Elements (Tear of God Book 1) (28 page)

As he chronicled the High Council’s process, Mink caught sight of Gyov sitting by her Cell about twenty yards down the path. He struggled with words as he continued recounting his story to Pulti. He couldn’t believe his luck! How on Georra had Gyov wound up here? She waved and then made a flattening motion with her hand before shrugging and alternating between thumbs-up and thumbs-down. So she was the one who prepped his campsite, and maybe even protected his claim. Dizzy with a flood of raging emotions, Mink gathered his senses enough to turn his shock into playing it cool. He smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. Pulti followed his line of sight and looked at Gyov for a couple of seconds before positioning herself closer to Mink and directly facing him.

“Continue,” she urged him.

T
HE NEXT
morning, a layer of dew clung to Mink. Before she left for the night, Pulti had thickened his skin to help him tolerate sleeping without shelter, using a modified version of the Implant chant, called Scaling Shell. She had added specifications that made the Materialized skin grow in fat, overlapping scales that were waterproof, held heat, and lessened the blow of physical attacks.

Now he looked like a tikrut, a reptilian beast of burden. A wet tikrut. With hair. Pulti had offered to share her tent instead, but after Mink’s talk with Tolrin, he thought it best to stick with his Guide Cell and start the day off with them. Pulti had promised to be back early in the morning to restore his normal appearance. But so far, there was no sign of her.

The aroma of breakfast being prepared wafted up the campsite and reached somewhere deep inside Mink’s empty stomach. He stored his bedroll back inside his bag, stuffed his music crystal in his pocket, grabbed a couple more music crystals out of his pack, and sat in front of the Guide Cell’s Radiated logs to try and remove the sheen of dew. Had he been hungrier when he left his house the previous morning, he might have thought to pack some of his own food.

“Festering piles of the grotesque!” Tralé emerged from his Wood tent, laying eyes on Mink’s new look. “Good morning, Mink. What happened to you?” Before he could respond, Tralé knocked on his brother’s tent. “Mouké, you have got to see this.”

“Two seconds,” Mouké called from inside.

“Morning, guys.” Mink tried sheepishly to explain his condition, “My friend helped me out because I didn’t have a tent. I’m just waiting for her to get back and Dispel the effect so I can go eat.”

“Whoa!” Mouké stepped out, gawking. “That’s a good look on you, Mink.”

“Thanks. I could get used to it.” He tried to keep in good humor as he scanned the now bustling campsite for Pulti. He had no choice but to roll with his condition.

“I could go grab you a plate, man,” Tralé offered. “What d’ya want? Grubs, grasses, or beetles?” The three of them shared a laugh. “I’m just messing with you. I’ve seen Scaling Shell before. That hottie from last night did this to you?”

“Yeah, Pulti. She’s a Body user.”

“I bet she is,” Mouké commented. “She didn’t stick around until morning? Just like a woman.”

“It’s not like that,” Mink protested.

“Why not? Not your type?” Tralé looked at Mink like he was crazy.

“I grew up with her, you know? She’s like my sister.”

“Same thing with me and my fiance. Those can be the best relationships,” Mouké advised.

Mink wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Ever have a girlfriend?” Tralé asked.

“No.”

“Tragic waste of youth,” Mouké exclaimed. “You don’t go around looking like that all the time, do you?”

Mink chuckled and raised his hands, flexing his fingers and watching how the scales slid over each other. “No, it’s just, you know, I don’t have an Element. So…”

“So what?” Mouké pressed.

“It’s not exactly a turn-on.”

Tralé put his weekend bag over his shoulder. “You need to leave that up to her to decide. Whoever she may be. Don’t reject yourself.”

“Yeah, man. And get some moisturizer.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Mink felt better for his little talk with the twins, despite his embarrassment. The conversation happened without his even trying, and he felt closer to them for it.

“Just stay here. I’ll be right back with some food. Come help me carry, Mouké.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Bring me a plate, too!” Sapo called from inside her tent.

The twins started down the camp toward the wagon, Mouké calling over his shoulder to Sapo. “We’ll bring you food, if you dry Mink off.”

Sapo’s head poked out of her tent and she stared blankly at Mink. “I didn’t do it. The dew, I mean.”

“I know.”

“It’s the cold Air from the north. Now, close your eyes and mouth or they’ll dry out.”

Mink shut his eyes and turned back toward the logs. He didn’t know how much of his conversation with the twins she had heard. He played it back over in his mind just to be sure nothing too incriminating was mentioned. Sapo began her elided Extraction chant, Dehydrate,

“I remove the target’s Water.

Its moisture gathers before me.

I continue to pull it out.

The target becomes very dry.

I can only take what I need.

The effect ends when I step back.

By Floth, I absorb all of it.

Extract Water upon my spit.”

As soon as Mink heard Sapo’s spit hit the ground behind him, he felt dry. Chapped, in fact. Without moisture, his thick, scaly skin fought the slightest movements. He could feel static build up in his clothes and the breeze blew his hair into tangles.

“You can open your eyes now,” Sapo said.

Mink would have thanked her for her help, had his cheeks not threatened to crack upon opening his mouth.

“I don’t think it’s a problem, by the way,” Sapo said.

“I’m sorry, what?” Mink managed to mumble.

“Not having an Element. It’s not a bad thing, in my opinion. Most guys I’ve dated have been so focused on Elements, they can’t relate to me as a person.”

Mink twisted around to face Sapo, feeling very much the wrinkly, reptilian old man.

“Don’t worry,” she clarified. “You’re too young for me. Just wanted to tell you that not having an Element can work to your advantage.”

Mink and Sapo shared several seconds of awkward silence. As much as Mink appreciated her vote of confidence, he wasn’t sure how to respond to her advice. Her demeanor was so dry and matter-of-fact that he wondered if she would continue. Would it be rude to express relief at their mutual lack of romantic interest? Or should he thank her for the encouragement, even though he felt a bit insulted by her presumption that he would never discover his Elemental affinity?

“Besides,” she said at last. “You look like rot right now.” And with that, she disappeared back into her tent and tied it closed.

Mink creaked back around to face the Radiated logs. Where on Georra was Pulti? Before long, he would have to lead the group forward, and he certainly preferred not to do it in this condition. Tolrin was a Spirit user, so he could cancel the effect, but Mink couldn’t imagine walking through camp now to find him. If there was a plus side, it suddenly occured to Mink that no one was Eavesdropping on him, or else the Sheilding Scales would have already been canceled, since Spirit effects removed Body effects. He liked knowing he could think about whatever he wanted.

As he waited for Pulti and the twins to return, Mink thumbed a music crystal. His thick skin muted a noticeable amount of the mid-range frequencies, so he rubbed one facet after another, tuning to find a song that would play. Soon enough, the twins came hiking back up to the camp carrying plates piled with food on Wood trays they had probably just Materialized. Joining them was a guy Mink hadn’t seen before.

“This is Theen,” Tralé introduced Mink to the dark skinned, chubby fellow with short black hair who waddled up from behind. “Theen, somewhere under all that is Mink.” Tralé gestured to the monstrous looking humanoid slumped over the crystal that he rubbed in his hands.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Theen lisped as he failed to smooth down a cowlick. Wide-eyed, he asked “Did you really see the Tear of God?”

“Yes. It’s quite massive,” Mink replied with effort.

“That’s cool.” Theen lost himself in thought.

“You’ve taken a turn for the worse, I see,” Tralé remarked, referencing Mink’s increasingly parched look, while handing him a plate off the tray. “Theen is a Spirit user in the Scout Cell. He’s agreed to help you.”

Mouké slid a plate through Sapo’s tent flap before taking two to Alré’s cabin. An older man opened the door and took them in. Theen nodded to the guy and waved without being noticed.

“That’s my Corporal, I mean, Camp Counselor. Ankrim. He’s cool. He’s a really good Spirit user. After we get back, he’s going to give me some private instruction,” Theen beamed. “And he doesn’t come cheap, I can assure you.”

“That’s wonderful, Theen.” Mink grew impatient, unsure if he could manage to eat with his face still scaly. “You have an effect in mind for canceling the Scaling Sheild?”

“Uh… Oh. Right. I got one.” Rehearsing his rhythm, Theen repeated vowels in the light, slow voice of a Spirit user. Mink wondered how someone with a lisp, who still needed to practice before chanting, could be ranked high enough to be part of this mission. He didn’t even say the word Spirit properly. Finally, Theen started his chant,

“Believe in the lie I tell you.

Open your mind unto me.

Your bending will made mine then firm.

Upon uttered ‘truth’ you know. Truth.”

Mink had no idea what effect Theen was trying to implement. It sounded like a custom version of a much longer chant. Inspiration or Persuasion, perhaps? Immediately, Mink’s appearance was restored. Theen managed to acheive the effect with only thirty-two syllables and didn’t even use any specification, limitation, or apostrophication! Shortcuts were frowned upon by traditionalists, and considered unreliable at best. Yet, the proof was right in front of Mink’s eyes. Perhaps developing shortcuts was a way for Theen to overcome his speech impediment. Still, he would need a formidable amount of power to direct an effect without using the full range of syllables.

“Theen, that was amazing.” Mink stood up to confirm that his whole Body was back to normal. “My dad’s a pretty good Spirit user and I don’t think he could have done a better job.”

Theen’s eyes glistened appreciatively. “Honest?”

“Absolutely.” Mink crammed half a slice of sweet toast in his mouth. “And he’s an Intelligence Operative. You need some serious skill for that.”