved and caught Pulti’s attention as he passed her cell. She did a double take and looked him over, probably shocked to see him wearing his better clothes on this kind of a trip. She waved back, giving him a thumbs-up. Mink welcomed her endorsement, figuring if Pulti was impressed, Gyov surely would be too.

It occured to Mink as he came up on Gyov’s Strike Cell, that he had no idea what decorum applied to passing by her after their breakfast confessional. He wouldn’t ignore her as he might have done two hours ago. It couldn’t hurt to wave like he had to Pulti, but he felt like he should do more for Gyov. He caught sight of the back of her braided head on the edge of the path as she looked out toward their country. Instead of calling out, Mink saved it for later and caught up with his Cell.

Mouké reached his scooter a few seconds before Mink made it to Tralé’s. Alré was looking down the line of campers, likely reconnecting with Silent Signal Fire. Sapo slid restlessly behind Alré, noticing Mink as he got situated on the scooter. She smiled at him and nodded approvingly, and then she spun a tight circle, fanning out her pants in style.

“Looks like you found your energy, at least.” Tralé looked at Mink with a half smile.

“Yessir. I’m awake now.”

“Too bad it took so long. You and I might have crested the moutain by now.” He turned around and started chanting to Animate the pergnut trees ahead using the March Root effect,

“Wood appears to have life with me.

I make it move, fight, bend, and dance.

My hands implement my intent.

I use the target like a tool.

It remains separate from me.

I cannot kill my Element.

I control as Atriarb does.