Earth Awakened, page 14
Chapter 16
“Baj,” Javen said, the word scraping against the back of his throat.
They’d taken to a nearby garage. Caleb and Rosie watched him from the hood of a tarp-covered car. Massive metal beams stretched above their heads, but the more superficial parts of the roof had deteriorated, leaving nothing between them and the pale blue of the morning sky. Rain had washed away the smells and stains, leaving only a wet, fresh scent. When the wind blew, the sign outside strained and creaked to keep its position above the front door, giving the occasional whistle.
Javen relaxed when it hit him, feeling the sweat cool on his skin. He stood in front of the car, legs splayed, brows furrowed, the words from the text swimming in his head.
“You are saying it wrong,” Caleb said, his fingers picking at the tarp. “You are saying it like it’s Arabic. It’s not.”
“It’s hard to figure out how to pronounce any of it,” Rosie pointed out. “There were so many accents in Mersetzdeitz. Even the Lürians had different accents.”
“I don’t think it matters,” said Javen. “We are Mages, not wizards. We don’t have to actually say our spells.”
Finding a secure place to practice their spell work had given the sun enough time to rise and begin to heat Seola. They were far enough from the shore that the ocean winds had become faint breezes. He’d hoped that temporarily settling in one of the arms of the city’s sprawl would allow them to enjoy the benefits of being so close to the mountains, but these were not the same mountains as around Ryarne.
The heat clung to every surface without respite.
“Baj is a base word for a spell…” He frowned, trailing off as he turned and walked to a workbench placed against the wall. Several stacks of printed paper took up a majority of the work space. He chose the farthest to the right and started to flip through its pages.
Terran-born Elementals hadn’t always been able to do Mage spells, from what he’d heard—but that had changed sometime in the past few months. He wasn’t sure why, but he was not about to waste the opportunity.
It was, however, complicated. These spells had been made for Lürians to learn—Lürians who had already had a grounding in magic, magical terms, and the language in which spells were cast.
He was starting from scratch.
“Alright,” he said. “Baj is a base word spell used by all Elements. The Fire book and the Earth book have different instructions, though. Hold on.”
He moved to another pile, wet his thumb against the condensation building up on his canteen, and began to search through the new set of pages. His lips moved with the words as he read them, his mind struggling to work against the heat. Sweat beaded on his forehead and soaked the shirt material at the back of his neck.
He found a note, his forefinger following it down to trace the few symbols drawn onto a piece of paper at its bottom.
Bingo.
When he turned back to the others, Rosie had closed her eyes and looked to be sleeping, and Caleb had disappeared to the car’s other side, lifting the tarp to catch a glimpse of the vehicle underneath.
He cleared his throat, tucking the pen behind his ear as he walked back to the center of the room. “I think I’ve got it.”
“Cool,” Rosie grunted. She didn’t open her eyes, instead remaining perched where she was. “When are they supposed to be back?”
‘They’ were the team led by Naomi. At her plan, the Birchwood survivors had split into multiple groups, arriving at Seola in stages. An investigative squad would arrive first, followed by the rest of their trained fighters two days later.
Any civilians were not expected to reach Seola until after it was secured.
Javen and the rest of his group had been the first to arrive. Last night, Naomi had split them into two teams, taking the trained soldiers on a scouting expedition into the city.
“Naomi and her team are doing some reconnaissance work. She said that she would need a day.”
“So, we won’t know if something bad happened until they do or do not come back tonight?”
Caleb’s arms dropped at this point. His hands still held the edge of the tarp, making it taut, pulling at where Rosie sat on the hood. She was alert now, her previous fatigue replaced with an almost frantic wakefulness. Both of her hands clutched the hair that flowed over her shoulder.
“Remember that Seola is different from Terremain,” Javen told her, his voice soft. “Terremain was in the foothills. We had a river that divided the city. Sounds could disappear easily there. Now, the mountains are at our backs here, but the proximity of the sea makes the bases of these mountains flat. If anything happens up there, we will hear it. The sound will carry so much better here.”
The stillness of the room made the crinkling of the paper in his hands seem deafening. Caleb let go of the tarp and turned his full attention on Javen. Rosie, however, stayed on the car.
“So,” She lowered her eyes and locked them onto a seemingly fascinating piece of roof on the floor. “We will be able to hear them but not help them.”
That is exactly right, but we aren’t supposed to talk about it.
But, just as the thought flashed through his mind, he frowned.
No, that was wrong. Soldiers didn’t talk about it. Soldiers accepted the reality of war, the possibility that not everyone makes it home. Soldiers covered the fear of death with a blanket of dark humor, nicotine obsessions, and an upper lip made of steel.
He, Rosie, and Caleb were not soldiers, and a few months’ worth of rifle drills and an army surplus supply run would not make them soldiers.
Fighting to survive did not equate military training.
They should be talking about it.
“Naomi and her team are collecting the information we need to settle here,” Javen said. She looked up at his voice, her brown eyes bright and shining with looming tears. “You followed Naomi into Mersetzdeitz. You know that she can lead a team that can be completely undetected. They are doing their job, and they will be back tonight. In the meantime, we have our own jobs to do.”
He turned away from her, hoping to end the conversation—distraction was a good tactic, and if he could catch their focus, they might be able to stay on task. His fingers fumbled through his hair until they found the pen that had slipped off his ear.
“You—” he said, pointing the pen at Caleb, “—are a manipulator.”
“You—” he pointed the pen over his shoulder at Rosie, “—are a conjurer.”
Caleb clapped his hands together and stepped closer. “That’s really awesome! Really cool! But… what does that even mean?”
“It means that magic has to be performed differently depending on whether you are a manipulator or a conjurer. That is why the instructions are different. Earth, Air, and Water are manipulators because they manipulate the environment around them. You need earth, air, or water to use those abilities. You can’t create them. Fire are conjurers. Rosie can create fire out of nothing. She doesn’t need to be surrounded by it. Psychic, Darkness, Electricity, and Light are both. I don’t know exactly what that means, but since we are working with Earth and Fire right now, we don’t have to worry about it.”
He paused for a moment to read their faces. Caleb rubbed his hands together and seemed to be taking inventory of everything he could manipulate with his Earth magic.
Rosie remained on the car, staring at the palms of her upturned hands.
He repressed a sigh.
I better start with Caleb.
“Caleb,” he said, stepping toward the other man and tilting the paper so he could see the writing. “Manipulator. You need to spread your power into the environment around you and concentrate it on the item you want to manipulate. Baj is this symbol right here, and Lur is this one. Baj’lur is the Earth spell for striking out with a piece of earth.”
Caleb took the paper from Javen’s hands and looked more closely at the symbols drawn. His forefinger traced over the strokes of each.
“I have to… I have to think these?”
“Yes. I know it seems like a lot but, according to the book, your power will want to follow your lead. You concentrate on an item, imagine the strokes of these symbols, and then mentally tell that item where to go. The book says that it is alright to move your arm with the motion, even though it isn’t necessary. It can help you focus on what you’re trying to do.”
Caleb stepped away and studied the paper in his hand. His arm raised, and he struck out, miming the motions and mumbling the words to himself. He dragged his feet along the grungy floor and shuffled them a few times, trying different movements.
“Alright,” he said after a while. “I’m ready.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t want to dance a little longer?”
Caleb glared and Javen laughed. The younger man handed him the piece of paper, which he folded and put into his pants pocket.
“Okay,” Javen said. “On the count of three. Each count is a step. One: send your power into your environment. Two: focus on a specific item. Three: perform the spell. Ready?”
Caleb nodded and widened his stance.
Javen exhaled and faced the same wall. White paint peeled from the cinder blocks. Empty spider webs along the ceiling beams floated in the gentle breeze.
“One.”
Elementals always felt like power to him—power and control. His magic woke up at his touch, a swirling force of connectivity that balled at the pit of his stomach, awaiting command. As he extended his awareness into the environment, his magic picked first at Rosie’s power, mirroring her Fire into his veins, but a gentle nudge toward Caleb solidified it into Earth a few moments later, the transition slipping like heat through a vent. The world opened up to him, his awareness of the garage heightening as his magic mirrored Caleb’s Element.
Within seconds, he felt connected.
He let out a breath.
“Two.”
The concrete felt as pliable as dough. The stone beneath was putty. The metal resisted him, so he moved onto a more obedient target. A square foot of floor not far from his feet caught his attention. Weeds were beginning to push through this piece. It could be moved so easily.
“Three.”
Baj’lur. One symbol of three strokes, another of six.
The symbols flashed into his mind, and magic tore through his body.
Green burst into the piece of floor. As he punched forward, his hand striking nothing but air, the stone made a hard clinking sound and ripped from the floor.
It sailed forward, rotating twice, then exploded against the far wall in a plume of dust.
Pieces of broken concrete rained down below.
He exhaled and lifted his right arm. He got a quick glance before the symbols disappeared, but he knew what they were. They snaked over his skin in a shimmering, vibrant green.
Baj’lur.
He’d used the earth itself to strike the far wall, and he had done it on his first attempt.
The surge of power didn’t come close to what he’d experienced the day Terremain had fallen, but that didn’t matter. Not now. Not in this moment.
I can learn this. I can learn any Element. As long as I have someone to mirror.
It took him a moment to realize that only one piece of concrete had made it across the garage. Caleb smiled sheepishly and placed his hands on his hips.
“Sorry,” the young man said. “I’m bad at this.”
“No,” Javen corrected. “You’re not bad, you’re new.” He glanced down toward the gap he’d made in the floor, spotting a small bundle of thistle in the hole. A small thrill went through him when he realized that he’d sensed the plant earlier. “You haven’t been doing this long enough to be bad at it. If this were your two-hundredth attempt, then we should be a bit concerned.”
He felt himself speak the words, but on the inside, his mind was reeling.
He’d done it. He’d actually done it.
This wasn’t a hard-flying, high-adrenaline, life or death moment. This was practice.
And he’d done it.
Chapter 17
They agreed to have Caleb perform the spell with Javen guiding from the side. For a great while, it seemed more likely that Caleb would pull a muscle before pulling a piece of earth, but the young man was determined.
After thirty or so attempts, a small piece of concrete flew from the floor and exploded against the wall.
“Javen!” Caleb cried happily. He watched the sigils slide around the flesh of his arm. “This is amazing. Holy shit. Look at this!”
“You did that,” he said. “It wasn’t easy, and it uses a language you don’t speak, but you did it.” He paused, flashing the man a grin. “You keep practicing while I see if Rosie is up to the challenge.”
Rosie had kept her post on the edge of the car hood. Her hands were caressing her ponytail, and her chest heaved with her breathing.
She was scared and nervous. On the verge of panic.
This will require a gentle touch.
“We are going to go about this a little differently with you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper. She watched with wide eyes as he unfolded it and flattened it against the hood of the car next to her. “The concept is the same, but the approach is different. We are still going to use the symbol Baj. This other one here is Pyr, the Lürian word for ‘fire.’”
“Which kind of Lürian?” she asked.
“I’m not sure, but we can look that up later, if you would like. We are learning together. It would be nice to know which Lürian language the spells use. Your spell is Baj’pyr. When Caleb performs his striking spell, he has to send his power into his environment. This isn’t the case with you because you are a conjurer. You must bring the power from within yourself and concentrate that power onto your hand. Once you have that flame, you can then use the Baj’pyr spell to send it across the room.”
“I have to hold the flame?”
Emotion tugged at his chest as he studied her.
God, she looked terrified.
“It’s your flame, Rosie. If you don’t fear it, it won’t hurt you. This is your power. Here, I’ll let you do it on your own. I’m right here, Rosie. Give me your hand. That’s good. Let’s just make a flame, okay? Just a flame. We can worry about projecting it later.”
Javen was an average-sized man. His stature was never something that brought him a considerable amount of attention. But Rosie’s hand appeared child-sized in his. Tiny tremors made her fingers shake. The Fire within her made the skin warm to the touch.
“Just a small flame,” he said softly. “Just a baby. You can do that. Bring the power from within you and concentrate on the palm of your hand.”
She closed her eyes, but her face didn’t relax. Concentrating on her power made her brow furrow and her nose scrunch up. Each time Caleb sent a piece of concrete at the wall, the splintering of the stone made her flinch.
He frowned.
“Caleb,” he called out. “Can you take a break for a moment? Head outside and check on Gannon. I’ll come for you.”
He didn’t need to see Caleb leave. Connecting to the other man’s power gave Javen an awareness of how he crossed the garage. The feeling was not precise, more akin to the hairs on the back on one’s neck standing in response to a perceived threat, but it was enough for Javen to know that Caleb had obeyed him.
Rosie kept her eyes closed. A tear slipped from under the lids.
He lowered himself onto the hood beside her, still holding her hand. She didn’t turn to him, didn’t open her eyes. Her free hand came to her mouth just in time to hold back a sob.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He squeezed her hand. “Don’t be sorry. Please, let me help you. What’s going on?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m just not made for this. I can’t do this.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because I am not made for this.” More tears escaped as she opened her eyes. They were brown and glistening. “I’m a preschool teacher, sir. My world—my life—was about little problems. I helped little ones understand why the sun was awake with them at the middle of the year and slept in later in the year. We figured out why the toilet was so loud or why the dark was so scary. Little problems. They were not important to most adults, but they were important to me, and I was good at solving them. I was a little problem expert.”
She sniffled, wiping tears from her face. Javen paused. Experience, and empathy, told him she had more to say.
Around the front of the garage, the wind made the sign creak again, whistling around the edge of the building.
After a few shaking starts, she continued. “Now, there are only big problems. Big, huge problems. I’m not made for big problems. I’m not made to figure out how to ration water, or how to create a fireball in my hand. I am not Fire. I am warm milk and warmer hugs. I am glitter and pastels. I am whatever my kids need me to be, and now, I don’t even know where they are!”
Tears came faster, and a sob shuddered through her lungs. Javen opened his arms, and she collapsed into them, her entire body shaking with emotion. Every time a breath wracked through her, her entire body deflated.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s all right, Rosie.”
She flinched. “I’m so afraid. When I get upset, I can feel what my power wants me to do. It’s so hard not to give in to it because part of me wants the satisfaction, but a larger part of me doesn’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to lose control. I am so afraid of losing control. And then, I saw what happened to that girl in Mersetzdeitz, and—”
He frowned. “Something happened in Mersetzdeitz?”
She gasped, stiffening as she pushed away from him. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”
His frown deepened. “Wasn’t supposed to tell me what?”
He had spoken to Naomi after the raid. Aside from an explanation of why their team had been delayed, the soldier had given him little information about what had happened.
He had assumed that the plan had gone smoothly and without incident.
