Weather Witch

Chapter One

 

Feel the pulse of the water. Feel as it slaps against the hull and echoes through the wood to your feet. Feel the tingle grow, shoot up your legs, shoot up your spine. Feel its pull on your heart and embrace it. Embrace and channel its power. Harness that strength to glide the ship along. You are an extension of the water, just as much at its mercy as it is at yours.

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Sixteen-year-old Ama Felix stood firmly on the bow of her ship, concentrating deeply. Hands at her sides and feet apart, she remembers the words of her teacher. All around the ship a tempest roared, the winds churning up the black waters and whipping seafoam into the air. And yet, the ship was oddly calm as it bobbed along the gently rolling surface.

Feel, embrace, become. Feel, embrace, be--.

“Watch out!” her best friend, Ben Thompson, called out. Ama barely had enough time to snap out of her meditating before a large beam swung around and swept her off her feet and into the ocean. Immediately, the ship was buffeted by gale-force winds and tossed around in the water as though it were some child’s bath toy. A particularly angry wave crashed upon the deck, rocking the ship perilously and soaking Ben completely before depositing Ama neatly back on board.

She strode across the deck to resume her previous position, only this time she glared at the helm of the ship where Ben kept a white-knuckled grip on the wheel. The rolling subsided instantaneously and Ben flashed her a sheepish grin.

“The knot came undone,” he called over the whistling wind as he pointed towards the wayward beam. Her eyes were drawn to the mast where the ropes securing one side of the sail had come undone, allowing it to partially unravel and fill with wind, and thus causing the crossbeam that held it up to swing around and hit her where she stood. Since she couldn’t verbally reprimand Ben because she was concentrating, Ama settled for glaring at him before wringing out her dress to illustrate how irritated she was at getting wet.

“I thought you were a weather witch,” he teased, “One with such an affinity for water as you do shouldn’t mind a little water.” Her eyes went alarmingly wide. He knew how much she hated that term, how it was used to label her.

To be a weather witch was something special and held in high regards where the two were from. They are the masters of all weather, from clouds to wind to precipitation. Some, like Ama held a particular affinity for water, meaning she can use her abilities to manipulate any water source, be it sea or on land. Others, like Ben, had an affinity to air and wind. Most weather witches were trained as a small child in the temple on their home island of Alaria. There, they would learn to control their powers and later would work in the Temple as teachers to the newcomers or sell their talents to one of the merchants at the local trading ports. Weather witches were worth a hefty sum and were often victims of slave trade because of that.

Ama vented her frustration the only way she could at that minute, allowing the ship to heave violently from the onslaught of a suspiciously large swell. Ben only shrugged, not one to apologize for stating the truth. Exasperated, Ama rolled her eyes and turned her back on him. It still amazed her to this day that they were the best of friends and yet he still managed to make her so mad that she could barely stand it. Together, they made a great pair, always getting in and out of trouble on their boat that they manned by themselves as they ferried goods and supplies to and from Alaria.

Feel, embrace, become. Feel, embrace, become. Eventually, Ama settled herself enough to calm the sea and banish the clouds away. The sun came out, warming everything in sight. Despite coming away feeling drained, she shimmied up the mast to unfasten the sails and inspect the rope that had led to her getting drenched. Sure enough, the knot had slipped. Sighing heavily, she climbed back down to confront her friend.

“What happened?” she asked, seeing the guilty look he gave her. His head bowed, he looked up at her through his thick eyelashes.

“Well...” he hedged, “the storm came on so quickly and I was trying to do everything so you would have time to concentrate, and I thought I got it done all right, but it slipped. I barely had time to warn you.” The last sentence came out in a rush, as though he could hopefully get her to ignore his mistake.

“I could have been hurt. And then where would we be? Both of us at the bottom of the ocean because we both know that you can’t concentrate enough to have made that storm go away,” she ranted. He still didn’t look at her, accepting the fact that he messed up and deserved to be yelled at. Ama caved under his downtrodden look.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” she said softly, stepping forward to wrap her arms around him in a hug. His own arms came up around her waist, stiffly holding her. With her hands pressed firmly against his back, Ama took a deep breath and imagined the water that soaked them draining away. When she stepped back a minute later, both were as dry as they had been that morning before the storm. “Go below and check over the stores. I’ll take us into port,” Ama told him, dismissing him softly. These were the time she hated the most: when he needed to be reprimanded and she didn’t know if she had the heart to do it.

Allowing her to take the wheel, Ben left the helm and clomped down the short flight of stairs into the brig. Ama could hear him rummaging through galley in search of a snack and the sound of him sighing deeply at the mundane task of doing inventory. That made Ama smile a little; Ben always did prefer to be on deck rather than cooped up inside. But, Ama reminded herself, this was part of Ben’s punishment.

Now that the storm had been quelled, Ama was able to steer the ship into Port Lugale in Alaria. Port Lugale had to be one of her favorite ports because of it’s atmosphere. It wasn’t as large as some other ports, but it had a welcoming feel to it, something Ama liked more that the impersonal business dealings elsewhere. Here, the water was cool and crystal clear and Ama could see all the way to the sandy bottom. In contrast, the lush foliage that covered the island stood out a bright emerald green against smooth sapphire seas. Ben came up and stood behind her, taking in the familiar sights as well.

When Ama guided the ship in close enough, Ben left her side to toss their lines down to  the waiting hands of the dock workers before jumping overboard with his own rope to land lightly beside them. Together, they dragged the ship in close and moored her to the dock. The dock master had already begun making his way to where the ship was anchored before Ama disembarked. She watched from above as he and Ben shared some words and she noted Ben’s worried expression. Turning sharply on his heel, Ben left the dock master standing there to re-board the ship and join Ama where she stood on the deck.

“What’s going on?” Ama asked anxiously; it was rare that something upset her easy-going friend. Ben didn’t say anything, just grabbed her hand and pulled her below deck to the bunks where they slept. He packed a sack with his bare essentials, enough clothes for several days, his money pouch, and his toiletries, gesturing for Ama to do the same. She did so with a frown on her face. Something wasn’t right. She opened her mouth to ask again, but he shushed her before she could speak.

“I’ll tell you later. Right now, we just need to get off this ship and into an inn,” Ben said

tightly. He helped her stuff clothes and other necessities into her small pack, before scooping it up. Grabbing her slender hand in his, he tugged her above deck once again, pausing at the top of the gangplank to scan the dock.

“What about the goods,” Ama asked quietly, sensing a need for discretion. Suddenly he started forward again, almost pulling her arm out of the socket. She tugged on his hand to stop him when he didn’t answer her.

“The dock crew will get it,” he told her impatiently. “We need to go, right now,” he half-demanded, half-pleaded. Ama nodded silently, allowing herself to be led away by Ben. He obviously was trying to protect her from the scary truth, just like he always had since their early childhood.

Ben dragged her in the direction of their usual inn, head down and making no eye-contact. He walked with a purpose and held Ama close to his side as they made their way down a busy market street. To an outsider, they would have been thought uninterested in looking through their wares, and therefore weren’t plied with the normal attention a salesman would have given a prospective buyer. However, Ama could tell that Ben was anything but uninterested. His downcast eyes glanced shiftily from face to face, and he practically growled when someone came to near. Eventually, they reached Tavern and Inn, the place they usually came to stay when in Port Lugale. Ben hustled her in and straight to the bar where the tavern keeper, Tom, stood.

“Ama! Ben! What can I do for you?” the middle-aged man called cheerily from where he was preparing drinks for some other customers at the other end of the bar.

“We need a room,” Ben called back, if a little reservedly.

“Just one?” Tom asked, remembering that they usually got a room each.

“Yeah,” Ben answered. “Money’s a bit tight this time around,” he said, smiling ruefully.

“Here you go,” Tom said, handing over the key and accepting the few coins Ben held out.

Ben practically snatched the key from Tom in his haste to get away from the crowded tavern. Ama almost had to jog to keep up with his pace as he still held tightly onto her hand. He opened the door one-handed, slamming it behind him before dropping Ama’s hand and their bags on the bed.

“I hope you have a really good reason why you only bought one room. Those ugly thugs at the bar were leering at me the entire time,” Ama said lightly, trying to ease him into telling her the bad news. Ben sat abruptly on the bed and scrubbed his face with his hands before answering.

“The dock master said that there have been multiple people asking around, seeking the services of a weather witch. There were a few named and several of them had gone missing in the last few weeks,” he informed her tiredly.

“Pirates?” Ama gasped. Ben nodded his head.

“All sensible weather witches have up and left. And with the Temple being so close, security has been heightened. Since we are so well known here, the dock master felt it was his duty to inform me, giving us the option of taking our business elsewhere, at least until this whole mess is sorted out.” Ben groaned dejectedly. He knew as well as Ama that Port Lugale was one of the only places where they held connections. Trading and selling their goods anywhere else would be next to impossible without them.

“We’ll just have to be extra careful, then,” Ama said, around the sudden dryness in her mouth. Pirates were here, in this port that she had always considered a safe haven. She sat down delicately in a chair at the table by the window, pulling the pitcher of water that sat there closer in order to pour a drink for both Ben and herself. He downed the drink in one swallow, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m going downstairs to get some dinner. Don’t leave the room,” he told her softly. “And don’t open the door for anybody.” Ama huffed at him in annoyance; she wasn’t a child that needed to be told what to do. But she knew he only said it for her benefit and that he just was trying to keep her safe. She now understood why they only bought one room: Ben was trying to protect her. He slipped out quietly and waiting on the threshold until he heard the lock scrape back into place.

With Ben gone, Ama sank down onto the bed, suddenly feeling feverish and sick. Pirates were there, in that very port, looking for weather witches like her. She shuddered, remembering her last run in with pirates.

 

A little school girl was skipping homeward after a long day of lessons at the Temple. She was excited to show her Mummy how she had managed to conjure a cloud out of thin air. Stopping in front of her rundown house in her not-so-nice neighborhood, the little girl could see that something was wrong. Her younger siblings were nowhere to be seen when they usually would be playing out in the street. All the neighbors stood on their porches, some wiping tears from their eyes. The child, slightly suspicious now, mounted the decrepit stairs and entered her drafty home.

Inside, her Mummy was weepily playing hostess to two men who she could only assume were friends of her father’s as they were laughing together. She could hear her sniffles from the foyer. Father spotted her first, beckoning her to him with one hand, the other harshly gesturing for his wife to be quiet. The girl ran to her father’s side and began telling him about her day. He interrupted, saying he needed to introduce her to some people. The two unknown men stood, and her father presented her to them, professing her to be the family’s weather witch. She smiled politely at them, but their answering smiles made her somewhat nervous.

Father took her hand and gave it to the bigger of the two men. He took it and drew her close. The other man handed Father a small sack that jangled as it was exchanged. Money, the girl’s ears told her. Suddenly, it all seemed to come together. Father had sold her to these two creepy men. Mother’s wails reached her through her shock and she began to resist. But she was no match for two fully grown men, despite being a well-educated weather witch. They easily overpowered her and took her away from her family.

She was placed in a crate, not knowing where she was, or what would happen to her. Hours before, she had given up after being unable to escape. Instead, she sat listlessly in the corner, listening to the muffled sounds through the walls.

It wasn’t until a few hours later the crate was opened and a boy a few years older was shoved in. He was a weather witch, too. The girl recognized him from the Temple. He must have recognized her as well, because he immediately went to her side and held her close. The boy whispered in her ear that he was going to save her, promised her that she wouldn’t have to return to her family that sold her for money. He let her go and closed his eyes, concentrating.

Suddenly, the girl found it hard to breathe, feeling as though all the air was being sucked from her lungs. A pressure was building up in the crate, causing her to whine in displeasure. Soon, the discomfort grew to be unbearable pain, as though her head was slowly being compressed. With a tremendous crack, the box exploded into pieces and the pain was gone.

The boy grabbed her by the hand and together they took off running, dodging their captors and running down the streets of an unfamiliar town. The boy and girl snake through a market place, easily loosing their captors in the busy streets. In a back alley, they stop to catch their breath. When the girl tries to thank him, he silences her with an innocent kiss. Holding her close, he whispers in her ear how he will always take care of her.

 

Ama smiled softly. After all this time, Ben was still keeping that promise he made. She didn’t feel as bad as she had when the flashback started. Instead, she was feeling so tired that she felt restless. At a loss for what to do, Ama unpacked their bags, hanging their clothes in the closet to minimize wrinkling and stowing their meager amount of money in a sock in the bottom drawer of the bureau. Lastly, she arranged all the toiletries in the small bathroom. By the time she finished, Ben came back, laden down with two bowls of hearty stew and a small loaf of fresh-baked bread for them to share. Ama poured more water for them to drink and they sat down to eat.

Nibbling on a piece of bread, Ama watched as Ben picked at his stew, seemingly lost deep in thought. He scraped it around his plate dejectedly, taking small bites every now and then. It was then that Ama felt most sorry for him. He was only eighteen and yet he had to be such an adult. He had been taking care of both of them since they were young. It had always been just the two of them looking out for each other. They had definitely lucked out when they first got into the trading business; no one would take a twelve-year old and a fourteen-year old seriously when they asked to set up connections.

Ben chose that moment to look up, locking eyes with Ama. His eyebrows rose at the sight of her untouched meal.

“Eat,” he said gruffly, before bending low to slurp up a quick spoonful of his own stew. Ama rolled her eyes but complied, knowing that he wouldn’t leave her alone until her plate was clean. Having scarfed down the rest of his food, Ben sat back in his chair, sipping his water and observing Ama eating at a much more sedate pace. He knew what kind of memories the thought of pirates brought Ama, having had a similar flashback a few hours before.

“What are we going to do?” Ama asked Ben softly. “We had tons of errands to run in port, trades to oversee, markets to peruse. And with the port crawling with,” here she choked, “pirates, how will we get that done?” She fiddled with the napkin in her lap, crinkling it roughly between her hands. “Do you think we can get out of port before we’re spotted?”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Ben said slowly, as though he was thinking about what to say before saying it aloud. “Maybe we should take shelter in the cabin.” Ama remembered the cabin well. It was where Ben had taken her when they first ran away. In the beginning, it had been an abandoned, rundown hunting cabin in the middle of the woods, but after several months of tender care, the two had turned it into a comfortable home. Ben had taken up a job in the docks and Ama ran errands for the women in town. They lived there together for years until they got their small trading vessel. Every now and then, the two would come back to just relax there, considering it their only vacation destination. The fact that Ben was suggesting that they go there now, during the height of trading season, made Ama think that the problem was more serious than he had led her to believe.

“When will we leave?” she asked.

“In two days. We need to make sure that all our goods are taken care of and that the ship is put in good hands. I was thinking we could rent it out this season and hide away for the next few months. And we still need to go to market and get supplies for the cabin.” He ticked off the number of things left to do on his fingers.

“I’ll go to the market tomorrow while you take care of the goods,” Ama offered quietly. Ben nodded in agreement.

“Only if you take my dagger with you,” he replied. Standing up, he unfastened his belt, removing the blade and the sheath to give to Ama. She took it firmly, with full knowledge of how to use the weapon, and placed it in the drawer with her things.

“Go to sleep, Ama,” Ben urged, ushering her towards the queen-sized bed in the corner.

“What about you?” Ben shrugged, grabbed an extra pillow and blanket from the closet and knelt to arrange them on the floor.

“Don’t be daft,” Ama scolded. “The bed is perfectly capable of holding us both.” She scooped up both pillow and blanket, throwing them on the bed before pulling Ben back to his feet. Turning back towards the bed, she took off her shoes and crawled under the covers, holding them open invitingly towards Ben. He sighed, took off his shoes and got into bed after her.

“Good night, Ben,” she whispered softly, before turning on her side and falling asleep.

“Good night,” Ben whispered back before falling asleep himself.

 

The next day, Ben rose early to make his way down to the port. Donning a warm cloak and his boots, he leaned down to place a soft kiss to Ama’s forehead, just like he had everyday since he met her. Before he left, he placed a note on the small table, reminding her of where he was and to not forget the dagger.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Ama’s eyes snapped open. Little did Ben know that Ama had been awake from the moment he got out of bed. She smiled at how this morning’s kiss and every morning’s kiss before had made her feel all warm and loved inside. That particular morning, however, Ama admitted to herself that she possibly loved him, through and through. And she could believe, without a doubt, that he loved her.

But she just wasn’t sure how he loved her. Because of their close-friend relationship, she wouldn’t dare tell Ben her revelation. He was such an integral part of her life and she didn’t want to lose him because he couldn’t reciprocate her feelings.

Sitting up with a sigh, Ama threw back the covers and got out of bed. Being an over-emotional girl was very bothersome, she decided, especially when she had bigger things to worry about. Brushing out her hair, she decided to go to market first thing that morning just to get it over with. She didn’t want to be outside more than necessary and risk running into a pirate. Slipping into a fresh dress and her warm wool cloak, she checked her reflection in the mirror. All that she saw was understated and forgettable. The final touch was the belt which held the dagger. When she rearranged her cloak, the dagger was hidden and she deemed herself ready to go and face the world.

Outside, the world had barely woken up. Merchants were making their ways toward their stalls with their wares and shop-fronts were being opened to the public. Ama joined the throng of people wandering the street, careful not to bump or jostle anything or anyone. She found a stall selling clothes made of thick, sturdy material and bought several dresses and pants and shirts, knowing that both she and Ben needed new clothes. Further down, Ama bought several house ware items, such as linens and cooking utensils. And lastly, she bought several pounds of dried meat and fruits that they could take with them to the cabin.

Laden down with her purchases, Ama returned to the inn, keeping her eyes down as she skirted the crowded tavern to reach the staircase. On the landing outside her door, Ama was struck with the dilemma of getting the key from her coin purse while juggling all her purchases. Balancing the bag precariously on her jutted-out hip, she stretched her arm around in an attempt to fish out the key, only to cause the bag to slip from it’s position and spill some of its contents on the floor.With a frustrated sigh, Ama bent down to retrieve the goods and was surprised to see a pair of hands flash and and grab it for her before she could touch a thing.

“Let me help you,” a soft, manly voice implored. Straightening in shock, Ama watched as the young man stooped low to gather up her fallen parcels and rise to take the rest of the load off her hands. He was rather tall with chestnut brown hair and a charming smile. His body was well-muscled and reminded her of Ben’s own body, a body one could only get when working hard labor. His skin was deeply tanned, like hers and Ben’s, making her think he was a dock worker, tradesman, or, Ama gulped, a pirate. He gestured towards the door, indicating that he would take the bag inside for her if she would unlock the door.

Ama stood there, debating for a moment. Even if he was a pirate, there would be no way he would know that she was a weather witch. She could just give him an alias and make it a point to never speak to him again. But first, she would try to get her bag back and send him on his way.

“Thank you, sir,” she told him gratefully, if a little cautiously, moving to take the bag from him. He must have picked up on her uneasiness because he answered her with gentle care.

“My pleasure, miss,” he answered, dodging her outstretched hands. “Let me get this for you. I’m Caden, by the way, Caden James.” Ama almost dropped her key in shock. The man was Caden James, captain of the Spirit, and known among the weather witches as the pirate who has no qualms about stealing a ship’s cargo and selling their weather witch for profit.

“Alice,” she returned a little stiffly, turning her back on him to unlock the door and let them both in. Caden strode around her and placed the bag on the table at her direction. “Thank you for the help. I’m sure you’re busy, so I won’t keep you any longer.” Ama ushered him toward the door with a well placed hand on his elbow, all but shoving him over the threshold. Just at that moment, Ben came clomping up the stairs in his worn out boots.

“Ama? Who is this?” Ben asked tightly, not taking his eyes off the slightly older man.

“Hold on!” Caden demanded, looking from Ben to Ama. “I thought you said you’re name was Alice.” Between the girl’s stiff behavior and the boy’s guarded suspicion, he was thoroughly confused.

“My name is Alice Amanda; that’s just the nickname he uses for me,” Ama lied as smoothly as possible. “Caden James, let me introduce you to my friend, Jack Thomas.” The two shook hands roughly, no warm feelings between them. “Mr. James was helping me carry in the groceries,” she told Ben sharply, warning him to not overreact, “and I was just showing him to the door.”

“Goodbye, Miss Ama,” Caden all but purred, as stepped into the hall.

“Bye,” she choked out, suddenly feeling ill.

Caden gave a flirty wink to Ama, nodded goodbye to Ben and continued on his way down the staircase. Ben took Ama harshly by the elbow, dragging her inside before snapping the door shut behind them and locking it.

“Who was that?” he asked, his voice hard. He looked at her sternly, but Ama knew behind that mask of anger, he was worried beyond belief.

“Caden James,” she replied shakily, the impact of the last few minutes finally sinking in. “The pirate.” Slowly, Ama slumped into a chair, not trusting her quaking legs to hold her weight up. The ruthless, heartless pirate just carried in her groceries, she thought with a nervous giggle.

“That settles it,” Ben stated decisively. “We’re leaving tonight.”

“Can we?” Ama fretted. “We have all the supplies, but are we able to leave the ship and cargo now?” As she spoke, she had already began to pack their clothes and provisions into their rightful bags. Ben came over to help her.

“It’ll have to be. He saw you, Ama. It’s just too risky to stay.” He paused in his packing to rub his neck. “And at the same time, it’s risky to leave now that he’s seen you.” He began to pace back and forth, trying to formulate a plan of action that would keep them both safe.

“If we leave tonight, I can conjure up fog to hide in,” Ama offered. If he was going to so much trouble, the least she could do was cover their escape. Ben nodded slowly, thinking it over in his head.

“Will you be able to maintain it? You have great control over water already, but you need a lot of concentration to create enough to cover the whole port to make it look natural,” he pointed out logically.

“You could carry me!” Ama suggested. Ben chuckled tiredly.

“You put too much faith in me,” he told her softly. “I couldn’t carry you and the bags. Besides, if we did happen to run into someone, they would think I was kidnapping you and raise the alarm.”

Ama huffed at her foolishness and finished packing their clothes into one of the bags before hoisting it off the bed and toting it to the door. Ben ruffled her hair affectionately as he walked past her and opened the door.

“I’ll just buy a horse for you to ride,” he told her, shutting the door softly behind him. Ama started after him, but thought better of it. Once Ben had an idea in his head, it was practically impossible to rid him of it. But a horse, she thought. Where would he get the money to buy a horse?

She sat back down at the small table, starting to center herself. Sitting straight up, feet firmly planted on the floor, hands palm up in her lap, Ama pushed all worrisome thoughts out of her head and forced herself to concentrate on her breathing. It was in this position Ben found her in a half hour later when he returned.

“I got a horse,” he spoke softly, wanting to inform her but not distract. He hoisted their bags effortlessly to his shoulder and held out a hand for Ama to take. He would help guide her steps so she could focus on creating such a large amount of fog. She placed her slender hand in his work-roughened one and together, they made their way to the street.

The shoddy little horse that Ben bought was tied to a post right out front. It had a barrel chest, short, sturdy legs, and a shaggy mane and tail, and dark, intelligent eyes. Ama had no doubt that the small beast could carry her and their packs to the cabin with ease. Ben’s hands came around her waist and lifted her onto a blanket serving as a makeshift saddle. He secured the bags in front of her and took up the horse’s lead rope. Giving her a nod, Ben started off down the street at a brisk pace.

Upon starting, a thick fog rolled in and cloaked them in secrecy, converging on the port with an almost suspicious suddenness. It seemed to muffle all sounds around them; the only thing Ama could hear was the quiet clop of the horse’s hooves and her and Ben’s breath.

The lurching walk of the horse reminded Ama of the rocking of the ship. Feel, embrace, become. Breathing deeply, Ama soon lost track of time. The horse kept plodding, Ben kept walking, and Ama kept the fog thick around them.