Windmaster Page #2

In this fictional story, I did my best to combine plot action with strong family relationships. Nature has always fascinated me; my curiosity is endless.

• Fiction
• Short story
• Fantasy

								

“Alena?” Mom called. “Come on, you haven’t woken up wind since you were barely fourteen. Where’s your pendant?” Alena swirled in a desperate circle. She had to get her message across. 
“Alena, where’s your pendant?” Dad repeated. She needed to find a way to communicate. She glided over to a bag of flour and blew enough of it around to create a slapdash G, a lopsided O, then a crude N and a sloppy E. *GONE.* 
“Gone?” Dad read sharply. “What do you mean, gone?” Alena threw together a hasty *STOLEN.* 
“What‽” Mom exclaimed. “Stolen? When? Last night?” 
Alena was exasperated. She formed a Y and started on an E, then suddenly reverted into her human form with a quiet poof. “Y. Of course, it was during the night! E. When else?” She muttered, then realized she was standing on her two feet again. “Oh, uh…hi. Do you know what’s happening to me?” 
The color had drained from Mom’s face, and Dad was just as pale. He struggled to keep his voice steady. 
“If someone has your talisman, Alena, they can—” He was interrupted when Alena disappeared, then reappeared again, yelping. “—control your substantiality,” he finished with dread. 
“Whoever it is—let’s call them the Fox for now—also has as much control over the wind as you did.” Mom bit her lip and furrowed her brows. 
Dad’s frown matched hers. “We” — Alena disappeared again — “need to get your necklace back.” Alena reappeared, drawn and deflated. “However,” Dad added, brightening slightly, “we do have a way to track it — and the Fox.” 
Alena glanced up. “Really?” 
“Oh, yes! The Long-Distance High-Quality Personal Power-Harnessing Talisman Tracking Device! Talisman Tracker, or TT, for short,” Mom said a bit more hopefully. 
Mom handed Alena a device that looked like a flash drive, but with a smaller connector that seemed like it would fit into her phone’s charging slot. She pulled out her phone and plugged the TT in. Immediately a mapping app opened tracking only one item: the pendant! Alena set her phone down on the kitchen counter in surprise, and promptly converted into a mixture of oxygen, carbon dioxide, and nitrogen. In a moment, she changed back, tight-lipped. 
“Let’s get going, then,” Alena declared determinedly. *What are we waiting for?* she thought. Then she saw how worriedly Dad was looking out the window.
“Relanda? Alena?” His voice barely gave away a sliver of his unease, but it was enough to make Alena’s stomach churn. “Come see this.” 
They inched slowly toward the glass. The view was devastating. The strongest trees were swaying violently, smaller saplings were being uprooted, and leaves were being blown off by the pound in the powerful wind. To make matters worse, storm clouds were blowing in. All this was being caused by the Fox, she was sure of it. She had to get her pendant back. Then she realized that she hadn’t transformed in a while. 
“Fox is done experimenting,” she said grimly. “I need to go now.” Her parents exchanged a distressed look. 
“You may have to, Alena.” Mom licked her lips. “The future of the country” —she glanced toward the window— “maybe even the world, depends on you.”
Alena blinked back anxious tears. She needed to leave, stat. “Goodbye. Whatever happens, I love you.” She grabbed her phone and raced out the door without another word because she could no longer take the stress of staying. She needed to be in motion. 
The wind was stronger than she’d thought. Alena gritted her teeth and pushed on, step after arduous step. According to her phone, the pendant and Fox were near the library, two blocks away. *That’s fine. I can easily manage two blocks,* she thought. 
She thought wrong. With this kind of wind, it took her twenty minutes to walk the two blocks that normally took her five. To add insult to injury, when she popped back into air at about halfway, which made it that much easier to make progress, she almost immediately reverted into her human form. Even worse, when Alena finally arrived at the library, Fox had apparently gone half a block in the direction she’d come, to the police station. At least it was easier being pushed by the wind than pushing against it. 
At long last, she reached Wynret Police Station. The TT in her phone claimed Fox was here. She zoomed in so that the map showed the layout of the building. Fox was supposedly somewhere in the lobby. She entered and saw that the receptionist was having a slightly heated discussion with a clearly flustered woman. Alena grabbed a stray magazine and sat down in one of the lobby chairs, examining both people. The receptionist was a strong-looking man, clean shaven, in an official police uniform with a thin gold chain around his neck. The woman was wearing a knee-length skirt and a crisp polo shirt, and had small hoop earrings and practical heels. Alena looked at the woman more intently. 
The receptionist finally threw his hands up in defeat and pointed the woman through a door on the side of the room labeled “Semi-Urgent Cases.” Alena eyed her phone, on which the icon for the Fox hadn’t moved. *The receptionist.* His badge identified him as “Cayn Wrot,” an official officer. However, she could now see that the badge was expired; the date at the bottom read 2024. Four years ago. In Wynret, officers had to get their badges updated every two years. Something about that year and that last name nagged at the back of her mind. *Four years ago. Wrot. Four years ago. Wrot. Wrot.* 
Alena suddenly recalled a local news story she’d read that year. The bold headline had read, “Officer C. Wrot Given Four-Year Jail Time for Bank Robbery and Attempted Arson.” He’d been released this year, and had now stolen her pendant—and her power. She recognized the chain of her necklace on him. 
Abrupt rage crept up her neck. Wrot had no right to that kind of dominance over nature, especially if he would misuse it like this. He turned to her, and she knew she had to keep her cool. 
“What do you need, pet?” His tone was infuriatingly, exaggeratedly gentle. Alena stood up and walked calmly to the desk. 
“I’d like to report a theft,” she said evenly, then sprang forward and snatched her pendant. 
“Hey! That’s my—not yours!” Wrot’s face turned aggressive, and he lunged toward her. His fingertips pinched her necklace, but he apparently forgot that he was behind a desk. He stumbled down, taking her necklace with him, and promptly jumped back up. Alena tugged at her jewelry, but he would not loosen his grip. 
All of a sudden, she knew what to do. She pulled sharply, then let go. Wrot tumbled to the floor and hit his head on the leg of the desk. Alena reclaimed her pendant and gave the most childish, exaggerated scream she could manage. Two other officers came quickly, and she put on her best scared-child face. 
“Help! He—he fell backward, and I—I think he has a—a concussion!” She purposely stuttered the words. “B-but, wait… why isn't his—his badge updated? I-it says 2024. Shouldn’t it be 2028?” 

								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes