The Storm Lords

by Ravon Silvius

  Kristoff sighed in obvious relief as she left. “Stress-inducing woman,” he said with a laugh. “I hope she didn’t intimidate you. Don’t worry, Rowen, I sensed your power. We’ll get you healed up and summoning storms in no time.”

  Rowen swallowed hard, then nodded. He would just study hard, that was all, and trust Kristoff. He would prove he was a Storm Lord, whatever that meant, and never go back to the village.

  “So when are you getting out of here?” Kristoff addressed him and the doctor, who had made himself unobtrusive as Lorana had talked.

  “He can leave as soon as he feels ready. I have some medicines that he must take with him, and of course if he experiences any pain or further blistering, he must return. The bandages can be removed as you feel you are ready.”

  “Do you want to leave now?” Rowen nodded even before Kristoff could finish his sentence. It was time for his life as a Storm Lord trainee to begin.

  He couldn’t afford to fail.

  “THIS IS it. Your home for the next few years. Nice, isn’t it?”

  It was more than nice. To Rowen, the wooden house nestled against a rock face and surrounded by trees looked like paradise. The place was enormous, spanning two entire floors, something he had never seen before. The roof was steeply sloped as well, lending the house an air of sophistication. People here didn’t need to drink the water collected on their flat roofs, it seemed. Instead a large stone basin sat by the door, filled with clear water, ceramic cups stacked nearby along with larger buckets to bring water inside for cleaning. Combined with all of the belongings and fancy clothes Rowen had been given—hand-me-downs and other extras kept for occurrences like his, Kristoff had explained—Rowen felt rich.

  “Shall we go in?” Kristoff asked and headed toward the door. He looked to Rowen and back before knocking, the sound brisk in the silent forest air.

  A very short girl answered, tilting her head in confusion upon seeing Kristoff. “Yes?”

  “Elise, you have a fourth housemate,” he announced. “This is Rowen.” Rowen waved. “He is nineteen and will be beginning his studies soon.”

  “Oh!” Elise smiled brightly, turning to Rowen. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

  Rowen inclined his head a little in greeting. He knew why Kristoff had to be present for this, and he didn’t know whether to feel hurt or grateful.

  “He is incapable of speech, unfortunately.” Kristoff sounded clipped, businesslike. “He will be learning to read and write shortly so that he can communicate, but for now I thought it best if you could show him around the house. Just until he gets used to things, of course.”

  Kristoff’s change in tone baffled Rowen until he realized that this Elise was a student, like him. Kristoff was a Storm Lord, despite his youthfulness, and he outranked the girl. He didn’t have to be nervous around her like he was with the governor and the other older woman.

  “That’s fine!” Elise’s eyes shone. “He can take an empty room, and I can introduce him to Volkes and Sharon when they get back. C’mon inside, Rowen!”

  The girl’s exuberance was infectious, her lack of any real reaction to his handicap bolstering his confidence, and Rowen hoisted his bags and stepped over the threshold. The ceiling towered above him, and a staircase wound around and up from the entrance. “The bedrooms are up there,” Elise said, following his gaze. “Let’s drop your stuff off first.”

  Rowen’s room was down a long hall, and Elise pointed out hers as well as Volkes’s and Sharon’s rooms as they passed. There were other empty rooms too, and Rowen wondered why so many were uninhabited. Those thoughts vanished when he finally made it to his room.

  The room had a dresser and a writing desk, with ink and real paper. There was a bed, a bed with an actual feather mattress, like the elderly earned after years of supporting the village. The pillow was stuffed with feathers too. Rowen spent some time holding it up, fluffing it in his hands in wonder.

  “Where are you from, Rowen?” Elise’s voice brought him back to reality, and he realized that here such things were probably commonplace. His ears burned in embarrassment.

  Kristoff answered for him. “A small village in the southwest.”

  “Wow, you’re the first from that area I’ve heard of.” Rowen got the sense that while energetic and probably kind, Elise was not one to withhold her thoughts.

  That was illustrated further as she showed him the rest of the house, her chatter filling up the silence. She shared things about her housemates with Rowen and Kristoff that he wasn’t sure they would appreciate being shared, like the fact that Sharon slept mostly naked or that Volkes hid alcohol in his room. After touring the home, though, Rowen decided he liked the girl. After a year of silence, he liked hearing someone else’s voice.

  Finally they returned to the room, and Elise left them while she went to study for some exam. Kristoff smiled as she left, sighing audibly. “I can see why her mentor always said she was… enthusiastic.”

  Rowen smiled and nodded. Kristoff cleared his throat, glancing at the window. “So… are you content here, Rowen? I know it’s a lot for you to take in. Things here are probably very different from what you’re used to.” Rowen glanced to the bed and back, hoping Kristoff understood. “But I’m here to help. If you have any problems with anything, let me know.”

  Rowen nodded once.

  “Good. Now, I’m going to leave you here until tomorrow morning, when I’ll escort you to the school for your first lessons. Elise will take good care of you, I’m sure.” Rowen smiled at that. “Are you all right with being left alone? You’re in no pain from the burns? You’ll remember to take the medicine the doctors left with you?”

  Rowen raised an eyebrow. He didn’t think Kristoff thought him stupid, but his new mentor seemed uncertain about leaving him alone. He nodded, mouthing as clearly as he could, “I’ll be fine.” He wasn’t at all annoyed, though. Kristoff’s concern warmed him, in a way. But he also did not want, at all, to feel like Kristoff had to worry. Rowen wanted to forget his past, as best he could. Leave it buried.

  “All right. I will see you tomorrow.”

  Rowen waved, giving him a small smile as he left, before turning back and beginning to unpack his belongings.

  He had to get started on his studies as fast as possible. The governor’s words echoed in his mind. He couldn’t go back.

  Chapter 7

  KRISTOFF TAPPED the side of the couch he sat on, trying not to worry about Rowen. Or more precisely, what he should be doing for Rowen.

  Was it wise to leave him alone for his first time in a new home? Would Elise be enough to explain to the other two housemates about Rowen’s handicap? Would Rowen be overwhelmed, or would his powers manifest under some sort of stress?

  And most importantly, his power. Kristoff was convinced he had sensed Rowen’s power, his untamed magic. How could Marin, the most learned storm senser on the island, say she couldn’t? And how could Lorana say something like she’d send Rowen back if he wasn’t a Storm Lord? That was an insult to Kristoff, and to Rowen…. Kristoff stood, venting energy by pacing. To Rowen that must have sounded like a death sentence. Lorana hadn’t seen him the way Kristoff had, tied up and burned, nearly dead, in the village. They would try to kill him again. He had to protect him, to help him.

  Kristoff couldn’t relax, and he finally gave up on trying to. He felt like a fool for doing it, but he needed to talk to Talia. He just didn’t feel confident enough doing this on his own without some guidance, and while mentor issues were typically under Lorana’s jurisdiction, he was pretty sure she wouldn’t appreciate fielding questions that she probably thought were common sense, especially after what she had said about sending Rowen back. Any sign of weakness or uncertainty from Kristoff might make the situation worse.

  The sky was darkening to evening as he left. The walk to his old mentor’s was not far, even considering the small size of the island. It would only take a day to walk across the entire thing. Storm Lord residences were clustered i
n one quarter, for easy access if someone was needed for a quick assignment. Kristoff realized he probably should have told Rowen where he lived in case Rowen needed something. Another mistake that only made him more eager to talk to Talia.

  Kristoff knocked on the front door. He hoped she was home and that he wasn’t interrupting anything.

  Her husband answered and gave him a guarded smile. Kristoff had always sensed an undercurrent of animosity from the other man, probably owing to the fact that Talia had spent more time training him than married to Ben. Even after a long time of not seeing her, it seemed the jealousy of their onetime closeness was still there.

  “Looking for my wife?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.” Ben was not a Storm Lord but a man born on the island itself. He worked at the docks, carrying in shipments of resources gleaned from nearby uninhabited islands. But he was still Talia’s husband and older than Kristoff, so Kristoff saw every reason to give him respect.

  “Oh, Kristoff!” Talia had come up behind her husband and smiled brightly. “What brings you here?”

  “I… I was hoping I could talk to you. I have questions about, well, mentoring. I found a student.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Despite her words, Kristoff could practically see her thinking hard about the possibilities for his visit. “Why don’t you come in and we can talk about it. Ben, put on some tea, won’t you?”

  Her husband vanished, and soon enough the two were seated in her living room, the evening light shining pink through the glass window. Kristoff looked around the room, noting all the things that were familiar—the blown-glass sculptures, the paintings—and the things that weren’t.

  “You’re nervous,” Talia finally began, smiling knowingly. Kristoff looked down with a sigh. She knew him too well, even now.

  “I never expected this. I should have, but not this early. I mean, some people haven’t even completed their training at my age, and now I have a student.”

  “Tell me about it,” Talia said. “What’s he or she like? I’m going to assume you’ve already taken care of the necessities—where they’re staying, all that?”

  “Yes…. His name is Rowen.” Kristoff quickly explained how he had found him. Talia kept her expression neutral throughout the tale, even as Ben brought them their tea.

  “I just don’t know if I chose the right thing. I had the option to let him stay with me, right? Should I have done that? That’s what you did.” The thought sent a wave of embarrassment through him, mingled with sudden desire Kristoff wished he didn’t feel. Rowen was close to his age and handsome. But he was also his student, and he needed so much help.

  “You were three,” Talia pointed out. “You could barely talk and you were summoning rainstorms. I had to keep watching you. Rowen is much older, probably desires independence despite being unable to speak, and it sounds like his powers have only just begun to manifest.”

  “I guess so… but….” Kristoff went silent. It was strange to think of himself that young. He fingered the stone on his neck. The only thing he knew was that he came from Pearlen, a militaristic country flanked by the northern tribes and the coastal Linlanders. It didn’t matter to him now, but for a time it had.

  “But?” Talia pressed. “Is there something you observed that makes you think he can’t function on his own?”

  “Lorana,” he said. “She said Marin couldn’t sense his power. And she said if Rowen didn’t have power, he would be sent back. She can’t do that to him!” His frustration peaked, finally. He could never have spoken that way to his governor.

  “She could,” Talia said.

  Kristoff ground his teeth. “How could she?”

  “Storm Lords make hard decisions, Kristoff. Keeping resources for ones who can use them is one of them. We do not reject ones born to us”—she looked up as Ben clinked something in the kitchen—“but there is no need to take someone from their home if they do not have the ability to become a Storm Lord.”

  “Rowen will…. You didn’t see it, Talia. They’ll kill him!”

  Talia pursed her lips. “If he weren’t a Storm Lord, would you have noticed and saved him?” Kristoff’s heart thudded. No. Rowen would be dead now. “Storm Lords cannot decide people’s lives for them, and we cannot save everyone all the time. It is not our place.”

  He knew that. He had heard that since he had been a child. “But—”

  “But what I’m hearing, Kristoff, is that you did sense his power. It is real, and he is a Storm Lord. Which means you have nothing to worry about, and all you must do is train him.” Right. Because that was so easy. “Further, do you know why he was left out to die?”

  That thought sent fresh anxiety through him. “No.”

  “Could he be a criminal? Perhaps that was why Lorana said such things. If he did commit a crime, something serious, then returning him to face judgment may be for the best.”

  Kristoff shuddered. “I’m sure that’s not it. I can’t believe he would do something that would justify what they did.”

  “Then do not worry. Focus on what you have to do and deal with any difficulties as they come.” When she said it, it sounded so simple.

  “I guess I just…. Do you think he’ll be okay, with the others his age?”

  “What are you afraid will happen? I know little of the others, though I’ve heard that Volkes used to be a handful when he was younger.”

  “I don’t know.” Kristoff thought back to his own time in a house similar to that one. He had shared a home with two others, both young men. He had developed a pubescent lust for both of them, and finding out that it was not reciprocated had hurt. Kristoff had thrown himself into his training, seeking to get away from that house and the two other boys, who avoided him once they found out about his inclinations. While Rowen probably wouldn’t have that particular problem, he would have something similar.

  He was worried about the loneliness that might accompany being the new, untrained, uneducated peer. Rowen would throw himself into his work too, by necessity, and isolate himself. It would be worse if he couldn’t speak. He didn’t want that for him. Despite everything, no matter what Talia said, he thought Rowen was a good person.

  “I guess I’m just afraid he won’t be happy,” Kristoff said finally. Maybe he cared too much.

  “That’s an honorable feeling,” Talia said with a sad smile. “But there’s only so much you can do. If it does turn out that this young man had a bad start, some sort of upsetting past….” She shrugged. “Time will erase it, not you.”

  Kristoff felt himself nod, but inside, he didn’t agree. Tomorrow when he met with Rowen and began his lessons, he would pay special attention.

  Something was wrong, and he wanted to know what. And he would make sure Rowen wasn’t sent back to that horrible village.

  Chapter 8

  ROWEN HAD his room set up very quickly, despite the fact that Elise came in partway through and watched as he unpacked his borrowed belongings. While he wasn’t used to people watching him, she seemed innocuous enough. She stayed quiet up until he slammed the last drawer of his new dresser shut, finished stuffing it with the new clothing he owned, none of which he was familiar with. Mild pain arced along his back and shoulder where one of his larger blisters had burst during the flight with Kristoff, and he winced. Where had he put his medicine?

  “Are you all done?” Elise finally piped up, taking one step farther into the room. He nodded, but she didn’t seem to notice. “I like it. You didn’t leave anything out of anything. It’s really neat.”

  He shrugged and watched as she circled the room once. “What did you keep from home?”

  Rowen blinked, then tilted his head.

  “You know. The thing you kept from home. Everyone gets one thing to remember their home by. What’s yours?”

  Rowen looked around at all the borrowed items. Clothes that fit, but just barely, a hairbrush, pillows, sheets…. All of it was new. He had nothing from his village, nothing from his old home. He shook h
is head. He didn’t want anything anyway.

  “Is it private?”

  He shook his head again, then put both hands up, palms spread wide, and then moved them apart.

  “You dropped it?”

  Rowen blinked, then shook his head, waving both hands as though shooing away dust. He didn’t know how to help her understand. It had been too long since anyone had talked to him like this.

  Elise stared at him, then broke into a smile. “Sorry. Um, can I show Volkes and Sharon the room when they get back?”

  What an odd request. Rowen nodded anyway.

  “Cool. So, do you know what your powers are yet?” Elise leaned against the wall by the door. When he shook his head, she smiled.

  “Neither do I. I’ve always been able to sense things, but I can’t summon any storms yet. I’ve been training since I was eight, though, which is later than some. My mentor is Lila. She also teaches the younger kids at the school, so I’m sure you’ll meet her.”

  Rowen put a kind smile on his face. He hoped she kept talking.

  “So, uh, how far southwest…. Er, did your town border the desert?” Rowen blinked. His town had been in the desert, but he didn’t know to say that. He gave a slight nod.

  “Ooh, here, come downstairs! I know how to figure it out.” She raced off down the hall, and Rowen followed.

  The living room was cozy, with books lining the shelves and a wooden table that sat at a strange angle because of one leg being shorter than the others. Rowen sat down on a couch that sank underneath his weight, the cushions plush and soft. Elise grabbed a book off the shelf and plopped it down, making the table wobble.

  “Here!” She pointed to a picture in the book, and Rowen leaned in to see. It was very detailed, and for a moment Rowen wasn’t concerned at all with what it actually showed, only that it was… strangely beautiful. He had never seen drawings at this level of detail before. The paper was yellowed with age, but the drawing—of blocks of land, some lush green, others yellow, some white, and the blue of ocean all around it—fascinated him.