Blood of the Tallan (The Petralist Book 7)

by Frank Morin

  The doors of every building in town splintered as their summoned monsters, concealed and dormant inside, burst free and charged into the square in a great wave. They charged past the battling Mhortair and Spitters and plowed into the ranks of the queen’s monsters just emerging from the river onto the docks.

  The monsters from both sides crashed together with terrifying brutality, ripping into each other with single-minded ferocity. Boats shattered under thrashing bodies, while fangs and claws flashed faster than thought, and monsters on both sides ruptured.

  Among the queen’s monsters, earthbound collapsed into muddy sludge that slowly dissolved, while firebound monsters exploded with thunderous shockwaves that often smashed apart the monsters that killed them. Waterbound burst like overstuffed water bladders, and airbound shrieked angry curses.

  Student Eighteen’s monsters died differently. Connor had filled every one of them with acid, so when they exploded, they showered burning, green liquid in every direction, melting enemy monsters and wreaking terrible destruction. The acid smelled rancid, like old socks slowly boiled over a fire.

  The fighting looked pretty even, but Student Eighteen said, “Let’s lend a hand, ladies.”

  All together, they began seizing earth and water, targeting the queen’s monsters. They’d ensure the swarm died. Then they’d deal with Rosslyn. Then they’d find Aonghus.

  Rory loved bash fighting.

  He also loved Anika with a passion so hot he wanted to shout with joy all the time.

  Combining the two was a transcendent experience. Tapping deep from granite, he threw himself against opponent after opponent, pounding them down with an ever-increasing tempo. Anika fought beside him, laughing with the pure joy of bash fighting as she met every challenger.

  Individually they ranked among the best bash fighters in the world. Together, they were unstoppable. They waded into enemy ranks and met Boulders who loved bash fighting as much as they did, but who could not hope to match their overwhelming power.

  He and his bride had practiced together so intensely so many times, they moved together in a brutal dance of rock-hard fists and hammer strikes that could shatter granite-hardened bones.

  One burly fellow charged in against Anika, bellowing, “For the queen!”

  She spun gracefully aside, slipping his punches and planting her hammer between his feet. With a practiced twist, she toppled him to the ground. He shouted angry curses, but Rory moved in and punched his face hard enough to make him blink.

  Rory and Anika were already gone, lunging at the next enemy. A team of newer Boulders tackled the enemy soldier and shackled him with heavy chains.

  “Sorry about that,” Rory muttered as he ducked a wild punch and shoulder-checked his opponent into Anika’s path so she could smash him in the chest with her hammer. She hit him so hard he flew back through four of his companions, knocking them all to the ground.

  It was a sad necessity that they had to resort to shackling enemy bash fighters, but they were just too badly outnumbered. Once they managed to unite with all of the Boulders who had defected to their side and who were still spread throughout the enemy ranks, maybe they could establish more regular lines and engage in pure bash fighting until sundown. He kept an eye out for an enemy high officer to discuss the idea with, but so far hadn’t seen any.

  The ground under Anika suddenly liquefied, dropping her to her chest in mud. Three other soldiers nearby were also hit in the same way at the same time. Rory scowled. Tallan-cursed Sentries couldn’t help but interfere.

  The nearest enemy Boulders laughed and moved in to hit them while they struggled. Rory tapped blind coal and charged. As he expected, the ground beneath him liquefied too, but he sped right over it and crash-tackled five enemy soldiers.

  Fighting that close, it would be difficult for the enemy Sentry to separate him. Rory punched and kicked, elbowed and headbutted the enemy Boulders with such savagery that they retreated into a larger company.

  The Sentry appeared, sliding to the front on a squat tower, barely eight feet tall. He was pudgy, with hanging jowls and beady eyes. He wasn’t wearing Boulder battle leathers. No wonder he started interfering. He didn’t understand the real contest of arms.

  To either side, the bash fighting continued uninterrupted, but right there a pocket of calm formed as Boulders paused to watch their Sentry destroy Rory, Anika, and their team.

  They should have been paying more attention. Rory charged.

  The Sentry barked a humorless laugh and pointed. Three spears of earth exploded out of the ground to skewer him.

  Rory tapped blind coal again. He didn’t particularly like the slippery feel of it, but he loved how it cut through the confusion so he could focus on bash fighting. He rushed right through the earthen spears, which slid past, scraping along his armor but not quite managing to catch hold.

  The Sentry’s eyes widened, but before he could change tactics, Anika’s hammer sailed past Rory’s head, aimed right for the man’s chest.

  It was a fantastic throw and would have crushed his ribs, but he raised a protective barrier of earth just in time. The hammer sank several inches into it, sticking out horizontally for a moment.

  Just long enough for Rory to get there, jump high, and slam the end of the haft with his best curse punch.

  The extra force punched the weapon through the earthen barrier, and the Sentry toppled off the back side of his short tower, crying out in pain.

  Rory tapped blind coal again and ran through the tower. Maybe he should have saved the precious blind coal, but he needed to teach his opponents a lesson. He emerged from the far side just as the Sentry sat up, clutching his chest.

  Rory clobbered him in the side of the head hard enough to knock him senseless. The man’s face slammed into the ground so hard he left a pudgy indentation.

  Rory hauled him off the ground by his feet and tossed the unconscious man back over his shoulder, confident his team would shackle him and strip him of slate.

  Anika rushed up and retrieved her hammer. Her leathers were muddy, but Rory couldn’t think of anyone better at mud wrestling. He surveyed the half circle of enemy Boulders staring at him and said, “Any more foolishness, or can we get back to the fun?”

  “No, we’re good,” one sergeant promised quickly, and the rest nodded immediately.

  Rory rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Well then, let’s see if we can beat the record for the biggest, longest bash fight the world’s ever seen, shall we?”

  Everyone cheered, swelled with granite, and charged.

  That was more like it. With the proper mood restored, Rory focused on enjoying the moment with his precious Anika.

  Shona skidded to a halt on top of one of the Tabnit death tubes. She preferred that name over Hamish’s sillier sparky-sparky boom drums, although she could see why he liked it. The long, iron tubes spat projectiles all across the valley, and their thunderous detonations spat fire twenty yards each time they fired.

  From that vantage, she surveyed the running battle. Her Striders had quickly reduced the enemy ranks atop the cliff with their surprise attack and the judicious use of several Builder mechanicals, including a few speed-crack walls. Now the numbers were about even, and they’d settled into the most intricate running battle she’d ever heard of.

  Usually no more than ten Striders participated on each side of a running battle, but today five times as many were engaging. Her teams, led by Donald, pushed the enemy to the limits. Donald maintained a fracked sprint, far faster than usual for running battles, and his team were keeping up. That meant the enemy had to move through the intricate maneuvers faster than they’d probably ever practiced, and several had fallen behind. That made them easy prey for the next team to strike them down with long-knives, or trip them up with bolo whips or nets.

  Shona was too new as a Strider to keep up, so she’d withdrawn to check on the rest of the battle, but she couldn’t help pausing to appreciate the skill of her people.

&nb
sp; Spread across the gently rolling high ground on the far side of the lake, the Striders flashed across the land in beautiful choreography. For a second, the five ten-man squads formed concentric circles that met the enemy formation of three multi-pronged stars. As the groups crossed at astonishing speeds, they struck, knives flashing in the light, nets flinging into the air, or bolos whipping out to trip foes.

  Then they flashed past and Donald raised a hand to signal the next formation. Immediately, the concentric circles shifted in unison as Striders peeled off to left and right, transforming into a formation called Jagged Mountains to meet Forest of Spears. Two of Donald’s Striders fell from the line, while the enemy lost four.

  Another pass, and Ducks of Darkness met Leaping Frogs. The frog formation didn’t work as well, and three of the enemy Striders got cut off. One of the duck teams swept around them, trailing weighted lines that trussed them up like harvest turkeys.

  The enemy shifted to the more aggressive Staircase attack, but Donald read their intent and shifted his lines into Flight of Arrows, knocking five more enemies down, while only losing one of his own. The man was a gifted Strider and a battlefield genius. Shona felt confident he’d defeat the enemy of drive them off soon. She longed to rush in and join them.

  Next time.

  For now, she glanced over the chaotic battle raging across the valley. Lossit town center was awash with Mhortair and summoned creatures. She eagerly tapped quartzite, loving that stomach-lurching feeling of her sight zooming in on the distant view. Colors became vibrant in a way she could never fully describe, and her jewel-faceted eyes somehow allowed her to focus on several different things at the same time.

  She spotted Rory and Anika in the middle of an intense bash fight, surrounded by enemy soldiers, all grinning and looking like they were having the time of their lives. Shona was even more tempted to descend and join them. She might, if she wasn’t needed elsewhere.

  The huge, water shields were still in place above the battle, but Thunder Towers and hundreds of troops were descending through gaps their Spitters were holding. The enormous Battalions high overhead were still raining down destructive fire across the shields, keeping the Spitters busy. Shona even spotted aerial monsters fighting personal attack craft high above.

  The regulars were fighting that intense battle on the north side of the valley. She zoomed her sight in on Wolfram, who was dueling with Allcarver grace against four enemies near the front lines. He dispatched them all with ease, all the while shouting orders to his troops.

  The fighting seemed to be going well. The Varvakins had driven into the enemy regulars, their full armor, heavy weapons, and lightning spears dealing out terrific damage. Sehrazad raiders circled the rest of the fighting, driving in for quick, slashing raids or closing with enemy Striders. The Tabnit soldiers, with their conical helms, fought in close ranks with admirable ferocity. Archers, slingers, and speedsling bearers made up the secondary ranks, filling the air with deadly missiles and keeping the enemy on their toes.

  But the most important fighting was happening just north and just south of town, where Ivor and his Spitters were engaged in heavy fighting against the enemy Spitters, who outnumbered them by a large margin. Anton and Ilse were battling a huge number of enemy Sentries, but hadn’t been overrun yet. If Aifric succeeded in removing Rosslyn and Aonghus, they might actually survive.

  A series of flashing lights drew her attention, and she spotted Solas scattered around the battlefield casting up multi-colored lights. The reinforcements still pouring into the valley from the south shifted course, some rushing toward the bash fight, while others moved toward the intense elemental battles.

  That might complicate matters. She scanned the battlefield again and spotted Erich and his teams of Crushers fighting around the perimeters of both Ivor’s and Anton’s teams. They had the dangerous jobs of subduing enemy tertiaries disabled in the fighting.

  Just the resources she needed. If she could target the enemy Solas and their communication chain, she might be able to buy her friends some time to gain an advantage.

  Shona jumped off the death tube, waving at the Tabnit team working on reloading it. She rushed across to the nearest Althing trebuchet. Its team was cranking the long arm of their catapult back to load another chemical round.

  The leader, a thick-necked woman with gray streaks in her hair, met Shona when she slid to a stop nearby. “Is everything all right, my lady? The enemy aren’t targeting us again, are they?”

  “Nothing like that,” Shona assured her, then pointed at the trebuchet. “I just need to catch a ride with your next load.”

  The woman blinked in astonishment. “You what?”

  “I need to get down there, and that’s the fastest way to do it. Will you target the forces just beyond the big Sentry battle south of town?”

  The woman had a flexible mind. Despite her obvious surprise, she shrugged and nodded. “Of course.” She raised her voice and shouted at her team. “Quadrant twenty-three. Give me a spittle shot on the double.”

  Turning back to Shona, she added, “This will be the first time we throw a Petralist into battle. Should be fun.”

  Shona purged basalt and switched to her beloved granite and smiled. “Fun.”

  46

  A Shocking Distraction Initiative

  Jean felt weak with relief to know Hamish had survived that crazy stunt with the huge hawk monster, although her heart wept for the loss of Lady Briet. Gisela had taken the news hard, and Jean stood beside her friend, one hand around her shoulders as Gisela wept.

  “If only we realized the dangers she had facing sooner,” Gisela sobbed.

  “Can one of you keep a sightstone tasked on Hamish?” Jean asked loudly. “And I need reports on the rest of the aerial battle, as well as status of the rod barrage.”

  One female technician said, “I can keep Hamish in view, but it’ll require my full attention. He moves around fast.”

  “If the rest of your team can juggle the other views, do it,” Jean said. She felt justified requesting the effort. Yes, she selfishly wanted to ensure Hamish remained safe, but he was the most nimble flyer, and if another emergency arose, she needed to know if she could call him to help.

  “Rod barrage firing,” Captain Leppin reported. “Visual coming online now.”

  One of the viewscreens shifted to a view from one of the sightstones embedded along the port underside of the Battalion, with unobstructed views down over the raging battlefield and the Spitter defensive dome. Hundreds of long, thin steel rods fired from launch tubes beneath six of the Battalions. They plunged down, driven by quartzite thrusters, containing no explosive, no chemical weapon, nothing to suggest their deadly purpose.

  Thunder towers, troops, and other battle mechanicals were still plunging down through the Spitter defenses. The enemy were adapting quickly, managing to deflect some of the mechanicals and troops, but Jean spotted few people killed. There were simply too many targets for the Spitters to finish anyone off. Their main purpose was still to defend against the Battalion bombardment, and most of those troops and mechanicals blocked ended up rushing across the top of the water shield to gaps. If things went well, they’d get those shields down soon.

  The rods rained down, sometimes dangerously close to their people, and she held her breath, silently willing the gunners to make good shots and not accidentally kill any friendlies. The rods struck the water shielding and many of them punched through, moving so fast they were hard to stop. Others deflected, pushed off course by the moving currents within the water. Still, Jean estimated more than enough made it to the ground to serve their purposes.

  The rods speared into the ground, sometimes blasting through enemy soldiers in the process, and she winced to see the bloodshed. They didn’t explode, so fighting soldiers made the mistake of ignoring them. Enough of their descent troops were landing and joining the fighting that they had bigger things to worry about.

  Like Thunder Towers.

  Thos
e giant mechanicals began firing as soon as they dropped below the water shielding, raining missiles, bombs, and deadly hornets over enemy forces. Sentries and Spitters not engaged in fighting Ivor’s and Anton’s groups, defending against Crusher incursions, or maintaining the water defense hurled water and earth at the towers, but with little initial effect. The mechanicals were built incredibly strong, and the operators could deploy pumice and blind coal as needed.

  On the ground, Thunder Towers engaged enemies at close range, spraying sticky pedra’s spittle and Althing stink bombs in addition to their deadlier munitions. The descent troops formed up around them, and supporting mechanicals took up positions behind. Jean spotted over a dozen battle companies forming right within enemy lines, scattered all across the valley. They promised to wreak wonderful confusion among the enemy ranks.

  Still with one arm around Gisela, she said, “Captain Leppin, please inform Ivor he is free to proceed.”

  Ivor stepped through a sheet of grasping water, parting it to either side to escape, and trusting the four Spitters flanking him to protect themselves too. He was entirely focused on the ten enemy Spitters a dozen yards away, controlling the attack.

  They worked together better than any Spitter team he’d ever faced, and they had even more low-grade sculpted stones to magnify their strength than his team did. He was breathing hard from the intense fighting, even though he had barely moved from the spot where he’d touched down. He and his fifty had been quickly surrounded by more than twice as many enemies, despite the numbers taxed with the water dome and those busy fighting the Mhortair.

  Usually he would love pitting himself against powerful, well-trained opponents, but his initial thrill had faded to a growing worry.

  His team was losing.

  Against so many who worked so well together and used so many sculpted stones, Ivor’s team was woefully outmatched. If they hadn’t trained so hard all winter, and if they hadn’t brought so many sculpted stones of their own, they would have already been overwhelmed. So far they’d stood their ground, but he could sense the tide shifting against his people, and soon they would get swept away.