MINK SMILED back and blushed. Gyov’s attractive accent and her struggle with proper Octernalian only endeared her to him more. To maintain his cool, he acted like he was checking in with the Obyr-Tralé debate, nodding in mock interest. Really, he was much more focused on how to capitalize on this first conversation with Gyov in at least five years.
“Of all the tens of thousands of years of scientific studies tracking Materialization on a vibrational level, not one shred of evidence points to a God behind it.” Obyr closed his argument by popping a shred of cheese into his mouth that stood for the lack of evidence.
“That’s because the very act of Materialization through vibration is the evidence of God.” Tralé held his head in disbelief that he should even have to explain such concepts.
“All you faith-nuts say the same rotting thing. The vibration results in an Element, not a God. Therefore, evidence that the Elements exist.” Obyr leaned across the table with two fingers from each hand inches away from Tralé’s nose. “Two plus two will never equal brown.”
“Regardless, if you want to dispute the evidence, it’s just like Traucher Dowk said, ‘non-existent proof does not prove non-existence,’” Tralé said, casually sweeping Obyr’s hands out of his face. Obyr leaned back and laughed.
Mink’s split attention divorced from the debate to focus fully on Gyov. Committed to taking a risk, he admitted, “I miss having classes with you. When I couldn’t take any Elemental courses, I really felt like everyone went on without me, you know? I’ve just been filling up my schedule with all the elective classes I can. I don’t have more than one class with anyone.”
“Is that why you always look so sad?” Gyov’s eyes locked on to Mink’s.
“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.
MINK 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.
Animate as soon as I reach.”
Tralé resumed yesterday’s work, reaching toward trees with solid intent and pushing them out of the way to the left, branches knocking against each other and roots cracking their way through the land. Mink, still distracted by thoughts of Gyov, looked over his shoulder to see if she might be looking at him. Gyov and Frèni were positioning themselves in front of the wagon, readying for the continuation of the procession. She winked as soon as he caught sight of her and mouthed the words “nice pants.” Mink signaled his thanks and smiled. A dozen of the Scout and Strike Cells members tightened up their formation, blocking Gyov from view.
He turned his attention once more to the gouging of trees through the dirt. Alré watched the progress impatiently from a couple of steps behind, waiting for enough clearance to allow them to move on. She glanced back at the wagon and finally made her way forward to Mouké’s scooter.
By the time Alré positioned herself on the back, the twins had moved all of the trees within their range. Sapo slid slowly backwards and side-to-side up the hill until Alré called for her to wait on the order to move. Tralé drummed his three gloved fingers impatiently on the crest, directly in front of Mink’s face. Mink resisted looking back at Gyov again, not wanting to seem overly eager.
“I’ll give you this much,” Tralé squatted down on his scooter and looked at Mink eye-level, still March Rooting a tree off to the left with his free hand. “You’ve got exquisite taste in women.”
Mink about lost his hold. “What are you talking about?”
Tralé smiled but didn’t have a chance to answer before Corporal Alré commanded, “Let’s go!”
Had he been listening to their conversation during the debate? Maybe Mink was being obvious. Ultimately, it didn’t matter much, but he had hoped his personal feelings would be a little more private. Still kneeling while creeping his scooter forward, Tralé reached to the ground and plucked up a dirt clod, which he rubbed into the forearm of his driving arm. As they set off up the path, he reached for the next group of trees and dragged them off to the side. Mink remembered Gyov’s face after he told her he liked her and the goofiest, head-over-heels, smitten smile spread across his face. Now that he thought more about it, he felt confident that she would be his girlfriend and everyone would know.
In a celebratory mood, Mink dug out a music crystal from his pocket and thumbed over the facets, looking for some perfect riding music. He settled on one of his favorite upbeat songs by The Thundersticks, “There’s No End to Me,” and resumed his grip on the handle of the scooter. The Wood must’ve picked up on some of the vibrations embedded in the crystal, because Tralé immediately glanced at Mink’s hand.
“My, my, Mink. You’ve been holding out on me.” Tralé used his free hand to slide open a hole by his submerged Wooden thumb. “Drop that bad boy on in there.”
He dropped the crystal in and Tralé slid the opening shut. Holding onto the handles, Mink could hear the music as if he were touching the crystal directly. The songs started switching quickly from one to another, and Mink guessed th
at Tralé was able to move the crystal around from facet to facet with his submerged thumb. If Dreh had a way of listening to crystals in his sled like this, Mink didn’t know about it.
“Here we go,” Tralé beamed, settling on one of The Thundersticks’ ballads, “Break it Off.” He stood and continued his work of tree-moving with a cadence complimentary to the tempo of the music. “Exquisite taste, Mink. Exquisite.” He felt validated by Tralé’s approval. Maybe he did have some things in common with these people.
Tralé’s pick wasn’t a song Mink would’ve chosen, but it matched his mood all the same. The landscape danced for the rest of the climb. Trees swayed and shook their leaves. The grasses rippled on the plains spreading to the western wall of Eternsa. A few enormous clouds hovered to the north, aglow with sunlight that set them in stark contrast to the softening teal of the sky. They made some significant progress along the mountain beyond the steep incline Mink had climbed the previous night. Eventually, they reached a flatter approach to the top that lent itself well to the last switchback.
After the final turn, they approached the marker tree in no time. The trees closest to it had apparently been moved long ago to further isolate the chosen pergnut tree and help travelers find it. The cool morning wind refreshed the group as they summitted the mountain and looked out over the expansive wilderness below. Mink’s Cell rested next to the branchless side of the marker tree. Sapo leaned against the trunk, pants flapping in the wind, as Mouké parked his scooter next to his brother’s. The immensity and depth of the land stretched out beyond their sight. Mink could barely see or recognize the area where he last saw his mother during his training.
Clutching the back of Tralé’s scooter, Mink slipped into one daydream after another about how he might spend some time with Gyov over the course of the journey. There would surely be at least one more stop before they made camp for the night, which could afford him the opportunity to get close to her. Lost in thought, Mink suddenly recalled that they had made it to the exact spot where Blin had so rudely awakened him the night before. He pressed up against his ribs and was satisfied that they were far less tender, thanks to Pulti’s healing. It was very comforting to know that she, too, would be around.
Elements (Tear of God Book 1) Page 18
