Elemental Release

Chapter Three

I landed next to Airmaster Rusk, who had touched down where the surf met the sand. The wind coming off the ocean was indeed stiff. His robes flapped away from his body like the fabric on a flag. The rippling noise grated against my nerves.

"Airmaster!" he yelled into the gusting breeze. His eyes were closed, and he leaned his whole body into the wind. He flung his arms wide and grinned, like he was enjoying every moment of this oceanfront experience.

I didn't know what to think of him. I turned toward the wide waters too, but didn't have to lean nearly as much as him. I'd never felt like a huge person until this week. Now I felt like the muscles I'd developed during my sentry training were too bulging, and the width in my shoulders that I'd used to protect Gabby a hindrance.

After a few moments of the wind whistling past my face, I began to hear its voice. It rejoiced to be flowing over land again, and it was willing to do whatever I asked of it. I lifted one hand, but Airmaster Rusk motioned for me to drop it.

When I looked at him, I found him studying me. He turned his back into the squalls coming off the water and gestured me closer. "You need to quiet your mind," he said, barely louder than the air rushing past us. "And your emotions. The air is perfectly willing to obey you, but only if you're calm, quiet, and in complete control."

"Okay," I said, though I puzzled through what he meant. I felt calm. I was in complete control of myself. And I hadn't said a word since flying the few miles to the beach.

"Very well then," he said. "Meditation at night, meditation in the morning. Learn to contain the emotions you have."

My sentry training had advocated meditation too. I could hold perfectly still for hours. I'd trained to do such things, both mentally and physically. Sentries didn't make rash decisions, they didn't rush into situations without a thorough assessment; if they did anything on an impulse, they died.

At least that was what I'd been taught. Having survived the past few weeks as I journeyed from Forrester to Gregorio and then Tarpulin, I had experienced dire conditions. Circumstances had constantly changed, and I'd had to adapt with them. I'd turned everything over in my head—again and again.

"Mr. Gillman?" Airmaster Rusk asked.

"Hmm?" I tore my thoughts from the events that had caused me to return to Tarpulin as a chartered Councilmember and not a prisoner.

"Clear your mind before our lessons. It will not serve you well to have lingering thoughts, doubts, emotions, or worries." He gave me a small smile, but this time it looked like he was pitying me. "I am going to work you extremely hard, and you will not have energy for anything else."

"Yes, sir," I said, wondering how he could work me harder than the sentry instructors.

"Excellent," he said. "Well, let's begin." He took a few steps up the beach, away from the water. "First, I would like you to pull the westerly jet stream from the atmosphere, divide it into smaller currents, and send them east."

I looked at him like he'd lost his mind. I'd never touched a jet stream. I didn't even know how to find one. I hadn't taken any classes beyond government, history, and first aid. Every other course in the sentry program was about assassination, or survival, or mending weapons. I certainly hadn't taken meteorology, or weather, or any type of science course. It was the first day of my training.

I hesitantly raised both arms into the sky, unsure of what else to do. I closed my eyes and listened to the air as it curled around me. The gust pulled at my hair, and for the first time, I agreed with my brother that I should cut it.

I groped my way through the atmosphere, sending away eddies and currents that I didn't want. After what felt like a long time under the scrutinizing eye of Airmaster Rusk, I found a powerful current I'd never touched before.

I couldn't grip it, didn't have the strength to pull something so huge out of a sky so wide.

"What do I do now?" I yelled into the increasing wind.

"You must be in such control that the air willing obeys you." Airmaster Rusk's voice came soft as a whisper, only an inch from my ear. "You must make it trust you, because you are it's master and know what's best for it." I felt him shift in the sand next to me, but I didn't have the strength to turn my head and look at him, grappling as I was with the jet stream.

"How do I do that?" I asked, squeezing my eyes closed.

In the next moment, the wind died. The absence of the rushing, consuming noise left me breathless. I turned to my mentor. He flicked his wrist and coiled his spider-like fingers into claws.

A noise came from over the ocean. Soft at first, but gaining in strength and tempo. The sky darkened in an instant; lightning flashed. I braced myself for the hurricane-force winds, but they never touched me.

Airmaster Rusk funneled them around us, creating an eye of safety. He chuckled at the pure shock I allowed to show on my face.

"If you are calm, peaceful, and completely in control of yourself, the air will trust you. That is what you must do, Mr. Gillman." He stepped back. "So, an assignment due tomorrow. Make a list of what's keeping you from becoming an Airmaster. We'll discuss it in the morning."