Maria Snyder - Storm Glass

“That didn’t work,” I said into the silence.

“But it glows,” Kade said. “You drew power.”

Except Zitora, everyone stared at my piece in confusion.

“Are you sure?” Nodin asked. “No offense, but it looks like a beginner’s effort.”

“I’ve trapped a thread of magic inside the ball,” I explained. “Only magicians can see the glow.”

“No.” Tal tensed and scowled. “That can’t be right. I can’t see the glow.”

“It’s been tested,” Zitora said. “And we’ve been using Opal’s glass animals to evaluate potential students for the Keep. If they can see the glow, we know they possess magical power.”

“No.” A stubborn line formed along Tal’s jaw. His eyes held fear.

“Tal.” Raiden placed a hand on the young man’s shoulders. “You tried to call the wind with no success. You’re past puberty—”

“No!” Tal shrugged Raiden’s hand off. “My father…My sister…”

“Strong Stormdancers, I know. Stormdancing is a rare gift, be thankful your sister—”

“I have it, too. It’s just…late. It’s just like the stubble on my chin, I don’t have enough power right now, but it’ll come. I know.” He left in a huff.

Raiden stared after him. We stood in an uncomfortable silence until an earsplitting crack of thunder announced the storm’s impending arrival. Donning thick leather gloves, Nodin picked up my orb and placed it into the annealer. Indra and Varun reorganized their tools.

Another rumble sounded. “The horses?” I asked.

“I’ll get them,” Raiden said. “Go down to the third level. That’s the storm cave where we keep all the necessary provisions.”

Zitora hurried to help Raiden.

I turned to go when Kade stopped me. He handed me his orb. The energy within it intensified. It pulsed and quivered, sending shooting pains along my arms.

“Keep it safe,” he said.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.” He gestured to the sea.

“Why? You don’t have an orb.”

“I can still bleed off energy from the storm.”

“To where?”

He huffed with impatience. “Into the rocks.”

Before I could question him further, Kade said, “Ask Raiden, he’ll explain it.” He jogged down the trail.

The sea heaved and thrashed around the rocks all but obscuring them. Foamy spray whipped through the air. Yet wherever Kade stepped, the water smoothed and his hair stayed in place, not even bothered by a faint breeze.

Zitora’s voice cut through the storm’s rage, calling me. I rushed to catch up to her as she led Sudi into a low cave. Although the horse ducked her head, it was a tight fit. The top of the opening scraped along Sudi’s back.

Once inside, the cavern’s ceiling rose to twelve feet. The area was roomy, with horse stalls near the back and torches blazing along the walls. Cots and chairs had been set up, Zitora helped start a fire, and Raiden filled a pot with water.

“You shouldn’t bring that in here,” Raiden said, pointing at the orb in my hands.

“It would take a lot more than dropping it on the ground to break,” I said.

“I know it takes a hard blow to shatter it, but I don’t want my people to start being careless with them. Every Stormdance Clan member knows to handle the orbs with the utmost care and I want to keep it that way. Would you want to risk losing a life?” When I didn’t answer, he said, “There is a reason for the fear.”

Chagrined, I said, “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“Next time, you might want to think before you act.”

Chastised, I stared at the floor.

“There is a reason for everything, Opal. You might not be able to figure it out, and time might have made us all forget it, but the reason is there all the same.” Raiden hung his pot over the fire. “Who’s hungry for clam stew?”

Raiden gave everyone who said, “me” a bucket of clams to open. I carried the orb to a safe spot in the back, setting it down on a pile of blankets. My hands and arms were numb from holding it. I covered it with another blanket to muffle its song. Between the roar of the storm and the trill of the orb, I would soon have a headache.

I checked on Quartz before returning to the fire. She munched her hay, appearing to be unconcerned about the weather. I scratched behind her left ear and she groaned in contentment.

When I sat down, Raiden handed me a dull knife and a handful of clams. I wouldn’t be allowed to partake in the meal without helping. I fumbled for a while, trying to pry open a shell. It didn’t take me long to find a rhythm, discovering another use for my strong hands.

Tal arrived soaking wet and sullen. He popped open a few clams without looking or speaking to anyone. The rest just ignored him.

Conversation focused on the orbs. I had been reluctant to state my theories before seeing how the glass was made, but when I examined the new orb in the firelight I felt more confident.

“Something is wrong with the mix,” I said, holding up my hand to stop the protest perched on Indra’s lips. “The recipe is right, but the sand, soda ash or lime isn’t.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Nodin asked.

“You could have gotten a bad batch.”

“Not helping.” Nodin tossed a clam into the pot.

“There is something in the mix that is causing the glass to be less dense. It can’t absorb the energy from the storm.”

“Which ingredient is deficient?” Indra asked.

“I don’t know. I could take samples of each to my father. He would be able to find out.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Raiden asked. “The storms are only going to get worse.”

“Kade is dancing now. Why can’t you have all your Stormdancers bleeding off energy until we figure out what is wrong?”

Tal snorted with derision. “All he’s doing is taking a small stick out of a big fire.”

“It’s dangerous. No other Stormdancer would do it. There’s no reason for the risk.” Raiden nodded at me as if we shared a private joke.

“The almighty Kade likes to show off,” Tal grumbled. “Rub it in.”

“He has his own reasons.” Raiden stirred the stew.

After we had tossed the empty shells to the beach, Nodin asked about my magic. “Tell me again how it works.”

Zitora and I explained about the two uses of my pieces.

“I can use this new one when my unicorn is spent,” Zitora said.

“No.” The word sprang from my throat before logic could be applied. “I want to keep it to…to compare it to…my other works.” Weak explanation, I knew, but this orb hummed like Kade’s sphere and I was reluctant to give it away.

“How is this different?” Nodin asked.

“It has a different…call.”

“Call?” Nodin cocked an eyebrow, inviting enlightenment.

“Each of my glass pieces calls to me. I don’t hear it like sound. I feel it.” I tapped my chest. “Inside. Whenever one of my animals is close to me, I know which one it is and where it is even if I can’t see it.”

He whistled. “You could feel this before you fell into the water and hit your head on the rocks? Right?”

“Yes.”

“Because it makes more sense the other way.”

“Nodin,” Raiden warned. “That’s enough.”

We ate our stew in relative silence. The keening of the wind echoed in the cavern and errant gusts fanned the flames. Soon a fine sea mist coated everything in the cave.

I didn’t sleep well. My cot felt as if it bobbed on a wild sea and the wind infiltrated my dreams, moaning a name over and over in my mind. Laced with grief and loss, the wind’s cry filled my heart with sadness.

The storm passed by daybreak. Kade arrived. Exhaustion lined his face and his clothes dripped with seawater.