The Gospel According to Verdu (a Steampunk Novel) (The Brofman Series) by Emilie P. Bush Page A
Authors: Emilie P. Bush
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myself.
The bubble was a bad idea. The water and the air were too much apart to be forced together the way she was pushing them. She had felt it on The Poor Man’s Bounty when she stared at the sky: the complete estrangement between those two elements, and how each disdained the other. Trying to force one into the other was using up her energy too fast. She let go of the bubble and changed position in the water.
It was a kind of torture to uncurl herself and float faceup on the cold, choppy sea, but she needed to try to survive her situation a different way.
Chenda threw away her previous thoughts about holding on to her power, and she tried something she had not dared attempt before. Lying on the thin plane where water met air, she channeled the opposing and repelling forces through her. She let the power to control the elements escape into the water and the air—not demanding of them, pushing them one way and bending them the other, but becoming one with them. Her body, in itself mostly made of these two elements, was the union of water and air. It was effortless, balancing between the forces. Her power ran giddily from her, and the absence of it left her feeling normal, like she was not a chosen one, was not freezing in the middle of an empty ocean, not hungry, or thirsty, or even tired.
She was a fulcrum balancing two equally fierce and powerful monsters. The water repelled the air. The wind lapped at the sea. The elements were fully diverted, leaving Chenda free of both. She was held between the two, touching neither and forcing nothing against its will. The only sensation was the glow of sunlight, which never minded water or air, warming her, caressing her aches, easing her mind. It was easy, and things had never been easy with her power. It was as though the elements were satisfied to hold her between them, communing with her stored energy and taking just enough from her to hold her in the sliver-thin and nearly endless boundary between sea and sky. She escaped into that boundary to gather her thoughts and contemplate how to get out of her current predicament.
She had, for at least the moment, found a way to survive the sea, but she was getting farther behind Fenimore with each passing moment. She sensed her environment with her power and noted the passing dips and ridges of the seafloor below as she passed, She drifted along with a fairly strong current, but her sense of direction in the in-between place was a bit shaky. She thought she was moving in a general eastward direction, which was at least somewhat the right way, but she doubted she could travel all the way to Tugrulia on the current. She toyed with the idea of just falling asleep, if she was not already. She figured that if she broke her hold on her balance between the elements, she would slip back into the water, or more precisely, the water would fill in all around her, and the cold shock would wake her up again, thus restarting the whole process of escaping the cold.
She indulged for a moment by thinking of Fenimore, and how much she missed him. She worried over where he was and how he was coping. Had he gotten as far as the Tugrulian coast yet? Was he on land yet? She counted the hours and guessed that he would not make it to that dreaded country for another day or more.
She also thought about Verdu. What shape was he in after so much time in the hands of the emperor’s men? Had he been treated cruelly? Had it been weeks? Months? She wished she knew, and then felt the old ache of knowing they should never have left him behind. She thought about how they had all been when they were together: secure in their friendships, true companions, loyal to one another, unique and united.
Through their time together, she started to believe in herself as much as Verdu did. He had told her the people had been waiting for her to appear and set things right. They whispered of the coming of the Pramuc, sang songs in praise of it. Now, separated from her friends,
The bubble was a bad idea. The water and the air were too much apart to be forced together the way she was pushing them. She had felt it on The Poor Man’s Bounty when she stared at the sky: the complete estrangement between those two elements, and how each disdained the other. Trying to force one into the other was using up her energy too fast. She let go of the bubble and changed position in the water.
It was a kind of torture to uncurl herself and float faceup on the cold, choppy sea, but she needed to try to survive her situation a different way.
Chenda threw away her previous thoughts about holding on to her power, and she tried something she had not dared attempt before. Lying on the thin plane where water met air, she channeled the opposing and repelling forces through her. She let the power to control the elements escape into the water and the air—not demanding of them, pushing them one way and bending them the other, but becoming one with them. Her body, in itself mostly made of these two elements, was the union of water and air. It was effortless, balancing between the forces. Her power ran giddily from her, and the absence of it left her feeling normal, like she was not a chosen one, was not freezing in the middle of an empty ocean, not hungry, or thirsty, or even tired.
She was a fulcrum balancing two equally fierce and powerful monsters. The water repelled the air. The wind lapped at the sea. The elements were fully diverted, leaving Chenda free of both. She was held between the two, touching neither and forcing nothing against its will. The only sensation was the glow of sunlight, which never minded water or air, warming her, caressing her aches, easing her mind. It was easy, and things had never been easy with her power. It was as though the elements were satisfied to hold her between them, communing with her stored energy and taking just enough from her to hold her in the sliver-thin and nearly endless boundary between sea and sky. She escaped into that boundary to gather her thoughts and contemplate how to get out of her current predicament.
She had, for at least the moment, found a way to survive the sea, but she was getting farther behind Fenimore with each passing moment. She sensed her environment with her power and noted the passing dips and ridges of the seafloor below as she passed, She drifted along with a fairly strong current, but her sense of direction in the in-between place was a bit shaky. She thought she was moving in a general eastward direction, which was at least somewhat the right way, but she doubted she could travel all the way to Tugrulia on the current. She toyed with the idea of just falling asleep, if she was not already. She figured that if she broke her hold on her balance between the elements, she would slip back into the water, or more precisely, the water would fill in all around her, and the cold shock would wake her up again, thus restarting the whole process of escaping the cold.
She indulged for a moment by thinking of Fenimore, and how much she missed him. She worried over where he was and how he was coping. Had he gotten as far as the Tugrulian coast yet? Was he on land yet? She counted the hours and guessed that he would not make it to that dreaded country for another day or more.
She also thought about Verdu. What shape was he in after so much time in the hands of the emperor’s men? Had he been treated cruelly? Had it been weeks? Months? She wished she knew, and then felt the old ache of knowing they should never have left him behind. She thought about how they had all been when they were together: secure in their friendships, true companions, loyal to one another, unique and united.
Through their time together, she started to believe in herself as much as Verdu did. He had told her the people had been waiting for her to appear and set things right. They whispered of the coming of the Pramuc, sang songs in praise of it. Now, separated from her friends,
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