Stormcaller

by Liz Hill

Art by Arnold T. Blumberg

I stood on the roof of our goat hut and listened to the song of the coming storm. Footsteps sounded behind me on the roof planks. I drew in a deep lungful of air. 

“It calls to me, Machel.” 

“It’s not safe to listen, Rinuri. You know what the priests say.” 

I laughed into the sky, as the clouds grew on the horizon, darkness cut with green swirls. “They want to be the only power. They want us to turn our backs on what we already have, to turn our strength to weakness.” 

He grumbled, “Mother will punish you if she hears you say such things.” 

I whipped around then, glaring at my older brother. “Let her! I don’t care. She can’t stop me. And since when do you care what she thinks?” 

“I care about you getting hurt.” 

“By Mother, the priests, or the storm?” 

“Any of it. Mostly the storm right now, because those kill people, and you’re planning to stay out in it. Don’t think I didn’t notice the heavy rope is missing.” 

I shrugged. “I have to do this.” 

“Because it calls to you?” 

“The stormgod… I can’t explain it if you won’t believe.” 

“Let me tie you down at least? Last storm tossed a tree off the cliff over there.” 

I listened to the whispers in the rising winds, then shook my head. “Take them back. I won’t need them. I’m doing this the old way, the one Grandpa always whispered about.” 

Machel looked at me like I’d gone mad from the winds. I didn’t waver. His shoulders slumped in defeat and he hugged me tight one last time. He gathered up the rope and descended the ladder I’d used to get up there. He thought I was going to die. He didn’t know how carefully I’d prepared for this. 

At last, the storm clouds reached our little farm, boiling over the shoulder of the nearby mountain slope and spilling rain across our fields. That at least would make both Mother and Machel happy. I waited for the heart of the storm. I felt it draw closer, as the whispers grew into actual words. My hair and clothes danced with the winds until both were a mess. I didn’t care. The god wouldn’t care. 

The clouds enveloped me, and I expected to be tossed from the roof for my trouble. Instead, the winds barely touched me. It was like curious fingers, lightly exploring my being as the calm center hovered in place. 

Twin pools of light formed in the storm that still raged furiously just beyond the house and goat hut. I felt the weight of their gaze and fell to my knees as their presence rocked me. This was nothing like what I’d expected. I had hoped for a vision, some echo of the god the priests were forcing us to give up. But this living being made of wind and chaos was beyond my wildest imaginings. 

It has been long since last I was offered a servant. 

The words forced their way into my mind, rattling my bones and pulling at my essence. Yet it was the curiosity in them that enthralled me. 

Do you wish to serve, mortal? 

I didn’t understand what the stormgod meant. I tried to ask, but my head hurt too much from the intensity of its presence to speak. 

You will become my avatar in the world. It is time for one, if you are willing. 

I still didn’t understand what it meant. With great effort, I pulled words from myself. “What do you want?” 

I want to exist. You want a god. I judge that we are well matched. Do you agree to devote yourself to me? 

I thought of my family. I thought of the farm. But I wanted more from life than any of that. 

“Yes.” 

Then it is settled. 

Before I could say anything more, the winds that had raced around me rushed in and bore me aloft. I screamed and the eyes drew closer. They were all I could see, storm and eyes and its will crushed down into me. I screamed again as the wind somehow cut through me. I don’t know what eternity I spent in the unmoving storm. Lightning struck around me, bolt after bolt, and their energy washed through me. Eventually, I blacked out, with those eyes following me into the darkness. 

Machel was on the roof again when I came to. He cradled me to his chest. I felt it still as I woke, the winds that now raced within me, the lightning that begged for release from my fingertips. Weapons that would heed my call. An avatar of the stormgod indeed. 

“Rinuri!” 

I looked up at him with eyes that could see the wind now. I got to my feet and felt the stormgod’s approval, even though nary a cloud graced the sky. 

We have much to do. 

I smiled sadly at my brother. “I must go.” 

“What did you see? Tell me.” 

I knew better than to try to describe it. Some things can only be experienced. Instead, I said, “I belong to the stormgod now. It has work for me.” 

I walked off the roof, letting the air carry me to the ground. I continued toward the horizon without a single look back, the winds gathering at my back to guide me. 

© 2025 Liz Hill