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  “Alright recruits,” our facilitator says. Our facilitator for the test is ready to give instructions. “Celia will be going down with the diving group while the rest of you stay aboard to test with me. Communications with the air above ocean water is a rare skill that very few possess. When they do, it takes rigorous training to get them ready for anything useful.” Celia turns and gives me a smug look. To her, I am anything but useful. I wish I knew why she hates me so much. Maybe she just wants to be the best at everything. “When it is your turn for the test,” our facilitator continues, “you will be sitting next to me, facing east over the edge of the boat.” He points his left arm out to sea where a two-man sailboat is bobbing lifelessly in the water. “The goal: to fill those sails with wind.”

  I’m not sure how that is going to work, but I have a while to relax and wait for my turn. Celia and the five who will accompany her are all suited up and ready to dive into the ocean. I envy them. I would much rather have some time in the water with the skills I am already familiar with. I like the dry heat of Arizona and have grown accustomed to the stifling humidity of Florida, but the sea water is much more inviting to me.

  I watch as each of my remaining group mates take their turn in the hot seat next to the facilitator. He whispers instructions to them that I cannot hear. After about 10 minutes of frustration, each is excused from the chair and sent to the pile of diving clothes to suit up. Finally, the last girl before me is excused from the chair. Her face is red and I can see a bright blue vein popping out of her neck as she angrily makes her way to the diving gear. “Marin, you’re up!” the facilitator is looking bored as he sees me, the last of the first group, heading toward the hot seat. Poor guy. He still has another group left to test after me. I wonder if he ever gets any excitement in this job testing for rare abilities. From the yawn he greets me with, I doubt it. He doesn’t expect to find anything out of the ordinary.

  “Alright. Evelyn Marin, is it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I once served with a Kai Marin. Any relation to you?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s my father sir.”

  “Oh, I see.” Embarrassment works its way up on the facilitator’s face, “I’m sorry for your loss. I didn’t mean to bring up an uncomfortable memory for you.” I am quick to reassure him. I don’t want to upset the guy giving me a test.

  “Not at all sir. I’m happy to meet someone who knew my father.” The facilitator straightens up a bit and clears his throat, ready to move on from this moment of discomfort.

  “Well then, very good.” His eyes are steady on mine in a moment of silence before he continues. “You know, your father was quite good at communications with the elements above water. We used to tease him about being a land-brat at heart.” The facilitator chuckles at the memory of his own joke then straightens and becomes more serious. “But truly each one of us in his battalion envied his abilities. What he could do with that power, it was magnificent.” After a wistful moment of silence, my facilitator perks up and prepares to tell me what to do. At least he looks more excited than he did for the last four people to occupy this chair. I hope I don’t disappoint him.

  “Now,” he says, “face out over the edge of the boat and focus on the little white sail over there.” I do as he says and squint in the brightness of the day.

  “Now, Recruit Marin, while you are looking at that sail, I want you to feel the water beneath it.” It is easy for me to feel the water, that’s all I have been feeling for months. “Are you focused, Evelyn?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Good. Now shift your feelings from the water to the very top of the ocean’s surface. Can you feel the edge?” The feeling of the water’s surface tickles my chin as I answer yes. I sense a unity somewhere between the two. Like the space between water and sail is already aware of my presence as I become aware of it.

  “Okay,” the facilitator takes a slow, steady breath, “I want you to move your feelings from that space upward until they reach the air just above the sea.” I reluctantly take my heart away from the water’s surface and turn it toward the air above. Suddenly, it is as if 10,000 eyes turn my direction. I feel the molecules of air feel their way toward me. A gentle breeze brushes my cheek. It is filled with questions:

  Who are you?

  Why are you here?

  What do you want from us?

  Then, recognition. I can hear their voices swirling around me.

  She is a blessed one, a chosen one.

  I think I have known one like her before.

  Yes, a man. A father.

  Indeed, she is the Marin’s offspring.

  The Marin. So many questions for him.

  What do we do with his child?

  Do we speak to her?

  She hears us already.

  A pause. Then a single voice made of the many voices, all female. Speaking in unison.

  Hello Marin, child. What is your name?

  “Evelyn. Evelyn Marin.” I can feel the facilitator holding his breath as I speak to these little molecules around me. Everything else is silent.

  We have known your father, Evelyn Marin. It has been a long time since he came to the surface. We have great respect for him. He was never selfish, never greedy. What does his child ask of us?

  The whispering voices have a mature way about them. It is like listening to 10,000 whispering mothers, all trying to ask me the same thing.

  “Could you send a breeze to the white sail in the East, please?”

  Such manners.

  Like her father.

  Indeed, child, we can do such a simple thing.

  The breeze changes directions and heads back to where it came from. Then more wind pushes at my back as it joins the air already on its way to the sail. In just a moment, the wind hits the sail. The once slack, white fabric comes to life as the gentle breeze gains strength. Soon, the sail is full and the sailor aboard is on his feet for the first time all day. He guides the small sailboat in the breeze until he has gone at least half a mile.

  Do you wish for us to continue?

  “Thank you. No. I believe that will do.”

  It was our pleasure. The wind stops and the little white sail is lifeless again. It has been so long since we have spoken so clearly with one of your kind. Please don’t be a stranger. We have enjoyed this little piece of intercourse today. We would like to speak with you more often.

  “And I with you. Thank you.”

  Silence.

  I sit in the silence for a moment or two, filled with peace. I have made contact with something other than water. I had no idea such a thing was even possible for me. They spoke of my father. I inherited their respect from him. Thanks, Dad.

  I am still relishing this new feeling of closeness when the facilitator reminds me I am not alone.

  “Wehell!” his excitement is apparent as he raises his tone far above the whispers he used before. “Looks like you have your father’s abilities, that’s for sure.” Celia and her group of distraction divers are just climbing back into the boat from their dive. She can hear what the facilitator is saying, as can everyone else on the diving boat. “That’s right, young lady, we have ourselves a brand new land-brat!”

  Chapter 17

  The rest of the testing is as quiet as the start. No one else has “the gift” as the facilitator keeps calling it. My group’s turn diving with Celia is event free. We are supposed to look like curious divers underwater which is easy. As I swim along the rocky formations of what is left of the Bimini wall, I have plenty of time and space to think about my test. My fellow divers stay together under the diving boat. I swim as far from them as time will permit. I want the time to myself.

  My life lately has been dominated by questions and this new interaction gives me a new subject to think about. The air molecules spoke of my father. They felt he was a very talented communicator. I inherited his talent. But more importantly, they respected him, they knew him. And I realize that they would possibly have been the last t
hings to communicate with him while he was alive.

  Long before I am ready to return, we head back to Atlantis. News of my air communications test has spread quickly. Jack is one of the first to offer me congratulations.

  “Evelyn!” He greets me with a huge hug that makes me warm all over. “I heard about your test. That is awesome! And somebody from my own group of 50, too! Lady Pescara has told me that your training will begin next week. She has great hopes for you and your abilities, Evelyn. Well done.” Jack pats my arm. I wanted the hug again.

  “Thanks Jack. I have no idea what I can do with it, but I’m excited to learn.”

  “Air communications help us if the battle goes above the ocean. That is always bad, but it is exactly what Ceto wants. She has already proven that she is well adept at communicating with the water above the ocean, but Lady Pescara suspects she has somebody on her side that also communicates with the air above the sea. It’s a dangerous combination. Lady Pescara can communicate with the water above the sea, but her abilities unfortunately don’t compare to Ceto’s. We’ve needed somebody, even with modest ability, who can work with the air. Looks like that somebody is going to be you.” Jack lets his hand drop to his side as the look on his face becomes somber and unreadable. With this change in his countenance, my stomach sinks a few inches. I am going to have to be used in the heat of the battle and now I know it. Fighting in the fray with everyone else is not going to be my lot. I am going to lead at some point. I know I’ll have to prepare.

  After a brief pause, Jack continues, “Well, since you won’t begin your air communications training until next week, I suggest you stay focused on your other skills and battle preparation. Today’s practice combat sessions begin in thirty minutes.” He turns and leaves, his shoulders low, the excitement he started with is gone. Is he frustrated to know he will be losing a recruit or is it something more? Could he feel something deeper for me? Concern?

  I head to my tent to grab a snack bar before combat practice begins, knowing I will need the extra energy before lunch. Unfortunately, I run into Celia. Literally.

  “Watch where you’re going, Land-Brat!” She spits out. I mumble some kind of apology, but that isn’t enough for the queen of the world. “What did you say to me, Land Brat?!” I really hadn’t said anything offensive, but now that Celia is pushing my buttons, she is going to get a

  bite back. I pull out my best English accent.

  “I’m sorry my generous lady. I had thought myself duly out of your way, but I unfortunately miscalculated your size. The next time I fear I may cross your glorious path, I shall be certain to better measure your wider girth.” I give a deep and flourishing bow, rising without a smile.

  Celia’s eyes are on fire as she stares me down. A moment passes and she says nothing in return. I can see the revenge wheels turning in her mind. She lifts her chin and a single eyebrow and says in a deadly whisper, “Hmmm. I see the land brat is feeling a bit bigger than she should today. Combat training. Fifteen minutes.” And she swims away. Whatever plot is developing in her jealous head, I am sure I will find out soon. But I am not afraid. I am tired of being ridiculed by Celia. If she wants to look down on me again, she is going to have to earn it. I grab my sea bar and head out to meet whatever she has waiting for me.

  At the training grounds, all of Jack’s group of 50 are gathering their gear for the upcoming mock combat battles. I grab the mace. I like the feeling of power it gives me. It has been one of the most effective weapons I’ve used. We are all donning our heavy armor, helmets, and padding. We are an ominous group and a slightly awkward one. But we have been doing this for several months now so our movements are swift and sure. We know what to do.

  For the training, we each battle every member of our group, five pairs working at a time. Celia calls out tips to us. Jack works his way through the whole group of 50. I am not bad at combat; I am beginning to understand my strengths. I am also learning when I am defeated. Two out of my first three battles are against the strongest guys in my group of ten. I know I’ll be beaten no matter what I do so I focus on staying calm and save as much energy as I can for the remaining battles. After that, it is like I can’t be beaten. I like to use my water temperature skills to super-chill the water around my opponents, making them so cold they have difficulty maneuvering in the sudden change. I also enjoy the mace but can feel the strain in my shoulder from all of the swinging I am doing. By the last battle, I am relying heavily on my shield. But, after winning seven battles in a row, a few of my group begin to offer me congratulations. I get many pats on the back and atta-girls from the guys in the group. The first two want to battle against me again – sure that I threw the match their way. Unfortunately, the praise gets Celia’s attention.

  As we start heading toward the gear stalls and dinner, Celia calls out to her group. “My group stays,” she says, “I want to give you one more lesson before dinner.” There is a general grumbling through our group as we reluctantly head back to our group leader for the extra training she has in store. I’m pretty sure it has to do with me and I’m sorry to make everyone else wait for dinner.

  Once we all arrive at the training stall where Celia is dressed for combat, she addresses the group. “You’ve all fought well today. I’m impressed with the progress you’ve made. But your progress isn’t going to be enough when the real battles begin. You won’t always have the leisure of rest when you’re tired or food when you’re hungry or in meeting an opponent whose skills are equal to or lesser than your own.

  “You are much more likely to be awakened in the dead of night after a long day of training here. If the battle is a long one, you’ll be exhausted as you are now. But you will still need to fight!” A tinge of uneasiness in me warns as I see what is coming.

  “Evelyn,” yep, it is coming, “you’ve fought well today. Do you consider yourself ready for battle?”

  “No, Celia. I know I need more preparation.” I know she wants to humiliate me.

  “Good. I’m glad to see you’re so willing to get better. Climb into the ring. You’ll be battling me now.” A few in the group begin whispering to the people next to them. Most of them know Celia doesn’t like me. It makes some uncomfortable to watch her humiliate me. But the rest are just glad it isn’t them.

  I make my way into the ring, carrying my shield and my mace slackly by my side. Celia hasn’t been battling all afternoon. She is rested and fed. She is taller than me, stronger than me, has been in the ocean longer than me, and has both a mace and a sword at her disposal. There is no way it is going to be a fair fight. Now I know what my snarky comments to her earlier earned me. I still feel the same. If she wants to look down on me, she is going to have to earn it. I am not going down without a fight. I am going to give her all I have left.

  As I swim into the small battling ground, Pisces enters my view. My devoted fish companion must have sensed my need and has come to be by me, at least for moral support. Celia spots him, arches her eyebrow in a look of dismay, and in just a moment, her own companion arrives. Hers is an over-sized stingray named Zeus. We are becoming a little more even now.

  With a swift movement from her head, Celia motions for the training battle bell to signal our start. At the sound of the bell, I crouch down on the ocean floor with my shield on my left arm, raised to cover me while my mace, clutched in my right hand, sinks to the sand behind me. Celia shoots upward in the water and pulls out her own mace with her left hand, holding her shield to her side. She looks down on me, that familiar look I have come to recognize. I brace myself for her attack.

  With super speed in her well-trained body, she dives toward me, mace held high above her head. With my shield in my left hand, I maneuver my body around so her blow will not strike me. She slams her mace into my shield and raises her arm to do it again. I can tell she is angry and I hope I can use that to my benefit. Three times she strikes my shield with her mace, anger and disgust written all over her face and her blows. Having gotten a bit of that immediate a
nger out, she backs away from me until her feet are just above the ocean floor ten feet away from where I am crouched.

  I stand and straighten my body, feeling the achiness from the previous ten battles. This is going to hurt, but I know it will be worth it. I lunge at her, shield first, mace raised high. Our shields collide mid-water and we both swing hard at each other. My mace skids off her helmet while her mace strikes my armor in the middle of my back. It is a strong blow and I arch my back in an attempt to absorb the shock. A small grunt of pain escapes my lips and Celia takes advantage of my moment of weakness.

  Using her shield against mine, she shoves me into the sand, pushing and pushing me into the loose silt beneath me. The cloud it creates makes it difficult for me to see what to do next and makes it difficult to breathe. I swing with all my might, pain searing through my shoulder as I feel the strain of the day rip through. It ends up being a good move, the mace hits Celia in the back and she moves away in an attempt to regain her breath. I struggle to get up for a better vantage point when a huge surge of water hits me in the face. Celia has current control skills, I do not. I stumble in a cloud of water and debris as I fight to see my surroundings. Finally, I catch a glimpse of Celia in a corner of the ring, shield down, arms spread wide as she pushes the current toward me. I slam into a wooden barrier with my back and focus on Celia.

  Reaching into the depths of my soul, I pour all I can into the water surrounding Celia, begging it to cool down so that she will be distracted. To my surprise, the water chills faster than it ever has before. The current pinning me to the wall slackens as Celia is surrounded by tiny crystals of ice. I can tell the water is getting too cold, so I ask it to relax a little before Celia freezes. No sooner have I thought the request than Celia’s stingray slams into my head. I forgot that he was there, I was so focused on my battle with Celia. I call out to Pisces to take over the battle with Zeus. The two push at and around one another until they are caught in their own whirlpool of dust and debris on the left side of the ring.