Blood of the Tallan (The Petralist Book 7)

by Frank Morin

  Shona nodded. “It’s a very wet area. Those lakes fuel eight large waterfalls that span much of the cliff face. They drop into three long, narrow lakes along the base of the falls.”

  Ivor whistled softly, looking pleased. Connor liked it. Although General Rosslyn was ascended and she no doubt had many more Spitters than they did, water would play an important part in the battle, and at Lossit, they’d have plenty to go around.

  “I’ve passed that area too,” Kilian said. “There are no outlets for those lakes aboveground. They feed the Macantact through underground rivers.”

  “So we could flood the area and diminish the strength of the Sentries?” Verena asked.

  “It is one option,” Kilian said.

  As Connor studied the town, he got an idea. Pointing at the map he said, “I imagine the town center has a square, right?”

  Shona nodded. “Facing the docks. Lossit is a fishing town, so it has an extensive system of docks.”

  “So if we attack there, how likely is it that the enemy leadership will commandeer the square as their base of operations?” he asked.

  Wolfram said, “It is likely, especially if we time our attack so the leading elements of the army have already passed through. Why?”

  “With all that water underground, I have an idea how to give us an edge over Rosslyn’s Spitters and disrupt their command structure for a minute.”

  “How?” Hamish asked. “Are you thinking we drop a Last Word bomb imbued with skunk extract?”

  Lady Briet grimaced, but Connor took a second to envision the unrivaled chaos such a bomb might cause. He sighed and said, “We should save that bomb in case things go badly.”

  “Do we even have that bomb?” Jean asked.

  “We will,” Hamish promised.

  Connor said, “One of the things I’ve been practicing with is transforming water into different liquids.”

  “You can do that?” Lady Briet asked, looking suddenly excited. “Our researchers need to study this.”

  “If any of us survive,” Kilian promised.

  “Non-pure water is hard for Spitters to control and even to sense sometimes,” Connor said. “What if we can prepare the area in advance and separate some of that underground water into a big pool under the town square?”

  “The Spitters would probably be able to sense it, despite the insulating earth,” Ivor warned.

  “Not if it’s transformed to acid,” Connor said.

  Hamish whistled softly as the team considered the idea. “And when the leaders stop in the square, we blast acid all over them?”

  “That’s disgusting,” Jean said.

  “In an inspiring way,” Ivor countered. He gave Jean an apologetic shrug. “War’s ugly, and they’re going to have an advantage. Spraying a bunch of acid up their backsides will definitely distract Rosslyn and maybe disrupt the entire command structure for critical moments.”

  “Put it together,” Kilian decided. “But you won’t be able to control it, Connor. You’ll have to set it up so Ivor can trigger it.”

  “I can help set up a triggering mechanism,” Verena promised, and Hamish piped in, “I want to help.”

  “We’ll all have plenty to do,” Shona assured him. “Rory, how do you propose setting our bash fighters?”

  Rory tapped the map with one thick finger. “On the high ground. We can set our lines all down the length of the valley.”

  Anika nodded agreement. “When signal sounds, we jump down. Everyone gets to fight right away.”

  “I propose we set up our chemical weapons trebuchet and Tabnit death tubes on the high ground also,” Lady Briet added. “That will help protect them from enemy combatants while also providing an excellent field of fire.”

  “And of course, we’ll fly the Battalions right over the top of them and deploy mechanicals and additional troops,” Verena said.

  The grand scope of the multi-pronged attack was truly awe inspiring. They were coordinating tens of thousands of troops to hit the enemy from the north and the west at the same time. Poor Lossit. Connor doubted any of the town would survive, and was happy they were planning the battle in advance so they could evacuate the civilians ahead of time.

  Kilian said, “We’ve got the beginnings of a solid battle strategy here. Take this back to your teams and get to work. It’s probably better we work independently. No doubt my mother is attempting to infiltrate Merkland, despite the excellent counterintelligence efforts from Student Eighteen and the Mhortair. Besides, if the fight does not go according to plan, it would be unwise for my mother to be able to pull the entire battle plan from any single mind.”

  That was a really good point. So they agreed to work on their individual components and share them with Kilian who alone would coordinate the entire strategy.

  “Why shouldn’t Connor know everything?” Hamish asked.

  “Because Connor will be fighting my mother until she exhausts her fleshcrafting power,” Kilian reminded him. “Connor’s mental shielding is getting pretty good, and he should be capable of withstanding her mind attacks, but it might still be possible for her to siphon some information anyway.” He grinned and added, “Better not to risk putting all of our eggs in that leaky basket.”

  Hamish laughed and clapped Connor on the shoulder. “We should add that to your battle standard, Connor.”

  “Do you have a battle standard?” Verena asked with a smile.

  Connor shook his head. He’d never considered it, but ideas immediately swarmed in. It would be fun.

  Hamish said, “I can see a sweetbread riding a slab of bacon on a field of green, surrounded by all of the affinity stones over the words Leaky Basket.” He glanced at Evander and said, “Unless you can come up with a suitably indecipherable translation of leaky basket to sound more epic.”

  Evander actually smiled, but Connor interrupted before he could share any thoughts. Hamish was already too excited by the idea, and Connor would not be surprised if a flag with those images suddenly appeared in his quarters. “Let’s deal with battle standards later. Right now we’ve got work to do.”

  They dispersed to their various duties. General Wolfram, Lady Briet, and Captain Ilse headed back to the pass to coordinate efforts with all of the reinforcements from Granadure and the Arishat League. Verena and Hamish went to follow up with the Builders and the dizzying number of mechanicals still being retrofitted.

  Jean rushed away to the hospital, calling Gisela via speakstone to summon as many of the researchers from their medical teams as possible to join her. Ivor, Shona, Rory, and Anika dispersed to convene meetings with all of their armed forces.

  Kilian and Evander stepped apart, probably discussing something arcane and incomprehensible to the rest of them. Aifric seemed to disappear, and Connor suspected she was going to meet with her Mhortair brethren to sweep the city again for spies. She did not look pleased that Kilian doubted their ability to ferret out all enemies.

  That left Connor to head down to the military command headquarters. As soon as he entered the battered castle-like command building, swarmed with workers patching holes and repairing the extensive damage from the swarm, a pair of soldiers recognized him.

  They saluted sharply, looking a little awed. One of them, a beefy fellow wearing battle leathers asked, “Commander Connor, sir, are you here to help with affinities?”

  His partner was staring, wide-eyed, and kept swallowing and wiping his palms. The reception was surprising, but he bit back his impulse to tease the soldier. He didn’t need the guy fainting, or getting offended. He hoped he wouldn’t let anyone down. “I plan to try, yes.”

  “We’ll fetch Earthnail Fogwatt,” the first soldier promised, and the two bolted away so fast, Connor wondered if they might really be Striders.

  A moment later, they returned with another soldier with shoulders so wide they nearly scraped either side of the corridor. All three of them saluted, and Fogwatt shook Connor’s hand with such enthusiasm, he nearly dislocated Connor’s shoul
der. Connor didn’t think he had met the man before, but Fogwatt sure seemed to know him.

  “It’s an honor, Commander,” the earthnail told him in his deep voice. “General Wolfram asked me yesterday to prepare a list of candidates for your review.” He paused for a moment before adding more softly, “You really can do it?”

  “Let’s find out,” Connor said, happy they were ready for him. He wanted to ask the man about his unique name, but forced himself to focus on the work. “I’ve only done it a few times, but I’m getting better at it. I’d like to see if we can establish some new elemental Petralists, as well as help as many of our regulars as possible join the ranks of our Boulders and Striders. Each one takes some time though, and that’s one resource we’re running out of.”

  Earthnail Fogwatt said, “This way, Commander.” As he led Connor down the hall, he bellowed for his aides, and soldiers seemed to materialize from all sides. Fogwatt rattled off dozens of names. Connor decided Wolfram had picked the right man. Either he was just naming every single person he knew or he did have a list already memorized.

  As the other officers scrambled to obey, Fogwatt turned back to Connor and asked, “Do you need anything to facilitate making this work?”

  “I need a couple of comfortable chairs and a quiet place to meet with each candidate. I’ll also need supplies of every power stone to help candidates connect with them.” And since it was an opportunity too good to pass up he added, “I’ve found I get the best results when the people I’m working with are eating their favorite dessert and I have plenty of sweetbreads and bacon on hand.”

  “Bacon? Really?” The big man laughed and snapped thick fingers, then pointed at one aide trotting beside him. “You heard the man. Bacon. I want buckets of it at the ready. Inform the kitchens we’ll be sending in some custom orders, and I’ll want them double quick. Have them start with a platter of every kind of sweetbread and dessert they have handy. And get me some liver and onions.”

  Connor managed not to grimace at that last request, rubbed his hands together, and said, “Some days I love my job.”

  25

  If You Don’t Really Want Something, No One Can Help You

  Munching on a piece of crispy bacon still hot from the pan, Connor greeted the first candidate for a new affinity, a burly soldier wearing battle leathers, with the rank of sergeant on his shoulder. He sat across from Connor and gripped his hand firmly. “Name’s Brodik, sir. I’ve got a decent Solas secondary. Earthnail Fogwatt suggested maybe you could help me find a tertiary.”

  “Would you like that?” Connor asked.

  “Yes sir,” Brodik answered in a booming voice.

  That was a promising start. The man looked motivated. Connor asked, “To make this work, I need to know a little about you. In particular, what’s a hobby or passion of yours?”

  “Hobby, sir?” Brodik looked confused.

  Connor nodded. “What motivates you the most, except for bash fighting, of course?”

  Brodik hesitated, glanced toward the closed door furtively, then leaned closer and said softly, “Reading.”

  “Really?” Connor asked, unable to keep his surprise out of his voice.

  Brodik flushed, clearly embarrassed. “I know it’s not what you expected, but you want me to be honest.”

  “I do,” Connor quickly assured him. “I love reading. I just . . .”

  “I wouldn’t have expected a brute like me to like reading either.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Connor said, feeling bad for judging the man.

  “It’s all right, sir. I only recently learned how to read. It’s a new program General Ivor started among the men. I never thought reading or anything that mental could be fun, but books open a whole new world.” He smiled as he talked, and Connor clearly sensed his love for the new skill. It might be surprising, but it was just what he needed.

  “Don’t ever apologize for loving to read, Brodik. The best people I know love reading.” He gestured to a small table beside them that contained stacks of power stone, including wafers of slate and vials of soapstone. “Which tertiary affinity would you like to try? Slate or soapstone?”

  For a moment, Brodik could only look at the two options in silent wonder, as if coming to grips with the reality that he might finally be able to establish the coveted tertiary affinity. After a moment’s consideration, he took one of the soapstone vials. He saluted Connor with it, then downed it in a single gulp.

  “Here we go.” Connor tapped obsidian, chert, and sandstone to connect with him at every possible level, then also tapped soapstone. The connection snapped into place between them, and Connor’s consciousness was sucked into Brodik’s mind.

  The affinityscape materialized out of billowing gray fog, forming into a sand-floored practice yard. A long rack of heavy battle hammers stood along one wall, while a second wall was lined with hundreds of books. To his right, the ground abruptly ended in the normal fog-filled chasm, with affinity islands floating nearby. A solid rope bridge connected to the single-tiered granite island, and a second bridge extended from there to the softly glowing limestone island. The four tertiary islands floated beyond.

  “By the Tallan’s bony knees, what be this place?” Brodik exclaimed as he appeared on the practice ground beside Connor.

  “I call it your affinityscape. See the islands? Each one represents a power stone. The bridges represent affinities you have established,” Connor explained.

  Brodik grinned as he took it all in. “I’ve never had a practice yard filled with books, but I like it.”

  “That’s why it’s in here,” Connor said. “We’re going to build a bridge from that limestone island out to soapstone.”

  “I’m not much of a builder,” Brodik said with a grimace.

  “Me neither, but that doesn’t matter here. I’ve found the best bridges in the mind are built from those things you love.”

  Brodik nodded and strode to the rack of hammers. “Then let’s start with these. My favorite weapons outside of pure bash fighting.”

  That sounded good to Connor. He took the hammers and carried them across the bridges to the limestone island, then laid them at the edge closest to soapstone, willing them to connect. The first two hammers morphed into anchor points for the trusses, and his confidence grew. It was working!

  In moments, Brodik brought enough hammers across the bridges for Connor to build solid steel trusses. Each hammer transformed into a three-foot section and slid out along the truss before snapping into place.

  “I see what you mean. This is fun,” Brodik laughed when the two trusses were finished. “More hammers for the planking?”

  Connor shook his head. “Let’s not limit ourselves. You said you love to read. Bring me some of those books.”

  Brodik grimaced. “Books are rare treasures, sir. I hate the thought of destroying them.”

  “They aren’t destroyed here in your mind, but your love of reading will help make your affinity stronger.” Connor felt convinced that was true after what he’d seen with Verena, Jean, and Hamish.

  So Brodik brought armloads of heavy tomes to Connor, who pressed them into position. As he’d hoped, they transformed into wide planks made of a strange white wood, with indistinct writing down their lengths. As soon as they completed the bridge, Connor stood and gestured Brodik to lead the way.

  The soldier raced across eagerly, and when he stepped on the soapstone bridge, he dropped to his knees, hands raised in a posture of exultation. “I feel it!”

  Connor gripped his shoulder, smiling to see his joy. “Now the fun begins.”

  They awakened, and Connor gestured toward a nearby bucket of water. “Let’s see what you can do.”

  Brodik immediately yanked the water out of the bucket, hitting himself so hard in the face that he toppled out of his chair. He was laughing so hard that he swallowed half the bucket of water and nearly drowned himself.

  Connor escorted the still-coughing soldier to the door, grinning. Brodik
stepped into the hall where a long line of men and women were assembled for their turns and shouted, “I’m a Spitter now!”

  Everyone cheered, and the next candidate, a round-faced woman, rushed in and took Brodik’s wet chair.

  Connor lost track of time and started wondering if he was losing track of reality as he stepped from one mind to the next, working at a feverish pace to build bridges and establish new affinities. He fueled the intense effort with copious amounts of bacon and sweetbreads.

  Earthnail Fogwatt kept Connor’s plate piled high and a long line of eager soldiers hoping for a miracle outside. He kept Connor’s cup filled with water, and Connor transformed the liquid to a different beverage with every refill. He needed to practice, and although some of his attempts tasted like pig swill, some turned out amazing, like the cherry cordial he managed to get right only once.

  Fogwatt started with many of his own staff, of course. They were officers he knew and trusted and whose skills he was eager to leverage, but he was a wise enough commander to understand the importance of spreading out the new affinities. So he began adding other officers, and in the first two hours Connor helped more than a dozen men and women establish new tertiary affinities.

  That was a staggering number, and if he kept it up, they could drastically change the face of battle. But again, Fogwatt impressed Connor by interspersing regulars into the line. Connor helped most of the soldiers with no gifts whatsoever establish primary affinities with granite and basalt. He even helped create a couple of new Blades when they requested it.

  Many of the minds that Connor stepped into were remarkably similar. That surprised Connor at first because the minds of his friends were so unique, but as he thought about it, he realized it made sense.

  Relatively few people had participated in the miraculous discoveries that his close friends had helped develop in recent months. Many soldiers had only ever lived in one place, only known one group of people. They were very similar to how Connor and his friends had started, growing up in Alasdair.