The King's Craft (The Petralist Book 6)

by Frank Morin

  He did manage to slow the effect, but a trickle of energy still siphoned away, weakening him and strengthening Kilian at the same time. Kilian jumped back to his feet and approached, that confident smile on his face. Connor knew that as hard as they’d been fighting, Kilian had not been pushing his uttermost limits. Their elements drained away as their entire focus turned to the invisible battle of wills fighting for control over Connor’s life force.

  “I doubt my mother would try using stilling, but it’s possible. You can’t let yourself get tripped up by it,” Kilian said in a conversational tone even as he intensified his attack.

  The flow of energy siphoning away from Connor increased, triggering a memory of the abject terror of standing helpless before Queen Dreokt in Donleavy. When he’d gone to help Ivor save his fiancé, they’d arrived too late, found Alyth’s mind wiped. The queen had somehow realized what they were doing and intercepted them. She’d beaten them down with terrifying ease, denying them even the ability to defend themselves. That sense of helplessness returned, sparking a rising sense of panic.

  He needed to think, to fight, to escape, but exhaustion settled over him, whispering with ever-increasing intensity to give up. It would be so easy, but he’d lose before the game had really begun.

  He refused to allow that, refused to accept that he was helpless again. Thinking of the queen and that doomed attempt to stand against her triggered an unexpected flood of rage, so intense it burned away his panic and left him gasping, despite Kilian’s stilling.

  Connor had no idea where that came from, but couldn’t waste time wondering about it. That blast of rage gave him the tiny sliver of hope he needed. He couldn’t beat Kilian with stilling alone, and his access to the elements felt weak and flighty. He needed a new approach, and fast.

  The beast of porphyry stirred, aroused by Connor’s fury and angered by their position of weakness. It had grown content to allow him to lead most of the time, but now it flexed itself against its bounds.

  “Release me and together we can burst free of these shackles. Let us transform and hunt in our perfect form, and not even this pack master could withstand us.”

  It was tempting. Porphyry tapped into the more powerful frequency of green-tinted energy. Embracing it and transforming might just allow him to break out of Kilian’s tightening stilling. But if he released the beast, would he be able to control it? The last time he transformed, the day he started the revolution in Merkland, he’d managed to rein it in, but the effort had taxed his will to the uttermost.

  If he failed to control it, he’d attack Kilian with deadly intent. Kilian might be able to restrain him, but he might not. If pushed to defend himself or die, what would Kilian do? Could he still destroy Connor, even in rampager form?

  The thought disturbed Connor, but also gave him the idea he needed.

  We’ll hunt soon, but not today, he promised.

  Then he purged the little porphyry that remained in his bloodstream. The beast growled as it faded away. Without porphyry, the effects of stilling seemed to magnify, and Connor stumbled to one knee under a flood of weakness.

  He was almost out of time.

  Kilian took another step closer, frowning. “Concentrate, Connor. You can’t just give up.”

  Connor muttered, making the words unintelligible while he focused on the removable plate of armor over his left thigh. He felt the powdered stone stuck to the inside edge and willed it in.

  Kilian took another step closer, barely three strides away, and leaned forward. “What?”

  Perfect.

  As the lightning-like power of diorite ripped through Connor’s limbs, he also tapped blind coal. That sedimentary stone was the secret to not blowing himself up when he tapped diorite, but it required him to apply that external-focused power of blind coal internally.

  It was a strange concept, one that he’d struggled to understand at first. The slippery feeling of blind coal instantly wrapped him, but to apply it internally, Connor envisioned it like an invisible serpent. Grimacing, he swallowed the snake. Blind coal was weird, and the feel of its protection slithering down his throat and coating his bones nearly made him gag.

  Just the set-up he needed.

  Kilian frowned. Maybe he sensed the activation of blind coal. It did seem to deflect the stilling momentarily. In fact, blind coal by itself might be enough for Connor to break free of the trap. That wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.

  Connor looked up, tapped diorite, and vomited an explosion into Kilian’s face.

  The force of the blast knocked Kilian tumbling, although no flames could hurt him when he walked with fire.

  In that moment of distraction, stilling evaporated and Kilian’s mental shielding flickered. Connor was still connected to chert, so he distinctly heard, “I can’t believe I fell for that. Hamish will never let me live this down.”

  Connor chuckled as he climbed back to his feet. Hamish had been trying to figure out how to explosive vomit using quickened stones ever since Connor used the trick on Harley during the desperate battle for Merkland. He hadn’t succeeded yet, but had managed to give himself explosive stomach aches seven times.

  As Kilian flipped over in the air, already seizing Connor’s vomited flames to catch himself, Connor got another idea. He tapped limestone and as the bright sunlight streaming past became visible to him as streaming waves of light particles. He seized them and gave them a mighty twist.

  Kilian righted himself and with a concentrated blast of fire, shot up into the air.

  Except Connor had dropped a mirage over him, making him think up was down.

  Before Kilian realized his mistake, he shot right down into the twenty-foot hole that Connor opened beneath him with slate, and plunged right into the deep, soft earth at the bottom.

  Feeling deeply satisfied, Connor dropped the mirage and sealed the pit over Kilian just as his tutor spat out a mouthful of earth and started to laugh.

  Connor grinned and saluted the sealed pit, feeling relieved he’d figured out a way to get past Kilian. Even when he wanted to lose, he pushed Connor to the limits.

  That fight had wasted too much time, so he fracked and raced north toward the first pylon. He’d reach it in seconds.

  Well, he might have if the front of the pylon hadn’t split open to release Evander onto the field, half-reclined on his signature sliding earthen chair.

  3

  The Best Teachers Inspire

  Evander accelerated toward Connor on that earthen seat, feet propped on stirrups and hands grasping long handles. It might look awkward, but Connor had tried it once in Althing to annoy Harley. He’d found it surprisingly comfortable.

  Giant Evander was over seven feet tall, with huge shoulders and hands. His mahogany-skinned face radiated strength, his shaggy black hair whipped in the wind, and although he wore his usual black leather jacket, for once the front was buckled. Harley had fought Evander to a standstill and destroyed the entire Carraig in the process.

  All Connor had to do was beat him in a few seconds, but without all the collateral destruction.

  No problem.

  As the two of closed at terminal velocity, wind ripping at Connor’s face, he tapped chert and focused on Evander in time to catch a fragment of thought. “. . . stumbles without injury while learning to walk.”

  Sounded like part of a great line of Sentry speak. Evander’s convoluted speech challenged everyone’s ability to understand. It built upon simple truths, but combined them in vague ways that left open many interpretations. Had Evander figured Connor would try to read his thoughts and prepared that in advance, or did he really think that way all the time?

  Connor had no idea, and suddenly it didn’t matter because Evander flung open his coat, revealing a brilliant band of intense golden light hovering right in front of him.

  “No fair!” Connor shouted.

  Evander had used the trick of concentrating a beam of light to help defeat Harley. Connor tapped limestone and instantly felt that l
ight-turned-weapon glowing in his affinity sight, so intense it was like Evander had squashed the sun into a slender blade.

  Verena had dubbed it the Death Beam.

  Connor had practiced the technique with Evander in recent weeks enough to know he’d never stop it. At best, he could deflect it if he grabbed it quickly enough. Today he had a better idea.

  Evander released the death beam and it flashed across the distance in a blink. It was aimed at Connor’s shoulder, but he managed to deflect it down to strike him in the stomach.

  Instead of blasting through him and possibly tearing him in half, the light ricocheted away from the thin piece of extra armor he wore there. As it shot away, the beam of light punched a hole through the air, creating a booming thunderclap. It crossed the valley in an eyeblink, angling up and away, and struck a large maple tree on a high hill to the north of Faulenrost. The tree disintegrated in a fantastic explosion of fire and splinters.

  As Connor and Evander passed each other, almost close enough for Evander to snatch him off the ground with one of his huge hands, Connor easily read Evander’s surprise.

  “How did you deflect that?” Evander shouted as he slung himself around impossibly fast using earth. Through slate, Connor could feel Evander’s presence in the earth like a beacon, his influence underground as overwhelming as the golden brilliance of the death beam had been in the air.

  “Mirrored Sehrazad steel glass,” Connor explained, not slowing. He tapped serpentinite and sounds became visible, like brightly colored hummingbirds that easily outpaced him. Before they could flit away on the wind, Connor caught them. Sounds were so much fun with serpentinite. He tossed the words over his shoulder to Evander, then concentrated on running.

  He didn’t bother fighting Evander for control of the earth, but focused all his will on shielding. Even that wouldn’t help much against Evander, especially when running so fast. The blurring movement of his legs weakened his connection with earth.

  As he feared, the ground erupted in front of him, and a twenty-foot wall rose to block his path. He veered sharply, leaning so far over that the limp, brown winter grasses caught at his armored shoulder. He couldn’t quite make the turn to get past the wall, but ran up onto it, going horizontal and racing down the wall’s length. He planned to jump off the end and try to circle it, but the wall extended, and the end began to turn in toward him.

  “Tallan take it and boil it in Hamish’s socks,” Connor muttered.

  He accelerated, but the earthen barrier lengthened faster, the ends sliding across the ground, bending inward until they touched, forming an unbroken circle three hundred yards in diameter. Connor was tempted to see how fast he could make a circuit, but that wouldn’t get him closer to his target, and would just make him dizzy. He’d already explosive-vomited, and the diorite had left him feeling drained, so he lacked the enthusiasm to try again.

  So he tapped quartzite. Air returned to his mind, fickle and flighty and beautiful, but she did not pull away when Connor grasped her hand. His connection solidified and he sensed the air currents all around. Many were young and eager, created by the elemental battle with Kilian. They raced around the valley with little purpose but lots of energy.

  Just what he needed. Ignoring more mature currents higher up, Connor seized a couple of the eager young ones, and they immediately swept in, whipping around him and lifting him into the air.

  As he soared up over the wall, Evander rose on the opposite side, lifted by a miniature whirlwind that somehow didn’t even stir his hair. Evander didn’t usually tap air nearly as much as earth, but apparently that didn’t mean he wasn’t good at it.

  Was he as good as Connor?

  Connor grinned as he accelerated into the air. One way to find out. “Duel in the skies? You’re on.”

  Except that’s when he sensed Verena swooping down out of the thin, obscuring clouds high overhead. She moved like a ripple through his air senses, and he glanced up, looking right at her. Verena’s new Swift was colored in mottled blues and grays that blended into the sky extremely well. The speedslings along the front of the nimble attack craft were already spinning. Connor and Evander might be two of the most powerful Petralists alive, but in some ways, Verena owned the sky even more.

  Connor loved Verena fiercely, but that didn’t mean he’d let her win. Usually he loved dueling with his friends, but this epic challenge course had been designed by General Wolfram as a way to reassure their Althing allies that they really did stand a chance when they faced the queen in the coming weeks, and time was running out.

  He hoped a victory would ease his own worry too. The longer the queen waited to attack, the more he felt convinced they were overlooking something vital. He’d started worrying he saw distant enemies lurking in shadows, preparing to strike. Just the day before he’d been convinced he saw the silhouette of a big man lurking outside the command building where Shona and Ivor were holding a remote conference with Rory and Anika in Merkland.

  He had to shake off his worries, though. He couldn’t defeat both Verena and Evander together, not if he got distracted, and definitely not in the air. He’d risen to about a hundred feet above the valley floor. Verena would get within range to release her deadly mechanicals in seconds. Evander was swooping in from the right, frying-pan sized hands already open, as if he planned to pluck Connor out of the air and spank him.

  So Connor tapped the flowing power of soapstone. The Nister River, running to the north of the Arishat encampment, glowed in his water senses, as did the snow on the nearby hills. The air was pretty dry, but Connor squeezed it and managed to suck out a couple of small globes of water.

  He slapped them both across Evander’s eyes.

  Then he tugged again on the current holding him aloft, urging it to swoop sideways. He hoped to position Evander between him and Verena. That might give him a few more seconds to figure out how to defeat her without hurting her.

  Evander kept coming, altering course to continue closing on Connor even as he pawed at his eyes. Connor kept the water in place, flowing it around and through his massive hands. He tried yanking Evander’s air current away from him, but although Evander might not usually like flying, his control was impressive. Even blind, he swept in, huge arms reaching toward him.

  Connor gestured Air to keep going. She winked, seeming to like the ploy, and the air current he’d been riding continued on its course. Connor didn’t continue with it, but released his connection and slipped free. For a couple seconds he fell, completely untethered to anything. Cold air whistled around him and he relished the absolute freedom.

  Verena wrecked the moment by firing a missile at him. She hadn’t fallen for his ruse, but in her nimble Swift had slid sideways even as she continued her dive. With a clear field of fire, she didn’t hesitate. He loved that about her.

  Evander plowed right through the air current Connor just released, scattering it. If Connor had remained in it, he’d have gotten clobbered.

  Connor tapped quartzite again, and Air returned instantly. The piece of quartzite in his cheek was nearly spent, but it should last long enough. Her windblown hair gave her a wild look, and she was grinning as she slipped her hand into his mental fingers to reestablish the connection. Another air current swept in to catch him about thirty feet above the hard ground, and he sent another one gusting against the missile, pulling it off course.

  He aimed it at Evander’s back.

  No doubt Evander would feel it coming. Deflecting it might keep him busy a few more seconds. But Verena had learned painful lessons fighting Harley. The queen’s deadly general had turned Verena’s missiles against her and deflected her hornets against Dierk’s windrider. The latest model of the missiles contained more aggressive stabilizer fins as well as tiny quartzite blocks set near the front that Verena could activate remotely to help steer.

  Not enough. As soon as she realized she couldn’t compensate for Connor’s wind attack, she triggered the remote detonation. The missile exploded in a spect
acular pink cloud.

  It was nice to know she hadn’t actually been trying to kill him. If the missile had struck, the blow would have rattled him and covered him in powder, marking the kill. A regular diorite-tipped missile would have really hurt, and would have suggested that maybe he needed a little motivation in his courting efforts. He’d planned to give her flowers during the big feast. Maybe he should think bigger, like a new sharpening stone for her throwing daggers.

  Evander, still blinded by those annoying water plugs, settled into a hover fifty feet away and turned toward Connor. “Starlight is prized by romantic hearts seeking quiet solitude, but even the pedra sleeps during the darkest nights.”

  That sounded like a threat. Verena had slowed and begun circling about a hundred feet up and maybe eighty feet out. She kept the speedslings pointed in his direction the entire time, but did not release them. She seemed content to see what Evander had in mind.

  Had they coordinated this beforehand? Definitely not good. Time to wreck whatever they were planning.

  Except that’s when Evander snuffed out the sun.

  Well, that’s what it felt like. One second Connor was flying through bright sunlight. The next second, everything turned pitch black. It wasn’t the darkness of a moonless night where the stars were covered by heavy clouds. It was the absolute darkness of a sealed tomb.

  It was inspirational.

  Connor nearly settled into a hover, but realized that would probably just get him clobbered, so he kept moving even as he tried to figure out what Evander had done. It had to be limestone, but Connor had never realized he might be able to use the stone to remove light too. The effect wasn’t as completely debilitating as sensory deprivation, which stole away all senses. That much about the situation was positive.

  He tapped limestone, but sensed no light at all. He was flying in a void far more complete than the little pockets he’d created sometimes by splitting light around himself to create temporary invisibility. Evander had blocked all light from entering a huge area.