Elemental Release

  She blushed and looked at her shoes. “I agree,” ghosted from her lips. “Liz?” she asked, her voice regaining strength.

  “I am ready to do what the Supremist has asked,” she said. “I believe his philosophy is correct. As an Unmanifested, I’ve felt the gulf between me and Elementals.” She focused on the floor. “Not you guys, but….” She trailed off, and I knew she’d felt that from us. Probably from me the most. I hadn’t made an effort to get to know her since we’d chartered, mostly because…well, I didn’t have a reason.

  Maybe because I’d spent so much mental energy trying to mend things with Gabby, I couldn’t try to form a friendship with Liz too.

  “I’m sure we can all do a better,” Gabby said. “And we will.” She glared at each of us. “Right, guys?”

  “Right,” we all said.

  Liz’s blush deepened. Gabby clapped her hands. “All right, then. I guess we’re done here.” She immediately moved to Liz’s side and engaged her in a quiet conversation. Isaiah and Cat excused themselves, and I went with them, not quite ready to keep working things out with Gabby in front of Liz.

  We ate dinner as a Council, at Gabby’s request. The dining hall had been redecorated, and clearly, the Firemakers had been asked to keep their Councils together at mealtimes. The rectangular tables had been replaced with circular ones, with only five chairs stationed at each.

  I listened to Gabby and Liz tell stories of growing up in the southern barracks in the city-state of Crylon. I liked the way Gabby laughed, and the fire in her eyes, when she spoke of her childhood. I was hungry to learn everything about her, and the pieces of her life, before I’d met her.

  So I adopted Isaiah’s usual mute manner, and just listened. Gabby kept glancing at me, and I thought she probably wanted me to contribute to the conversation with an experience of my own. But I didn’t want to tell her anything about the twelve years I’d spent in the sentry training program. I chuckled, raked my hair out of my eyes, and smiled at her whenever she looked my way.

  After dinner, I told Gabby I needed to take a walk, and that I’d catch up with everyone tomorrow. I’d never spent so much time around others, and I craved the solitude and independence of my sentry life. Even in the Outcast settlement, I’d been able to get away from the village to hunt or fish. I enjoyed having the silence I needed to hear myself think.

  I soared to the beach, to the same spot where Airmaster Rusk had brought me. I settled on the sand as I admired the moonlight on the rolling waves. I closed my eyes, letting the gentle breeze coming off the water tousle my hair and whisper through my soul. I took a deep breath in. The intense emotion, the needling worry, the troublesome fears I had melted away under the calming air.

  Airmaster Rusk would be proud, I thought as I meditated. Soothed, I flew back to my balcony. I landed lightly and peered through the glass. The living room sat empty, but the door to my bedroom was closed.

  I slid open the door and heard soft music filtering from the bedroom. I sighed as I exited, closed the door, and soared to Gabby’s balcony.

  Her apartment lay blanketed in darkness, but her door was unlocked. I made a mental note to tell her to secure her quarters even as I slipped inside.

  Her couch was just as comfortable when lying down as it was when I’d sat on it earlier. I listened to the even sound of her breathing, using it to lull myself to sleep.

  As usual, I woke before dawn. Grateful—for once—for my habit of rising early, I stepped into the gray light of morning. I ducked to the side of the balcony when I heard the shower start inside Gabby’s apartment. I pulled the door closed and lifted myself on a cushion of air to my own terrace.

  The bedroom door was open; Isaiah’s snores filled the space. I decided to mirror Gabby, and I got in the shower. I took a few extra minutes standing in the hot water to complete my morning meditation. Airmaster Rusk had said to come to my classes with a clear head, and I was determined to give him a better performance today than I had yesterday.

  Before breakfast, I knocked on Liz’s door, hoping she’d answer and not Cat. I didn’t want to think about what she and Isaiah were doing in that bottom bunk. Thankfully, Liz answered, rubbing a towel through her frizzy hair.

  “Morning,” I said, clasping my hands behind my back.

  “Oh, Adam.” She threw the towel behind her and shuffled her feet. “Did-did you need something?” She glanced down the hall, clearly looking for something. She didn’t find it, so she returned her eyes to mine.

  “I thought we should get to know each other,” I said. “Since you’ll be sending your reports to me, and well….” I toed at the floor, wishing it would swallow me. “Well, I haven’t been real friendly to you before now. I apologize for that. I’ve been—”

  “Gabby told me,” she blurted, and I found her thoughts. I hope he’s not mad. Gabby said he’d been dealing with a lot since he left his sentry life. She doesn’t know exactly what, but I know their last Unmanifested died at the cliffs.

  Liz stared at me with wide eyes. I attempted to put on a smile. “Oh, okay. So Gabby told you about Hanai?” My throat narrowed when I said his name.

  She nodded, and I did too. “Okay,” I said again. “So we’ll just go from here.”

  “Sure,” she said.

  I stepped back. “Are you ready? Want to come to breakfast with me?”

  She fingered her wet hair, her pale cheeks taking on some color. “Give me five minutes.” She invited me inside, and I waited on their couch—just like mine—while she finished getting ready.

  After breakfast, I met Airmaster Rusk in his office, where he stood wearing an identical set of robes and that same silly grin as yesterday. “Adam,” he said, and I got the impression he was truly happy to see me. I didn’t know what to make of his reaction toward me. I was used to being regarded with fear, loathing, even admiration. But no one was ever truly happy to see a sentry. After I’d abandoned that life, I’d become a fugitive and a traitor—at least in my brother’s eyes. Even Davison hadn’t ever looked at me like he was pleased to see me.

  “Airmaster Rusk,” I said. “I have made my list.” I handed him a slip of paper, which currently held three items: 1) Grieve for the death of Hanai, 2) Overcome the powerlessness I feel to change my circumstances, 3) Bridge the distance I’ve put between me and everyone else.

  “Part of it,” he said after examining the page. He glanced into the sky. “I know, I know,” he muttered, but whether it was to himself or an air current, I didn’t know.

  He looked at me, tucking the list into a pocket of his robes. “Come, let us begin. This morning, we head to the cliffs.”

  Soaring over the land, I easily found the acreage that had been burned when Gabby had battled Alex. Blackened tree trunks and charred brush extended over the edge of the cliffs to the east. Airmaster Rusk seemed to understand that I wouldn’t want to revisit that site, and he flew further west, closer to the train tracks.

  When he touched down, I couldn’t feel a whisper of wind. I wondered what we were doing out in the middle of nowhere, but I kept quiet.

  Rusk surveyed the land, dropped into a crouch and pinched the soil between his fingers. Apparently satisfied, he glanced at me. “Sometimes, Adam, you will not have any currents with which to transform. These are times when you must create.”

  I glanced into the clear, blue sky. Halfway into summer, and the sun had warmed the day already. Especially out here on the cliffs, which were made from mostly rock. “Okay,” I said. “I think I can do that.” I met his gaze. “I think I’ve done it before.”

  He nodded at me encouragingly. “I believe you have. Near Cornish, the currents tell me.”

  Tornadoes, I thought. He already knows.

  He moved closer to me, the childishness about him fading until a sterner version of my mentor stood before me. “I know many things,” he said. “Things about people I wish I didn’t. This is the curse of an Airmaster. You have not experienced it fully yet, but when you master your ability, you
will be unable to keep the air from telling you all its secrets.”

  He tapped my forehead. “This is why you must clear your mind each day. You, more than any other on the Council, must be level-headed and centered. For it is you that will know the heinous acts of mankind.”

  I could only stare at him. “Isaiah seems to be a better fit for that job,” I finally said. “He’s already calm and collected. I’m….” I didn’t know what I was. Not strong enough came to mind.

  “Not all are,” he murmured. He turned away, studying the cloudless sky. “But I think you are.” He spun to face me again, a smile back in place. “Yes, you definitely are.”

  “Airmaster?” I took two steps toward him, more nervous now than before I’d taken my first assassination shot. “Can you read my mind?”

  The grin slipped from his face; his eyes became pools of sympathy. “Yes,” he said simply. “It is a curse that sometimes comes with the airmaking ability, though not everyone is endowed with it. I do not listen to everyone. Only those I cannot resist.”

  My heart rippled. Did he know I could read minds too?

  “I didn’t until just now,” he said, his face turning a shade whiter. “I have not met another Airmaster with this talent in my lifetime.”

  “Is it bad?” I asked as he swayed on his feet.

  “Simply remarkable,” he said. “I thought the gene to be recessive, perhaps extinct.” He peered at me. “Who was your father?”

  “I—I don’t know,” I said. “My parents died when I was a baby, crossing the plains. I know they came from Gregorio, and I know my father had been given a new assignment in Tarpulin.”

  “Do you know their names?”

  I hadn’t thought of my parents in a very long time. My mind constantly circled Felix, and if he considered my choices wise, my life successful.

  “That is another item for your list,” Airmaster Rusk said, a sad look in his eye.

  I nodded, the emotion I’d allowed to well in my throat solidifying into anger. “William and Shirley Gillman,” I said, my voice rough.

  “Hm,” he said, and though I tried to find his thoughts, I could not.

  “Sir,” I said. “Why can’t I hear your mind?”

  “I have learned how to protect myself.” He moved away from me, kicking up dust with the hem of his robes.

  “How can I do that?” I followed him, sure he was about to put me through another test I would fail.

  “By mastering your Element,” he said over his shoulder. “It is only then that you can lead a truly meaningful—and private—life.”

  I limped to lunch, feeling windblown and chapped. I collapsed into the chair next to Liz, who was the only Councilmember at our table. She gaped at me with her mouth open. “Do you want me to get your lunch?” she asked. “You look terrible.”

  “Thanks,” I said, not even caring that she’d insulted me. “As much food as you can get, please.”

  She returned with a tray full of food—and Gabby, Cat, and Isaiah.

  “Adam,” Cat gasped. “What happened to you?”

  I put my head on the table, but the throbbing didn’t cease. “I suck at creating air,” I mumbled. Airmaster Rusk had thrown current after current at me, and I was supposed to create the air I needed to deflect his attacks. I had succeeded only once.

  Cat began humming, and I felt the pain in my feet ease. When Gabby laced her hot fingers through mine, I didn’t care how badly my body hurt.

  My mornings of tortuous, failure-filled excursions became routine. I collected Liz for breakfast each morning, and after the first week, she stopped acting so awkward around me. She had my lunch waiting for me when I arrived air-beaten and emotionally spent.

  Afternoons blended together, first with sessions with Liz, and then Gabby, as the three of us worked closely together. After dinner, I escaped to be alone, sometimes going to the beach, other times simply flying until I found a tall tree in which to sit.

  I slept in my own bed maybe twice a week. Other than that, I found myself on Gabby’s couch, falling asleep to the beautiful sound of her steady breathing. Because I had to wait for her to fall asleep, and with my need to be out of her room by dawn, I was exhausted most of the time. By fall, I needed a break—soon.

  I met with Airmaster Rusk, who agreed that I could have a week off. “Go somewhere else,” he said. “Another city-state. You need the release of more than just your training. You need an Elemental release.”

  I agreed. “Liz has been assigned the city-state of Rhyss for her diplomacy training,” I said. “Should I go there?”

  Airmaster Rusk considered my proposal for a moment. “I don’t think so. She might think you find her incapable of accomplishing her task there. Perhaps you have somewhere you enjoy? Gregorio is close to the Eastern Shore. Crylon boasts of a simple life among the forests of the Territories.”

  But I already knew I wouldn’t vacation to Gregorio or Crylon. “Hesterton,” I said. “I love the mountains.”

  My mentor smiled. “I won’t expect to see you until next Monday, then.”

  For the first time since my Elemental training had begun, I left his office with a smile on my face. That night at dinner, I announced to my Council that I’d been given permission to take a vacation to Hesterton.

  Gabby paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. She’d gained a few pounds since April. Eating three full meals a day had only made her face more beautiful, her curves more distracting. I glanced away as I realized I’d been staring at her.

  “You’re leaving?” she asked, something close to panic in her voice.

  “Just for a week. I’m wiped out. I need a break.”

  “I didn’t even know we got breaks,” Liz said. “I’m going to ask for one before I have to leave for Rhyss.”

  I watched her with a rush of pride. She’d worked so hard over the past few months, learning geography, reading, writing, history, government, and politics. “You have lots of time,” I said. “And I’ll be back in time to make plans with you beforehand if you do take a vacation.”

  “Lots of time?” she said, her eyebrows raised. She looked at Gabby. “He thinks he’s funny.” She stabbed at her chicken. “Twenty-five days, Adam. I have to leave in twenty-five days.”

  I realized then that she was more concerned about her internship than I knew. Than any of us knew. We spent the lunch hour comforting Liz, and reminding her that she made top marks in all her classes, that our training sessions had gone without a hitch.

  That night, I awoke to the sharp sound of a gasp. I sat up, trying to find Gabby before she slugged me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quickly, shielding my face.

  The silence felt so loud. Then she laughed, and her bedroom light flared on. “You should see yourself.”

  I squinted into the light as she entered her living room. Though she’d laughed, she didn’t look happy. “What are you doing here?”

  “Sleeping?” I tried.

  “Obviously.” She crossed her arms. “The real question is why?”

  “My room is very…stressful,” I said. “And often occupied.”

  “Often?” Her voice pitched into the rafters.

  Tornadoes. I scrubbed the back of my head. “Uh, I’m leaving for Hesterton in the morning. I won’t bother you for at least a week.”

  She exhaled as she sat on the couch opposite from me. “You don’t bother me,” she said. “If you needed somewhere to sleep, you should’ve said something.”

  “I didn’t need anywhere to sleep,” I said. “Your balcony door was always open.”

  She glanced at the glass like it was to blame for me being here in the dead of night.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” I said. “I thought you’d be mad if you found out I’d been staying over.”

  “What time do you have to wake up to get out of here?” she asked. “I mean, I’ve been getting up—”

  “By five o’clock,” I said, yawning. “I know.”

  She watched me, a l
ook I couldn’t read in her eyes. I settled back into the pillows, wishing I could go back to sleep.

  “I didn’t even go to bed until midnight,” she said.

  “I know,” I repeated, closing my eyes. “And you should probably start locking your balcony door while I’m gone.”

  I heard the couch squeak, heard her footsteps come closer. But I didn’t connect the dots until she slid onto the couch next to me, forming her back to my chest. I shifted so she’d have more room, and then I placed my hand over her waist. She felt so hot, I almost complained. But I didn’t. I hadn’t initiated anything romantic between us for a long time, knowing that she needed time. More importantly, I needed time. Time to grieve, time to find my center, time to heal.

  “I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” she whispered.

  My heart swelled; my throat felt too dry. “You’ll be fine,” I said. “I’m just taking a vacation, not leaving forever.”

  “I know,” she said. “But….”

  “You’ll miss me,” I supplied for her, surprised when she snuggled closer and nodded against my chest.

  “I’ll miss you too,” I said, my lips dangerously close to her ear. I pressed my mouth to her neck and enjoyed the way she arched into me, a clear invitation for me to kiss her again. I wanted to do that—and a lot more.

  She twisted in my arms, and I found her mouth waiting for mine. We kissed for a few minutes, my heart pounding harder every time she broke contact and remade it. I ducked my head, searching for the soft skin on her neck.