Chapter 27

  Aquiles woke and strained against the assault on his body. His bones ached, and a hot dagger drove itself through his eyes. The pain stopped, and he took a deep breath. The Mother hadn’t woken him in the middle of the night this time, and he’d felt that pain again, his body revolting against the digression from what would be and into what was. He had taken for granted those comfortable greetings each day, even went so far as to spit them back to the Mother in anger.

  Why did she decide today not to wake him as the jaguar did? Surprises in the night. He and Arturo slept the rest of the night away. The other man still slept. Aquiles rolled onto his back, thinking back to the meeting during the night, reminiscing, celebrating in the words she’d spoken to them. What did they mean? The monks never taught of these unknown words, or any words other than the words all spoke. Did the Parents know of these? He wished they had gotten more answers, more advice, anything in a way they could understand.

  He wanted to turn around and burn the Ministry and everyone inside it to the ground, but perhaps Arturo was right. They could be stopped by that Stranger before they even got to the Capital. And worse, there might be more gray men inside the Ministry. Was the raw strength of a barely realized Greatstorm enough? Perhaps not.

  That’s why he wanted to train.

  Mastering the sword took years of effort and concentration moving through hundreds of forms and techniques, and the Storms trained their entire lives to hone their skills, but Aquiles did not desire the finesse of practice, the accuracy of a trained arm. He wanted the vehemence of a lightning strike, zeal to overwhelm any in his path. There was no protecting so-called innocents working in the Ministry now. They’d clouded the Father’s judgment somehow and destroyed Aquiles’ home. He was sure of it.

  And yet, what did the jaguar want them to do? Fight? Run? Hide? Did it even care? The Monastery did not teach of some supernatural force moving through animals of La Terra. The only powers of the lands were the Parents. It was never even a discussion, it was just known. Maybe the jaguar was some extension of the Mother’s reach. Perhaps that could explain her odd behavior. He needed the truth of this. All of it. That dog knew them. That jaguar knew them. Why wait until now to show themselves?

  Lost in thought, Aquiles almost missed Arturo waking too. It would be hard to sleep through the breaching light of the sun over the horizon, moving fatigued in comparison to its dash across the sky in the night, as it should, and its light was warming after the young autumn’s night. But it was not that electrifying energy during their encounter with the jaguar.

  Arturo stirred, turning to his stomach and driving his forehead into the ground. Aquiles watched his hands tremble, slight movements another would miss if they didn’t look for them. He narrowed his eyes. Arturo was in pain. He’d awoken so violently the day before too. Was it such a stretch to believe his brother, the other half of the Greatstorm, was suffering the same tortures as Aquiles from missing the Mother’s greeting?

  Testing him, “I hope the Mother greets you well this morning, Arturo.”

  Arturo’s head jerked up, a spot of dirt in the center of his forehead. “Oh, si?. A beautiful morning.”

  Aquiles put a smile on his face, trying to hide his suspicion. How would one even go about asking another if they hadn’t heard from the Mother? It was unfathomable for one person, let alone two people, to be experiencing this.

  Greatstorms past the age of newborns were unfathomable less than a week ago.

  Regardless, Aquiles kept his questions to himself. He would study his brother for any more of these reactions while keeping his own hidden. If this was his problem alone, he didn’t want to incriminate himself with too much prodding. “It is the morning. We should finish our discussion on what to do next.”

  Arturo pushed himself up, brushing earth from his robes and face. “Aquiles, we can’t just storm back to the Capital and expect anything good to come from it.”

  “I agree.”

  Arturo looked surprised. “You do?”

  “I do. I think we should train on our own and build up strength in the coming weeks. When we feel strong enough to do what you did to the great hall to the entire Ministry, we can walk through the Capital and erase that pyramid from the valley.”

  “I think our definitions of ‘agree’ might be at odds.”

  Aquiles clasped the country boy’s shoulders. It still felt odd looking into his own face, screwed up with fear and confusion. Did he so plainly write his emotions on his face? He thought not. “I know you want revenge on that gray man. I know you want whoever leads the Ministry gone. I saw your anger.”

  Shrugging with discomfort, Arturo brushed Aquiles’ hands off. “I do. But I can’t blast in there killing men and women that had nothing to do with it.” He didn’t seem so sure of that.

  “The Children didn’t have anything against killing those men and women in the Monastery.”

  “They were just trying to survive.”

  “Socorra had prepared them for what was to come.”

  Arturo scoffed, “The Monastery was burning, hermano. The Ministry won that fight.”

  “It won’t be a fight this time, hermano. We’re a Greatstorm.” Aquiles’ eyes felt red hot, his lips and hands trembled for motion, for action, and his legs felt prone to bursting. His brother just looked at him in horror.

  “We could kill so many.”

  Venom and ferocity stabbed into and through his voice, “So many have already been killed.”

  Arturo’s face turned from fear to sorrow. “I’m sorry, Aquiles. I’m sorry you’ve lost so much. But you need to get your head clear of that anger before we do anything. Socorra said not to use the blessings in anger.”

  This? From the man with the tantrum and the punches and the incompetence? “What did you use against the Stranger? Flinging him and an entire wall of stone to the mountains? Was it training, Arturo? Was it not your anger?” He shouted now, his rage roiling to the surface.

  “That’s not fair, I watched my friends die.”

  “And you will watch more die if we do not act!”

  “The Ministry has never acted out that way before.”

  “YOU are the one that convinced ME of their hate. YOU, ARTURO! You back down NOW?!”

  The country boy looked like he wanted to cry. “You’re right about that. But I won’t let you get us killed in a rash attack on the Ministry. We need to plan.”

  “...you… can’t let me?” Aquiles felt that quiet menace in voice, “You can’t use your blessings on me. I could take you down without a thought.”

  “That welt on your face says otherwise, hermano.”

  Aquiles tensed his fists. He could take this country boy down easily, tie him up somewhere and take the vials to fuel his rampage on the Ministry. It would be so simple. He’d felt the power in him when he killed those men in the stable. It hadn’t taken a second thought. These men were the right men. Each and every one of them. Their deaths wouldn’t require him to even lift a finger.

  His legs tightened, ready to spring into an attack when a small bark broke the tension between the brothers. Arturo’s desperation registered now as he looked towards the dog with thanks, and Aquiles’ focus was thrown from his rage. What was he thinking? They each watched the dog there, wagging its tail and dripping slobber from a tongue out the side of its mouth. It perked its ears up and watched them, scrappy coat ruffled further by the wind and travel. The dog looked them over impatiently and barked again. It turned and pointed up the road leading away from the Capital and into the countryside. “I think it wants us to follow again,” Arturo whispered.

  “This isn’t over.” He wasn’t about to test the patience of these odd animals to find their teeth in his throat while he slept. They packed everything up and were on the horse in minutes, handfuls of more cheese and meat serving as a hearty breakfast. Aquiles did not savor the sausage.

  Clip clopping hooves lulled Aquiles into a stupor of unlet blood. He sat behind Arturo debating whether to throw his brother from the horse and ride back to the Capital. Aquiles convinced himself to wait, to convince Arturo to fight back. What could he say to convince his brother this was the right path? He decided on an approach.

  “I don’t think the Father betrayed us.”

  Arturo roused himself and rubbed his face. It seemed the steady hooves and sway of the horse had drawn him back to sleep. “Que?”

  “I don’t think the Father betrayed us. At least, not on purpose,” Aquiles repeated.

  “He told Socorra he was sorry for sending the-”

  “Yes, but they just made him say it. To hurt her. To hurt us. They’ve been controlling him, right? Maybe the lucid moments where it seemed he broke free were all lies.” He shifted and whispered into Arturo’s ear, “They want to take out the only challenge to their power. Us.”

  The country boy rolled his shoulder to break Aquiles’ grip. “Don’t touch me. I don’t like how you were looking at me back there.”

  Aquiles sighed an annoyed breath. “But,” Arturo continued, “I’ve been thinking the same. It doesn’t make sense. The Father didn’t seem… healthy.”

  A glimmer of hope. “So, you agree! They need to be brought down.”

  “Have you always been so bull-headed? They clearly think they have the ability to take us out, or they wouldn’t have sent soldiers for us.”

  That… was a good point. Aquiles breathed from his nose, heavy and frustrated. “We can’t just let it go!”

  “I’m not saying let it go! I’m saying… just calm down. I have a hundred different strings pulling on my heart. I can't begin to think about what we should do. I’m just surviving, hermano. I want to see my girlfriend. I want to grieve for Barto. I want revenge!” Arturo shuddered, “I do want revenge. But, only against the gray man, that Stranger, he is a monster. I don’t want to hurt everyone around him.”

  Aquiles knew the mass of Ministry soldiers couldn’t be trusted, but he needed Arturo to help. “Ok, so we train. We get stronger. We learn to use the blessings before we fight back.”

  Arturo’s posture straightened, and he responded, “I think we have to, whether or not we go back. I’m not getting caught on my back foot again.”

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  Breakthrough. He’d taken his brother a step in his direction. The dog continued its happy trot several paces before the horse.

  The day continued much the same. Aquiles brought up his ideas for training and a possible attack on the Ministry much to Arturo’s annoyance. Arturo seemed content to sit in silence today, which was uncharacteristic of his usual chattiness. He enjoyed talking about nothing much to Aquiles’ own annoyance. Why couldn’t people just say what needed to be said? They always wanted to talk about hobbies or the weather or some nasty new food they tried.

  Child Emilia always carried on about those types of things. Aquiles realized she was likely dead now. He hadn’t internalized it. Didn’t seem real. He’d barely known her, barely knew the things she would spend her time with past planting flowers and memorizing scripture. He imagined himself walking the streets of the Capital, visiting shops, sitting at taquerias, and listening to mariachis with her. Aquiles held no interest in those things, but he imagined Emilia had. He imagined they could have talked about nothing, and he realized there was, perhaps, a small point to the small talk. He shook himself. Dwelling on the relationships Aquiles could have fostered was putting a damper on the roaring flame within him. He wanted to let it out in a more explosive way.

  “Arturo.”

  The man murmured a grunt in return.

  “We could stop for a training session now.”

  “Aren’t we a little vulnerable out here?”

  “Where did you expect us to practice if not out here?”

  He paused and cocked his head and shook it and, finally, shrugged saying, “I suppose it's fine. We should get off the road. I don’t think people would react well to shockwaves and lightning coming around a bend in the road.”

  Aquiles pulled the horse off the path and into the hills. The mounds were shorter now, slopes rising more gently, less obstinate rock poking out of the ground. The dog looked at them curiously and barked a couple of times before giving in and following them. It whined behind them. After half an hour, they reined the horse in. It bent its head down to graze on the lush grass. The ground was more fertile here, and the trees were thicker and laden with leaves, bushes stuffed with greenery spotting the ground.

  Arturo stood around awkwardly then lifted his arms slightly and let them bounce off his legs, unsure of what to do. “So…”

  “We train just like before.”

  “No one’s here to guide us.”

  Que triste. The country boy would learn to be more self-sufficient. “I’ve trained the sword on my own for years now. Guidance is more advice anyway.”

  Arturo narrowed his eyes and slowly bobbed his head, “Right…”

  Excited to release some energy, Aquiles instructed, “You know the drill. Form of the jaguar.”

  “Ironic.”

  “That is not ironic. It is a coincidence.” The weaker man looked nonplussed. “The form of the jaguar. First stance. You remember them?”

  “It's been a day,” Arturo rolled his eyes, then dropped his weight into the first stance, then switched to the second stance, then continued. They worked the form together, controlling their breathing, focusing on the burn of muscles. The exertion was a good distraction from Aquiles’ sorrows, but the breathing only stoked his anger. His brother moved through the forms rather well. For a beginner.

  He held a hand up to pause, and Arturo snatched at one of the canteens, chest billowing with the static effort required in these forms, building up that energy ready to release in mind and in muscle and in a Storm. The canteens had been empty on the way into the countryside, but there were plenty of streams to fill them up. La Terra was made fertile by the Parents. Arturo walked back to where Aquiles stood, and Aquiles straightened his back, getting ready to instruct on the next form to learn.

  “Aquiles, relax with the pompous stuff. I’m already having a hard time caring about doing this right now.”

  Posture slouching, he replied, “Don’t you like the distraction?”

  “Honestly, I grew up with a lot of pain, and got used to worrying despite that, so…” He waved his hand at Aquiles, “Show me the next form.” The sword master dropped into the first stance of the form of the butterfly, and his apprentice copied him.

  The first two stances required larger arm movements and tight foot placement, a form of opposition, and also giving in to the wind, to the fight. This form was great for learning to find leverage in compromised positions. They moved back and forth between the stances, and Aquiles forced himself to the small talk he dreaded. “What did you mean you grew up with pain?”

  Arturo shifted in the stance, trying to regain his balance. When he found it again he spoke slowly, “Oh, I just had pretty bad chronic pain growing up. Made life hard.”

  Words echoed, plagued by problems, and he only now cared to ask. “What caused it?”

  “Don’t know, but I got used to it and that’s that.”

  “Do you still have it now?”

  Arturo furrowed his brow, “No actually, I thought it was always linked to the Capital, but I guess maybe it was…” His eyes opened wide, and he looked Aquiles up and down.

  “Me?”

  “It must be. Like my body was angry for being too far.” The man stared off into space, and Aquiles wondered if this revelation was consoling or disappointing for his brother. What did Aquiles hope it was for his brother? He was stunned. An entire facet of Arturo’s life he wasn’t privy to, just from a simple question.

  “I’m glad you feel better now.”

  Arturo bobbed his head and spoke from a far-off place, “Thank you.”

  But this meant… “Wait, you were in the Capital more than just this time?”

  “Si?. Multiple.”

  “Multiple?”

  “Si?.”

  “So, a Greatstorm congregated on multiple occasions on the Parents’ doorstep.” Thoughts raced through Aquiles mind, “The Father had to have known. Socorra had to… He really didn’t betray her. She was just an old fool that fell for a lie. The Ministry must have been waiting for us to come together in the Monastery to wipe us all out at once while looking good to everyone else.” The words came out in a torrent.

  “What does this change?”

  The sword master paused, wanted to explode, just wanted to explain, wanted something from this that wasn’t hopelessness. Something from his life. Something good.

  “Nothing. It changes nothing.”

  Yet, the brothers moved together, Aquiles pointing out slight adjustments for Arturo to make, and the learner made them. Forms in opposition, butterfly, the Juans. He thought back to that performance in the training yard, and his arms felt leaden and sluggish like he did not know how to move anymore. He hoped one day someone could teach him and Arturo that form with a desperation he could not explain. Aquiles needed to know how to move like that, to be in such an intimate connection with someone to perform like that, and he wondered if he could learn that with Arturo, his brother, this man he did not know. Arturo moved well, but Aquiles was getting antsy. He wanted to strike out at something. “Are you comfortable practicing with our actual blessings a little?”

  “Yes, I think so. I focused on my breathing and pushed the energy through my body.” Arturo paused, then added, “Well, I think I did. It all feels a bit made up.”

  “I agree with you there.” Aquiles was the most agreeable training, he knew that, yet he wished he could get this mind into normal life. Arturo was almost always agreeable, except when it came to the business of revenge on the Ministry, and maybe Aquiles needed to match that to gain the connection he needed to act in unison with his brother. Conversations resembled games to a greater extent than Aquiles was comfortable facing. “Alright, well, I don’t know what to do here past just picking something and trying to destroy it.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Arturo shrugged.

  They stood there, awkwardly glancing at each other, so Aquiles forced a mocking tone, “This feels a little silly, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s definitely something.” Maybe the agreeability was fading from Arturo as the summer dwindled in the sky. Maybe he was just sad. His friends had died. Aquiles’ did too, but then, did his matter to him like that? He wished they did, now that they were gone, and maybe they just did in a different way. The Ministry would burn, nevertheless.

  “Ok, I’m going to reach for… that tree.” He pointed at a tree on the back side of the mound about fifteen paces away.

  “I don’t think you have to tell me. I trust you’re not just going to explode in a ball of lightning.”

  Aquiles recalled killing the men in the stable. That was a distinct possibility. He stretched out his hands, probing the space between him and the tree, and he reached. A solid bolt of lightning jumped into existence, connecting his palm and the center of the trunk. The trunk smoldered there, and the bark around the connection point smoked and blackened, small spots of glowing wood like embers in a fire. Aquiles smiled, it was becoming easier. The breathing exercises really did work.

  “Uh, nice,” commented Arturo. He sucked at his teeth and scratched his head. What could Aquiles’ brother possibly have a problem with? “Don’t you think there’s more subtle ways to use these blessings than just disintegrating whatever is in front of us?” The tree accented his point by splitting at the fiery seam and falling in a billow of sparks.

  “We need to learn to fight. This is how we do it.”

  “I watched a mariachi, a bolt with a metal box, play music with his blessing. He wasn’t training to fight anyone.”

  “I’m not interested in playing for crowds. We need to get as strong as possible so we can fight back against the Ministry. We can learn the subtleties of this after.”

  Arturo looked saddened. “I suppose you’re right. What can huge shockwaves accomplish past blowing things apart anyway.”

  That comment sparked an idea with Aquiles, a way to get his brother more dedicated to the training and to getting stronger. “Thunderheads can direct their blasts into funnels. Juan did it. I’ve seen others do it. You can direct it more. The best Thunderheads could point a pinprick of a shockwave at a target.” Aquiles made that last bit up. He’d no idea if that was possible. He added a final coaxing to get his brother excited, “You can avoid the collateral and go for just the target you want. Like me.”

  Arturo’s face dropped the pathetic sad look. “I guess I could try that.”

  Like goading a toddler into bathing. No. Agreeable, pendejo. “Great! Pick your target and tell me.”

  Arturo took the first stance in the form of the jaguar, took a deep breath, and nothing happened. Disgruntled, he shifted his stance and widened his feet. Another deep breath and another bout of nothing had him making frustrated noises. “It's hard not to just squeeze my culo instead of pushing.” Aquiles tried to keep calm, but his brother’s poor effort was quite vexing to him.

  “Just relax. Feel it in your gut, remember?”

  “Yes, I know. Socorra only said it a thousand times.”

  “Well, she knew what she was talking about. Try-”

  “Shut up, Aquiles. I’m trying everything she told us!”

  A thick blast shot from Arturo’s hands and blew away the bunch of trees and bushes on the mound. He puffed and rattled his head, finger digging in his ear. “It’s so loud! My ears are ringing like crazy!” Arturo shouted.

  Aquiles was impressed with the display of power. “Tap at whatever you just did and do it again.”

  “Fine,” came Arturo’s short response. He pushed his fingers into his ears this time. A deep breath, and he expelled another blast, slightly weaker than the first. The air on the mound felt like it was sucked away, and a wind blew in around Aquiles refreshing the air that had gone.

  “That looks good, Arturo,” he praised, trying to keep any annoyance from his voice.

  “Covering my ears helps a lot.”

  Aquiles turned and picked out one of the still standing trees behind them. He eyed the branches of the tree to try to reach multiple targets at once. He moved the energy in his body to his fingertips. A web of lightning connected him to a few dozen branches. It popped and undulated as he tried to hold the flow as long as he could, and blue light flooded the mound, sending dancing shadows onto the ground. The lightning felt like it was burning his fingers now. He flapped his hand in the air and blew on the raw skin. It had burned him, but only a bit. Socorra did say the Bolts could use any part of their body. Thunderheads had to rotate their pushes to avoid getting burned, and it seemed Bolts needed to as well.

  “Ok, you go again. Try focusing your push into a straight line, pressing the energy into a funnel.” Aquiles tried to imitate what Socorra might say to Arturo to get him to perform the focused push and not just a blast. Arturo looked toward the burning tree and took the stance. He put his fingers to his ears. He looked like a little kid doing that.

  A weak shockwave leapt towards the tree and blew out the fire. The branches broke free, and leaves rained to the ground, but the tree was standing, and the wall of white air was more bowl shaped before it dissipated in the wind beyond. Arturo looked surprised, “I did it. I didn’t expect that to work.”

  “The best thing you can have in any encounter is confidence. Believe in your ability.”

  “Thanks, I’ll try.”

  “Good now le-”

  Buenos días, mi hijo.

  Aquiles twisted his ankle as he walked at the surprise. He wasn’t sure when the Mother would make her greeting, but he tried to be mindful it could come anytime. He glanced at the sun. Somewhere in mid-afternoon this time.

  “Que paso?, hermano?” Arturo looked concerned.

  “Nothing, just slipped on a rock.”

  The country boy smirked at him, “Watch your feet, sword master.”

  Aquiles scowled back at him. He’d have to keep an eye on Arturo to see if he had any odd scares too.

  They carried on with stances and brief spans of using the blessings. Arturo was becoming more consistent. He still would tighten his body instead of releasing it every now and then, but he was improving. The shockwaves, unpredictable as they were, had been more powerful than anything he’d seen from the Storms in the Monastery. Greatstorms indeed wielded a more terrifying power than any other. Aquiles felt like he could produce much more potent lightning, but it was difficult to channel all that energy into one strike. The adrenaline had let it flow easier before, and he hoped that would aid him again if he needed it.

  Both their stomachs rumbled with a long day of exertion and the blessings themselves eating away at the food. Aquiles worried about training with this limited supply of food. They took handfuls of food and ate quietly as the horse took them back to the road. There were still a couple hours of sunlight to move by.

  “We’re going to need to find food somewhere. I don’t know how long this will last with us burning through it with shockwaves and lightning.”

  Arturo waved his, nonchalant and uncaring. It infuriated Aquiles how his brother could be so unbothered all the time. “I’ve lived on the land working with my herds for years. I can set a trap and catch a rabbit, or a turtle by a stream.”

  Aquiles cocked an eyebrow at Arturo. That was surprisingly useful.

  Arturo glanced over his shoulder, “You have to learn to be more self-sufficient out here.” Then, he smiled a mierda eating smile.

  The sun lowered in the sky, and Aquiles drifted in and out of sleep. The horse followed the dog and continued on its own.

  As dusk grew into its adolescence, Arturo shuddered and became very tense. There it was. The reaction Aquiles was waiting for. His brother had been hiding the very same thing as him.