KRISTOFF GASPED for breath, the afternoon sun beating down on his head. Sweat dripped from his brow, and he wiped it away, trying to maintain his composure while two young kids stared at him from the door to the mess hall.
Rowen hadn’t been inside. There was no sign of him anywhere.
“Hey. Have you seen a man about my age, with red hair and green eyes? He would be very quiet. Have you seen him?” Kristoff knew he sounded repetitive and probably breathless, but he didn’t care.
The boys both shook their heads.
“Dammit.” One of the boys giggled at Kristoff’s curse, but he was past caring about propriety too. Where had Rowen gone?
More importantly, why had he run? All Kristoff wanted to do was help him. There was no way he was going to let anyone do anything to Rowen, heatcaller or not. He had thought Rowen trusted him.
“Anything?” Kristoff grit his teeth as Franken jogged closer, his friend red-faced and out of breath. They had both circled the island twice in their hunt for Rowen, with nothing to show for it.
“No.”
“Marin says she sensed a flash of his power by the beach, near the Darsean merchant stalls. I checked there, and a man said he saw him on the beach, but that was hours ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me hours ago!” Kristoff snapped. His legs burned, but he prepared to run.
“I just talked to him now.” Franken put a hand on his arm. “He’s not there. Like I said, he saw Rowen hours ago.”
Kristoff blew out a breath. “Did you tell Marin and Lorana before telling me? Again?” He bit the last word.
Franken frowned. “C’mon, Kristoff. I had to tell them. He was going to call a heat spell. I couldn’t just let that go.”
“And now look!” A woman leaving the mess hall hurried her steps as Kristoff raised his voice, throwing up his hand to emphasize his point. He fought to keep from yelling. “You should have come to me first, not thrown Rowen into a situation he barely understands.”
“I barely understand it, Kristoff,” Franken shot back. “What would you have me do, ignore an obvious danger? You didn’t feel his power the way I did.”
“You should have waited until I came back, at least!” Kristoff glanced at the blue sky, the waving green trees, as if Rowen would mysteriously appear. He didn’t, and the sight didn’t do anything to calm his rattled nerves. “I’m his mentor, dammit. I should have been the one to talk to Lorana and Marin, and talked to Rowen about it first!”
Franken shook his head. “I did what I thought was right.”
“Yeah, and now we have a terrified heatcaller missing somewhere on the island,” Kristoff said through gritted teeth. He hated to call Rowen that, the word heatcaller feeling too much like a curse. “You didn’t think about his feelings at all, did you?”
“Do his feelings matter?” Franken said. “You talked to Marin. You know what heatcallers can do. I could sense what he could do. He’s dangerous, Kristoff. Sacrifices have to be made.”
Kristoff reeled back. It always came back to that, didn’t it? Sacrifice. Giving up on people who they didn’t have the resources or the knowledge to save.
Anger boiled in his chest, and he turned away.
“Where are you going?” Franken called. Kristoff didn’t answer. He didn’t need to; it was obvious.
He had to find Rowen.
He didn’t bother knocking on the front door to the familiar house, and whoever had left last hadn’t locked it, so he let himself in. Rowen’s room was empty, just as it was that morning when Kristoff had checked last. There wasn’t much to the room other than the items Rowen had been given when he moved in. Kristoff pulled the covers off the bed, but he wasn’t hiding there either.
Dammit. He knew this island like the back of his hand. Where could Rowen be?
“Hello?” Elise was standing at the door. “Kristoff, are you still looking for him? I haven’t seen him.”
“Yes, I’m still looking.” He didn’t want to talk to her. Failure gnawed at him; he had let Rowen down. Again. He had to find him and fix it, and he didn’t want distractions.
“I didn’t see him anywhere, but I did find this.” She held out a piece of paper, and Kristoff grabbed it, hoping for a written note.
That had been too much to hope for. But it did make him pause.
“He drew you,” Elise said. “It looks nice. He must really trust you. I’m sure he didn’t go far.”
Kristoff remembered the first time he had seen Rowen. He had been lying on the sandy ground, soaked from the storm, bright red from the burns of the baking sun. His eyes had been mostly shut from exhaustion and pain, but he knew Rowen had seen him. He remembered that flash of green that had reassured him the man was alive.
He had never thought about what Rowen would have seen, but the drawing showed him. Kristoff, flying and reaching out for him. Saving him.
He could do it again. He would do it again.
“Thank you,” he told Elise. “Don’t worry. I’ll find him.”
It was time to get serious about things. Kristoff headed outside, taking in a deep breath as he walked to the beach. He cast out with his senses, savagely pulling tendrils of air toward himself. The palm tree fronds lashed back and forth as he did, and whitecaps formed on the surf before he stabilized it, hovering in the air.
He flew higher, the island receding below him. It was a long shot, but maybe with a bird’s-eye view he could spot Rowen if he was hiding somewhere.
He made out the governor’s building, where he was sure Marin could sense what he was doing. People milled around the mess hall, and the markets near the beach were quiet now, the stalls taken down in the heat of the afternoon. A Darsean ship sailed offshore, receding into the distance. He scanned the beaches all around the island, but other than one amorous couple, there was no one there who shouldn’t be.
Only a few white-and-gold-clad healers roamed around the medical buildings, and a few people traveled on the paths between the residence areas. A flight over the less traveled areas of the island, where the plant life was overgrown and the palm trees were snaked by vines, didn’t reveal anyone hiding either. There were no clues.
Dammit. Rowen was so quiet, and Kristoff knew so little of him. How could he possibly find him?
No, that wasn’t entirely true. Kristoff watched the horizon line, thinking back over what he knew of Rowen. Rowen was kind and caring. He wanted to save his village. That first note Rowen had written, the one that had made Kristoff so happy to see….
I want to help peeple. I do not want my vilege to die out, like Darsea. I want to lern about what has happend in the world. Pleese teech me everything.
Kristoff had tried. He still wanted to try. But why had Rowen run away? Kristoff refused to believe Rowen had drowned. The man was too strong. Sacrifice or not, he wouldn’t do that.
But he did want to help people. Even during the heat spell, he hadn’t drunk much water, always serving his community.
The wind whistled in Kristoff’s ears, the only sound this far up. Maybe… maybe that’s why he had run. Everyone was frightened of him. He thought he could save them all by hiding. But where could he possibly go?
The Darsean ship was about to disappear over the horizon, and Kristoff caught the motion out of the corner of his eye.
He had looked all over the island. But maybe, he thought with a jolt, Rowen wasn’t on it anymore.
Wind howled, and Kristoff flew after the ship.
“WARE THE sails!” someone screamed over the sound of the wind. A gust made them snap to and fro, and Kristoff stumbled hard on the deck as the entire ship rocked beneath him. It wasn’t large, probably a vessel made in Linland that had been adopted and refurbished after it was abandoned. Probably only merchant families lived here, or perhaps it was a merchant ship that stayed in close contact with one of the larger more residential ships.
That was made clear when a man, his hair white with age, stomped toward him. “What do you think you’re doing? Would you land that roughly on a residence ship, Storm Lord?” People were already stabilizing the rigging.
“Sorry,” Kristoff said. “I’m here looking for someone.”
“I realize you’re young.” Darseans always said “young” like it was an insult. “But I do hope your haste and shaking of the ship was because you have some sort of important warning. Are we headed toward a heat spell or a doldrum?”
“Ah, no. I’m searching for….” He almost said heatcaller but caught himself. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten anyone. “A young man with red hair. I think he may have… stowed away.”
The man’s bushy brows hit his hairline. “Fled the Storm Lords’ island?”
“Of sorts. I don’t know for sure. But if you find him, I—”
“Jonathan, Michael, search the hold. Daniella, the galley.”
Three people immediately set out. Kristoff called after them, “Be gentle with him! He’s likely frightened.” In only a few moments, they were gone, disappeared into the depths of the ship.
“So what did he do, Storm Lord…?”
“Kristoff.” He answered the unspoken question. “And he didn’t do anything. I just need to speak with him. And bring him back.” Kristoff sighed. Rowen wouldn’t be able to stop him, but he really didn’t want to bring him back against his will.
One problem at a time. First he had to find him.
“Sorry to trouble you, by the way,” Kristoff said. “Captain….”
“Theo. And it’s no trouble. Just don’t appreciate you Storm Lords rocking my boat.” He pointed at the sails. “That mast can snap in a wind, and then you’re in debt to us.” He gave a wicked grin.
Kristoff swallowed hard. “Right.”
“Don’t fret. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened.” Theo shook his head. “Now. Why did this man of yours you’re looking for run away in the first place? Is he a trainee or someone’s son who wants to see the world?” He chuckled. “He could have just asked.”
Kristoff smiled weakly. “Well, about that….”
“Found him,” a man called. Kristoff snapped his gaze toward the speaker, who strode onto the deck. “He was in the hold with the merchandise. Didn’t touch anything, though, not even the water.”
Of course he wouldn’t. Rowen was honest.
Rowen was staring at the deck, and when he looked up, he froze when he saw Kristoff, his green eyes going wide.
Kristoff took a deep breath. “Uh, one more request. Do you perchance have anything to write with?”
It was time to listen to Rowen’s side of things. And he wanted to do it in private.
He knew just where to go.