The Order of the Elements 01 - Breaking Point (40 page)

I should have acted faster. If I could have taken out Zuriel, it would have been a huge blow to Petrozan. I freeze, and then explode, the twelve metallic soldiers that are standing guard. Even with the immediate threat gone, I don’t become visible. Zuriel is surely still watching. He will know it’s me here now, but he doesn’t know where I am. I quickly gather everyone together. Less than forty. I move through the huddled group. They are too scared to even move. I connect their hands and freeze their locked hands in place. I take the hand of a small girl, and the entire group becomes invisible.

“I can help you if you will follow me,” I whisper.

They obey without a second thought; they will follow anyone who is offering them life. Or even death. Death would be better than being forced into Petrozan’s army.

We only have two miles to go to be within Cassius’s protection. We make it out alive.

Memory after memory passed by. Each one was different but essentially the same: people dying, Dorian trying to save those that he could, the thick black smoke rising, the fires constantly burning. The only difference was how the people died. The Shamarian, the grilocks, each dark creature devoured these people in its own way. Then it stopped.

It took Phoebe a minute to understand why the memories faded. Dorian was very upset. Her body was bent over, and she could hear her ragged breathing. She retreated back to her body and realized why. Another wave of nausea hit, and she threw up again. She felt hollow and realized her stomach had nothing left. She pooled water in her cupped hands and washed her mouth out before going ahead a few yards and leaning against a wall.

Her breath was still heavy, and Dorian supported most of her weight. She slid down to the floor, and he sat down beside her. She was surprised that she felt so in control of her anger. She was too much in shock about how brutal the images were that she hadn’t gotten around to feeling angry yet. She was shaking. After a minute, she collapsed into Dorian’s chest, and tears coursed down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was too much. I never should have let you see all that,” he murmured as he rubbed circles in her back.

Phoebe shook her head. “No, I need to know. I just never imagined it was that…” She trailed off. That what? Bad? Horrible? Sickening? There was no word to describe it. Even Dorian had no word to supply. He had lost so much; he had faced so much death.

Hopeless. That word fit. How did anyone fight against something so evil? How could anyone ever hope to see things differently? In that moment, Phoebe lost her hope.

Dorian had said he still had hope. Was she strong enough to find hers again?

27. Impressed

They sat there for a long time. Images played over and over again in Phoebe’s mind. Dorian said nothing as he waited for her to process what he had shown her. It was nothing more than what she had imagined, but imagining it and seeing it were two different things. She knew that the things Dorian had shown her were real, and she would never forget them. After a while she stopped shaking and felt limp as she slipped into unconsciousness.

She knew that even sleep wouldn’t take away the memories, so she left her own mind and settled into Dorian’s, where she could feel his love for her. She slipped into a peaceful slumber, lost in his emotions.

Phoebe felt extremely disoriented when she woke up. She was looking at herself, and that startled her before she remembered that she was looking through Dorian’s eyes. She left his mind and found that hers felt oddly peaceful. Sleep had given her time to come to terms with Dorian’s memories. She didn’t feel any better about them, but she knew that the only person to blame was Petrozan, and her determination to give training every ounce of energy she had was stronger than it had ever been before. Dorian held her close to his chest. He was humming.

Phoebe opened her eyes, and he smiled. “I was getting worried,” he said.

It was hard not to notice that there were only inches between his lips and hers.

“How long was I asleep?” she asked, noticing that they were in his room instead of the dark tunnel.

“Fifteen hours.”

“I’m getting good at these marathon things,” she said lightly.

He chuckled. “Yes, although both of those marathon things were good. You found a way to deal with your anger, and you came to terms with the world outside these walls.” He was more serious by the time he finished speaking.

She winced. “How do you know all that? Did I talk in my sleep or something?” she asked, half-jokingly, though his confirming nod somewhat surprised her. Her mother had told her she talked in her sleep once, but she had always figured it was a one-time deal.

“Yes, but I’m glad you did. It saved me a lot of agonizing over how you were doing.” He shook his head in disappointment. “I never should have done that. Although, you did handle it better than I expected.”

“And by that you mean: at least I didn’t try to blast you into oblivion and take off running for a hundred or so miles?”

He laughed, and it reached all the way to his eyes as he traced the side of her face from her temple to her chin. “Something like that,” he replied.

She shifted her head to the left to glance out the window, and a sharp pain shot through her temple. She automatically winced and grabbed her forehead. “Ouch,” she muttered.

“What’s wrong?” Dorian’s smile vanished and concern replaced it.

“Nothing, just a headache, I think,” Phoebe said as she rubbed where she’d felt the pain hit.

Dorian’s hand settled on her forehead like he was checking for a fever. The cooler temperature of his hand helped ease the pain, and she held his hand there. “Why is your skin colder than normal?” she asked as she closed her eyes.

It wasn’t bright, there were only a few candles lit, but it felt better to have her eyes closed.

“What do you mean colder than normal? You mean colder than yours?” he asked.

“My skin isn’t cold!” she said.

Dorian chuckled softly. The sound of his voice pushed the pain back some more. “It might not be as cold as mine, but your skin is cold. Didn’t you notice that Ethan’s is a lot warmer than yours?”

“What are you talking about?” Phoebe asked.

She was completely confused. She knew Ethan’s skin was warmer and Dorian’s skin was colder, but hers was normal. She never felt too cold or too hot.

“What are
you
talking about?” he replied.

“I am talking about the fact that my skin is a normal temperature and yours and everyone else’s are off.”

“And by normal you mean…”

“Ninety-eight point six degrees.”

He laughed. “Is that a Non-Magic thing?”

“Well, that’s what my temperature’s always been.”

“Phoebe, it doesn’t work the same way here.”

She opened her eyes and searched out his. The pain of her headache was nearly gone, so she transferred his hand from her forehead to her cheek. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, temperature is dependent upon what Element you control. So Wind is the coldest. We run about eighty-eight, eighty-nine degrees. Water Element is between ninety and ninety-two. Earth Element is third and starts at a toasty ninety-seven and can go to ninety nine. Fire Element is hottest, with temperature ranging from one hundred five to one hundred ten. And, just like everything else, our temperature adjusts when our powers are in use. For instance, if you were using a lot of ice, then your temperature would drop. Cynthia’s temperature skyrockets when she uses her Fire power.”

Phoebe’s headache was forgotten, and she felt a little dense for not knowing that. She could read thoughts, emotions, and memories, yet something that was common knowledge had escaped her notice.

“So that’s why Cynthia always feels like a furnace,” she commented.

That one, at least, hadn’t escaped her notice. It wasn’t just Ethan and Jared who had a warmer touch; Cynthia usually felt like her skin was blistering.

“Yes, Cynthia’s base temperature is relatively high; she runs about one hundred ten. That’s twenty degrees hotter than your skin, so she’ll definitely feel very hot to you.”

“But I never get hot, or cold for that matter. I can feel that temperatures are different, but they don’t affect me.”

Even as she said that, she knew it wasn’t exactly true. Dorian’s skin might be a few degrees cooler than hers, but she always felt like her skin was burning beneath his touch. However, the burning wasn’t uncomfortable, quite the opposite. It was the best feeling in the world.

“Your powers will automatically regulate your body temperature when it’s needed. When my hand touches yours and the temperature of your skin starts to drop, then your powers will react to keep your body at its normal temperature. Unless that temperature change is helpful or harmful to you, then it will let you feel the difference, so your body can react appropriately.”

She must have looked confused, because he continued on. “For instance, when you were burned, your body let you feel the heat so you would know you were hurt.”

“So our powers are intelligent?”

“Not exactly. They’re imbedded into our subconscious where all of our normal body functions are controlled so they can keep each system in check. That’s also a big reason why our powers are controlled by emotions before we learn to control them with our minds.”

“Is there anything here that isn’t affected by magic?” Phoebe asked.

Dorian frowned as he thought about it for a minute. “Physically, no. All things are affected by magic, but mentally, most everything you think and feel is all your own.”

“Most?” She didn’t like the sound of only
most
things being her own.

Dorian looked at her incredulously. “Phoebe, of all people, you should know that magic can reach even to ones’ mind.”

His eyes still hadn’t left hers. That was probably why her brain didn’t seem to be functioning up to its usual standards. Didn’t her own talent invade the minds around her when she chose to do so? Could it go even further, to mind control, perhaps? She could find out anything at all about any person she wanted, with a few exceptions…which reminded her of the original source of her frown that Dorian had misinterpreted earlier.

Phoebe stretched, sat up, and turned to face Dorian. He sat up as well and crossed his legs in front of hers as he faced her and took her hands in his. Her skin tingled when he traced patterns up her forearm. It would have been enough to distract her under normal circumstances, but she couldn’t take the mystery any more.

“Did you teach an instructional course on how to block me?” she demanded.

The corners of Dorian’s mouth twitched as he caught the accusation in her voice. He didn’t look up from her arm as he spoke. “Why?” His tone indicated that he knew what was bothering her.

“Hector!” she exclaimed. “He’s better than you are! I can’t get anything from him!”

Dorian actually laughed. Phoebe tried to glare, but when Dorian looked up, she wasn’t very successful under his gaze, not to mention the continued trail of his fingers up her arm. “I forgot to warn you about that. I wouldn’t bother trying to read him if I were you. You’ll never get anything.”

She frowned, finally totally distracted from the sensation on her arm. “Why?”

Dorian’s eyes were amused. “As a scout, Hector is one of the best of the best because of his talent.”

“Which is…” she pressed.

“Impenetrable skin, absolutely nothing can pass through his skin. Nothing physical, and no powers or talents can affect him. He can also alter his appearance.”

“You mean like I can.”

“Not even close. You can take on any shape and characteristic, and with Channeling you can take on powers too. Hector can only make himself look older or younger, and he can also make it looked like he’s wounded when he’s not.”

“So the scars…”

“All fake, all but one. He does have one weakness—a Shamarian’s blade. We have no idea what’s on it, but it’s the one thing that can cut through his skin. But, since nothing else can get through, beneficial or not—such as the witch’s magic—the wound had to heal over time.” Dorian rolled his eyes. “But Hector likes to impress. He’s also a lot younger than he looked yesterday. Yesterday he looked like he was pushing seventy-five, but he’s really only twenty-four.”

Phoebe was still getting used to the differences in how people aged. She knew Hector had looked older than Dorian the day before, but he had looked no older than twenty-five by Non-Magic years. She was impressed; Hector had a great talent, although it frustrated her at the same time. She was so used to reading people; having to get to know someone a normal way seemed like quite a chore. It was never something she had really had to do.

“What are you thinking?” Dorian asked after she had been silent for a few moments.

He lifted her chin up so he could look at her eyes to see if she was still in the same room with him. She smiled.

“I’m just so used to hearing others’ thoughts; it’s actually kind of frustrating now when I can’t.”

Dorian pulled Phoebe forward slightly, and his eyes blazed into hers. “Yes, poor Phoebe. I feel so bad for you.”

She knew he was being sarcastic, the smile on his lips gave it away, but she couldn’t think of a good retort at that particular moment. He shifted and placed his arms around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. She laid her head against his shoulder and sighed in contentment, gazing out the window to see that it was dark out.

“What time is it?”

He started twirling a strand of her hair. “About five o’clock in the morning. You can go back to sleep for a few hours if you want to.”

“What are we doing today?”

“I just thought I would get into our first training session with Hector. The others are very eager to get back on schedule, especially after yesterday.”

“How are they doing?” Phoebe asked.

“They’re each handling it in their own way, just as you did. Their reactions might not have been as strong as yours, but they all have their own anger and sadness to deal with. Now, would you like to sleep?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not tired, but I am rather hungry.” Just then her stomach growled loudly to emphasize the point.