The Elementalist

25. The Trouble with Captain Neverri-2

The symphony continued rising and falling in the background. Voi gestured. “Please, go on.”

“Well, as I said before, my father was a bounty hunter. Formerly, he was a Sector One elementalist serving as a Royal Scout about ten years before the Rapine War started—an important post, considering Darmoil had only opened its borders barely forty years prior. For whatever reason, my father deserted his post in North Darmoil then fled deeper into the south. Practically no one there knew him, so I suppose it was reason enough. Anyhow, he hid there, riding out the rest of the war. He forged a new identity and became a hunter and adventurer of sorts, exploring his new terrain.

“My mother, on the other hand, was not an emelesiac. She worked at the League consulate in Tahili as an interpreter then later as a diplomat. When my father first met her, he was immediately smitten by her and set about pursuing a relationship. Granted, he neglected to inform my mother that he was considered a deserter by the League and could by no means speak of his abilities, so by the time she found out, it was simply too late.” Milia sighed. “Suffice it to say, a child was conceived, and out I popped.” She flourished her arms then aimed a finger at Voi. “To Windi citizens, mind you—born in South Darmoil yet considered a dual citizen of Windsor, according to International Law.

“Anyhow, my father’s secrets eventually caught up with him as my mother discovered that I was no ordinary child. Unlike emelesiacs from the League territories, I hadn’t been subjected to suppression by urche. I grew up experimenting with my powers at a young age—psychokinetically bending tools, disintegrating my mother’s fine silverware, that sort of thing.”

Voi wrinkled her nose at the idea of a recalcitrant Milia. “You little runt!”

The diplomat sniffed in amusement. “Yes, well my mother—bless her soul—was understandably baffled by my displays, so she approached a superior League officer with my situation. She didn’t know what else to do and certainly didn’t trust the Darmoilen with the information because of their policies regarding ‘daemons.’ Naturally, someone with my abilities was to be feared.”

Voi considered Milia warily, reflecting on how this might have contributed to the woman’s superior attitude towards Voi when she first came to the barn, naive and blind to the world of adepts. “How did the League respond?”

Milia gave a rueful smile. “With an investigation. My father had changed his name, but after my mother reported me, they discovered his true identity. The League sent agents to escort us back to Windsor—you know, the kind that wear the nice suits with fedoras and robust overcoats. It was all so deceptively civil.”

Voi couldn’t help but think of Ronny and sighed, fidgeting with her hands. “Right,” she said uncertainly, “civil…”

“Anyway,” Milia went on, “my mother realized she might lose us forever, so she begged for the agents to reconsider—to find some other way that my father could pay his penance for deserting the Kingdom and the League. Yes, she was afraid of what I was and very much disappointed in my father, but she also loved us both dearly.

“Surprisingly, the League took our unique case into consideration and decided that if my father pledged the rest of his life in service to the League as a special agent, they would also overlook his treason with a pardon and allow him to remain in Darmoil. As for me, I was to remain under strict surveillance and was limited in the practice of my abilities until they could figure out how else to keep me occupied.

“Seeing as how we had little choice without separating our family, my father agreed to the League’s mandate. It seemed natural that I follow in my mother’s footsteps, so I also went into diplomacy. Eventually, I grew experienced enough that the Royal Intelligence Service of Windsor offered me my first assignment: spying on Darmoilen mineral trades and mining operations.”

Voi raised her eyebrows. “That was your first assignment?”

“Really,” said Milia, tossing a hand, “it isn’t as exciting as it sounds. It was very drawn out and boring, for the most part: eavesdropping during long shifts writing up paperwork, sifting through office drawers when no one else was around, cracking open safes—which, as I’m sure you can imagine, was terribly simple, given my abilities. The exciting part came after I was briefed on the origins of Sector One and later began my investigation into Heil Soryul’s mines.

“By then, I’d learned that the League maintained an unpublicized law of sorts for emelesiacs. There’d been a treaty signed long ago between elementalists and ordinary men, one in which both elementalists and mentalists of the Western nations at the time—Windsor and Borellia—swore oaths of secrecy. They dedicated themselves to protecting the helpless and facilitating international peace in a quiet and discreet manner.

“The oath itself was taken just after the War of Ages, long before an official document was ever forged. When a draft was written, about seven hundred years ago, it became a subset of the original Treaty of Du Mon. The secret order of adept protectors began calling themselves The Guild, an early predecessor of Sector One. The oath they swore was later written in a special ink that could only be read using certain chemicals. The League Special Archives retains the original document; the one displayed on Borellia’s presidential grounds is actually a copy without the hidden ink.”

“So, our ancestors consented to concealing their abilities?” Voi asked, her mouth falling open in disbelief.

“Yes, but the treaty works both ways, Voi. You must understand: our kind once suffered from great persecution—much like Darmoilen adepts today, only worse. The League was hoping that my longtime relationship with the natives could help pave the way not only for better relations between the League and Darmoil, but also for a peaceful assimilation of their adepts into the Western population. However, the Darmoilen government has been feared for its intolerance of elementalists, as I’m sure Ronny has explained to you.”

“Yes,” said Voi, “he spoke of this briefly.”

“In any case, both my father’s desertion and the fact that I was raised outside of conventional League jurisdictions were seen as gross breaches of this treaty. It was a really big deal.”

“So, what did your father do once his cover was blown?” asked Voi.

Milia’s smile was grim. “Well, he went back to doing what he did best: hunting. He became a bounty hunter, and the League sent him on covert missions. He didn’t talk about his work. It was all very hush-hush, something I knew nothing about at the time. It wasn’t until I started coming across Haran adepts myself that I was briefed on the true nature of his work.”

Much like Voi’s parents and their careers, she mused, with all the secrecy. Confused, she added, “I don’t really understand what this has to do with my impulses, Milia.”

“Yes, yes, I’m getting to that.” Milia waved a hand dismissively at Voi. “Anyhow, my father, being an earth adept, was naturally my mentor in all things elemental. After he recognized my inability to control my urges, he decided that a practice of chastity might be in order. My mother, a much sterner Follower of Orden by upbringing in comparison to my father, couldn’t have agreed more. I was subjected to early curfews and borderline torturous methods of punishment whenever I failed to ‘contain’ myself: floggings, locking me in a dark closet for an entire day without food or water to simulate being captured by cultists—”

“Milia,” Voi cried, “that’s awful!”

“It’s alright, I’d rather not dwell on that.” The woman’s voice softened as she sighed then lowered her head. “Needless to say, it didn’t take long for me to get my act together.” She chuckled. “I wasn’t always such a stickler, you know.”

Voi eyed the Trine of Orden on the diplomat’s necklace, realizing that Milia’s faith had little to do with sanctity and more to do with providing some sense of order in her unconventional life.

Milia looked down, taking the charm between her fingers thoughtfully. “So yes, Voi, to answer your original question: I did learn to control my impulses. The urges—thank the Maker—do lessen the more you use your abilities, but it also requires discipline and self-awareness. My case was uncommon because I’d already begun developing my powers as a child, but for most new elementalists under League jurisdiction, the first few months after they stop taking urche are usually the hardest.”

Voi sighed. Considering it had only been a couple of weeks since she’d stopped taking her meds, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to enduring several more weeks of the urges.

“Hopefully,” Milia went on, “you realize now that seemingly innocuous dangers exist which can unwittingly trigger either an aggressive desire to conquer others on an elemental level or an overwhelming desire to flee. Fight or flight. Your abilities are not only connected to your emotions but also your adrenaline levels. Elementalism can even affect your respiratory system, among other things. Mind, body, and spirit. Succumbing to your fears and emotions means risking loss of control over your abilities. Elementalism, then, requires a certain level of self-control. Know this about yourself, Voi, and guard it. Vigilantly.”

Thinking back to her terrifying experience with Captain Neverri, Voi sighed.

“Do you remember the first time you tried to manipulate air?” Milia asked. “Too much of your own energy reacted with those you were attempting to manipulate. Therefore, by calming yourself, you were able to lessen this reaction, making it possible to remain in control of the situation. It’s a delicate balance, you see.”

After a moment, Voi said tentatively, “Milia, it seems dangerous for me to be around Captain Neverri, even if he does know what I am.” She paused, then added, “It seems to me that the best solution would be to avoid him altogether.”

Milia smiled—the way a mother does when her child unsuccessfully tries to reason with her. “Unfortunately, we’ll be working closely with the captain for several weeks, which means you’ll have to learn to behave normally around him. And other people, too. He won’t make it easy on you. Clearly, he enjoys playing games, and his security clearance puts him in the precarious position of being a silent watchdog for Sector One. That being said, I’m afraid this is a battle you can’t afford to run away from, Voi. Too much is at stake.”

As the symphony concluded on the radio, a soprano began to sing in an opera style. Milia rose from the bed. “Trust me, dear, you don’t want to get into the habit of becoming a deserter.”

“What happens if he tries to pursue me? Romantically speaking, that is.”

After a pause, Milia turned and scowled. “It would be ill-advised for you to reciprocate any so-called romantic ‘feelings’ this man may appear to harbor towards you.”

Voi shook her head. “But why?”

“Captain Neverri may be privy to Sector One information, Voi, but he is not one of us. The High Council has been hard-pressed to keep him under their thumbs for years to maintain control over the development of aetheric technology research—a necessity for many reasons, which I shan’t go into for the time being. Furthermore, Neverri is a contractor who has no real desire to operate under the League’s patronage in the first place. His disdain for the League is barely tempered by his loyalty to the Borellian military, which happens to officially support the League.” She muttered beneath her breath, “If only for appearances’ sake…

“In any case, Neverri is an unknown entity, his past obscured by deep layers of censoring from the highest levels of government. Not even I have access to his history beyond his service during the Rapine War. Beyond this, his opposing viewpoints on many of the League’s policies is concerning—and, quite frankly, I don’t trust him.”

“What, exactly, has he done to earn the League’s distrust?” Voi was growing impatient with Milia’s closed-mindedness. Meanwhile, in the background, the opera was growing in intensity, further masking their discussion.

The diplomat’s voice took on a degree of finality that Voi had rarely heard. “Callahan and I are both in agreement on this point, Voi, so this is not a request: in the interest of your service to both the AIA and Sector One, you will not pursue a romantic relationship with Captain Neverri. It would be a conflict of interest for you to be involved with that man.”

“If that were the case,” said Voi, “then shouldn’t we have avoided him in the first place?”

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you again because if I do, you will be let go from this operation, and you will return to your former trajectory to the asylum. Is that understood?”

Voi took a deep breath. “Yes.”

Milia peered at her. “Get some sleep, Voi. You’ll need it.” She stormed into the hallway and slammed the door.

Voi stewed over a myriad of conflicting thoughts and feelings, her chest tight with the heft of her emotions. A gust stirred in the room, and she closed her eyes, remembering to stay calm.

“Breathe, Voi…”

The air gradually returned to a restful state.

Exhausted, she lied down in bed then stared at the ceiling. “Master your element, but tell no one. Don’t exploit your powers unless your life depends on it. Make love, if you must, but not with him. Ugh, I’m so sick and tired of everyone telling me how to do everything!” Voi suddenly threw herself out of bed and paced the room. The air grew agitated.

The opera from the radio grew in volume, further fueling Voi’s emotions. “Ugh, it’s too stuffy in here!” She marched over to the window. With some effort, she shoved the shutters open, though they crashed into the building as a cold gale burst into the room—the soprano bellowing in a grand and timely c****x.

Voi froze and cinched her eyes shut, held ransom by the sheer force of the wind. However, she soon abandoned herself to her element and even basked in it, swiveling her head as her hair blew violently. Gingerly, she brought her hand to her neck, allowing the contrasting warmth of her fingers to travel towards her chest. She paused there then pressed her hand to her body as she breathed, the fragile weight of her own life shuddering against her palm.

Such delicate creatures they were, vulnerable to the elements.

Despite this, the unforgiving wind made Voi feel alive. Most of all, she felt free. Weak yet powerful, all because she allowed herself to submit to a greater power. It’d been difficult to grasp what Milia had meant when she compared elementalism to making love, but Voi was beginning to understand.

She needed more of this feeling.

Voi looked at her arm momentarily then allowed her fingers drift there, running them softly against her skin as the wind caressed her hairs. Blood surged through her body, and she shivered and embraced herself, closing her eyes while lifting her face towards the lunar sky. She ran her hands up the sides of her head then through her hair, releasing the weight of her worldly concerns with a desperate moan into the wind.

She stood there idly, coming down from the cathartic high, then rested her arms on the top of her head, her chest rising and falling beneath her gown. The experience aroused further desire in Voi—an insatiable craving which would only result in agony if she continued to abstain: a hungering for oneness with the breath of life itself and to be utterly taken by its power.

What she needed at that moment was someone who could indulge her curiosity.

Voi looked over her shoulder, considering how best to indulge. Perhaps she would pay a visit to the man in room 307 after all.