Rowen frowned, tilting his head. Kristoff guessed for someone from the southwest region, this heat was barely noticeable.
“A heat spell is starting here, Rowen,” Kristoff said. “We’re going to have to put up with it for a day or two.”
He had no warning that it was happening either. Just another unpredictable thing in a world Kristoff was learning he barely understood.
Chapter 20
ROWEN SAT alone at the mess hall, waiting for Kristoff to begin their evening lessons. Kristoff was eating dinner while standing, tearing cubes of meat off a stick while nodding along as Franken talked. The voices around the mess hall were hushed, most huddled over their food while keeping a good distance from other people. The scent of cooking meat on skewers and the spices on the bread Rowen was eating were tinged with the scent of sweat that permeated the room. No fires burned in the sconces, and the doors had been thrown open to let in what little fresh air there was.
Rowen took another bite of his bread and sipped from his water cup. At the other end of the table, a woman with her hair tied back in tight braids chugged an entire glass. At home, what she was doing would be unspeakable during a heat spell.
It didn’t feel like a heat spell to Rowen. It was a warm day, to be sure. But not a heat spell. No one was digging wells or setting out rations, or covering their pails and buckets to prevent the water from disappearing into the heat. People looked uncomfortable. But at home, a heat spell meant death, not discomfort, if you weren’t careful. Here, there was water everywhere, the trees leafy and green, shade plentiful, and the ocean a short walk away. No one would run out of water. No one would burn in the sun. Rowen wasn’t even sweating.
He didn’t understand. Did all of that mean his old village truly wasn’t meant for people to live in? Should it be abandoned to the heat? Or did it mean people here didn’t know what it meant to be faced with a true heat spell? Why even bother dispelling this?
A hot spike of anger coiled in his gut. Had the Storm Lords let people in his village die so another city didn’t have to deal with mild discomfort?
He wanted to ask Kristoff. But his mentor was still talking to people at the other end of the mess hall, and he didn’t have paper and pen anyway.
Rowen finished his bread and quickly grew bored of sitting at a table watching everyone wilt in heat he barely felt. He would wait for Kristoff outside.
The evening air was cooler here, and he stood in the shade of a tree with flat green leaves, looking up at the purpling sky and the silhouettes of the branches against the setting sun. A lone cloud floated far above, a mere wisp in the sky like a brush against sand. He had never seen clouds in his village during a heat spell.
“Hot, isn’t it?” a child’s voice piped up, and Rowen turned to see one of the students from his class leaving the mess hall. Benjamin. He was young and trained with Franken, one of the people Kristoff was currently talking to. “I hate heat spells.”
Rowen shrugged, then nodded. Benjamin seemed content with that and reached up and snapped off a thin branch. It took effort, and the wood leaked sap and moisture where he tore it. He began hitting the dirt with it, as though digging, albeit very ineffectively. “Do you think any worms will come up during a heat spell?”
That was an odd question. Rowen shrugged.
“Franken says you and I are going to learn to figure out heat spells after dinner and that Kristoff will help. Do you know how to dispel them yet?”
That explained why Benjamin was talking to him at all. Rowen shook his head.
“But you’re so old.” Rowen laughed, but it was silent and the boy didn’t hear it. Benjamin wiped his forehead, flicking away sweat. “I hate heat spells. Do we really have to put up with it for a whole day?”
Rowen nodded, and Benjamin gave an exaggerated sigh and whacked the ground harder with his stick. “That’s stupid. We’re Storm Lords. We should be able to do whatever we want.”
He had thought that once too. He hoped Kristoff explained, to Benjamin and to him, how heat spells worked.
Soon enough, his mentor left the mess hall, Franken at his side. “Ready, Rowen?” Kristoff asked.
“Can I have some more water?” Benjamin whined at Franken. Franken rolled his eyes and produced a flask, clearly used to his young student. Benjamin grabbed it and downed nearly the entire thing.
“Not thirsty, Rowen?” Kristoff asked. “You should be sure to keep water with you all the time during a heat spell.” Rowen raised his eyebrows, not sure if Kristoff was joking or not. Kristoff gave a slight chuckle, his cheeks red, before turning to Franken. “Well, to the beach, then. Let’s see what they’re able to sense.”
They followed the cobblestone path, but this time instead of heading up the hill where Kristoff had taken Rowen that first day, they headed toward the sea. The sound of their feet on the cobblestones became muffled as sand brushed beneath their shoes.
Rowen still wasn’t sure how he felt about being surrounded by water on all sides. The sound of the ocean came closer, and Rowen slowed his steps, watching the rushing of the waves.
“Rowen?” Kristoff waved a hand. “Come along.” Benjamin was running back and forth along the sand, outracing each wave as it broke upon the shore. He dragged his stick with him, tracing lines in the sand.
“Usually we train up on the hill, but since there’s a heat spell here now, I want to see if you can sense it.” Rowen wasn’t sure if Kristoff was talking to him or Franken until he said the word you. “It’s easier when you have the water to compare against. So, to begin, Rowen, I want you to let the water run over your toes.” Rowen just stared at him, and Kristoff gave a bashful grin. “Yes, take off your shoes.”
“It’ll make sense, I promise,” Franken said. “Heat spells like this one are good learning opportunities. Some Storm Lords are really good at sensing them and specialize in locating them for others to dispel. Even if not, you should be able to locate one on your own if the directions you get aren’t exact.” He turned after addressing Rowen and shouted over his shoulder. “You too, Benjamin! Shoes off, and get over here!” He rolled his eyes.
Eyeing the ocean, Rowen took off his shoes, placing them gingerly on the sand. He didn’t want to risk losing the shoes he had been given when he got here. The grains were pleasantly warm under his feet.
“Ow! It’s too hot!” Benjamin shrieked. He jumped up and stood on top of his shoes, the woven moccasins crushed under his weight.
“Go toward the water, then,” Franken said with a sigh. Benjamin obeyed, making small footprints in the slushy wet sand that the water touched.
Rowen willed himself toward the water, trying to ignore the part of him that quailed whenever it rushed close. The wet sand squished beneath his toes, and he jumped back when another rushing wave sent stinging water around his ankles, muscles tense with fear as the water flowed back into the sea as if trying to drag Rowen with it. This was too much water.
Kristoff caught him, his hands on Rowen’s shoulders for support for the briefest of moments. “It’s all right, Rowen,” he said. “You don’t need to go all the way in. This is enough.” Rowen’s face heated, and he hoped Kristoff didn’t know he was afraid. He turned away to look at Franken, but the other Storm Lord was busy shouting at Benjamin to get back out of the water. He hadn’t noticed.
Volkes’s words came back to him. You’ll never be a Storm Lord if you’re scared of ocean water. Rowen frowned.
“I love swimming!” Benjamin shouted as he ran back, interrupting Rowen’s thoughts. He waved to Rowen with his stick, then turned to Franken. “Okay, so what are we doing?”
“Sensing, like I told you before dinner. Remember?”
Benjamin shrugged.
“Remember about the ocean water and temperature differences? We spent all morning on it.” Benjamin just grinned and giggled. Franken’s jaw tightened, and he looked to Kristoff, and Rowen got an idea of why he and Benjamin were learning together. The boy seemed to need a lot of repetition, and
Franken was clearly tired of it.
“It’s a good thing I’m here, then,” Kristoff said. “Rowen, you and Benjamin will try the same thing, all right?”
Rowen nodded.
“I want you to stand on the shore, facing me, and close your eyes.” Rowen did so, suddenly aware of his balance as his feet dug farther into the sand. “Try to ignore your feet. I want you to try and feel both sides of your body. Spread your arms to make it easier.” Rowen held his hands out to either side, trying to ignore how odd this felt. It didn’t help his focus when another wave rushed past his feet, sending a chill through him that was a combination of cold and fear.
“Now, focus on the temperature,” Kristoff said. “Sense first with your body. Your right hand—is it warmer than your left? Say so… er, respond if it is.”
Rowen frowned, uncertain. He could hear the waves crashing more clearly on his left side, where the sea was, but sensing a temperature difference like that was too hard. He hoped the burns on his body hadn’t healed into some sort of unseen scar that made it harder for him to feel heat.
“Keep trying,” Kristoff said. “It will take time. Focus on your hands. On the air. The air is always moving, even if there’s no wind.”
His father had said something similar once. Rowen remembered it clearly, the shovel heavy on his shoulders as he struggled to climb out of the hole they had dug, another unsuccessful attempt at a well. His father had dug a tunnel for them to sit in the shade and had laughed as Rowen slipped.
“Come sit down. There’s no wind today, but if you sit in the tunnel, you can feel the air move. It’s cooler in the shade. Maybe the hot air is trying to get at us, huh?”
He had laughed. Rowen missed his father’s laugh. He could remember, though, the slight breeze as he had relaxed in the shade of the tunnel, a tickle on his face and shoulders and bits of dust sprinkling his hair.
He wanted to ask Kristoff about it, but he couldn’t. There were no tunnels here, and the sun was hot overhead, no shade anywhere near.
But if Kristoff said the air was moving, Rowen would have to trust him. He focused harder on his hands, all too aware of the sea that still roiled around his ankles.
The water was cold, sending goose bumps up his legs. He preferred the sunlight, and the warmth, and focused on that.
Suddenly his world reeled, his body pulled hard toward the island, where a mass of warmth waited. The sea pounded at it, at him, and Rowen fell against the cushion of warmth.
The air was moving. Cold air circled the warm air, trying to shove it but failing. The sea air was colder, harsher, and faster, scraping the heat relentlessly, like grains of sand against his face in all directions.
“Rowen!” He snapped his eyes open as Kristoff caught him, both of them tumbling into the sand. Kristoff was grinning, his white teeth showing, and Rowen’s eyes were drawn to the stone on his necklace. Behind it, Kristoff’s chest glistened with sweat. “I take it you sensed it?”
He had definitely sensed something. Franken and Benjamin were staring at him too, Benjamin pouting.
“So, Rowen….” Kristoff opened his mouth again and looked to Franken. Rowen’s stomach twisted, but there was nothing he could do to help them figure out what to ask. He let Kristoff pull him to his feet, the other man’s hand hot in his. Kristoff’s face was slightly red.
“All right, Rowen. So which direction did you sense the heat and nothingness, like something pushing you?” Franken asked.
Rowen hadn’t sensed nothingness, and his words didn’t make sense. He had sensed heat, though. Rowen pointed to the island, and then up. Kristoff blinked.
“And did you sense moisture?”
Rowen shook his head.
“What about cold?”
Rowen nodded. Kristoff let out a breath, as though he was relieved, but Rowen couldn’t fathom why.
“And what direction was the cold?”
Rowen looked to both Kristoff and Franken. He didn’t know how to communicate “everywhere.” He looked to Benjamin, who was still pouting, and then his eyes alighted on the stick the boy had dropped.
He leaned down and picked it up. He couldn’t speak, but drawing in the sand he could do. Any self-respecting well-digger could.
He drew a circle with a flick of his wrist, then added in a few trees. “The island,” Kristoff said, his voice suddenly energetic.
Rowen drew another circle outside of it, adding wavy lines. “The ocean?” Kristoff asked.
No. Rowen drew more wavy lines, then put his hand up, circling his fingers.
“The air?” Franken asked.
Rowen nodded, then drew arrows from the air outside to the island. Then he circled it again.
Kristoff and Franken exchanged glances, and Rowen wondered if they had understood. Or maybe he had sensed it wrong or been mistaken.
“Very good, Rowen,” Kristoff said. “You felt all that?”
Rowen paused, then nodded. It had only been a few seconds, and even now the sensations faded. But it felt right. He just wished he understood it.
“This is fantastic, Rowen. You’ve made good progress. How do you feel? Tired?”
Rowen tilted his head, then shook it. He wished Kristoff sounded more excited.
“I don’t feel anything,” Benjamin butted in, his lower lip stuck out. “This is stupid. And I’m hot. I want to swim.”
“You didn’t even try,” Franken said.
“Yes, I did!”
Franken rolled his eyes skyward. “Just keep trying, then. Another few minutes, okay?”
Kristoff smiled at Rowen, and Rowen dropped his gaze, not sure what to make of the other man’s expression or his own reaction to it. He wanted Kristoff to be proud of him, and more than that, he wanted to trust his own ability to become a Storm Lord. But he wasn’t sure. Everything he sensed came in fits and flashes.
Instead of looking at Kristoff, he closed his eyes again. He had sensed it when he focused on the sunlight, and his skin prickled in the heat.
The pressure came at him again, cold air rushing at him even though there was no wind. It pushed against the soft warmth of the island, but the heated air didn’t move. Or was it moving? Rowen screwed his eyes shut tighter, wishing the cold air would stop pushing his senses so hard. He couldn’t tell which mass belonged here, the warm or the cold. It was like imagining the island from above, like in his dream, but without seeing it, only feeling warm and cold spiraling around each other, the cold harsh and unforgiving. It sent a shiver through him, like pins on his skin, and then he lost it, retreating into the sensation of the sun on his body. He stumbled, taking a step toward the island.
He opened his eyes again to see Kristoff staring at him, his brows drawn together. “Are you all right, Rowen?” he asked. “You’ve got goose bumps.”
Rowen brushed one hand down his arm. He almost shook his head, as if to say he wasn’t cold, but he decided to shrug instead. He wanted to tell Kristoff about what he felt, to ask what it meant. This must be what being a Storm Lord was like. He could sense the air. Soon enough, he could summon storms and save his village. He could save people all over the world!
He looked to Kristoff, but his smile faded at the concern on Kristoff’s face. His mentor looked to Franken, then back to Rowen.
At that moment, Benjamin nearly fell, stumbling toward the ocean, and Franken grabbed him.
“That was awful!” Benjamin cried. “I hate the heat!”
“So you finally felt it?” Franken asked. “What did you feel?”
“The heat spell, I think, pushing me away,” Benjamin said. “It’s like a big dark thing on the island, and it’s both not there and is there, and it’s horrible. It won’t move, and it pushed me. I hate it!” He turned big eyes on Franken. “Can I swim now?”
“Fine. Yes, you can swim. Tomorrow we have to—” Benjamin was gone before Franken could finish speaking, disappearing into the ocean water. Rowen grimaced when the boy’s head went under, but he popped up again in only a few seconds.<
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“Is that what you felt, Rowen?” Kristoff asked. “It wasn’t too unpleasant?”
Rowen didn’t know how to respond to two questions in a row. Kristoff blushed. “Sorry. What Benjamin described—he should learn his lessons too.” He glanced at Franken, who smirked back. “The point of this exercise is to help you sense how the heat spell displaces the air. It’s like a giant mass that doesn’t belong, and pushes away cooler air, especially if it’s expanding. Is that what you felt?” He waited.
Rowen frowned. What he had felt had been different. The hot air had been comforting, almost reminding him of home. It certainly hadn’t pushed him away. But he had sensed the air, so he nodded.
“Good.” Kristoff’s smile returned. “It’s a good learning opportunity since heat spells are so powerful. It’s a good way to learn where the air is and figure out that a heat spell doesn’t belong. It wasn’t too uncomfortable, was it?”
Rowen shook his head. It hadn’t been uncomfortable at all. The cold air had, maybe, and he hoped it was okay that he thought that. He wished he could ask.
Another wave, larger than the last, sent water rushing past his ankles and calves, and he jumped, resisting the urge to run away from the sea.
“It’s all right, Rowen.” Kristoff put a hand on his shoulder, steadying him as the water pulled back. It was like the cold air, Rowen realized, rushing against the warmth. Maybe that was why they had come here to sense for it. “You can take a break for now. Rest up. What say I teach you to swim first thing in the morning tomorrow, huh? Then you won’t have to be afraid.”
Rowen set his jaw. Was his fear so obvious? But he nodded anyway.
He had sensed the air, and he would learn to swim. Determination settled in his chest.
He was on his way to being a Storm Lord. With Kristoff’s help, he could do it. He wouldn’t be sent back to his village.
The Storm Lords Page 14