Peace. Calm. Tranquillity.

Tia tried to lose her emotions in the gentleness of the Wind. The nature's force swirled around her in a neat circle, ruffling her fringe and making her cloak hem flap. She kept her eyes closed, concentrating on keeping the energy flow smooth, focusing it at the point where the base of the staff made contact with the ground. The Wind grew stronger but was still concentrated along a neat path around her body.

She breathed in the crisp air, feeling the familiar power flow through her body. Her mind was clear and her body at perfect balance as one's should be when channelling the Wind.

She was one with the Wind. The flowing particles harmonised, tantalising in their gorgeous tones, overlapping each other like the gentle ocean waves. They sang to her about the skies, the weather, and the living nature. Each breath stolen away by the passing Wind was relayed to her ears.

She could feel the love of the sweet Wind, so accepting and accommodating. How could anyone use this mellow force to kill?

What Caster in their right mind would use such an exquisite phenomenon for their own gain and for bloodshed?

Windcasters swore alliance to nature when they accepted their Calling. They were the mediators for balance, not to use it for personal gains. The liaison must have been broken beyond remedy when they so terribly abused their powers in the last Great War. And yet the same Windcasters were still communicating and utilising the Wind.

How could Master Anu do that? Tia ruminated, frowning. Does the allegiance to the Wind mean nothing to him? How could he even call himself a Caster – he is even worse than mages, at least mages do not kill with their blessed abilities!

She couldn't gauge what had gone on in the Master's head. He was one of the greatest – if not the greatest – Windcaster in all the land. His words held more influence than those from any other. How could he have agreed to fight in the war? War was human affair. The Wind had never and should never have been involved in any human conflict.

If Gwent had been on the brink of invading the whole of Dernexes, they must have a significant-sized army. All those men killed by the Wind. Blood in the Wind. Artificial death forced by nature.

It was an atrocious act.

"Tia!" came a muffled, faraway voice. Tia opened her eyes, her thought process interrupted.

In front of her, a tornado at least twenty metres high was spinning at an incredible rate. Dust and leaves were swept up and sucked into the swirling mass. Her hair whipped across her face, making the skin sting. She took a step back, eyes screwed up against the sand and dirt that was flying everywhere.

She gasped; the sound never travelled to her ears in the roar.

"Control it!" yelled Mommu, shielding his face against the force; his cerulean trainee cloak flapped fiercely in the wind. He stood on the other side of the tornado, his voice barely audible in the noise.

"I can't!" she shrieked back, panic coursing through her body. She should never have let her thoughts go on a trek of their own. This Wind was greater than anything she had ever created. "It's too big!"

"Call to it!" he hollered, driven back two more steps. The ferocity of the Wind increased. The roof of the nearby wooden shed was ripped off, joining the other rubble in the air.

Tia tightened her grip on her staff and planted it to the ground again, feeling her own energy fall in line with that of the Wind. She aligned the flow, screwing her eyes together in concentration. She could feel the throbbing strength in the nature and its potential to destroy. She opened her mouth and sang a tentative tune.

The Wind whistled back in response.

Her shoulders sagged with relief. She sang again, pulling gently in the torrential flow of energy. She drew in the excess force and dispersed it into the ground at her feet. By pulling and yielding at intervals, she slowed the speed of the swirls until eventually she balanced out the Wind. She could hear the grass rustle again. The energy dissipated around her and she slid onto her knees, letting go of her staff. She sat down hard.

Mommu ran up to her as soon as the last wisp was swept away. He crouched next to her. All that filled Tia's ears were the sounds of her own gasping breath and the pounding blood. Her hands shook.

"Silly girl!" he scolded, worry in his grey eyes as he brushed her hair off her face. "You lost track of your thoughts again, did you not?"

She nodded mutely, eyes gazing downwards.

"You should not be Casting when your mind is so full, Tia!"

Her bright green eyes met his, a grimace on her lips.

"I cannot help it, Mommu."

"We are but one day away from Hume, please do not harm yourself by accident," he begged. She gazed down at the palms of her hands and heaved a small sigh.

"Do you think I will have blood on my hands one day?" she said quietly. Mommu's breath caught in his throat.

"Do not be silly," he repeated, grasping her arm and helping her to her feet. He picked up her staff and tucked it under his arm along with his own. "Come, let us go. It is time for Enlil's reading lessons. You should not keep him waiting."

She nodded and strode ahead without a word.

****

Whispered news of the impending war became more and more frequent, but strangely at the same time the bearers of the news were increasingly more nervous about passing on the hearsay. It was as though they were afraid of being caught for spreading the word. One night, about three days after they had left Kiramone, Enlil voiced the question that had been hovering in the minds of the three youngsters.

The speaker, a twitchy, mousy tradesman of small stature who had been travelling in the opposite direction from Hume to Pathos in the east, visibly blanched.

"Nobody from the government must hear of this!" he said in a hushed tone, eyes wide with terror. He looked left and right, reminding Tia of one of the thieving urchins back in Kiramone. His clenched fists resting on the table were visibly shaking.

"Why is that?" Tia said, her eyebrows knitted together. The trader leaned forward on the table as if about to indulge in a secret, and the three young people squeezed together on the opposite side leaned in as well.

"The king has been very quietly... silencing those who speak about the war. It is as though he dare not let others know of the danger that we are in. He has been particularly enthusiastic about quietening those who are aware of the impending invasion."

Tia gave a sharp intake of breath. The king didn't want his people to know?

"But I thought it was just speculations," Enlil commented, his pale eyes on the twitchy man's white face. The man shook his head, eyes widening.

"Oh no, boy, it is more than that. Much more. The Gwentian forces have been building their army for several months now, but I think the king believes the forces stationed at Ptarmigan Fortress and Elder Down are sufficient to keep them at bay. But then again, that is also what he thought the last time." He shuddered. His eyes darted around the empty dining area again. "Nobody dares to speak of it in Capital, or outside. Those that do are never seen again."

"What do you mean 'that's also what he thought the last time'?"

"It was he who ignored all the signs of invasion. Gwentian forces had grown by the storm as it has now and yet he ignored everything. Nothing disturbs the king; it was only when Elder Down fell did he realise that he would no longer be king should Dernexes also fall. That was when the Windcasters came in and saved us all."

"So they are to invade – and soon?" Enlil's expression was very dark. The man bobbed his head in silence. Enlil let out his breath. "So it is true."

"Why are you telling us if it is so risky?" Tia said, tilting her head inquisitively. The man gave a mirthless smile.

"If we are to go to war – no, when we are to go to war, if the king continues to ignore the signs, we will all be dead within six months anyway. I am trying to discreetly spread the word so that people have a fair chance of survival... anything greater than nothing is something."

There was a stony silence. The man stood up and, without another word, he nodded briskly at the three and left, glancing over his shoulder as though he were expecting an assassin to jump on him.

"So we really are to go to war," Tia said in a small voice. Mommu shuddered. It seemed the man's jumpy traits had an influence on his already anxious personality.

"Please do not say this so loudly when we are in Hume and in Capital," he muttered, his mouth turned down at the corners. "We shall be in Hume on the morrow and we need to be careful."

"Oh Mommu, you are so silly!" Tia shook her head. "If Gwent really does invade, being in trouble with the king is the least of our worries! We could be called into battle as Master Anu was!"

"And what would you say, if you were?" Enlil leant forward. Tia jutted out her chin.

"I would say no, of course I would say no!"

"But if it is to save your kingdom?"

She shook her head, but doubt began to gnaw at her decision.

"Wind should not be used for–"

"If Mommu was in danger?"

She hesitated. Mommu stared at the boy in horror.

"Why would you say that?" He sounded shocked. Enlil shrugged, his grey eyes serious.

"Perhaps that is why Master Anu joined the war." He turned to face Tia. "If all that you love and everyone around you were in danger, and you with the power of Wind could save them all, would you?"

 Tia did not know what to answer.