Call of the Waters (Elemental Realms Book 2)

by H. L. Burke

  “What’s that?” Gabrin pointed towards the hills.

  Quill followed his finger. An object jutted from the top of a hill, too wide to be a tree, too straight to be a rock formation.

  “That looks man-made. A tower, maybe?” Gabrin glanced at Eanan then Quill. He dug in his pack for his spyglass. He put it to his eye, and a smile crept over his face. “It is. That’s where we should head. It’s the only building out there. Stands to reason, it’s near the Highway.”

  Quill stiffened. “It’s also a great lookout for that Earth Speaker. That plain offers no cover.”

  “You’re assuming he’s there. For all we know, he’s still guarding the Span, convinced we never crossed the canyon.” He handed his spyglass to Eanan.

  “It does seem our best bet. We can make it across the plain in less than a day,” Eanan said.

  Quill rubbed her upper arms.

  Gabrin took back his telescope and tucked it into his pack. “Look at it this way: I don’t see any water down there.”

  Quill’s face flushed. “I guess it is my turn to be outnumbered.” She turned her eyes to the sky. The sun was at its zenith, bright and clear, like a giant eye watching her. “May I suggest a compromise?”

  Gabrin raised an eyebrow. “What’s your plan?”

  She swept her hand across the horizon. “This is all flat and clear, easy travel. The moon will be near full tonight, and other than the rocs, who seem to hunt in the day, I’ve seen no signs of large predators.”

  Eanan chewed his lower lip. “You think we should make the crossing at night?”

  “It’ll only cost us a few hours, and if the Earth Speaker is still out there, he won’t see us coming.”

  Gabrin shrugged. “It’s a better idea than mast-walking across the canyon, I’ll give you that.”

  She scowled at him, but it slipped into a smile. He moved closer. Their arms brushed and that strange sensation shot through her again, only this time she wasn't certain it all came from him. Her breath caught, and she flinched away.

  “We should make the descent before dark, though. This last slope’s too steep to conquer at night. I think I see a deer trail.” She started forward at a jog.

  “Hold up!” Eanan laughed. “We aren’t all mountain goats.”

  Quill slowed her pace, but still avoided looking at either man. Even if he wasn't empathic, her grandfather was perceptive enough to notice her blush.

  At the base of the slope, they found a ravine where a trickle of a stream pooled in a rocky basin. Mud-brown fish lazed in the clear water, rising to snap at bugs on the surface.

  “We’re sheltered enough here to risk a small fire.” Eanan rubbed his hands together. “Think you can catch us something, Gabrin?”

  Gabrin took out his knife and cut a straight branch from a small tree. Sitting, he sharpened the end. “One last good meal before we face Creator knows what? We should all try to sleep as well. We’ll be up late tonight.”

  A few minutes later, he hefted a wriggling whiskermouth out of the water at the end of his crudely-made spear.

  “If you make sure it’s good and dead, I can clean it for you,” Quill offered. She’d made the mistake once of cutting into a trout that had stopped moving but apparently not living. The pain had stayed with her for two days.

  “I know my way around a filet knife. Start me a fire. Try to find old, dry wood. We don’t want too much smoke.”

  After the meal, everyone laid out their blankets, Gabrin and Quill in the sun, a few feet apart, Eanan in the shade.

  Quill lay on her side. The ground beneath her was a sheet of hard, water-smoothed stone, warm but unyielding. Gabrin didn’t seem to mind. He stretched out and closed his eyes. His face relaxed into a faint smile. In spite of herself, a calm spread over her as she gazed at him: at his tanned complexion contrasting with his pale, downy half-beard; at the way his mouth twisted at the corners, mischievous even in sleep; at the waves in his hair.

  She forced herself to roll over and instead stare at the rippling water of the pool. Gabrin confused her. One moment he could be caring and even compassionate, the next shallow and unfeeling. Even at his worst, though, there was something about him that made her … happy. Like his teasing and inconsideration were a game of some sort, where she won if he didn’t get a rise out of her and he won if she blinked. No one had ever played with her that way before … Well, Trea on occasion, but somehow with Gabrin, the interaction stirred something within her.

  Am I falling for him? Should I? Could Gabrin really settle down in a cabin next to my parents, with a garden and a few goats? Would he ever want that? Do I even want that?

  Clouds drifted overhead, blocking the sun. She shivered. Could she return to who she was before the water’s call?

  Gabrin admires my abilities. They fascinate him, but they’re just as likely to tear me apart as he is. Loving him would be like throwing myself on the waters. There’s no safety there.

  Gabrin sighed in his sleep, and she turned, resting on one elbow, to find he’d rolled from his back to his side. Something glinted beside him. His compass lay on the blanket. She swallowed. Her fingertips chilled at the memory of touching the icestone within.

  I came to find out what I am, how to control it. How can I do that if the very thought paralyzes me?

  She slipped her hand over the compass. Gabrin didn’t move. Her fist closed around it, and she drew her arm back.

  Holding the compass to her chest, she strode up the ravine. The narrow valley bent sharply just beyond their campsite, then dead-ended at a steep cliff. A lethargic waterfall clung to the ravine’s wall. The stone behind the drip of water was coated in black slime.

  She sat upon a boulder and opened the compass. A wisp of fog rose off the icestone. It was so beautiful. Even as a child, she remembered being fascinated with her father’s icestone axe. It seemed such a terrifying object, an instrument of war. She’d never dared to touch it, even though Trea had clamored to wield it long before she possessed the needed strength. This, however, was a compass, not an axe. A tool of direction, not death. She rested her thumb upon the icestone.

  The rush of water was so loud, for a moment she thought the lazy stream had sprung to flood, and she gasped and stood. It surrounded her, air heavy with droplets. The mist spun about her. Azure light radiated through her skin.

  “You’re closer now, child. You can hear … You can hear better.”

  “I need to know what you want of me.” She clenched her teeth, uncertain if she were speaking aloud. Her voice sounded faint, as if water filled her ears.

  “We wish to speak. So long, the voices have been silent. We have missed your voices, the voices of our children.”

  “I’m not your child. I’m a human, and my allegiance is with my people. I have seen what allegiance to Elemental forces can do to a man. I won’t let that be my fate.”

  “What have you seen?” The voice took on a caring tone, like her mother, soothing her. An image of Meghil flashed through her thoughts, his face contorted with pain, his eyes shining an unnatural gold.

  “Oh child, that man was given to the fire. Did they not yield him?”

  “Yield?” She closed her eyes, uncomfortable with how this being so easily read her thoughts.

  “The joining of a human to an Elemental must be voluntary. They have to give permission; they have to let us in.”

  “I haven’t let you in.”

  “And we only speak. We do not control. We have given you a taste of our power. If you let us in, there is much more, but still, I would not do to you as the Fire did to that man. That man was precious to you?”

  “He was family …” Her throat tightened. “I should’ve saved him.”

  “If he gave himself fully to the fire, only he could save himself, or perhaps the Creator.”

  “And you wish for me to give myself to you?”

  We wish for communion, not mastery.

  “How can I trust you?”

  “Perhaps you cannot.
There is little I can do to earn your trust when I only have my words. I cannot be there to show you my benevolence. I have saved you, enabled you to save your friends.”

  She opened her eyes and found herself floating in a sea of blue. The sun, the sky, the ravine’s walls, all gone. She gasped and flailed out.

  “Steady, this isn’t real. Just a vision, a glimpse of our world. You are fine. Your feet rest upon the earth. Listen, for we have little time. Even now, with the bonds on our world growing weaker, it takes much energy to pierce through to speak to you.

  I long to gain your trust, but more than trust, I need your aid. Our people have long been caged in our world. It is not in our interest to pool and stagnate. We would flow across your Realm, blessing it with our essence. We need someone to discover why our gateway to your world has been so long closed. We need someone to free us.

  I have called to many, but my voice is weak … and some whom I have called have fallen to danger. Something thwarts me. If you can come to the gateway, if you can free us, we would forever be in your debt.”

  “And how do I know you will not ravage our world as the Fire Folk did?”

  Memories of the war, of burned forests, of losing her father, of having her father returned but with a twisted form … the Elemental leafed through them as if they were the pages of a book, and she allowed it. It needed to know.

  “Such destruction. So unnecessary. It is not in our nature.”

  “I have only your word.”

  “I know, which is why I come to you as a supplicant, seeking mercy. Please. Free me and my people. The memory of the gateway still lingers amongst the oldest of our people. I can show you the path to take. My energy falters. Please, come to us. Come and free us!”

  The blue about her faded into the Highway, but with the woods to either side trimmed like a garden, not choked with thorns and vines. It rolled up to a white building with a domed roof and a courtyard filled with laughing fountains. She flew over this. Beyond the great structure, a path stretched through the hills, into a pine forest, then turned into a stone stairway, narrow and steep. The blue washed over her again. The voice faded, and she sat, trembling, blind to the world about her.

  “Quill! Quill!”

  She jerked awake and found herself staring into Eanan’s wide eyes. Gabrin stood beside him, his mouth drawn. The shadows were long about them, the sky tinted pink with dusk.

  Gabrin snatched the compass from her hand. “I didn’t say you could have that.”

  The images swirled through her mind, the path. It was already slipping from her like sand through a sieve. “I need your map! And something to draw with.” She rushed past him and collapsed beside his pack. Taking a partially burnt stick from the dying fire, she shakily unrolled his chart and started to sketch. Footsteps echoed through the ravine, and their shadows settled over her. She didn’t look up. She just drew.

  “Here.” She finally dropped her stick. It wasn’t pretty, but it was a good approximation of what she’d seen.

  Gabrin scooped up the map. “Someday I’ll need to give you a class on the fine art of cartography.” He clicked his tongue.

  Quill grimaced at him, but found herself suddenly lightheaded and unable to do more. She swayed.

  “Whoa there!” He knelt down and slipped his arm around her. “Careful.” He eased her down.

  “Quill, are you all right?” Eanan brushed her hair from her face.

  “I just need …” She drew a deep breath. It seemed the link took energy from her as well as the Elemental. Her eyes fell closed.

  “It’s all right, just sleep,” Gabrin whispered.

  Someone drew a blanket over her chest. A hand slipped across her cheek. She hoped it was Gabrin’s. The ground rocked beneath her as if she were floating again. For once, she found the sensation comforting and allowed herself to drift to sleep.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Brode pulled himself into the upper branches of the tree and peered through the fragrant pine needles. The light was already fading, and between the limbs and the shadows of dusk, he felt confident he’d remain unseen even if their prey were close.

  “What do you see?” Trea hissed somewhere beneath him.

  He waved down at her. “There’s some sort of building … it’s huge.”

  The domed structure jutted through the old forest at the base of the hill like a glistening white eggshell, half buried in the dirt. Tumbled-down walls and broken courtyards surrounded it. A thin trail of smoke rose from behind.

  “It’s got to be them.” He swung down a few branches then jumped to land in a crouch beside her. “The Highway seems to end here. This has to be where they were taking your father.”

  “Maybe … but we also haven’t seen any sign of Quill,” Trea said. “It’s like she just disappeared at the canyon.”

  Brode stroked her cheek. Touching her was slowly becoming more natural to him. Perhaps the strange pleasure of sleeping entangled in her arms the last two nights had helped. He’d managed to control his thoughts as they clung to each other against the cold, but having her head against his chest and his face in her hair sent thrills through him.

  Her lips quirked in a weak smile.

  He let out a breath. I need to get her family safe. I can’t let myself be distracted. “Well, if it’s Quill down there, then she’ll want to help us find Karvir. If it’s not, we need to be prepared.”

  Trea scowled, brought out her bow, and strung it. “Oh, I’m prepared all right. Whatever strange powers that man has, they won’t help him when he has an arrow through his throat.”

  “Easy.” Brode squeezed her hand.

  Her chest rose and fell, and her bottom lip shook. “Thank you,” she whispered. “This is my worst nightmare come true, both Dad and Quill gone. I think if you weren’t here, I’d just rush in there and start ripping at that awful man with my bare hands. I still want to.”

  “He wouldn’t stand a chance.” Brode laughed. “Look, let’s try to get eyes on whoever is there. If he’s alone, a single arrow is all we need. I’ll let you do the honors.”

  She rubbed her arms. “I didn’t think I’d look forward to killing a human ... again. If you’d asked me before that man took Dad and knocked us into the river, I would’ve said never. The first time made me sick.”

  “The first time you saved my life and Pet’s life.” He ran his hand down her arm and slipped his fingers into hers. “Let’s try to be quiet.”

  As they walked, the woods grew darker. A trace of smoke twisted in the air, soon joined by muffled voices … at least two, but not Karvir.

  They came to the edge of the treeline. The remnants of a tiled yard separated the forest from the ruins. Only a few trees had managed to push their way through the closely interlocked stones. Beyond this lay a stone wall, perhaps ten feet high, broken in places, and with a large metal gateway twisted to one side. Through the gate, a fire flickered with at least two people beside it. Both appeared to be moving freely, so he doubted either was Karvir.

  He could use the wall to his advantage. One finger over his mouth, he motioned towards his left with his thumb. Trea nodded and followed. They crept across the yard and pressed themselves against the wall.

  “We must continue on our quest. Time is short. The bonds on the Water Realm could be weakening as we speak,” a female voice said.

  “But what about the Charred?” asked a man. “It’s too far to drag him with us.”

  “We could end him,” a second man suggested. “He hasn’t given up anything, even with my best attempts. Perhaps he truly knows nothing.”

  Pressed against Brode’s side, Trea shuddered. He squeezed her hand tighter.

  “No, my instinct is the Charred may still be of use to us,” the woman said. “He may not have said many words, but his reactions when we speak of the Water Slave are telling. I would say he is her father. If she owes him a blood-loyalty, then it is to our advantage to hold him, at least until she has also been dealt with.”

&nb
sp; Trea’s hand tightened about Brode's until it hurt.

  “But the quest?” the first man asked.

  “Yes, we must continue … and you are right, Markyl, it is too risky to bring the Charred with us. You and I shall continue to the gateway at first light. Daman will stay here with the Charred. Perhaps the Water Slave will come this way as well, and if so, Daman can pick her off before she reaches the gateway. She will only grow more powerful as she nears it. Best to stop her before she gets any closer.”

  Trea took a step away from the wall. Instinctively, Brode yanked her back. She hissed, the sound sharp in the evening quiet.

  They both froze.

  “I don’t like being left behind,” Daman said.

  Brode’s shoulders relaxed. He prodded Trea towards the woods. Her movements were stiff and slow at first, but as the trees came between them and Karvir’s captives, leading her became easier.

  After several minutes, he pulled her to a stop. “We can talk here.”

  Trea's eyes smoldered. “They have Dad. They’re hurting him! And they want to hurt Quill too!”

  “I know, but tomorrow two of them are leaving. We’ll be two against one instead of two against three. It’s in our interest to wait. Your father can survive one more night.”

  “But what if he can’t?” her voice quavered. “What if they … have they even let him have fire?”

  “One more night.” Brode rested his forehead against hers. “You saw what one of them was able to do. If the other two have similar powers, even if we manage to take two down, they could turn on us … or hurt your father rather than let him go free. We need to be smart.”

  “I hate it when you’re practical.” Trea sniffed. She tilted her head up, her nose brushing against his cheek. He brought his lips to hers.

  They stood, interlocked, for a long moment. Her hand found its way into his hair, and he rocked slightly on his feet.

  Finally she withdrew. “It’ll be cold tonight, and we can’t risk a fire this close to them. Let’s find someplace out of the wind.”

  His stomach grumbled. Their supplies had dwindled, and they hadn’t had a chance to hunt or forage. First thing tomorrow, he’d have a look around for something to eat. He wouldn’t go into battle on an empty stomach.