Wind-Scarred (The Will of the Elements, Book 1) by Sky Corbelli
Chapter 23
Whatever the Storm Blows In
The child's skin was an almost unreal black, his hair a mess of wiry black curls. Somehow he didn't even look wet in the rain... “Mat,” Ezra said urgently, “there's a dark kid standing on the weather vane behind the stable. He's looking right at you.”
The boy glanced down toward Ezra, almost like he'd heard, and smiled broadly. A gust of freezing wind suddenly kicked up hay all around him as a solid sheet of water obscured his vision. “Blighted rain,” Mat swore. “Where? I don't see anything, Ezra.”
Ezra scanned the area in disbelief. He had seen him, right there, only a second ago. Now there was nothing but the dreary, rain-soaked town. “I saw... it was a boy. A child. Maybe eight years old. He was looking right at you and smiling, he was...”
“Standing on a weather vane, Hawkins?” Sarah's voice came through, skeptical. “In this weather, no less? Look, I know I'm being a little hard on you, but if you can't handle it...”
“Yeah, you feeling all right man?” Mat sounded concerned. “Maybe you are coming down with something. Immune system might not be used to all these foreign substances.” A wry note entered Mat's tone. “You know, like soup and bread. Was it really as warm as it looked?” He sounded wistful.
“I just...” Ezra rubbed his eyes and glanced across the rooftops again. No sign of the strange little boy. “I must just be tired.”
“Get some sleep,” Mat advised. “I can cover from here. It's still early, nothing's happening for hours yet.”
Ezra lay back against the hay, still searching around for any sign of what he had seen. Or thought he had seen. Maybe he really was just tired after all...
==
The ship began to shudder, alarms blaring. Ezra spun around, eyes taking in the panicked people moving as if in slow motion. He slowly blinked his eyes. He was in space, floating. The angel spread her wings below him. His eyes closed and opened again. Her mouth was pressed to his, breathing life into him, fiery wings enveloping him, keeping him warm, safe. Blink. She was falling away, peacefully drifting to Earth, beautiful, haunting. The landing dock doors closed with a...
Crash! Ezra bolted up, sweating. He heard the rumble of distant thunder out in the storm. The storm, that's right. I fell asleep during the storm in a hayloft. Not on the ship. He struggled to get his breathing back under control as he checked in with Mat and Sarah. “Guys? Everything all right? I must have dozed off for a minute there...”
“Nearly six hours, actually. I didn't know you needed your beauty sleep that badly, Hawkins,” Sarah teased him.
“Don't worry Ezra, everything's been fine. We'd have woken you if we needed help.” Mat's lazy drawl was a reassurance. “You two may as well head down to the inn for an early dinner. It doesn't look like this storm is letting up at all. Think you can get your new little girlfriend to run something out to me, Ezra?”
They're not going to let that go, Ezra thought glumly. He had just reached the door when Mat's voice came through again. “Whoa, head's up everyone. Looks like something's happening in the dining room.”
“I just heard someone swagger by outside and take the stairs loudly.” Sarah sounded calm and professional. “What do you see Mat?”
“Hold on, nothing through the windows yet. Wait, I can see...yeah, that's our guy. Bandages all around his face and neck. Just his hands are showing, and they're clearly scarred up. Everyone's giving him a pretty wide berth in there.”
“Hawkins, you go on in and get us a table. I have a theory I want to test, and I'd like a place to sit if it works.” Sarah's voice had a measure of determination to it. “Mat, be ready to take your shot if things go south; I'll keep your line of fire clear.”
“Wait,” Ezra began, “what are you going to–”
“I need you in there to spot for me, Hawkins,” Sarah interrupted. “Keep yourself in a position to cover me. You might get a chance to use that sword if things go really wrong.”
Ezra gulped down the lump in his throat and opened the door, letting himself into the dining area. The room was crowded and simmering in a sullen sense of unrest. Jenna Haldis scuffled by, reddish blonde hair tied up in a tight bun. She and two other girls who looked remarkably like her made their way through the little tavern serving drinks, soup and bread. All three of them kept casting nervous glances toward the tall, gaunt man at the bar. The rest of the room seemed to be pointedly looking anywhere but there. Ezra watched the wind-scarred out of the corner of his eye as he found an empty table in the corner, next to a window.
The man was tall, around six-foot-five. His entire head was swathed in dirty bandages, as was his neck and upper torso. He wore a long, dark coat over the wrappings. One hand, nearly white with thick, ugly scars, was raised. “Another round, barkeep,” he barked in a nasally, unpleasant voice. Mr. Wellward refilled the mug in front of the man from one of jugs Ezra had brought earlier that day, steam curling up from the freshly poured cider, his face set as if in stone. A similar mug appeared in front of Ezra as the barmaids made their way through the room. The man drank deeply of his, then slammed it down to the counter, sloshing some of the drink out of the cup. “Ah, that's some good stuff. Where'd you get real Arborlen cider way down here this time of year? No matter, just keep it topped off.” He belched loudly, and most of the room cringed.
Sarah chose that moment to come stumbling down the stairs, yawning ostentatiously. “Ah, that was just what I needed,” she exclaimed to the room, drawing everyone's eye. She took a few steps toward the bar and wobbled directly into the wind-scarred, knocking his steaming drink into his lap. Everything went deathly quiet. No-one moved, no-one spoke. “Hey, where's that cider at! I'm parched here!” she called back into the kitchen. The rain pounding against the windows seemed almost deafening. Every horrified eye in the room shifted from Sarah to the bandaged man as he knocked away his stool and began cursing loudly. “Oh, you should be careful there,” Sarah observed, as if just now noticing him. “That stuff looks hot.”
“You thundering... I'm gonna... and this...” The man fumed at her incoherently for a handful of seconds while she gave him her most deadpan look. “Do you know who I am? Do you have any blighted clue what the I'm gonna strucking do to you?”
“A drunk,” Sarah answered, no inflection in her voice. She hooked the thumb of one hand into her belt, near the wicked looking knives she wore there. Her voice got quiet, dangerous. “And I think you may bleed on me, but I'm not in love with this shirt.” She stared him down as Mat verified that he was ready to shoot.
The big man drew himself up, towering over her as the innkeeper timidly left a mug on the counter. Ezra thought he saw the wind-scarred twitch, as if taking a quick look around the room. A sudden of gust outside made the windows rattle, the doors creak, and most of the room flinch.
“Ah ha ha ha!” The elementalist burst out laughing. “I like you! Feisty! Barkeep, another drink!” He surreptitiously moved one stool away from where Sarah stood, not even glancing in her direction. Eyes never leaving the bandage-wrapped man, she nodded to the innkeeper, took her cider, and walked over to Ezra's table. Half the room followed her with their eyes, wonder in their collective gaze. The other half stared speculatively at the wind-scarred now drinking in silence. Except for Jenna Haldis. She just looked pleased. And eager.
Ezra glanced between Sarah and the hunched form of the elementalist at the bar, shocked and confused and relieved all at once. “What just happened?” he asked as he brought his mug up to his lips.
“Sarah called his bluff.” Mat sounded like he was grinning. “But did you really have to be so dramatic about it? Scared me half to death up here.”
“Had to be sure, Mat. He's probably a knife fighter or something; he settled his weight right for it before he backed off.” Sarah sounded relieved, hands shaking a little as she took a deep pull from her mug, emptying it. People began to move restlessly. Sarah reached over and grabbed Ezra's drink, cradling it between her hands in fr
Mat chuckled. “Why don't you just sit tight for a minute or two while I catch my... wait, hold on. Someone must have walked into town while I was setting up the shot. They're headed toward the inn, incoming in ten seconds. Can't really make out the details too well... looks like they're wearing a cloak and a hood and... ugh, I swear the water's getting in the way on purpose–”
The door of the inn slammed open. A woman of medium height walked in, blue and gray patterned robe soaking wet, her features hidden beneath a deep cowl. Her head turned slowly back and forth across the room, coming to rest on the innkeeper behind the bar. She lifted lightly tanned, smooth hands to draw back her hood. Sarah quietly cursed under her breath. The woman's hair was a deep, rich black, coiled artfully around her head. Her skin was a light copper, completely free of blemishes or wrinkles. But it was her eyes that drew the room's attention. They were the solid blue of endlessly deep water. The eyes of a water-seer.
She practically flowed across the room, all grace and poise, as people edged out of her way, trying to avoid notice. Stopping in front of Mr. Wellward, she murmured, “An empty cup, please.” The innkeeper quickly obliged her, setting down a large cup on the bar's surface. She lifted a hand to it and, while the whole room watched, water began to flow out of her robe, twining delicately around her fingers as it snaked into the cup.
Ezra couldn't have looked away even if he had wanted to. He had seen what Arn could do – violent, rapid displays of power – but this was something else entirely. Every swirl of the perfectly clear water was pure art, immaculately controlled, a mesmerizing mixture of form and function.
“Thundering showoff,” the would-be wind-scarred muttered into his mug. The water-seer made no notice of him as the stream came to an end. She stood there, back to Ezra and Sarah, fingers lightly trailed across the surface of the now filled cup. A muted, almost desperate tension filled the air. Even the torrential rain outside seemed to grow quiet in anticipation.
“Much better,” she said again in the same low voice. She spoke softly, yet Ezra had no trouble hearing every word. This was a woman of power, he realized, and when she spoke, people listened. Her voice continued to float across the crowded tavern. “I shall need a room for the night to–”
A door on the far side of the room burst open. Mrs. Wellward came rushing out. “Oh m'lady seer.” She interrupted the water-seer, who turned her unnerving gaze toward the flustered woman. “Thank the Mother! Please, please you must help.” She threw herself to her knees, grasping at the hem of the water elementalist's robe and kissing it. Her husband grunted and looked beseechingly around to his patrons, but no-one would meet his eyes.
“Peace, my child,” the cloaked woman intoned, almost kindly. “What troubles you?”
“Peace my child,” the bandaged man mocked in a half-whispered falsetto, “blighted witch...” his voice trailed off as he emptied his cup. “Another round, barkeep. For the road,” he mumbled toward the innkeeper, holding up his mug. Jenna Haldis snatched it from his hand, a brittle smile on her face. She spit in it, then slammed it back down in front of him. He flinched away from her and took a few furtive glances around the room.
Neither woman made any sign of having noticed him or Jenna's display. “Oh m'lady, my Daniel, my son... he has been stricken. The town healer, he tried, but he couldn't help my boy. He told me... told me to pray, and I prayed m'lady, prayed to all the Elements, b-but I had nearly lost hope, lost hope that I... that he...” She broke down into miserable sobs, clutching at the standing woman for support.
“Come.” The water-seer laid a hand lightly on the bawling woman's head. “Show me to him.”
“Oh thank you lady seer, thank you! Mother bless you!” Mrs. Wellward managed, her face turning red and blotchy as tears streamed down it. She clung to the water-seer's hand with the desperation of a person drowning.
“Yeah, you better run,” the tall man muttered to himself.
Without warning, the water-seer's fingers flicked out of the cup, faster than Ezra could track. The wind-scarred pretender staggered off of his stool, clutching his cheek. Blood seeped out between his fingers. Two inches of what looked like an icicle was protruding from the man's jaw. Several of the bandages began to fall away, cut by the ice, revealing grimy, pockmarked, skin beneath. There was a noticeable lack of any scars.
“Worthless,” the seer murmured, not turning back to look, following the innkeeper's wife into the back room. Mr. Wellward took a worried look around the room then hurried after them, shutting the door behind him.
“Holy...” Mat sounded awed. “You... you two need to get out of there, right now.”
“I'm inclined to agree,” Sarah said emphatically.
Ezra just stared at the man trying desperately to pull the frozen shard from his face. More bandages came loose, uncovering shifty, nervous eyes and greasy hair. Chairs began to creak and shift as men started getting to their feet.
“Hawkins, it's time to go,” Sarah whispered, jaw clenched. The atmosphere in the room turned ugly as men rose from their chairs, making fists and blocking exits. Sarah reached out and roughly shook Ezra's shoulder, snapping him back to his senses.
His eyes darted around the room. “We're not getting out of here unnoticed,” he said quietly. “And probably not until they've dealt with... that.” Ezra gestured to the man being backed up against the bar counter as the room slowly advanced on him. “We can escape in the confusion afterward.” Sarah made a sound like she disagreed, but Ezra pressed on. “Mat, can you see what's going on in that room? Or get us some sound? It could be important.”
“We are not getting involved with a water-seer, Hawkins,” Sarah hissed hotly, fingers digging into his shoulder.
“Please!” Ezra begged. “The more information we know about water-seers and the others the better prepared we can be. The closer we can get to really understanding them! We're in no more danger right now than anyone else in this room, aside from your friend over there. What are research teams for if not this?”
Sarah leaned back in her chair, muttering a curse. Mat made a few noncommittal noises then sighed. “All right Ezra, I'll get a beam on the little window back there and patch you in. Can't see inside, but you should be able to hear what's going on.”
“Thanks, Mat.” Ezra said, staring down the grain of the table. Sarah shook her head and finished the last of Ezra's cider, turning to glare out the window.
“...her hands on him mama?” Kelly's voice suddenly came through the communicators, almost hysterical. “Make her stop papa, she's hurting him!”
“Hush child!” Mrs. Wellward snapped, “she'll help your brother, you'll see.” Kelly began to weep.
Tables and chairs scraped across the floor as more of the inn's angry patrons moved to ring in the doomed man at the bar.
“Yes, I can see how this would be beyond the skill of a local medicine man.” The water-seer's calm tones came through over the little girl's crying. “He will be dead within the week.” She said it with no feeling – no anger or compassion – just stating a fact. Sarah shivered as she watched the rain run down the glass.
“Oh please, you must help my Daniel. Please lady seer I beg you!” Mrs. Wellward's desperate voice cried.
“There will be a price,” the seer said. “You know this.”
“Yes, yes anything my lady! Just save him, please!”
“For the life of one boy, given back beyond his time, I will take...” The calm, passionless voice paused as if considering. Ezra held his breath.
The con man tried to inch away from the angry mob, kicking a stool at an assailant as he scrambled up onto the bar. It was caught and set harmlessly aside.
Something almost satisfied entered the water-seer's voice. “The girl.”