Elements (Tear of God Book 1) (31 page)

Animate as soon as I reach.”

Tralé resumed yesterday’s work, reaching toward trees with solid intent and pushing them out of the way to the left, branches knocking against each other and roots cracking their way through the land. Mink, still distracted by thoughts of Gyov, looked over his shoulder to see if she might be looking at him. Gyov and Frèni were positioning themselves in front of the wagon, readying for the continuation of the procession. She winked as soon as he caught sight of her and mouthed the words “nice pants.” Mink signaled his thanks and smiled. A dozen of the Scout and Strike Cells members tightened up their formation, blocking Gyov from view.

He turned his attention once more to the gouging of trees through the dirt. Alré watched the progress impatiently from a couple of steps behind, waiting for enough clearance to allow them to move on. She glanced back at the wagon and finally made her way forward to Mouké’s scooter.

By the time Alré positioned herself on the back, the twins had moved all of the trees within their range. Sapo slid slowly backwards and side-to-side up the hill until Alré called for her to wait on the order to move. Tralé drummed his three gloved fingers impatiently on the crest, directly in front of Mink’s face. Mink resisted looking back at Gyov again, not wanting to seem overly eager.

“I’ll give you this much,” Tralé squatted down on his scooter and looked at Mink eye-level, still March Rooting a tree off to the left with his free hand. “You’ve got exquisite taste in women.”

Mink about lost his hold. “What are you talking about?”

Tralé smiled but didn’t have a chance to answer before Corporal Alré commanded, “Let’s go!”

Had he been listening to their conversation during the debate? Maybe Mink was being obvious. Ultimately, it didn’t matter much, but he had hoped his personal feelings would be a little more private. Still kneeling while creeping his scooter forward, Tralé reached to the ground and plucked up a dirt clod, which he rubbed into the forearm of his driving arm. As they set off up the path, he reached for the next group of trees and dragged them off to the side. Mink remembered Gyov’s face after he told her he liked her and the goofiest, head-over-heels, smitten smile spread across his face. Now that he thought more about it, he felt confident that she would be his girlfriend and everyone would know.

In a celebratory mood, Mink dug out a music crystal from his pocket and thumbed over the facets, looking for some perfect riding music. He settled on one of his favorite upbeat songs by The Thundersticks, “There’s No End to Me,” and resumed his grip on the handle of the scooter. The Wood must’ve picked up on some of the vibrations embedded in the crystal, because Tralé immediately glanced at Mink’s hand.

“My, my, Mink. You’ve been holding out on me.” Tralé used his free hand to slide open a hole by his submerged Wooden thumb. “Drop that bad boy on in there.”

He dropped the crystal in and Tralé slid the opening shut. Holding onto the handles, Mink could hear the music as if he were touching the crystal directly. The songs started switching quickly from one to another, and Mink guessed that Tralé was able to move the crystal around from facet to facet with his submerged thumb. If Dreh had a way of listening to crystals in his sled like this, Mink didn’t know about it.

“Here we go,” Tralé beamed, settling on one of The Thundersticks’ ballads, “Break it Off.” He stood and continued his work of tree-moving with a cadence complimentary to the tempo of the music. “Exquisite taste, Mink. Exquisite.” He felt validated by Tralé’s approval. Maybe he did have some things in common with these people.

Tralé’s pick wasn’t a song Mink would’ve chosen, but it matched his mood all the same. The landscape danced for the rest of the climb. Trees swayed and shook their leaves. The grasses rippled on the plains spreading to the western wall of Eternsa. A few enormous clouds hovered to the north, aglow with sunlight that set them in stark contrast to the softening teal of the sky. They made some significant progress along the mountain beyond the steep incline Mink had climbed the previous night. Eventually, they reached a flatter approach to the top that lent itself well to the last switchback.

After the final turn, they approached the marker tree in no time. The trees closest to it had apparently been moved long ago to further isolate the chosen pergnut tree and help travelers find it. The cool morning wind refreshed the group as they summitted the mountain and looked out over the expansive wilderness below. Mink’s Cell rested next to the branchless side of the marker tree. Sapo leaned against the trunk, pants flapping in the wind, as Mouké parked his scooter next to his brother’s. The immensity and depth of the land stretched out beyond their sight. Mink could barely see or recognize the area where he last saw his mother during his training.

Clutching the back of Tralé’s scooter, Mink slipped into one daydream after another about how he might spend some time with Gyov over the course of the journey. There would surely be at least one more stop before they made camp for the night, which could afford him the opportunity to get close to her. Lost in thought, Mink suddenly recalled that they had made it to the exact spot where Blin had so rudely awakened him the night before. He pressed up against his ribs and was satisfied that they were far less tender, thanks to Pulti’s healing. It was very comforting to know that she, too, would be around.

Mink squinted, but couldn’t make out any specific features of Rift Ridge without the aid of Tunnel Vision. In the distant haze on the horizon, somewhere in the cavern beneath the plateau, his parents guarded an enormous crystal of formidable power. While there was still so much distance to cross before he could reach them, Mink took comfort in being able to guess where they were. His daydreams took a turn toward returning home with his parents, and finding a reason for Gyov to come with them.

S
ERGEANT MAKUNAM
says you know which way to go.” Corporal Alré appeared beside Mink, taking in the view and breaking his reverie. “He says you talked to him about it last night.”

“Yes’m, a valley ahead to the north.” Mink studied the slope of the wilderness from their vantage point. The jagged line of the range’s shadow cut the valley in two as the morning sun rose behind them to the east. Their destination sat in enough darkness that a potential path was difficult to see.

“So, Blankey, you lead the way.” Alré challenged rudely, adopting Mink’s unwanted nickname and causing him to cringe. He caught Tralé sending a sidelong glance of disapproval to the Corporal, encouraging him with the show of support.

Once Mink gained his bearings, he could tell that the angle of the slope heading down the opposite side of the mountain was much less steep than what they’d just traveled. It favored a long, straight downward trip to the northern side of the basin below. The valley was difficult to see through all of the trees surrounding it on both sides. That should make it easier for them to go undetected. As an added benefit, the smaller mountains to their west would soon block the view of their descent.

He indicated a line down to the left of them that hugged along the mountain. “We should head down in that direction. It’ll be okay to take a direct path, don’t you think?” Mink did his best to come off as someone working with others to reach a mutual agreement. The members of his Cell looked and nodded at each other, and then down at the rest of the group still making their way up the trail.

“As long as they can keep that wagon from barreling down on us, I’m cool with it. It’ll be nice to head downhill for a change.” Mouké stretched his back, limited by one hand partially embedded in his scooter. He and Tralé scanned their pending route to account for the number of trees they would need to move.

“So, bro, wanna race?” Tralé pressed.

“Don’t I always?” Mouké looked back at Alré. “Corporal Alré, do you give us permission to get off this rotting mountain as soon as possible?”

Alré checked the distance to Rift Ridge once more. “Please do.”

Without further delay, Tralé and Mouké started their scooters down the hill. They couldn’t speed up their chants without rendering them ineffective, so they added specifications to March Root that would move multiple trees at once,

“Wood appears to have life with me.

I make it move, fight, bend, and dance.

My hands implement my intent.

I use the target like a tool.

Touching root or branch move as one.

Trees stay together in a group.

My reach extends through their contact.

I move Wood through land like Water.

It remains separate from me.

I cannot kill my Element.

I control as Atriarb does.

Animate as soon as I reach.”

Mink’s hair blew on his brow as they sped down the mountain. On several occasions, he felt sure that Tralé wouldn’t finish his chant in time to move the trees before they crashed into them. The speed and uncertainty added a welcome thrill to contrast with the monotony of the previous day. Mouké wove around the trenches cut by the trees as best he could, while Tralé opted for jumping them in a more direct route. Mink flinched, worried that the landings would jar him loose.

Tralé lost a bit of ground to Mouké when he got distracted searching for different music instead of March Rooting trees. Settling on “Best Step Aside,” Tralé resumed his pace. Mink became personally invested in beating Mouké. He bobbed his head to the song, and helped to steer by shifting his weight on the scooter. Tralé, visibly pleased, pulled his steering hand free. They couldn’t listen to music anymore with Tralé’s hand detached, but the exhilaration of free falling down through the forest had a cadence all its own. The needled pergnuts became more scarce as the forest shifted to become predominately comprised of rolled-leaf specklenut trees.

Mink steered the scooter on his own by leaning left and right, past Mouké, Sapo, and a couple of trees Mouké had missed as they rushed into the forest. Using both hands, Tralé moved trees in front and behind them simultanously. They had such a commanding lead, Tralé slammed his steering hand back into the scooter, slid it to a sideways stop, moved the couple of specklenut trees he had left behind, Animated a couple of his brother’s trees for him, resumed play of the music, and sent a big smile to a fuming Mouké, still sixty to seventy yards uphill.

Continuing their downhill race, Tralé further orchestrated the trees to shake to the music as he cleared them from the path. He looked back once to check his lead on Mouké and gave Mink a satisfied nod. For his part, Mink couldn’t be more proud. They were going to win the race because of his contribution. This kinship with Tralé felt like the closest thing he had to his friendship with Dreh.

When they reached level ground, Tralé arranged two dozen trees into a ring which he called the Winner’s Circle. Thousands of wild specklenuts littered the area. Mink guessed they would never be made into nutty like their cousins in Octernal. Sapo Slip Skated in a slalom fashion through the trees Mouké had yet to move, slowing to a stop in Tralé and Mink’s circle.

“Cheaters,” Mouké complained as he pulled up with Alré, who seemed to be enjoying herself for the first time. She actually seemed happy. Everyone caught their breath and laughed while they looked back up the mountain at the path they had created. Mink couldn’t believe the ground they had covered and cleared. The rest of the group seemed so small making their way down with the wagon. This easily stood out as the most fun Mink had had since the party. Tralé held his hand out to Mink for a high-five, which he gladly obliged.