by Frank Morin
“Um, about that . . .” Connor said.
“It must be done immediately,” Ivor said, his expression ruthless.
“Why?” Connor asked as Ivor led him through an open door into the spacious interior.
They entered a great room with a vaulted ceiling that extended up through the second floor. Exposed beams lent the room a rustic feel, but it was furnished with plush couches and chairs around a thick rug in front of a giant fireplace. The stone chimney was twenty feet thick.
Alyth stood in front of the fire.
She looked poised and graceful and beautiful. She smiled warmly at Connor, and he instantly sensed what Ivor had loved about the girl. The only time he’d seen her was after the queen had mind-wiped her. Alyth’s quick mind and free spirit were gone, her body left vacant.
“Connor, thank you for coming. The Builders have betrayed me and they plot the destruction of my realm. We must destroy them to save our people from their evil designs.”
She spoke calmly, but steely resolve filled her voice, and something about her eyes was off. Ivor joined her and kissed her. She took his arm and glanced at Connor, a look of absolute assurance on her face.
The scene looked innocent enough, if plotting mass murder could be innocent. As Connor approached Alyth, he quested out with his thoughts, trying to see the truth behind the facade being draped over his mind.
An invisible force resisted his efforts, so he pushed harder and punched through. Instantly he realized what was going on. The queen had implanted the mind bomb in a more subtle way for Ivor. She’d crafted it around the fake Alyth. Ivor was completely enthralled by her, and this vision played upon his lingering sorrow over losing her. She was back and she was his, and he would obey her demands without his usual calculating thoughtfulness.
It was a masterful display of the queen’s most terrifying powers.
Except she hadn’t planned on Connor. He bowed over Alyth’s hand and said, “You overlooked one tiny thing.”
“What’s that?” she asked, and her eyes turned black, like bottomless pits of fury.
“You’re best at breaking people’s minds. I’m best at breaking pretty much everything else.”
Connor reached up and ripped off her face.
At the same time, he struck with chert, seizing that lie and twisting it. Alyth shrieked and clawed at his hand, but moved too slow. The lie the queen had implanted was subtle, and she had accounted for much, but she hadn’t planned for that.
The fake Alyth’s face dissolved under Connor’s and she stumbled away, screaming, hands over the writhing blackness that had been concealed underneath. It looked like a tiny version of the many-limbed rage monster that had attacked Connor’s mind, its little claws waving wildly as it tried to rebuild its false face.
“Connor, what are you doing?” Ivor cried. He grabbed Connor’s shoulder and wrenched him back, his expression outraged.
Then he saw the truth and gaped. “Alyth?”
Connor felt deeply satisfied. This was going better than he’d feared.
Except, that’s when the rage monster exploded out of Alyth’s head. It grew to the size of a pedra as it crossed the space between them and crash-tackled both Connor and Ivor to the ground. Its hundred deadly claws raked against them, tearing at flesh and pinning arms. Two disgusting mouths grew out of the front end of it, extending on fleshy throats and gaping open with dozens of needle-like teeth. One snapped at Connor, and the other at Ivor.
Connor reacted with instincts honed from countless hours of battle training. He tapped granite to harden his skin and raised a hand to seize the disgusting maw. It was squishy and slimy and smelled like rotten pumpkins. The neck compressed under his grip, but somehow continued to slide through, the maw gaping wide toward his face.
So he filled it with water and hardened it to ice. The trick had worked well with rampagers and elfonnel, but did little to slow the disgusting thing. Its neck just swelled around the ice and it lunged at his nose.
“Stop!” he shouted in horror, pushing against it with all his will.
It stopped.
Close enough that its putrid breath filled his nostrils, but it stopped. And that’s when Connor realized his mistake.
He’d been fighting it like a physical thing, but they were in Ivor’s mind. The struggle was mimicking a physical battle, but it was not.
Ivor shouted and thrashed as the other mouth bit at his chin. Flames exploded out of him with white-hot intensity and washed over the rage monster, but accomplished little.
“It’s not real. Fight it with your will,” Connor cried. The other mouth was snapping at him, trying to close that last fraction of an inch, but Connor pushed back with all his strength.
It was just barely enough. He hadn’t been strong enough in his own mind, but with the help of his friends, he’d beaten the rage monster and resumed mastery over his own mind. He understood the threat Ivor was facing, and that gave him an advantage. Hopefully it would be enough.
“How?” Ivor coughed as he wrestled with the monster. It was still expanding, more nightmare limbs growing out of it and slashing at Ivor. Barbed claws were digging into his stone-hardened skin, and he looked close to panic.
Connor had to change the equation.
“This is a mind bomb that Queen Dreokt implanted in us in Donleavy. Ivor, she destroyed Alyth and she’s trying to use us to destroy everyone else we love.”
As he fought off the swarm of clawed limbs striking at him, he imagined the visage of Queen Dreokt. Her face appeared on the front of the rage monster, laughing at Ivor, with that disgusting throat and mouth sticking out the front.
That did the trick. Ivor’s panic evaporated, replaced by towering rage. His anger was controlled, and all the more deadly for it. His eyes filled with flames and he whispered, “No.”
Ignoring the claws raking at his body, Ivor seized the disgusting, slimy throat of the monster mouth chomping at his face.
He bit the throat and ripped the head right off with a savage shake of his teeth, then spit it out with a howl of fury.
Connor gaped. That was disgusting, and awe-inspiring.
The move caught the rage monster totally by surprise. The raking claws shrank back from Ivor, but he pursued, seizing them and ripping them apart, his expression absolutely merciless.
Connor redoubled his own assault, beating on the monster with his mind, tearing at its illusion. He continued talking, reminding Ivor of the queen’s plots, of how she’d destroyed Alyth and how she was threatening to torture Shona and kill all the Builders.
“Shona will never be yours,” Ivor growled at the fast-shrinking rage monster. He waded through the swarm of clawed limbs and plunged his hands right through the queen’s face that was still attached to the creature’s front side. Her expression had turned concerned, but now her black eyes opened wide with shock as Ivor ripped her face apart.
The rage monster imploded. A gale force wind rushed in through the open door and swept away the lingering shadows, dragging them up the chimney and away.
Ivor dusted off his hands and said, “I hate that woman.”
Connor clapped his friend on one muscled shoulder. “You know, when you’re angry, you’re downright scary.”
“Thanks for helping me out,” Ivor said, gripping Connor’s hand.
“Any time. I admit I’m a little disappointed, though.”
“In what?”
“We have that tradition of curse-punching each other whenever one of us saves the other from guaranteed destruction. I feel a little cheated.”
24
Anything Can Be Broken
Their celebration of Ivor’s freedom would have to wait.
When Connor returned to himself, he found Evander watching over him, but the rest of the group were clustered around Nicklaus. Even Aifric had left Connor to free Ivor alone and was crouched beside the boy, her hands on his head, her face bowed.
Connor appreciated their confidence in his abilities, and he didn’t blame them. N
icklaus needed help as much as Ivor did. The boy was still unresponsive. His eyes were open, staring in unblinking shock.
Ivor blinked and looked around. “Evander, will you release me, please?”
“It’s all right. His mind is normal. Well, as normal as it can be, I guess,” Connor said when Evander glanced at him.
“Hey,” Ivor objected as the ground melted away from him. Evander turned away, but Connor swore he caught a hint of a smile on the big man’s lips.
Connor rushed to the rest of the group. With Aifric’s hands on Nicklaus, the boy should have started recovering, but he looked unchanged. Not good.
Connor touched his forehead and tapped sandstone, pouring healing energy into the little boy and questing for damage. He felt Aifric’s presence in there too, doing the same. It felt like Nicklaus was panicking. His pulse was pounding so fast it was a wonder his heart had not exploded.
The problem was, Connor sensed no physical damage. That meant the injury might have been mental. That terrified him. Had the queen somehow attacked Nicklaus through Connor’s mind rage? What might she be doing to him? He was a clever kid and sometimes acted far more mature than his years, but he was still just a child. He wouldn’t stand a chance against a mind attack.
Ilse was gently stroking one of the boy’s hands, speaking gentle words. She had taken to watching over Nicklaus as an unofficial guardian, and she glanced at Connor, anguish in her eyes.
“I don’t know how to save him, but I can’t lose another person under my protection. What do we do?” she asked softly.
“I’m not sure yet,” he admitted, deeply moved by her plea. Ilse had thrown herself into that self-assigned protective detail after so many of the Crushers, including her own husband, had died in the battle of Merkland. Protecting others had become one of her primary missions.
Verena crouched beside Nicklaus, her expression worried. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t know,” Connor said.
Jean said, “I’ve already called for transport. Mender Flight is on the way.”
“We shouldn’t need them. We have Aifric,” Kilian said, crouched beside her, his expression calm, but Connor sensed his tension.
Aifric blinked open her eyes, met Kilian’s gaze and shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know yet.” Then she noticed Connor and said, “I’m glad you’re back. Will you join me? I need to check his mind.”
“Of course.” Just what he was fearing.
Connor braced himself for what they might find, but he was determined to drive the queen’s influence from the boy’s mind, no matter how much the effort might cost him.
Christin grabbed Connor’s hand. “What happened?”
“It’s not clear. He was helping Verena stop me.” He frowned as he thought back through the hazy memory. “Verena, was he using a sculpted stone?”
That surprised her. “I didn’t notice.”
“Where would he have gotten a sculpted stone?” Christin asked.
“And what was he trying to do with it?” Kilian added, his expression graver than ever.
Verena turned to Hamish. “See if you can find it. Whatever stone he was using, he dropped it.”
“Have Gisela check it out,” Connor suggested. “See if there’s anything she can sense from it that might give us a clue. Quick.”
Hamish looked happy to have something to do, and hurried off.
Aifric shifted closer to Connor and said, “You lead. I’ll ride your connection in.”
Connor was grateful to have her by his side. He wasn’t sure what they would find, but between them, they would figure it out. They both tapped chert and locked gazes for a moment to establish a strong bond. Then Connor leaned over Nicklaus and stared into his blank gaze.
As the connection solidified, he braced himself. He’d spent too much time that day in mental struggles, fighting in a way he barely comprehended. He hoped they were overreacting, but couldn’t make himself believe that.
The connection to Nicklaus snapped into place. After a brief disorienting moment, the mindscape coalesced. He and Aifric stood in a large, cheery room that clearly served as a very fine play area. The walls were colored brightly with reds, oranges, and yellows. A soft rug covered the floor, which was piled with toys. A couple of large windows looked out over a majestic castle Connor had never seen before. One was open, a gentle breeze stirring fine white curtains and wafting in the scent of baking bread. He wondered if they were seeing Nicklaus’ room in Edderitz.
Connor quested out with every sense, but felt no rage clinging to the scene, no concealed mental trap holding Nicklaus prisoner. That was encouraging, but if there was nothing wrong, why was Nicklaus trapped in there?
In the far corner of the room Connor spied a little cave made by draping curtains over some chairs. Nicklaus sat inside. Connor rushed to him, followed closely by Aifric. They both dropped to their knees to peer inside the little shelter. Nicklaus was sitting there, staring at his hands.
He held piles of mixed stone dust that Connor recognized as affinity stones. He spotted both granite and basalt, as well as sandstone, limestone, marble, and soapstone.
Aifric crawled forward and asked gently, “Nicklaus? Are you okay?”
He sighed and looked up at her, his cheeks streaked with tears. He extended the powdered stone toward her and sobbed. “They’re gone. All gone.”
“What’s gone?” Connor asked.
“My affinities.”
Connor shared a shocked look with Aifric. “What do you mean? You can’t lose your affinities.”
The boy wiped at his eyes and regarded Connor with that too-adult gaze of his. “Not wanting to face bad things won’t make them go away.”
Connor’s mind was racing. He’d feared to find Nicklaus had suffered horrible trauma. The boy looked whole, but could he be right? Connor couldn’t believe it.
“Listen, Nicklaus, you were fighting me while I was under the queen’s influence. Did I somehow hit you? Could my temporary insanity have caused this?”
He shook his head. “No, Connor. It wasn’t anything you did. I was using that stone, and it was so strong.” His young face lit up with the memory, then his expression fell and he glanced at the affinity sand and shrugged. “But something happened. I lost control and everything broke.”
He started to cry again. Aifric pulled him into her arms and held him, gently stroking his hair and whispering soft words.
Clearly Nicklaus believed his story, but he had to be mistaken. Minds could do weird things, especially for people trapped inside of them. At the same time, symbols were very powerful inside the mind and seeing all of Nicklaus’ affinities represented as piles of dust wasn’t good.
Connor touched the powdered stone and flicked his affinity senses over them. He sensed no power there. The powder felt empty, useless.
“See if you can help him wake up,” Connor suggested.
“What are you going to do?” Aifric asked.
“See if I can figure out what’s going on here.”
He willed himself awake. The others were still gathered around in a nervous circle. Kilian gripped Connor’s shoulder and said, “That was fast. I hope you’ve got good news.”
Christin looked up with pleading eyes. “Is he okay?”
“I think so. Aifric is in there with him. She’ll bring him out. He doesn’t seem to have suffered any mental harm.”
Verena frowned. “What’s going on, Connor? You wouldn’t have left her just to tell us that. Did the queen hurt him too somehow?”
“I had worried about that too, but it seems totally unrelated. There’s something weird with his affinities.”
“Weird how?” Jean asked.
“He claims he’s lost them all.”
The look of shock on their faces matched how he still felt. Kilian’s eyes widened and he said, “We need more information.”
“Is it possible to lose affinities?” Connor asked.
“Not usually. Sometimes when trying to
establish new affinities, or when ascending problems can arise, but it’s extremely rare, and none of those situations apply here. Are you sure he’s free of my mother’s influence?”
“I can check again, but he seemed fine,” Connor assured him.
Just then, Aifric took a deep breath and sat up. Nicklaus blinked open his eyes, and groaned. Christin shouted with joy and swept him into her arms, tears sliding unheeded down her cheeks. While the others all leaned closer, eager to speak with Nicklaus, Aifric pulled Connor free of the crowd.
“What is it? Did you sense the queen in there after all?” Connor asked.
“No. Nicklaus’ affinity troubles are a mystery, but leave him to the others for now. We have to leave right away.”
“Leave? Why?”
Her expression turned predatory. “We have a spy to intercept.”
25
The Best Death Scene Ever
A crowd of curious onlookers had gathered around the park, clustered in front of the opening Evander had allowed Ilse to make through his earthen wall. The rest of it still sealed the park away from view.
Connor crouched beside Student Eighteen behind a large bush next to one of the young apple trees. It wasn’t great cover since the branches were still bare, but it was better than nothing. He peered through the bush at the hesitant crowd jostling for a glimpse inside. He doubted they could have seen more than brief flashes of elemental fire or water from the battle.
“There,” she said, her voice calm and cold, the tone she used when hunting.
“I don’t see anyone who looks like a spy.” Everyone looked like people he saw every day, a mixture of merchants, workers, and even a handful of children running around the edges.
She glanced at him, her lips twitching into a smile. “And what does a spy look like, Connor?”
“I don’t know. Maybe . . .” He trailed off, realizing he was about to say something stupid.
She chuckled. “My job’s not that easy, Connor. They don’t walk around wearing sinister black masks or carrying signs saying, ‘I’m the enemy’. Look closer at the fellow dressed in worker overalls with the blocky face.”
