The King's Craft (The Petralist Book 6)

by Frank Morin

  The King’s Craft

  Frank Morin

  The King’s Craft

  Book 6 of The Petralist

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 by Frank Morin

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-946910-15-8

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-946910-16-5

  A Whipsaw Press Original

  Edited by Joshua Essoe

  (http://www.joshuaessoe.com/)

  Cover art by Brad Fraunfelter

  (http://www.bfillustration.com/)

  Illustrations by Jared Blando

  (http://www.theredepic.com/)

  Book design by Kate Staker

  (https://katestaker.com/)

  First Whipsaw printing April 2021

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Maps

  1. Start the Day with Terrible News, and Nothing Worse Will Happen. Probably

  2. Dig Deep, Go Fracked, and Hurl

  3. The Best Teachers Inspire

  4. The Unexpected Fruits of Chemical Weapons

  5. Never Underestimate Motivated Friends

  6. Going from Bad to Worse

  7. Kids Do the Darndest Things

  8. The True Power of the Forgotten Sense

  9. The Bigger the Challenge, the Bigger the Toys

  10. True Friends Never Give Up

  11. Work Hard. You’ll Earn a Bigger Dinner

  12. Well-deserved Desserts

  13. Old Man Schwinkendorf’s Mad Chef Skills

  14. With Shona, Surprises Are Rarely Unexpected

  15. Bad Hair Days Never Get Old

  16. Pearls Appear in Oysters Lingering Long under the Seas, but Sunlight Reveals Truths Smothered by the Blanket of Night

  17. Sculpted Scones!

  18. Mind Bomb

  19. Some Girls Are Downright Scary

  20. A Short Reprieve

  21. Nicklaus the Brave

  22. Sometimes It Takes a Village

  23. Rage Monsters Aren’t the Only Things with Teeth

  24. Anything Can Be Broken

  25. The Best Death Scene Ever

  26. Dessert Magic Is the Best

  27. Old Secrets and New Affinities

  28. Time to Set the Board

  29. Fear the Scones

  30. Unintended Consequences

  31. The Simple Lives of Bash Fighters

  32. It’s So Hard to Find Good Help

  33. Some Problems Only Get Worse with Time

  34. Second Place Is Just Not Acceptable Sometimes

  35. It’s Annoying to Have Motivated Enemies

  36. Nothing Is Ever Easy

  37. Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

  38. An Unexpected Meeting

  39. The Most Dangerous Predators Are the Smart Ones

  40. When the Best-laid Plans Don’t Account for a Swarm

  41. A Target-rich Environment

  42. Hope Is Fragile but Hard to Kill

  43. Up the Creek, and It’s Burning

  44. Some Days You Need a Friend with Bigger Guns

  45. Time Waits for No Man

  46. History Gets Twisted in Funny Ways

  47. If Only We Had a Month to Plan

  48. A Glimpse into the Heart of Evil

  49. Make Time for the Important Things First

  50. You Can’t Walk through a Closed Door

  51. Usually It’s a Bad Thing for Kids to Hear Voices

  52. You May Have to Fail a Hundred Times Just to Figure Out the Right Questions to Ask

  53. A Glimmer of Light

  54. Focus on What You Have Left, Not What You’ve Lost

  55. Truths Revealed through a Well-cooked Steak

  56. Mind Killers

  57. An Unexpected Friend

  58. Is It Bad When Imaginary Friends Talk Back?

  59. Welcome to the New World

  60. Simple-mental

  61. Un-deadly-captain-ish Behavior

  62. Something Nutty

  63. Miracles

  64. Bridges to Affinities

  65. Everything Has a Price

  66. Glutton Crafting

  67. Flipping the World Coin

  68. If You Could Blow Yourself to the Moon, Wouldn’t You Try It, Too?

  69. Some Problems Taste Worse Than Others

  70. Don’t Mope over Spilled Affinities

  71. It’s One Bridge in front of Another

  72. Walking the Razor’s Edge

  73. A Perfect Excuse

  74. A Moment Worth Waiting For

  75. New Limits and New Opportunities

  76. Building Bridges

  77. Old Truths and New Lessons

  78. If Only Problems Could Be Solved with Marshmallows

  79. The Power of Thinking Food

  80. Sometimes You Need to Look at Your Problems in a Different Light

  81. In Order to Win, Great Sacrifices Might Be Necessary

  82. Sugar-saturated Creativity

  83. Bash Fighting for a Good Cause

  84. The Need for Burned Cookies

  85. Nothing Motivates Like the Vomit Rocket

  86. The Greatest Battle Petralist of All Time

  87. A Glimpse of Insanity

  88. Burned Cookies

  89. The Ultimate Curse Punch

  90. A Monster within a Monster

  91. The Worst Splitting Headache Ever

  92. Too Much of a Good Thing

  93. Hard Lessons

  94. Some Gifts Just Keep on Giving

  95. One Feast Is Not Enough

  Where’s the Next Book?

  Thumbs Up? Or Thumbs Down?

  Author’s Note

  Also by Frank Morin

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  This awesome, epic book is a testament to the constant support I receive from my family and from you, my enthusiastic fans. THANK YOU!

  There’s no way I could create such an intricate, in-depth story, packed with such incredible characters, without your support and encouragement.

  So here we are! The King’s Craft is awesome.

  And it almost never existed.

  I had intended to complete the series with one final book—Blood of the Tallan—which will now be book seven. But as I worked on this book, the story kept expanding until it was clear I had more than one novel’s worth of story here. I knew you would love more story instead of less story, so I changed focus and recrafted the adventure into two huge, epic novels. You’re going to love them.

  As always, thanks to my family for undying support and invaluable input. Kyle, the idea guy, helped me push the magic far deeper and far grander than I could have done alone. The girls—Jenny, Kate, and Emily—offered great opinions and insightful feedback, and Jacob helped me explore the best jokes and best recipes!

  Joshua Essoe again provided an excellent edit, asking all the questions I was secretly hoping he wouldn’t, and pushing me to never take shortcuts. The story shines far brighter as a result.

  Brad Fraunfelter is an artistic wizard. Every cover gets better, and this one is the best one by far. Well done.

  Thanks to my beta reader team, and for all of you who have been politely but insistently asking, “When is the next book going to be ready?”

  It’s done! Enjoy.

  Frank

  Maps

  1

  Start the Day with Terrible News, and Nothing Worse Will Happen. Probably

  Verena kno
cked on the door to Kilian’s suite in the recently completed New Schwinkendorf grand palace, suppressing her frustration at the unexpected summons. The hallway smelled of fresh paint, and the woodwork gleamed with recent polish. Rebuilding was progressing fast, but time was so short and she had so much research to finish.

  Kilian opened the door, dressed casually in linen trousers, white shirt, and a black leather vest, but his expression was serious and tiny crimson sparks danced in his eyes. His black hair, tinted to blue at the edges from his centuries-long association with water, looked wilder than usual.

  Verena followed him toward his spacious sitting room and asked, “This isn’t about the appointment of the new lord, is it?”

  Kilian chuckled. “No. The rumor mill is giving that topic too much attention already.”

  “Then is this about your mother?”

  He didn’t answer immediately, so her concern escalated sharply. Was the much-dreaded invasion from his mother, the mad Queen Dreokt, finally beginning?

  They weren’t ready.

  It was a miracle the queen hadn’t launched war upon Granadure already. Winter snows might slow regular armies, but not her. She alone could threaten the full might of Granadure and all of their allies combined.

  They’d dealt with several of her saboteurs in recent weeks, and Student Eighteen had identified three other spies embedded in some of the research teams. Strangely, Kilian had chosen only to monitor them.

  Those spies had to be reporting on how fast rebuilding of New Schwinkendorf was progressing and at least a little about the remarkable progress they had made through the winter on research and development of new mechanicals. Yet the queen still hesitated. Why? Had they overlooked something critical?

  Surprisingly, Aifric was already there, sitting on the couch facing the fireplace. She wore baggy Longrunner pants and her thick, brown hair was braided for running, but she also wore a very cute cotton top. Interesting. Usually the more military personalities in her head insisted on leathers or tougher fabrics. Maybe they’d been undercover in town dealing with spies.

  A glowing bed of coals in the hearth emitted an even, warm heat across the room. Plush carpeting covered the floor, and several tapestries on the walls lent the room a cozy feel. Aifric waved, and Kilian gestured Verena to sit on the couch with her, while he took a comfortable chair nearby. “I’ve sensed no new disturbances from my mother.”

  Aifric’s face shivered for a second and Student Eighteen took the control position in their shared head. “This is something else entirely, although it is related to the queen, and it posed a direct threat to all of our plans.”

  Verena felt a chill. They both looked grave. It had to be something bad. “Is she launching that army of summoned creatures against us instead of Merkland?”

  They’d suffered sporadic incursions by deadly summoned creatures, but all of them had been discovered early and destroyed quickly. With so many mighty Petralists and such a concentration of the most advanced Builder battle mechanicals assembled around New Schwinkendorf, the occasional attacks had proven little more than good training exercises.

  Another question, another inconsistent action from the dread queen. Their contacts in Obrion assured them the queen had built many more nightmare elemental creatures than she’d sent against them or Merkland, so she had to be planning a major assault soon. Verena started chewing on the question, considering all the defensive measures they’d already put into place, and how they could augment them.

  Student Eighteen said, “No. This is worse.”

  Verena paled. The meeting was shaping up to totally ruin her day. “Worse?”

  “The threat is already among us. It’s Connor and Ivor,” Kilian declared.

  “What are you talking about?” Verena demanded, suddenly wishing for that horde of summoned monsters.

  Student Eighteen said, “They don’t even know they pose a threat. It dates back to when you were still in your coma, that time I took them to Donleavy to try to rescue Ivor’s fiancé, Alyth.”

  Verena remembered the story. The doomed attempt had been remarkably bold and romantic, and stupid.

  Student Eighteen’s features shivered again and her posture changed. Her smile widened, her shoulders adjusted, and she sat forward a little. Her voice changed to the warmer, enthusiastic tones of Aifric the Healer. She tapped the side of her head. “The queen killed me, and that trauma was severe even for my mind sisters.”

  “Mind sisters? I like that,” Verena said.

  “Kilian’s idea,” Aifric said with another bright smile.

  “It seemed appropriate,” Kilian said.

  Aifric continued. “After Connor helped resurrect me, we’ve been able to rebuild a vital memory from that encounter. Queen Dreokt implanted directives in both of their minds, ordering both Connor and Ivor to wait until the spring thaw and then murder every Builder before returning to her.”

  Verena scowled. Vile beast of a woman! That was worse than she had dreaded, and exactly the kind of horrific evil she’d come to fear from the dread queen. They’d heard grim tales from Ailsa of the carnage the queen had wreaked among her own ruling classes. The cold-hearted, brutal efficiency of the queen’s efforts to secure an iron grip on Obrion terrified Verena, but also strengthened her resolve. Such a monster could not be allowed to rule Granadure and the rest of the continent.

  Kilian spoke up. “My mother rarely chooses the route of subtle deception. Usually she goes with overwhelming force and simply destroys the minds of any who oppose her. In this case, it appears she thinks she can get some usefulness out of Connor and Ivor. In her twisted sense of black humor, she probably thinks killing the Builders through them is a form of poetic justice.”

  “That’s why she’s been waiting to strike,” Verena realized. “She’s not just building up her army, but she’s waiting for us to tear ourselves apart. If they succeed in obeying those commands, it would throw our entire revolution into chaos and make it a simple matter for her to step in and mop up the pieces.”

  Kilian nodded, and Aifric said, “That’s what we suspect.”

  “How long have you known about this?” Verena asked.

  “Since before the battle of Merkland,” Kilian stated.

  “So long?” Verena exclaimed. They’d let Verena and the others interact with Connor and Ivor for months, when murder rages were hovering in the blackest part of their minds, waiting for a chance to spring. She whispered, “Why?”

  Aifric shifted back to Student Eighteen and shrugged. “If we lost the battle of Merkland, none of us would’ve survived until springtime anyway. We’ve been monitoring them and working on a plan to try to save them.”

  Kilian added, “The challenge is that we can’t just step in and remove the order. They’re like mind bombs. Even if Student Eighteen figured out how to diffuse them, there’s a risk my mother might have included alternate commands in case the original one was foiled. There’s no way to know, and it was not worth taking that chance unless we had no choice.”

  Verena rubbed at her arms, suddenly feeling chilled. She was wearing a skirt and blouse instead of flying leathers, but now wished she’d worn a jacket. She sat back on the couch and considered how she would’ve reacted had she learned about the danger sooner. “That’s why you didn’t tell us. You thought one of us might somehow give away that we knew and accidentally trigger one of those secondary directives.”

  Student Eighteen nodded. “Now that the spring thaw is drawing close, we need to act.”

  “That’s why you’re here,” Kilian added.

  As she considered the horrific position the queen had placed Connor and Ivor into, Verena wanted to scream with frustration. If the queen really could implant an order to blind Connor to his love for her, if he actually killed her and Hamish, she doubted he would be able to live with himself once he realized what he had done. That was probably part of the queen’s plan. If she couldn’t use him, the revolution would lose him too. Her hands began to tremble with h
orror and a growing rage, so she clenched them in her lap.

  Kilian was watching her and seemed to read her emotions. “You need to understand the danger. We will need your help if we hope to save them.”

  “Please tell me you have a plan,” Verena said as she tried to settle her mind and focus on the solution rather than the cold, stark terror of the danger. The queen couldn’t snatch Connor away from her, not now that she’d dared hope for victory, for peace if they survived the looming war.

  More than once in their crazy relationship, driven by the demands of duty and the unique challenges posed by his special affinities, she had been prepared to destroy Connor. She had thought those days long past, and in recent weeks had begun dreaming very seriously about the day they could be wed.