Elements (Tear of God Book 1)

by Henri, Raymond

  “Festering piles of the grotesque!” Tralé emerged from his Wood tent, laying eyes on Mink’s new look. “Good morning, Mink. What happened to you?” Before he could respond, Tralé knocked on his brother’s tent. “Mouké, you have got to see this.”

  “Two seconds,” Mouké called from inside.

  “Morning, guys.” Mink tried sheepishly to explain his condition, “My friend helped me out because I didn’t have a tent. I’m just waiting for her to get back and Dispel the effect so I can go eat.”

  “Whoa!” Mouké stepped out, gawking. “That’s a good look on you, Mink.”

  “Thanks. I could get used to it.” He tried to keep in good humor as he scanned the now bustling campsite for Pulti. He had no choice but to roll with his condition.

  “I could go grab you a plate, man,” Tralé offered. “What d’ya want? Grubs, grasses, or beetles?” The three of them shared a laugh. “I’m just messing with you. I’ve seen Scaling Shell before. That hottie from last night did this to you?”

  “Yeah, Pulti. She’s a Body user.”

  “I bet she is,” Mouké commented. “She didn’t stick around until morning? Just like a woman.”

  “It’s not like that,” Mink protested.

  “Why not? Not your type?” Tralé looked at Mink like he was crazy.

  “I grew up with her, you know? She’s like my sister.”

  “Same thing with me and my fiance. Those can be the best relationships,” Mouké advised.

  Mink wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “Ever have a girlfriend?” Tralé asked.

  “No.”

  “Tragic waste of youth,” Mouké exclaimed. “You don’t go around looking like that all the time, do you?”

  Mink chuckled and raised his hands, flexing his fingers and watching how the scales slid over each other. “No, it’s just, you know, I don’t have an Element. So…”

  “So what?” Mouké pressed.

  “It’s not exactly a turn-on.”

  Tralé put his weekend bag over his shoulder. “You need to leave that up to her to decide. Whoever she may be. Don’t reject yourself.”

  “Yeah, man. And get some moisturizer.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Mink felt better for his little talk with the twins, despite his embarrassment. The conversation happened without his even trying, and he felt closer to them for it.

  “Just stay here. I’ll be right back with some food. Come help me carry, Mouké.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “Bring me a plate, too!” Sapo called from inside her tent.

  The twins started down the camp toward the wagon, Mouké calling over his shoulder to Sapo. “We’ll bring you food, if you dry Mink off.”

  Sapo’s head poked out of her tent and she stared blankly at Mink. “I didn’t do it. The dew, I mean.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s the cold Air from the north. Now, close your eyes and mouth or they’ll dry out.”

  Mink shut his eyes and turned back toward the logs. He didn’t know how much of his conversation with the twins she had heard. He played it back over in his mind just to be sure nothing too incriminating was mentioned. Sapo began her elided Extraction chant, Dehydrate,

  “I remove the target’s Water.

  Its moisture gathers before me.

  I continue to pull it out.

  The target becomes very dry.

  I can only take what I need.

  The effect ends when I step back.

  By Floth, I absorb all of it.

  Extract Water upon my spit.”

  As soon as Mink heard Sapo’s spit hit the ground behind him, he felt dry. Chapped, in fact. Without moisture, his thick, scaly skin fought the slightest movements. He could feel static build up in his clothes and the breeze blew his hair into tangles.

  “You can open your eyes now,” Sapo said.

  Mink would have thanked her for her help, had his cheeks not threatened to crack upon opening his mouth.

  “I don’t think it’s a problem, by the way,” Sapo said.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Mink managed to mumble.

  “Not having an Element. It’s not a bad thing, in my opinion. Most guys I’ve dated have been so focused on Elements, they can’t relate to me as a person.”

  Mink twisted around to face Sapo, feeling very much the wrinkly, reptilian old man.

  “Don’t worry,” she clarified. “You’re too young for me. Just wanted to tell you that not having an Element can work to your advantage.”

  Mink and Sapo shared several seconds of awkward silence. As much as Mink appreciated her vote of confidence, he wasn’t sure how to respond to her advice. Her demeanor was so dry and matter-of-fact that he wondered if she would continue. Would it be rude to express relief at their mutual lack of romantic interest? Or should he thank her for the encouragement, even though he felt a bit insulted by her presumption that he would never discover his Elemental affinity?

  “Besides,” she said at last. “You look like rot right now.” And with that, she disappeared back into her tent and tied it closed.

  Mink creaked back around to face the Radiated logs. Where on Georra was Pulti? Before long, he would have to lead the group forward, and he certainly preferred not to do it in this condition. Tolrin was a Spirit user, so he could cancel the effect, but Mink couldn’t imagine walking through camp now to find him. If there was a plus side, it suddenly occured to Mink that no one was Eavesdropping on him, or else the Sheilding Scales would have already been canceled, since Spirit effects removed Body effects. He liked knowing he could think about whatever he wanted.

  As he waited for Pulti and the twins to return, Mink thumbed a music crystal. His thick skin muted a noticeable amount of the mid-range frequencies, so he rubbed one facet after another, tuning to find a song that would play. Soon enough, the twins came hiking back up to the camp carrying plates piled with food on Wood trays they had probably just Materialized. Joining them was a guy Mink hadn’t seen before.

  “This is Theen,” Tralé introduced Mink to the dark skinned, chubby fellow with short black hair who waddled up from behind. “Theen, somewhere under all that is Mink.” Tralé gestured to the monstrous looking humanoid slumped over the crystal that he rubbed in his hands.

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Theen lisped as he failed to smooth down a cowlick. Wide-eyed, he asked “Did you really see the Tear of God?”

  “Yes. It’s quite massive,” Mink replied with effort.

  “That’s cool.” Theen lost himself in thought.

  “You’ve taken a turn for the worse, I see,” Tralé remarked, referencing Mink’s increasingly parched look, while handing him a plate off the tray. “Theen is a Spirit user in the Scout Cell. He’s agreed to help you.”

  Mouké slid a plate through Sapo’s tent flap before taking two to Alré’s cabin. An older man opened the door and took them in. Theen nodded to the guy and waved without being noticed.

  “That’s my Corporal, I mean, Camp Counselor. Ankrim. He’s cool. He’s a really good Spirit user. After we get back, he’s going to give me some private instruction,” Theen beamed. “And he doesn’t come cheap, I can assure you.”

  “That’s wonderful, Theen.” Mink grew impatient, unsure if he could manage to eat with his face still scaly. “You have an effect in mind for canceling the Scaling Sheild?”

  “Uh… Oh. Right. I got one.” Rehearsing his rhythm, Theen repeated vowels in the light, slow voice of a Spirit user. Mink wondered how someone with a lisp, who still needed to practice before chanting, could be ranked high enough to be part of this mission. He didn’t even say the word Spirit properly. Finally, Theen started his chant,

  “Believe in the lie I tell you.

  Open your mind unto me.

  Your bending will made mine then firm.

  Upon uttered ‘truth’ you know. Truth.”

  Mink had no idea what effect Theen was trying to implement. It sounded like a custom version of a much longer
chant. Inspiration or Persuasion, perhaps? Immediately, Mink’s appearance was restored. Theen managed to acheive the effect with only thirty-two syllables and didn’t even use any specification, limitation, or apostrophication! Shortcuts were frowned upon by traditionalists, and considered unreliable at best. Yet, the proof was right in front of Mink’s eyes. Perhaps developing shortcuts was a way for Theen to overcome his speech impediment. Still, he would need a formidable amount of power to direct an effect without using the full range of syllables.

  “Theen, that was amazing.” Mink stood up to confirm that his whole Body was back to normal. “My dad’s a pretty good Spirit user and I don’t think he could have done a better job.”

  Theen’s eyes glistened appreciatively. “Honest?”

  “Absolutely.” Mink crammed half a slice of sweet toast in his mouth. “And he’s an Intelligence Operative. You need some serious skill for that.”

  TRALÉ STOOD by, balancing trays of untouched food on his arms, watching Mouké Manipulate both of their Wood tents. One had been flattened out into a sixteen-by-four foot rectangle. The other, Mouké held on the far side while vying for Mink’s attention.

  “Mind giving me a hand with this?” Mouké called out.

  “What do you need me to do?” Mink rushed over to the twins, still clutching his own plate.

  “Take that end and help me flip this onto the middle of the big board there.” Mouké indicated for him to take hold of the front of the tent.

  Setting his plate on the ground, Mink put one end of the rope sausage in his mouth and chewed it hands-free. The Wood the twins had Materialized was much lighter than Mink was expecting. Mouké probably could have positioned it without any help. The two of them placed the top of the tent down on the other flattened tent.

  Mouké directed, “Hey, Theen! Get the rest of your Cell and tell them to eat with us. Plenty of room.”

  Theen tottered off to gather his Cell as Mink watched Mouké open the floor of the tent and curl it up and over both sides. He folded the back wall down, cupping it tightly to the edge of the flattened tent, and then did the same with the front wall that Mink had been stabilizing. No longer needed, Mink reclaimed his breakfast, eating savory bulbs and watching the tent’s transformation. Mouké systematically walked down the middle of the overturned tent, smoothing and contouring the curled floor into sixteen petals, eight on either side.

  “Think I should have reminded Theen to use Silent Signal Fire?” Mouké mused, looking over his handiwork.

  “He can’t,” Tralé answered. “I wanted him to try that on Mink from down at the wagon, but he said he can’t find a way to change the phonetics to make it work with his lisp. He can only do about six effects because of it.”

  “Really?” Mouké shrugged passively, but Mink grew more impressed with Theen’s ability. “All right, Mink. Wipe your hands and help me flip this over. I don’t want you getting grease all over it.”

  Mink obliged, and as they settled it back on the ground he realized Mouké had just made a breakfast table. The top was covered with dirt and leaves, so Mink didn’t know why Mouké was worried about a little bit of grease. Before sitting, Mouké cleaned the surface off with his hands, rubbing the dirt onto his forearms vigorously. Tralé wasted no time arranging the food around the table and playfully moving it away from each place Mouké sat. Mink waited until the plate of spicy meat chips had stopped moving and sat closest to it.

  “Hey, Sapo! Wanna come eat at the table?” Tralé shouted over Mink’s head in the direction of her cloth tent.

  The seats Mouké had fashioned were remarkably comfortable, evenly distributing Mink’s weight and encouraging proper posture without a chairback. Mink pulled his plate closer and gnawed on his bread while Sapo emerged from her tent and strode up to the table, holding her already empty plate. She wore billowy yellow pants and a light pink field jacket, its array of pockets and padding enhancing her femininity. That’s when Mink realized everyone had changed their clothes, except for him.

  “Sapo? Can I use your tent to change my clothes before you pack it up?”

  “Uh, no.” Sapo laughed at Mink in that way that telegraphed she hoped he was kidding. “That’s my bubble. I don’t let people in my bubble.”

  “You can use Alré’s cabin before I Dispel it,” Mouké offered.

  Mink nodded his thanks and nursed his rejection by sopping up yolk with sausage. When Corporals Alré and Ankrim came to the table, they carried all their gear slung over their shoulders and empty plates in hand, looking less than excited to be joining the group. Alré settled her pack in front of her and laid her head down with eyes closed.

  Mouké waved a come-on-over to someone behind Mink, reminding him that they were expecting company. He looked over his shoulder to see Theen struggling up the hill, leading the big guy who had helped Alré the day before, and a girl Mink hadn’t met. And Gyov! Her chestnut hair had been braided on either side of her head, complimenting her golden complexion and nicely framing her face. She looked straight into Mink, setting his insides astir in a frenzy of drumming and dancing.

  “I got everybody.” Theen huffed as he caught his breath.

  He introduced the pair as Obyr and Frèni. As they all said their hellos, Obyr sat to Mink’s left and, much to Mink’s delight, Gyov sat to his right. Obyr’s massive frame took up more than his fair share of table space. He quizzed Mink skeptically about the mission.

  “How can you be so sure what you saw was actually a Tear of God?” Obyr asked, paying more attention to his breakfast than Mink. “You don’t even have an Element. What do you know?”

  “Not much else it could be. It does have an—”

  “We’re all wasting our time,” Obyr cut him off, chewing. He looked around the table, declaring, “There are no such things as Tears of God. It’s superstition and rot.” Mink knew he represented the attitude of a great many Octernalians, that common sense would say the Book of Origin was a made-up fable meant to explain Elemental relationships. Obyr rattled on, but Mink was too pleased by Gyov’s close proximity to take proper offense.

  Gyov rolled her eyes privately at Mink, unable to get a word in edgewise. She tried to contribute, but Obyr was on a roll. Mink acknowledged her attempts with a smile. He felt proud of how calm he remained while sitting next to the perfect girl, close enough to feel the warmth of her leg against his. Still, it took special effort not to spill as he poured himself some kwona, visibly shaking the drink from the pot into his bowl. At last, Tralé got up from his position at the table, sat directly in front of Obyr, and started a full-blown argument.

  “I’ve always been curious about something,” Tralé interrupted. “How do you guys completely dismiss the religious nature of Elementalism when you, Obyr, invoke Curpo or even Symg, in your apostrophication?”

  “Elementalism is scientific. Not religious,” Obyr countered. “The resonance of the affinity, chemicals generated by the brain while speaking certain words with specific syllables, and basic physics all make the effects happen. There’s no magic. No God. No superstition. To hold on to such nonsense prevents growth. It keeps you from truly understanding the Elemental work you are doing.”

  Tralé took advantage of Obyr stopping for Air. “Wrong. By denying your God, you’re underdeveloped. You can’t reach your full potential because you don’t understand where the true power is coming from!”

  “I’m the best Body user in our age group! You think I don’t understand true power?!” Obyr seemed to puff up an extra twenty percent in size.

  The debate raged on, excluding anyone unwilling to shout to be heard. No longer a part of the audience, Gyov leaned in close enough that Mink could smell her shampoo. “Do you remember me?” she whispered in her seductive Pashmeetan accent.

  Remember her?! The previous school year, he had memorized her schedule so that he could pass by her at least once a day. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said, feigning a protective nonchalance. “From the party the other night? I’m sorr
y, but a lot of it is a blank for me.”

  “I’m Gyov, yeah? We had some same classes together when I first moved to Floth. You were the first one to show me around and be nice to me. We used to eat lunch together. Kinda like this.”

  Mink was amazed that Gyov would remember him from when they were kids. When they first met, he had admired how she overcame being an outsider who barely knew the language. She inspired him to persevere in spite of his own feelings of not belonging. No matter how much she was ridiculed, her attitude remained cheery and optimistic. However, she grew quickly in the use of her Elemental skills. Over time, Mink felt less and less on equal footing with her.

  “Oh. Sure, I remember. Third grade. In sixth grade we had Pre-Logistics together.” Mink caught his jaw twitching involuntarily. Of course he remembered those days. By then he had only failed Elemental Affinities three times. There was still plenty of hope that he would function normally. But as the years passed, Gyov’s attention drifted away, along with the likelihood that he had an Element.

  Gyov knocked a fist on the table. “Right. Ms. Cruchlè’s class. Oh! I hated that class. So boring.”

  Mink nodded and laughed with her, but his mind was trying to play catch-up on this trip down memory lane with his heart’s desire. “Not one of my favorites, either. So, what happened to you? How have you been since then?”

  “Oh! Busy like you wouldn’t even believe. My Soil classes have been interesting because I have permission to go to instructors that speak Pashmeetan so I can learn chants in my native tongue. Only not so much of a need in Floth, so I have small class. No slacking in small class I can tell you. Big benefit is I get very good with Soil and now am drafted here. With you.” Gyov leaned her shoulder into Mink’s arm and smiled.