Elemental

by Antony John

  After several steps the wall felt rougher, and I knew I was next to a different building. When that building ended, I kept moving straight ahead across the road toward the shelter. Five steps. Ten steps. Fifteen.

  Something didn’t feel right. The shelter wasn’t where I expected it to be.

  Suddenly there was a sound nearby: something moving, or scraping. Had someone come to find me?

  “Who’s there?” I shouted.

  No response, so I rushed in the direction of the sound. When I reached the spot, I stretched out my arms and felt only wind and rain.

  I heard the sound again, nearer this time. Again I hurried toward it, and my shoulder collided with the smooth wall of the shelter. I knew it would hurt in the morning, but I didn’t care. All my energy was focused on following the wall. When I finally reached the door, I threw myself inside.

  I clung to the rail and descended the stairs, footsteps unsteady, shoes slippery. The candle still glowed, but no one stirred. I wound my way toward Lora. She lay on her side, exactly where I’d left her.

  “Two,” she murmured, eyes shut tight. “Two tablets.”

  “There was nothing there. Nothing.”

  It seemed as though her entire body recoiled. “Should’ve sent Ananias,” she said, more breath than words. “Or Eleanor. Or Alice. Anyone but you.”

  “There was nothing there.”

  I wanted her to open her eyes. To apologize for what she’d done. But as the moments passed, I began to notice things: her expression, taut and unchanging; her legs, pulled tight against her chest. She looked helpless. She was suffering.

  “Blanket,” she mouthed.

  My mind drifted back to the building. Had there been other shelves after all? Had I stopped looking too soon?

  “Blan . . .” This time she couldn’t even complete the word.

  With so many bodies crammed together, the night felt even hotter and stickier than the day, but I spread my blanket across her anyway. Her arms glistened with perspiration.

  I lay down as her rasping breath steadied. She said the word tessa over and over until her voice faded away entirely and I knew that she had finally fallen asleep.

  As I rolled away from Lora, I noticed that Alice had edged closer to me. I could even see the whites of her eyes, so I guessed that she’d been listening.

  “You’re drenched.” She stifled a yawn. “Where have you been?”

  “Into Skeleton Town.”

  “What for? And why did she keep saying ‘tessa’?”

  “How did you hear—” I began to say. But then Alice’s eyes grew wide. She was looking upward as though watching someone standing over me.

  I rolled over and collided with Griffin. He knelt beside Guardian Lora and placed his hands under her head. She didn’t say a word, even when he lifted her head into his lap and stroked her hair tenderly.

  Then I realized why.

  Lora had always been one of the cruelest Guardians—never satisfied, always doubting. But at that moment, all I could think was that her challenge to me had been real. And because I had failed her, our colony had lost another member.

  With only fourteen people left, it was hard not to wonder if we were all as fragile as her. And if so, who would be next?

  CHAPTER 6

  Ananias was the first to wake, shortly before sunrise. When he saw Griffin, Alice, and me, he nudged Eleanor. The five of us encircled the body of Guardian Lora.

  Eleanor turned away from her dead grandmother, and Ananias wrapped her in a tight hug. She buried her face in his hair.

  Alice rubbed her tired eyes. “We should release Lora to the water.” With the storm over, her voice sounded loud and intrusive.

  Eleanor stepped back and dried her eyes with her tunic. “We should wait for the Guardians to arrive first.”

  “There isn’t time. She died just after you fell asleep. I overheard the Guardians say that bodies must be released to the water within a half day of passing.”

  “You overheard this?”

  Alice shrugged. She had an uncanny knack of overhearing all sorts of things—more than the rest of us put together. Some of the Guardians even accused her of spying, though she always denied it.

  “Well, then,” said Eleanor, “we should carry Guardian Lora to the water and offer a blessing for safe passage.”

  Alice stood and waited for the others to help her.

  “Someone needs to stay here, Alice.” Eleanor tilted her head toward Rose and Dennis, who were still fast asleep. “They’ll wake up soon, and need reassuring.”

  “So stay here and reassure them.”

  “No. Releasing Guardian Lora’s body is something Apprentices should do.”

  “Well, there are only two of you, so you’re going to need help. Anyway, you think I can’t toss a dead body into the water?”

  Eleanor gasped. “This is our grandmother, remember.”

  “Believe me, I remember—how much she hated me, criticized me. Truly, how can anyone be so mean?”

  Eleanor raised her hand. “Please don’t disrespect the dead. I can see you’ve been awake for most of the night. It must’ve been difficult, but you can’t let tiredness cloud your judgment now.” She spoke so calmly, so reasonably, that there was no way for Alice to protest.

  I signed to Griffin that I needed him to stay behind and explain to Rose and Dennis what had happened. It was like he didn’t even see me. Still, as long as he was around, they would know we hadn’t abandoned them.

  We picked up Lora’s body together, one of us at each limb. Ananias was stronger than me—with powerful arms and wide shoulders—but not much taller, so he and I took her legs. Lora was so light that none of us struggled. Hard to imagine such a frail body could have endured year after year of storms.

  We carried Lora up the worn stone steps and along the road to the shore. To the east, the sun was rising above Hatteras Island. I couldn’t see through the glare, but I knew the Guardians would be coming for us soon.

  How would I explain to them what had happened during the night?

  We waded into the sound and let Lora’s body float beside us. Eleanor offered thanks for Lora’s years of companionship, and expressed hope for the afterlife. Ananias didn’t speak, but he held Eleanor’s hand throughout, and pulled her close when she choked on her words. Alice just stared at her grandmother, eyes dulled by anger and distrust.

  Eleanor finished, and we let Lora go. Her body bobbed gently in the post-storm calm.

  While the others headed for shore, I stayed and watched her drift farther into the sound. I studied her closed eyes, the way the lines etched into her forehead had smoothed out, making her seem younger again. She had indeed tested me, but it was a matter of life and death, not a trap.

  Why hadn’t I woken the others?

  I heard someone pushing against the water, rejoining me. “Did you get any sleep at all?” Ananias asked gently.

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry.” He stood beside me, completely still. The loose sleeves of our tunics flapped together. “Do you know what happened to her?”

  I could have told him. It would have felt good to get it off my chest. Instead, I said nothing.

  He sighed. “Alice is right: Lora was a miserable woman.” He caught my look of surprise. “You know it’s true. Every time we’ve come to Roanoke, Father’s told me to look after her. But she never once thanked me.” He turned to face the body once more. “Go ahead and mourn her if you want, but I’m glad she’s dead. You should be too.”

  Even when Ananias left me, I stayed where I was, watching Lora float away. How could I be glad, when I was the one who let her die?

  * * *

  I got back to the shelter as Rose and Dennis were waking. Griffin sat with his back against the wall, hunkered down in his silent world. I thought maybe he’d fall
en asleep, but his hand was moving. He was completing his drawing from the night before: a perfect image of Guardian Lora, her eyes closed and face relaxed.

  The image seemed to shift before my eyes. Griffin hadn’t drawn Lora sleeping. He’d foreseen her death.

  I knew I should ask him if he was feeling all right. Perhaps even find out more about the drawing. But in that moment, everything seemed to have changed. A catastrophe had occurred, exactly as Griffin had predicted the previous afternoon—only the victim was Lora. Did that mean that when the Guardians arrived, my father would be among them, alive and well? Surely her death couldn’t have been a coincidence. Perhaps it wasn’t even my fault.

  Ananias joined us then. When he gasped, I knew he’d made the connection too. After that, neither of us looked at the others. We couldn’t afford to show our relief while Eleanor was busy explaining to Rose and Dennis why they’d never see Guardian Lora again.

  CHAPTER 7

  I awoke to the sound of muttering. Ananias and Eleanor sat on the steps, so I made my way over to them, past a sleeping Alice.

  “How long did I sleep?” I asked.

  Ananias glanced up. “A quarter day.”

  “Six strikes?” We measured time by placing a stick in the sand and watching its shadow trace an arc across strike marks in the ground. I pictured it passing six of them.

  “You needed it. We just finished lunch, but we’re running low on supplies. The Guardians still haven’t come for us.”

  That was a surprise. After a storm, the Guardians’ first priority was to take us back to the colony, or to bring us more food and water if we were going to need to stay longer in the shelter.

  “Maybe something got damaged, and they’re fixing it,” I said.

  “All of them?”

  “Then maybe there’s something wrong with the bridge.”

  Eleanor shook her head. “It was just a storm, not a hurricane. Besides, we’ve been checking the bridge. No one’s been on it today.”

  “So we wait.”

  Ananias and Eleanor exchanged glances.

  “Actually,” began Ananias, “we’re afraid there might be another reason the Guardians haven’t come for us. And if it’s important enough to keep them away, they could surely use our help.”

  I nodded. “I’ll tell the others to pack their bags and head for the canoes.”

  They exchanged another awkward glance, and this time I knew what was coming.

  “It’ll be better if just the two of us go. Griffin and Dennis weren’t feeling well last night. We really need someone to stay here and look after them.”

  “But I can . . .” Help you, I wanted to say. It’s what Alice would have said—fiercely too. But they were right about Griffin and Dennis. The last thing I wanted to do was make them paddle over to Hatteras if there was a chance we’d have to return to the shelter for another night.

  Ananias patted my shoulder, though his hand barely brushed my tunic. “Whether or not the Guardians need our help, one of us will return before supper. I promise.”

  Then they left, their strides long and determined, jaws set with the confidence brought on by well-honed elements. They held hands as they walked.

  As soon as they were gone, Rose and Dennis joined me. “Ananias says we’re short on supplies,” said Rose. “Unless you like wilted sea rocket stems.” The ends of her hair blew about. Her hazel eyes shone.

  “Would you catch us a fish?” I asked.

  “Do I have to?”

  “I haven’t eaten yet today. Neither have Alice and Griffin. Please don’t make us eat any more of that sea rocket.”

  She sighed. “All right. Fish it is.”

  We walked toward the sound. The sun was bright now, the air heavy and humid. At the water’s edge, Rose rolled up the hem of her white tunic and waded in. When the water came to just below her waist, she closed her eyes and placed her palms flat against the surface. Her body was perfectly still, hands rising and falling with each gentle swell. Only her hair moved at all.

  She’d stay that way as long as necessary—probably as long as half a strike—so Dennis and I collected kindling. It wasn’t difficult; the storm had washed lots of driftwood ashore. There were dead fish too, even the remains of seagulls—their bloated white bodies still waiting for the vultures to arrive.

  In the distance, Ananias and Eleanor’s canoe was disappearing across the sound. The stillness of the afternoon reminded me how I tired I was. Dennis was working much faster than me.

  “You seem better today,” I told him.

  He raised his face to the sky. The sun glowed upon his freckled cheeks. “Storm’s passed,” he said, like that explained everything. “Sorry about what I said last night, though.” His expression grew tense. “It’s the echo . . . makes me—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I interrupted. “You’re fine now. That’s what matters.”

  A flash of white pulled me around. Rose had already dropped to her knees. She bounced back up a moment later, a movement so fluid and quick that it caused barely a ripple. When she raised her hands, she clutched a trout as long as her forearm. It flapped desperately, silver scales glinting in the sun, but there was no escape.

  Rose’s tunic lay slick against her now, outlining the curves of her chest and hips. Water dripped from her hair. But she was oblivious to everything except the trout. As she lifted her left hand above her, she stared at the fish without blinking, even whispered something I couldn’t hear. I would have sworn it heard her too, because it gave up fighting and grew still.

  I held my breath. Waiting.

  Rose brought her hand down with sickening force. She killed the trout instantly.

  Then she was still again.

  By the time Dennis and I finished gathering kindling, she was a hundred yards along the road. She held the trout horizontal in her arms, like an offering.

  “That was so quick,” I said as we caught up with her.

  She nodded.

  “Are you all right?”

  “She’s all right,” said Dennis. “It’s the echo. That’s all.”

  As if she knew I was watching her, Rose tilted her head away. But not before I caught a glimpse of her tear-streaked face, half hidden behind disheveled hair. I wondered what her echo could be, and if she had any idea at all how beautiful she was.

  * * *

  Alice wasn’t pleased that Ananias and Eleanor had left without us, or that I hadn’t woken her. But most of all she wasn’t pleased about having to start a fire to cook the fish.

  “Why are you making me do this?” she hissed. “You know my element is weak.”

  “You can do as much as my father.”

  “No offense, but that’s not saying much.”

  Alice was right. Neither she nor my father came close to Ananias’s talent for manipulating fire. Griffin’s control of the earth was also weak; but then, he had visions.

  “Look. Ananias isn’t here,” I said. “You are.”

  “So? It’s humiliating to struggle with an element.”

  “As humiliating as not having one at all?”

  That quieted her momentarily. “Fine. I’ll try. But I can’t promise anything, and you know it. Do you have kindling?”

  I pointed to the fire pit the Guardians had dug beside the exterior wall of the shelter. Dennis and I had filled it with driftwood. Alice knelt down and arranged the pieces so there were barely any gaps. Then she rolled up her sleeves, leaned back on her haunches, and pressed her palms together.

  She rubbed her hands back and forth: slowly at first, then faster and faster, until the air was filled with the rush of friction and telltale wisps of smoke. Still she moved quicker, hands a blur as the first tiny flames licked at the edges of her fingertips. There were sparks too—they shot out in all directions, but disappeared before they hit the ground. A
nd all the while the heat grew, rippling and warping the air, driving us back.

  With yellow-orange flames radiating from her hands, Alice leaned forward and opened her palms toward the kindling. Sweat poured down her forehead, but she continued to rub the edges of her hands together, the fire growing as it drew oxygen from the open air. She didn’t even stop when the first pieces of driftwood caught, but allowed her element to take over. Her head tipped backward and her shoulders relaxed. Thick smoke obscured her face.

  I glanced at Rose and Dennis. They were clearly as surprised as me. We’d seen Alice produce smoke and sparks on Hatteras, but not much more. Now she was immersed in the fire she’d created. It didn’t seem to affect her at all.

  With the driftwood ablaze, Rose impaled the trout with a stake and balanced it on the makeshift spit. Alice drove her fingers into the flames and rearranged the sticks until the fish’s black-and-silver skin began to sizzle. The kindling glowed like the sun and crackled angrily, but it gave off less smoke now, and I could see Alice clearly again: her smut-smeared face, and a single teardrop that traced a course through the grime.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  Alice pulled her sleeves down and wiped them across her cheeks, erasing all signs of the tear-streak. “Nothing. It’s just sweat.”

  She was lying, but I didn’t call her on it. No need to make her feel bad.

  “What does it feel like to have an element?” I asked Rose.

  “Like nothing. An element just is. It’s a part of you, like breathing.”

  “So what’s the echo?”

  “It’s a side effect of the element.”

  “What’s yours?”

  She hesitated. “I make the fish come to me. And . . . I don’t know how to explain this, but . . . it’s like I reassure them. That everything is good. Which is a lie, because I kill them.”

  “So your echo is—what? That you feel sorry for the fish?”

  She chuckled, but the sound got caught in her throat. “I know, it sounds stupid. But it gets to me. I make a promise, and then I break it. It takes a piece of me every time.”