Prince of Attania, 2

Attan stared at the ceiling, listening to Meetoo’s soft snoring. He envied the new Elemental his ease at falling asleep, something which eluded Attan at the best of times. Sighing, he tossed back the covers and got out of bed, careful not to wake Meetoo. He walked outside, across the moonlit town center to the chapel. Maybe he could work on a few of his carvings.

Elea met him half-way across the green, her thin arms folded to stave off the chill. “You couldn’t sleep either?” she asked, falling into step beside him.

Attan scrapped his idea about stone-carving and walked with her instead to the outskirts of Midver, where the scarred hills rose up on either side. He climbed up a series of rocks until he found a ledge where they could sit and stare down at the sleeping village. Elea nestled against him for warmth.

Three weeks and still no sign of Aylard First. Attan wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved. Meetoo was like a baby, innocent and insatiably curious at the same time. But he was a very powerful baby. Attan was teaching him how to use his elemental abilities in physical form. Sometimes it was challenging. Like the time Meetoo set the house on fire. Or when he accidentally caused an earthquake when all he wanted was to see Elea right now. Oh, she’d scolded him for that one, after Attan literally smoothed the jutted path Meetoo had left between their house in Midver and Elea’s tent right outside it.

Elea’s shoulders trembled as she breathed out a long breath and settled herself more securely between his side and shoulder. Her eyes drifted shut as she finally let herself fall asleep. It hadn’t been easy for the young non-family girl these past few weeks, either.

Dawn broke over the horizon and still Elea had not awakened. Attan gathered her close, wrapped her in a blanket of woven shadow, and gently swept her with him when he transformed to wind, depositing her back in her tent before her frizzy-haired mother stirred.

As Attan had known it would, his transformation alerted Meetoo, who came running in the direction of Elea’s tent, loath to be left behind. “Shh!” Attan pressed a finger to his lips. “She’s still sleeping.”

Meetoo put his own finger to his lips and echoed, softly, “Shhhh.” But he stopped and waited for Attan to come to him. “Time to eat?” he asked hopefully, as Attan led him back to Midver’s town green.

Attan set out fruit and bread on the table in the small house that Midver had loaned them. The house wasn’t much, just a central room with two beds towards the back wall, a small kitchen to one side, and a bathroom, a luxury in a town such as Midver, on the other side. They shared a light breakfast while the rest of Midver still slumbered.

Attan sighed out loud when Meetoo followed him into the bathroom. “No,” he said, gently pushing the Elemental out of the doorway. “Wait here.” It was bad enough Attan felt the urge these days. He and Meetoo remained in Midver so Attan could teach Meetoo how to be a physical being. This—was one of the side effects.

“Now you go,” he said, holding the door open for his physical look-alike. Meetoo resembled him superficially, but in truth they were not that much alike. Meetoo went in, closing the door like he’d been taught.

Elea and the other women from her village remained in Midver, too, while their village was being repaired. It meant more food was required for Midver, so Attan used it as a teaching opportunity for Meetoo, and the two of them, drawing in other semi-aware free elementals, seeded the earth and fished the Mattick so there was always plenty to eat. Attan found these exercises freeing, but Meetoo, so recently physical, always wanted to go back, to try the foods the women of Midver cooked for him, to sleep in his soft bed, to feel the sun and the rain and the touch of another physical being.

It was still good practice for him, however, to let go of his physical body and take it back again. The explosions seldom happened anymore, though Attan was always careful to shield Midver when Meetoo transformed, just in case. Elea became Meetoo’s teacher for physical things, and Attan gladly let her take over that aspect of the Elemental’s training. She had great fun dressing him in different clothes, and Meetoo would often stroke down the arm of his shirt, or hers, just for the sensation the fabric gave him. He was getting better at talking, too.

“Why can’t I wear the grays like you?” he had asked one afternoon, fingering the sleeve of Attan’s uniform.

“Because then no one would be able to tell us apart,” Attan had replied, not wanting to get into the significance of the gray color all the enforcers—and Family of a certain skill level—were privileged to wear. Elea had distracted him with lunch, and for a while Meetoo forgot about it.

Surprisingly, Emma had proved to be invaluable in training Meetoo. She chattered to him whenever they were together, which was quite often at mealtimes or when she joined the other women out in the fields where Attan and Meetoo worked their magic on the barren earth. She talked about her son Thomas, about the sea, and about the spirits of Midver. She called Meetoo New Spirit, to differentiate him from Attan, whom she still called Young Spirit, to Attan’s great embarrassment.

Meetoo took it all in without responding except for an occasional echo of a word here or there, but he was learning. He surprised them all one day when he answered Emma. “Your Thomas,” he said haltingly, “has gone away to the sea?”

Elea exchanged a quick glance with Attan. So far, Meetoo hadn’t put together that he was the cause of Thomas Jadock’s disappearance. And neither had Emma.

Emma beamed. “That’s right. To the sea. It’s what he always wanted. He went away and now you are here with me. When it’s my time, I will go to the sea too. Will you take me to the sea, New Spirit?”

Attan leaned over and patted Emma’s hand. “I’ll take you to the sea if you really want to go,” he promised. But he wondered how much she really understood about the sea. Was it just jumbled echoes of Elea’s people’s legends, for according to Elea and all he had seen and felt of her people’s strange power, it only affected elementals, not physical humans. He hadn’t forgotten Reg’s promise to send an expedition to the Southern Sea, either. Once this business with Aylard was settled, and once they figured out what to do about Meetoo, Attan had every intention of sailing out to sea to find out for himself what was out there.

Later he asked Elea about it. “No,” she confirmed. “We cannot cross the sea the way you—spirits—can. I just told Emma that so she wouldn’t worry about what happened to Tom.”

“Does Meetoo know, do you think?” Meetoo was playing in a mud puddle he’d made a few feet away from them. “He seems so—childlike---but he was—is—elemental. Shouldn’t he feel the pull?” He’d felt it, when Elea and her group of women had begun the song at Jet’s request, so he could see what it felt like. Attan had protected Meetoo from its draw, not that the song would have sent them anywhere since they were so far from the sea, but it pulled at him, at his core, drawing him inexorably to the center of the women’s circle.

Elea nodded, drawing her knees up to her chest. She was so thin; she hardly ate more than Attan did. Or maybe it was because she had gotten taller in recent months. “I think he felt it,” she said, “but he’s so newly formed he didn’t understand what was happening to him. And he didn’t want to go to us, not yet.”

Attan swallowed his next question. Did that mean he wanted it, deep down? Attan excused himself and went to the chapel workshop to finish up some carvings he had been working on. It helped him relax. He worked quietly in the semi-dark, with just a small elemental light so he could see.

Meetoo followed Elea around constantly. She gave him food, that’s probably why, Attan thought. Meetoo had taken to physicality with exuberance, something that still escaped Attan. There were some advantages, Attan conceded, such as working with his hands. He enjoyed creating form out of lumps of rock. But food—and what came along with it—that Attan could do without. He ate mechanically, because he had to. A small part of Attan’s conscience reminded him of Greg’s mother’s apple pie. He squelched it.

Attan’s communicator rang shrilly, jolting him out of his musings. Finally. He opened it to Daniel’s tinny voice. “We found the hideout!” Daniel said triumphantly. “On the coast about fifty miles east of where Meetoo wrecked their big machine. A slick setup. If you didn’t know it was there, you’d miss it completely.”

“Caves?” Attan guessed.

“Caves. They must have known we were coming because the place was deserted. Except for the big machines. We found four of those.” Daniel paused. “Oh, and a storm blew up from out of nowhere while we were inside. Nearly flooded the caves. Not that it succeeded, of course. I saw to that.” Daniel’s voice sounded smug right through the tinnyness.

“You think it was Aylard?”

“Who else could it be? Aylard is wind, we know that. Listen, Attan. I searched for him but he was gone. If Jet’s right, and Aylard sensed Meetoo’s birth, or whatever you call what made him take physical form, Aylard may be headed in your direction. Don’t do anything spectacular, you—or your double—got it?”

“Yeah, sure.” Attan got it. Don’t draw attention to themselves. Aylard didn’t know about Attan, and their one advantage was to draw the ancient Elemental to Midver so Attan could capture him. It wouldn’t work if Aylard found out how truly powerful Attan was. “I’ll let you know if he shows up.”

“You’d better.” Daniel signed off. He would wait for word before he moved any closer.

Attan stood. The wait was nearly over. He picked up the latest carving he’d been working on. It was a figure of a girl, long skirt blowing in the wind as she shaded her eyes to see. He’d done it all without resorting to elemental power, and he liked the end result. It looked delicate and enduring. Attan had chosen a piece of stone from deep within one of the caves near Midver, a colored stone which was naturally infused with elemental light. He touched a finger to it, making it glow softly yellow from the inside.

Now, he just had to find an excuse to give it to Elea.