She tilted her head back, a soft rush of air escaping her mouth. My name immediately followed, and I’d never heard her say “Adam,” with such love.
The skin along her lower back felt like liquid fire, as did her breath as it cascaded across my forehead. I didn’t dare stop to ask her if she’d like to go into her bedroom, where we’d have much more room to explore each other. For now, the couch would have to do.
I brought my mouth to hers again, and then I touched my nose to hers. “Tornadoes, Gabby.” My breath came unevenly; my chest rose and fell pressed tight against hers.
She laughed, a light giggle that only fueled my desire. Still, I didn’t dare ask anything more. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle the rejection if it came. I didn’t listen to her thoughts, because I didn’t need to. I could tell in the way she held her body still against mine, the way she twirled her fingers through my hair, that this was as far as she wanted to go tonight.
We inhaled at the same time, a deep breath that calmed me from the inside out. Gabby had always had that affect on me. I touched my lips to hers for one, two, three heartbeats. “I love you,” I whispered.
She didn’t say it back.
The road to Hesterton felt deserted. No one left Tarpulin when I did; no one passed me going into the city. The city-state of Junction sat between Tarpulin and Henderson, only a day’s walk away. I should’ve seen merchants, traders, and trappers on the road. It was nearing September, and the summer spoils should be displayed in markets for the fall festivals within the week.
And yet I saw no one. I stopped for lunch, but before I ate the leftover roast chicken the cook had packed for me, I composed an air message to Airmaster Rusk. Is there a sanction on traveling? I see no one on the road from Tarpulin to Junction.
I sent the current away, hoping my mentor would answer immediately. I crunched through an apple, my chicken, and drank as much water as I could hold. Mentally tired, I decided to create an air cushion and soar over the remaining miles to Junction.
The city-state sat between the mountains and the sea, and all roads led to it. It was a thriving, bustling city that provided shelter and safety for travelers. With more visitors than permanent residents, finding a room and a hot meal had never been hard. When I arrived, I still had a couple of hours until the dinner rush. I used the time to find a place to sleep for the night.
I’d traveled through Junction several times as a sentry, and my arrangements had always been made by the Supremist’s Unmanifested Councilmember. Now, I entered the inn on the south end of the city. Coming in from the bright sun made everything appear dark.
“How can I help you?” a man asked as I waited for my eyes to adjust.
“I need a room for the night,” I said.
“No problem,” he said. “Our standard package includes dinner at six, and breakfast before nine. Just you?”
“Just me,” I confirmed, finally able to see the man. He stood to my right, behind a counter. I moved to him and counted out the appointed price. He handed me a key and told me I could go up now if I wanted.
I thanked him and made my way to my room. I left my backpack on the bed and washed my face. I didn’t want to spend time enclosed by four walls, even if I did think a nap sounded like a good idea. Instead, I left the inn, hoping the town square would provide me enough entertainment to kill the next three hours.
The market wasn’t too busy, normal for this time in the afternoon. I found a bench in the small park that faced the merchants and settled down to people-watch. No one seemed nervous; people conducted their business with ease, and my fears about traveling sanctions eased.
A group of trappers entered the square, bought a ham bun from a street cart, and made their way toward the end of the road, where a stand was being constructed. They dropped their packs and began unloading their furs. With their scraggly beards and dirty clothes, they’d obviously just arrived from their caches in the mountains.
I couldn’t help watching them. Something about their lifestyle, the way they lived off the forests for six months out of the year, appealed to me. No conference rooms, no meetings, no mentors demanding they perform impossible Elemental feats.
“Adam Gillman?”
My name in a man’s voice drew my attention from the trappers. I focused on the ginger-haired man for a few seconds before I recognized him. I stood quickly, moving to shake his hand.
“Shane Mendelson.” We shook hands and clapped each other on the back. “What are you doing here?” Shane had been on the same Council as Isaiah and Cat—the Council I’d been tasked to kill. I hadn’t been able to do it, and Shane had taken the blame for the murder of his Councilman, Reggie Avis.
But I was the one who used my air to smother Reggie. He’d offered his life for those of his Council. Seeing Shane simply reminded me of what I used to be, what I used to do. What I still knew how to do.
“It’s so good to see you,” he said, moving to the bench I’d been sitting on. I joined him as he continued. “I left Tarpulin when Alex buried the Academy,” he said. “I haven’t been able to return.”
“So you’re just hanging out here, in Junction?”
Shane shrugged. “Sort of. I go wherever I feel like it.”
I gaped at him, a rush of jealousy singing through me. I couldn’t imagine that kind of freedom, that nomadic lifestyle. As I looked at his uneven beard, his gaunt cheeks, and the bulging pack at his feet, I realized I didn’t want that life. I didn’t need much—everything I owned could fit in a pack much smaller than his. But I craved security, the knowledge of where I’d be sleeping and eating a square meal.
“So where’d you come from?” I asked.
“The eastern shore,” he said. “I lived with a fishing community for about eight months. They taught me how to ice fish, how to preserve fish, everything. They wanted me to join them, but I don’t know.” He gazed into the distance, and I didn’t need to read his mind to understand his hesitation to join the fishing community.
“You’re an Airmaster,” I said, because that explained it all. I’d had a good life as a sentry, but it wasn’t the right life.
“Yeah.” He blew out his breath, creating a strong wind. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, and I grinned.
“Then come be an Airmaster,” I said. “You were on a Council once. There are hardly any Elementals left. Davison would probably welcome you with a city-wide celebration.”
“Where you headed?” he asked, not committing to my offer. But I knew he’d eventually return to Tarpulin.
“Hesterton,” I said. “I just started my training at the beginning of the summer, and it’s sucking me dry. My mentor agreed to a vacation. Said I could go anywhere.”
Shane leaned back and crossed his hands behind his head. “And you chose Hesterton?” He didn’t sound accusatory, simply interested.
“I love Hesterton,” I said. “Well, really, I love the mountains. There’s something so…independent about them.”
“Sentries always did like their solitude.”
“I am not a sentry,” I bit out, aware of my violent reaction.
Shane laughed, an unexpected action. “I know,” he said. “If you were, you would’ve killed us all in that shed.”
I looked away, noting that the market traffic had increased considerably.
“Why didn’t you?” he asked.
It was my turn to exhale too strongly, creating an Elemental wind that shook the leaves on the tree next to us. “Because of Isaiah,” I finally said. “He was the only friend I had, and I just couldn’t kill him.” I met Shane’s gaze. “Plus, I didn’t believe any of you were guilty. I’d been trained to kill the bad guys—and you weren’t bad guys.”
His face softened; he closed his green eyes and when they opened again, I found compassion. “You’re not a bad guy either, Adam.”
I laughed now, but it sounded like a bark. “Right,” I said. “I killed your Councilman and let you take the blame. Nominate me for a medal.”
“I don’t blame you.” He spoke so quietly, I almost didn’t hear him. “No one blames you, even Reggie wouldn’t have. He did what he thought was right, and so did you.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know how much you’ve been blaming yourself, but you shouldn’t. It’s over and done, and you’ve changed.”
With those words, I felt something release inside me. The guilt I had been harboring over Reggie’s death seemed to evaporate. I took a deep lungful of air, and felt my chest expand more than it had before. I wanted to laugh, to dance with the air currents playing with my hair.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice only slightly choked. I lifted my hand and let the air braid itself through my fingers. I felt more in control, like I could weave this air into a stream that could satisfy Airmaster Rusk.
“You’re a good guy, Adam,” Shane said. “Where you staying tonight?”
“The Southern Isles Inn, near the southern road. Where are you?”
“Haven’t found a room yet.” His stomach growled, but I pretended not to notice. He smiled, but it looked timid, afraid almost.
“You want to come eat dinner with me?” I asked. “I don’t know if the inn has more rooms, but if they don’t, you can crash on my floor.”
“Thanks, man,” he said. We stood and made our way through the streets back to the inn. The innkeeper did have another room, and Shane used the last of his coins to pay for it.
I showered before dinner, and when I met Shane in the dining room, I asked him if he wanted me to send a message to Tarpulin for him. “You should come back,” I said, my own stomach cramping for food. I glanced toward the kitchen, where the savory smell of baking bread wafted toward me.
“You could be a mentor,” I said. “Or get assigned to another Council. You have incredible talent.”
“How do you know that?” he asked.
Finally, a woman appeared bearing baskets of bread. She set one on our table, and it could’ve turned into a fight for how quickly we both reached for the food. After downing one roll, and while buttering another, I said, “I was briefed on your talents when I was sent to…dispatch you.”
He nodded, and our conversation stalled as the soup arrived. After that, roast beef, potatoes, and roasted summer vegetables demanded my attention. I raised my glass for more cranberry juice, and finally leaned back into the straight-back chair. I sighed and grinned at Shane when he did the same.
“Send Davison the message,” he said as the dessert came through the door.
I nodded as I wrapped my fruitcake in a napkin for breakfast. I loved a sweet treat in the morning, rather than after a big meal at night. Shane downed his, requesting a glass of buttermilk to wash it down.
After dinner, I sent the message to Davison, remembering that I had also sent a note to Airmaster Rusk. I hadn’t heard back from him yet. I opened the window in my rented room, and slept well for the first time in months.
I didn’t wake until well after the sun, and only because an air current kept buzzing around my head. I tried sending it away, but it refused to go. A whisper of sound came from it, and I finally accepted the message it had brought me.
“Transmit,” I told it.
“There are no traveling sanctions that I know of.” Airmaster Rusk’s voice filled the room, though it was rustling and quiet. “And you are on vacation. It is not your job to worry about such things, Adam.” I imagined the way he’d smile when he said those words, but his eyes would convey an urgency I couldn’t ignore.
Plus, he was right. I was on vacation, and I wasn’t the Supremist.
“And Davision says that he’d love to see Shane Mendelson in Tarpulin as soon as he can arrive.”
The air whistled as it rushed out of the open window. During a succulent breakfast of eggs, fried ham, and jellied toast—and my leftover fruitcake—I told Shane that Davison had already answered. We embraced on the street outside the inn, he turning toward the southeast road I’d come in on, and me facing the city. I journeyed through the city to the north road, finally able to see the mountains in the distance.
Another breath left my body, taking with it the stressors I’d endured during my training these last few months. I smiled into the morning sun as I walked, feeling more like myself than I had in almost a year—since I’d left Tarpulin as a fugitive.
I opted to walk to Hesterton, abandoning my Element completely. I realized I needed a break from more than just my training. I needed a reprieve from all things airmaking. I arrived at the city gate near sundown, which meant I had to show my traveling pass to a guard before I could enter.
I hiked through the city’s steepening streets, drawing nearer and nearer to the mountains as the last rays of daylight went to sleep. I needed a place to stay, but as I found the first star in the night, I stopped and smiled. It felt so good, so freeing, to be here in Hesterton, against these mountains, experiencing this dark night.
Up ahead, I spied an inn, and I went in to inquire about a room.
“It’s nearly the fall festival,” the innkeeper said. The stout woman gave me a once-over, her eyes stern and sharp.
“Are you full, then?” I asked, thinking of the traders who’d likely be here from their summer homes in the mountains. “When does the festival begin?”
“Day after tomorrow,” she answered, a slight accent to her words. “But I have one room left, if you don’t mind the wind.”
“I don’t mind the wind,” I assured her. “Is there a schedule of activities for the festival?” I wanted to abandon my Airmaster lifestyle for the next several days, and becoming a tourist at the fall festival sounded like just the way to do it.
She slid me a length of paper with my key. “Room’s on the top floor. Let’s hope it doesn’t rain.”
I flashed her a genuine smile, unsure of how such a thing even looked on my face. I climbed six sets of stairs before the case ended. Only one room sat on the top floor, and the grin returned. I’d put up with any amount of weather for the privacy this room provided.
Upon opening the door, I found windows blanketing the wall in front of me. Beyond them, the mountains gleamed in the moonlight. Every thought, care, and worry about my training, my relationship with Gabby, and my Council drained away.
I set my backpack on the floor near the door, exploring the wide room. The bed felt comfortable enough; the blankets thick enough to keep the weather from bothering me. I glanced up, noticing why the innkeeper had said she hoped it wouldn’t rain. Slim patches of the night sky showed through the roof in several places.
I smiled. This room was perfect.
The next morning, I arrived at the city square as it opened. The merchants had been baking since dawn, and I knew, because the tantalizing scent of sweet pastries and warm breads had woken me.
I’d asked the air to stay away last night, and it had obeyed. When I paid for my raspberry scone with wild honey, I was practically whistling. Everything about the food in Hesterton was superior to what I ate in Tarpulin. The berries didn’t have to be packed or shipped. Simply picked from the bushes growing along the mountainside. The honey wasn’t clarified or bottled, but pulled right from the hive.
I’d never eaten anything so good, and as I wandered the market, I made a mental list of everything I’d eat that week. All of it came from the locality.
I bought a bottle of water, an apple, and a breakfast croissant and headed into the mountains. The sun beat down on my shoulders after a couple of hours, and nothing had felt so glorious. By noon, I’d hiked to the waterfall the innkeeper had told me about, and I stretched out on the ground to relax.
Nobody else was at the popular site, which suited me fine. I faced the sky, closed my eyes, and just breathed. The air smelled like dew, and leaves, and dirt. The wind rustled around me. Birds twittered and sang. Everything in my life melted away, until only the blazing sun painting the backs of my eyelids red remained.
Suddenly, I saw Hanai’s face burning into the redness of my vision. Before I could snap my e
yes open, he held up his hand. His mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear him. He smiled. He put his hand over his heart, and bowed his head.
The mountain breeze that had been playing in my hair stilled. The birds silenced.
I’m sorry , I thought. I tried to save us all.
Again, he spoke without sound. I found I didn’t need to know what he was saying, because I already did.
It’s not your fault, Adam.
When I opened my eyes, tears ran toward my ears. I could’ve blamed it on the brightness of the sun, or the sudden gust of wind that blew right in my face, but I’d be lying.
I was crying because I’d finally let go of my guilt. I was crying because Hanai was dead, even though that wasn’t my fault.
I was crying because I didn’t have the weight of his death on my soul anymore.
The fall festival started the next morning with firecrackers. I watched from the open windows of my room as the parade wove through the streets of Hesterton toward the city center. The entire city had the day off work, and everyone had clustered in the marketplace.
I waited to join them, somehow unwilling to destroy the peace I’d achieved yesterday in the mountains. But finally, my stomach demanded food, and I headed to the celebration. I drank spiced coffee and ate eggs fried in bear fat. The traders had their furs displayed; the leatherworkers had finished clothes, boots, and hats. Seamstresses had their dyed cloths prettily sewn into dresses, bonnets, and aprons.
Stalls boasted pressed wildflowers, live floral bouquets, necklaces made from polished mountain stones. The tradesmen had clearly brought their best work to Hesterton. I browsed the art, the clothing, the jewelry, everything.
I bought Cat a vial of honeysuckle essence that would soothe burns. I acquired a new pair of boots for myself, and a pair for Isaiah too. Liz was much harder to shop for, as I’d only just gotten to know her. In the end, I found a tube of lotion that had been infused with beeswax. She’d told me of her work in the laundry facilities in Crylon, and how her hands still suffered from chapping and drying.
Elemental Release Page 4