Elements (Tear of God Book 1) (23 page)

M
INK JOLLE,
this is Corporal Banni Alré. She heads up my Guide Cell. You will assist her in directing our path and otherwise do as she says, is that clear?” Tolrin actually seemed excited for the first time that day.

“Yes, sir,” Mink replied carefully.

“Fantastic. In about an hour, we’ll be setting out. Get to know your Cell before then. You move with them at all times. Once we exit through the western border into the wilderness, we will brief the whole Team together. You’ll be called upon to speak on a few specific points. Location of the Tear of God, its approximate size, and the nature of the surrounding area. Do not add any information and do not answer anyone’s questions but mine. Understood?”

“I understand,” Mink said, weary of being told to share his story at the same time as keep quiet about the details.

Tolrin gave him a slap on the shoulder. “You’ll do fine.” He saluted Alré as he turned back toward his Cell. “All yours, Corporal.”

Alré gave Mink a dubious smile and extended her hand. “So. You’re the boy with no Element.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mink replied, dryly.

“And you’ve been assigned to me. Great.” Her voice relayed sarcasm in the deep, scratchy quality of a long-time Fire user. Mink tried to get a read from her flat brown eyes, but they were expressionless and cold. “Come sit and meet the rest of the campers in our Cell.”

Alré led Mink to a table seating three people a little older than himself. He recognized the Penbik twins immediately. Both were genius Wood users who remained legends at Mink’s school in spite of having graduated six years ago. They skipped two grades, and their Materialization exam produced an office building that still stood out as one of the more beautiful structures in Riverpark. They went so far out of their way to distinguish themselves from one another that most people would scarcely realize they were identical, let alone related. Tralé wore his auburn hair back in a ponytail. Mouké kept his short hair unkempt and bleached, darkening his chestnut tan by comparison.

A girl sat across from them. Her straight black hair hung heavily down most of her slouched back. Her pale skin made her appear both feminine and slightly ill. She looked up at Mink as he took his seat on the bench, and he noticed that her sea green eyes held tenderness and compassion. Mink had never seen eye color so light before.

“Now we have all of the Guide Cell together,” Alré announced, scanning the group. “Tralé, Mouké, Sapo, and Mink: you are my campers. Our job is to blaze a trail for the rest of the Team to follow. Tralé, you will take Mink on your scooter. Mouké, you will take me on yours. Sapo, you will Slip Skate in-between. Keep that formation whenever we travel.

“The Scout Cell will be right behind us, with two Soil users to help flatten the road we make, as well as to maintain Tralé and Mouké’s energy when necessary. Sapo, as a Water user, will also assist in keeping up their strength, but her main function will be to immobolize any hostile groups we encounter long enough for the Strike Cell to respond.

“We are under cover of a camping trip.” Alré spoke on, finally alluding to the function of the youth group. “Sapo, wait until I give the order before targeting anyone who might pose a threat. It’s my job to command our Cell and communicate with Sergeant Makunam. Mink’s job is to point us in the right direction. Now, please introduce yourselves and tell us something about what you do. Starting with you, Sapo.”

Sapo stood, towering over Alré at a height of at least seven feet tall. She waved to the group with elongated hands and fingers that could grab Mink’s head like a piece of fruit. Her lips hardly moved when she spoke, and her voice was so quiet that Mink thought at first she was talking to herself.

“Hi, I’m Sapo. I’m nineteen years old. I work as an irrigator at the Sekmet Ranch. It’s fun, I guess. They’re nice people and I like what I do. It feels important. When I’m not working, I like to paint. That’s about it.” Sapo sat down and stared self-consciously off in the distance.

“Sapo’s being modest.” Alré reached up to put a hand on Sapo’s shoulder. “She is ranked as the second best Water user under twenty-five and is the highest paid irrigator in Floth, doing the work of ten people.”

Sapo flushed and looked down, letting her hair hide her face. Mink opted to go ahead with his introduction and help her recover from her embarrassment. He stood.

“I’m Mink Jolle. I haven’t found my Elemental affinity yet.”

Tralé threw a look at Mouké while pointing at Mink. “It’s him!” Mouké just smiled back and elbowed his brother. Sapo looked away from Mink and was either giggling or about to sneeze, he couldn’t be sure.

Undaunted, he continued, “But, I am the only person to ever attend Riverpark High that got an ‘A+’ on Mr. Gusky’s Reactionary Strategies Exam.” Tralé and Mouké took note and became noticibly more curious. “I’m at a post-graduate weapons proficiency. I don’t really know what kind of job I’ll get, but I was thinking about—”

“Mink’s getting a little carried away,” Alré interrupted and abruptly spoke for him. “The only reason he’s here is because he has been to our destination site. Moving on to Tralé.”

Mink dropped to his seat while Tralé rose and nodded. “Tralé Penbik. Twenty-one. I design and make buses for Grenk. I’ve won the Cross Octernal Invitational twice and I plan on racing again this year. Glad to meet everyone.”

Tralé had barely sat before Mouké stood. “I’m his brother Mouké. I’m an architect until I finish up my doctorate. Then I’ll try to teach at the University level. I don’t race so that Tralé can win. I’m engaged and will marry in a few months. For now, I’m just working and studying.” Mouké sat.

Mink felt completely out of place. No mental achievement or level of ability with weapons mattered in the company of these young Elemental geniuses. Friendless among strangers, now all he wanted to do was keep his head down, point the group in the right direction, and be reunited with his parents as soon as possible.

“Now.” Alré sat between Mink and Sapo. “I’m sure you have lots of questions.” She searched the group expectantly.

Mink had nothing but questions. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to speak up. With any luck, someone else would ask the same ones. But no one wanted to go first. Were they all accepting of this arrangement? Did they come willingly?

Mouké finally broke the silence. “How long are we supposed to be gone?”

“Six to seven days.”

Tralé let out a frustrated sigh. “This ‘camping trip.’ What’s it to you? A training exercise? Recruitment?”

“Of course I can’t speak for the rest of the army, but personally, it’s the worst babysitting gig I can imagine,” Alré retorted with restentment as she examined a paper set before her.

“Ah. Refreshing perspective,” Tralé quipped before clamming up.

Sapo spoke next. “Are we leaving soon? I want to go.”

Alré maintained her raspy, matter-of-fact tone. “Very soon.”

A
CTUALLY, THEY
sat for nearly an hour with nothing more to do than watch the pavilion fill up. Mink had reached into his bag for a music crystal, but was thwarted by a no-rooting order from Alré. The solitary interesting moment was when Blin showed up with someone Mink took to be Lieutenant Jannri. Tolrin did not look happy with Blin, but Blin puffed up with pride. That morsel of entertainment fizzled and everyone eventually took seats at one table or another. Mink resigned himself to passing the time by shifting different muscles of his legs and butt.

Finally, Alré stood and looked off in Tréa’s direction, nodding. “It’s time to go. Tralé, Mouké, are your scooters prepped?”

“Waiting right over there.” Tralé gestured to where they were parked in the shade of a thick-trunked tree whose branches had been bent by a Wood user, up and over the roof. One was black with silver tribal swirls, and on the other, new-growth green modestly accented a warm white base. Both of them had a four-foot board for the driver to stand on, which curled up at one end like a wave cresting just above waist level.

Alré marched her Cell to the scooters, Tralé claiming the black one and Mouké heading for the white. Tralé’s scooter had deep Air grooves and a squat, racing look while Mouké’s was more the smooth, broad cruiser.

“Aht-tat-tat. Secure your packs on the wagon first,” Alré corrected before they got settled.

Mink followed the others to a huge Wooden wagon, which was parked at the edge of the trees since it couldn’t fit beneath them. It was a natural dark hue absent of any seams or joints, a strong indication that it had been Materialized all at once by a highly skilled user. Six large runners supported its bulk, but the flatbed was low enough that Mink could easily reach over the side rails to place his pack. A broad-shouldered woman climbed into the bubble-shaped cabin, wearing riding gloves that inversely exposed four of her fingers for Unification, and covered the thumbs. This wagon was easily the size of two buses side by side, and yet she was going to drive it herself, hauling everyone’s gear!

Mink turned back toward the scooters, recollecting Tolrin’s comment that the army had all the Wood users it needed. Mink felt sorry that Dreh had missed out on this mission for not being on the same level as the Wood users he had seen so far. Dreh had been at the top of his class since fourth grade and still didn’t make the cut. Being without an Element of his own, Mink lived vicariously through Dreh’s acheivements, and took his friend’s absence personally.

He caught up with the Cell as Tralé and Mouké stepped onto their scooters. They stood in a sideways driving position with backs turned to one another. Tralé gloved his left hand, and Mouké his right. Mink wondered how they planned to steer single-handedly. Then he noticed that their pinkies, as well as their thumbs, were exposed for Unification with the scooter, allowing for balanced pressure to steer. These two were on a whole new level of control.

Tralé pointed Mink to one end of his scooter, where ledges on the board’s edge were located at the base of the upperward curved portion. “Put your feet on those. And hold on here.” Mink looked up to the top of the wave-like crest where a couple of scoops served as handles. “Let me know if you need adjustments,” he added.

Mink mounted the scooter, hugging the outside of the upward curve. To his great surprise, it supported him very well under and inside of his thighs, as if he were on a seat. Yet, wasn’t he supposed to be facing the other way? The scooter’s design made him believe he was a hood ornament.

“It’s perfect. Only, how will I see where we’re going?”

Tralé thumbed to the open side of the board opposite Mink. “That’s the front,” he informed in a patronizing tone.