Elements (Tear of God Book 1) (29 page)

T
RALÉ STOOD
by, balancing trays of untouched food on his arms, watching Mouké Manipulate both of their Wood tents. One had been flattened out into a sixteen-by-four foot rectangle. The other, Mouké held on the far side while vying for Mink’s attention.

“Mind giving me a hand with this?” Mouké called out.

“What do you need me to do?” Mink rushed over to the twins, still clutching his own plate.

“Take that end and help me flip this onto the middle of the big board there.” Mouké indicated for him to take hold of the front of the tent.

Setting his plate on the ground, Mink put one end of the rope sausage in his mouth and chewed it hands-free. The Wood the twins had Materialized was much lighter than Mink was expecting. Mouké probably could have positioned it without any help. The two of them placed the top of the tent down on the other flattened tent.

Mouké directed, “Hey, Theen! Get the rest of your Cell and tell them to eat with us. Plenty of room.”

Theen tottered off to gather his Cell as Mink watched Mouké open the floor of the tent and curl it up and over both sides. He folded the back wall down, cupping it tightly to the edge of the flattened tent, and then did the same with the front wall that Mink had been stabilizing. No longer needed, Mink reclaimed his breakfast, eating savory bulbs and watching the tent’s transformation. Mouké systematically walked down the middle of the overturned tent, smoothing and contouring the curled floor into sixteen petals, eight on either side.

“Think I should have reminded Theen to use Silent Signal Fire?” Mouké mused, looking over his handiwork.

“He can’t,” Tralé answered. “I wanted him to try that on Mink from down at the wagon, but he said he can’t find a way to change the phonetics to make it work with his lisp. He can only do about six effects because of it.”

“Really?” Mouké shrugged passively, but Mink grew more impressed with Theen’s ability. “All right, Mink. Wipe your hands and help me flip this over. I don’t want you getting grease all over it.”

Mink obliged, and as they settled it back on the ground he realized Mouké had just made a breakfast table. The top was covered with dirt and leaves, so Mink didn’t know why Mouké was worried about a little bit of grease. Before sitting, Mouké cleaned the surface off with his hands, rubbing the dirt onto his forearms vigorously. Tralé wasted no time arranging the food around the table and playfully moving it away from each place Mouké sat. Mink waited until the plate of spicy meat chips had stopped moving and sat closest to it.

“Hey, Sapo! Wanna come eat at the table?” Tralé shouted over Mink’s head in the direction of her cloth tent.

The seats Mouké had fashioned were remarkably comfortable, evenly distributing Mink’s weight and encouraging proper posture without a chairback. Mink pulled his plate closer and gnawed on his bread while Sapo emerged from her tent and strode up to the table, holding her already empty plate. She wore billowy yellow pants and a light pink field jacket, its array of pockets and padding enhancing her femininity. That’s when Mink realized everyone had changed their clothes, except for him.

“Sapo? Can I use your tent to change my clothes before you pack it up?”

“Uh, no.” Sapo laughed at Mink in that way that telegraphed she hoped he was kidding. “That’s my bubble. I don’t let people in my bubble.”

“You can use Alré’s cabin before I Dispel it,” Mouké offered.

Mink nodded his thanks and nursed his rejection by sopping up yolk with sausage. When Corporals Alré and Ankrim came to the table, they carried all their gear slung over their shoulders and empty plates in hand, looking less than excited to be joining the group. Alré settled her pack in front of her and laid her head down with eyes closed.

Mouké waved a come-on-over to someone behind Mink, reminding him that they were expecting company. He looked over his shoulder to see Theen struggling up the hill, leading the big guy who had helped Alré the day before, and a girl Mink hadn’t met. And Gyov! Her chestnut hair had been braided on either side of her head, complimenting her golden complexion and nicely framing her face. She looked straight into Mink, setting his insides astir in a frenzy of drumming and dancing.

“I got everybody.” Theen huffed as he caught his breath.

He introduced the pair as Obyr and Frèni. As they all said their hellos, Obyr sat to Mink’s left and, much to Mink’s delight, Gyov sat to his right. Obyr’s massive frame took up more than his fair share of table space. He quizzed Mink skeptically about the mission.

“How can you be so sure what you saw was actually a Tear of God?” Obyr asked, paying more attention to his breakfast than Mink. “You don’t even have an Element. What do you know?”

“Not much else it could be. It does have an—”

“We’re all wasting our time,” Obyr cut him off, chewing. He looked around the table, declaring, “There are no such things as Tears of God. It’s superstition and rot.” Mink knew he represented the attitude of a great many Octernalians, that common sense would say the Book of Origin was a made-up fable meant to explain Elemental relationships. Obyr rattled on, but Mink was too pleased by Gyov’s close proximity to take proper offense.

Gyov rolled her eyes privately at Mink, unable to get a word in edgewise. She tried to contribute, but Obyr was on a roll. Mink acknowledged her attempts with a smile. He felt proud of how calm he remained while sitting next to the perfect girl, close enough to feel the warmth of her leg against his. Still, it took special effort not to spill as he poured himself some kwona, visibly shaking the drink from the pot into his bowl. At last, Tralé got up from his position at the table, sat directly in front of Obyr, and started a full-blown argument.

“I’ve always been curious about something,” Tralé interrupted. “How do you guys completely dismiss the religious nature of Elementalism when you, Obyr, invoke Curpo or even Symg, in your apostrophication?”

“Elementalism is scientific. Not religious,” Obyr countered. “The resonance of the affinity, chemicals generated by the brain while speaking certain words with specific syllables, and basic physics all make the effects happen. There’s no magic. No God. No superstition. To hold on to such nonsense prevents growth. It keeps you from truly understanding the Elemental work you are doing.”

Tralé took advantage of Obyr stopping for Air. “Wrong. By denying your God, you’re underdeveloped. You can’t reach your full potential because you don’t understand where the true power is coming from!”

“I’m the best Body user in our age group! You think I don’t understand true power?!” Obyr seemed to puff up an extra twenty percent in size.

The debate raged on, excluding anyone unwilling to shout to be heard. No longer a part of the audience, Gyov leaned in close enough that Mink could smell her shampoo. “Do you remember me?” she whispered in her seductive Pashmeetan accent.

Remember her?! The previous school year, he had memorized her schedule so that he could pass by her at least once a day. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said, feigning a protective nonchalance. “From the party the other night? I’m sorry, but a lot of it is a blank for me.”

“I’m Gyov, yeah? We had some same classes together when I first moved to Floth. You were the first one to show me around and be nice to me. We used to eat lunch together. Kinda like this.”

Mink was amazed that Gyov would remember him from when they were kids. When they first met, he had admired how she overcame being an outsider who barely knew the language. She inspired him to persevere in spite of his own feelings of not belonging. No matter how much she was ridiculed, her attitude remained cheery and optimistic. However, she grew quickly in the use of her Elemental skills. Over time, Mink felt less and less on equal footing with her.

“Oh. Sure, I remember. Third grade. In sixth grade we had Pre-Logistics together.” Mink caught his jaw twitching involuntarily. Of course he remembered those days. By then he had only failed Elemental Affinities three times. There was still plenty of hope that he would function normally. But as the years passed, Gyov’s attention drifted away, along with the likelihood that he had an Element.

Gyov knocked a fist on the table. “Right. Ms. Cruchlè’s class. Oh! I hated that class. So boring.”

Mink nodded and laughed with her, but his mind was trying to play catch-up on this trip down memory lane with his heart’s desire. “Not one of my favorites, either. So, what happened to you? How have you been since then?”

“Oh! Busy like you wouldn’t even believe. My Soil classes have been interesting because I have permission to go to instructors that speak Pashmeetan so I can learn chants in my native tongue. Only not so much of a need in Floth, so I have small class. No slacking in small class I can tell you. Big benefit is I get very good with Soil and now am drafted here. With you.” Gyov leaned her shoulder into Mink’s arm and smiled.

M
INK SMILED
back and blushed. Gyov’s attractive accent and her struggle with proper Octernalian only endeared her to him more. To maintain his cool, he acted like he was checking in with the Obyr-Tralé debate, nodding in mock interest. Really, he was much more focused on how to capitalize on this first conversation with Gyov in at least five years.

“Of all the tens of thousands of years of scientific studies tracking Materialization on a vibrational level, not one shred of evidence points to a God behind it.” Obyr closed his argument by popping a shred of cheese into his mouth that stood for the lack of evidence.

“That’s because the very act of Materialization through vibration is the evidence of God.” Tralé held his head in disbelief that he should even have to explain such concepts.

“All you faith-nuts say the same rotting thing. The vibration results in an Element, not a God. Therefore, evidence that the Elements exist.” Obyr leaned across the table with two fingers from each hand inches away from Tralé’s nose. “Two plus two will never equal brown.”

“Regardless, if you want to dispute the evidence, it’s just like Traucher Dowk said, ‘non-existent proof does not prove non-existence,’” Tralé said, casually sweeping Obyr’s hands out of his face. Obyr leaned back and laughed.

Mink’s split attention divorced from the debate to focus fully on Gyov. Committed to taking a risk, he admitted, “I miss having classes with you. When I couldn’t take any Elemental courses, I really felt like everyone went on without me, you know? I’ve just been filling up my schedule with all the elective classes I can. I don’t have more than one class with anyone.”

“Is that why you always look so sad?” Gyov’s eyes locked on to Mink’s.