The King's Craft (The Petralist Book 6)

by Frank Morin

“The risk is too great. My control has never wavered, but if they gained access through another door, could even I stop them?”

  “I don’t understand. Petralists wield elemental powers every day. Why is it so bad for Builders to release them too?” Ailsa dared ask. She felt too close to gaining critical truths not to take the risk.

  “I know what I’m doing! I know how to guard myself, and my Petralists are shielded by thresholds. Builders are not. That is the great danger, Ailsa.” She looked angry, but instead of striking out she said, “No, I dare not take the risk. I need another worthy servant.”

  “Shall I summon someone?” Ailsa offered. She sensed something important was being shared in the conversation, but couldn’t quite grasp it.

  “No, I alone can summon them, but you will join me. Pack some travel clothing, Ailsa. We leave in half an hour. Today perhaps the most important blow in defense of our lives was struck, but it’s time to set the rest of this kingdom right.”

  “Of course. May I ask where we are going?” Ailsa dared query.

  “Harley failed me. I must find another servant.”

  31

  The Simple Lives of Bash Fighters

  Merkland’s famous white granite walls shone like a beacon of freedom in the early morning light. Connor smiled as he leaned forward in his seat in the front row of the Hawk to better enjoy the expanse of Merkland valley. The city perched atop the bluff above the wide Macantact river like a mighty lord watching over the nearby township.

  The township lining the opposite side of the river seemed to be bursting at the seams with people, new roads, and new buildings. The queen’s wrath might hang over the valley like an invisible shroud, but Rory, Shona, and Ivor had done a remarkable job inspiring hope for the fledgling revolution.

  Connor scanned the wide valley farther to the south. Farmers were already working early spring fields, and that far south the trees were already spreading young green leaves. His gaze instinctively sought the Lower Wick river where it emptied into the great Macantact just a few miles south of Merkland.

  In his mind, he followed that river back north, up the long familiar miles to Alasdair. He could still envision Alasdair the way it was when he had visited with Verena after fleeing the Carraig, so many months ago. If he visited today he would see broken mountains and the beautiful valley buried under half a mile of impassable rubble, but in his mind he cherished memories of clean streets and homes freshly rebuilt after the town’s first destruction.

  Alasdair might be gone, but his family and the rest of the town had survived and were currently thriving in their new homes in Emmerich in southern Granadure. He had not visited them nearly enough that winter, and suddenly wished they had found a way to stop for a visit on the way to Merkland.

  Unfortunately, time pressed on them. Every one of his friends shared his unspoken fear. Time was short. They could not afford to waste any of it.

  Verena banked the Hawk slightly as they drew closer to Merkland, and Connor glanced out the shielded windows to check the rest of their small flight. The empty Swift was tethered behind the Hawk, its thrusters engaged just enough to allow it to hover weightless on its tow line. It was packed with smaller mechanicals, like every craft in their party. Every inch of space was crammed with so much gear they almost couldn’t fit the people.

  Nearby, Hamish was piloting a brand new craft. Similar in design to the Hawk, it was a little longer, with an even more streamlined profile, and much longer wings. While the Hawk could bank and turn with almost as much agility as Verena’s little Swift, its bigger new sibling was more a battle support platform. Hamish had dubbed it the Albatross before Verena could come up with a better name.

  The wagon-like bed in the rear half was a little longer than the Hawk’s, and they had crammed in more storage compartments underneath. It also sported several times as many weapons. The long wings proved excellent platforms for deadly missiles and unusually long speedslings. While most of the speedslings, including those on the Hawk and on the Swift were designed to spit forth a staggering swarm of deadly hornets, two of the speedslings on the Albatross had been designed with a different purpose. They fired at a much slower rate, but possessed an advanced acceleration tube that caused the hornets to reach unprecedented speeds.

  After the battle with Harley, they had discussed the challenge of dealing with powerful enemies at great distances. Verena’s swarm of hornets had not accomplished much against Harley. They had been too obvious, giving Harley too much warning of their approach.

  Those new speedslings on the Albatross were designed for longer distance targeting. Hamish had developed sightstones at the tip of each one that projected onto the front window precise aiming pictures. He had even managed to include indicators for distance to help fine-tune the aim. Those speedslings could reach out twice as far as any of the others, and aim with terrifying precision.

  The Albatross was loaded down with so many new and upgraded weapons, that it alone could probably devastate entire companies of enemy forces. Hamish had helped with the development and initial testing, but when it came time for battle, one of the other Builders, one of Jean’s newly trained pilots, or even Jean herself could take control. The Albatross would stay farther from battle, could glide on the wind currents far longer with remarkably little expenditure of power stone once it reached high altitude, and could unleash destruction from a distance.

  Half a dozen long windriders, upgraded versions with enclosed canopies like the Hawk’s, followed in formation behind them, stuffed with supplies and mechanicals. They were on loan from Sender Flight, Jean’s transport wing, piloted by non-Builders using upgraded keystone controls. They could pilot their craft almost as well as a full Builder. It was truly remarkable, and both Verena and Hamish loved to discuss all the possible ways they could apply those principles to other new mechanicals. If they all survived the war, Builder inventions would transform every aspect of society.

  Kilian and Aifric sat behind Connor in the Hawk. The two had chatted all flight, discussing Jagdish, the Mhortair mentality, and the best ways to approach her people. They also spent time discussing Mhortair himself, a topic which Student Eighteen possessed an inexhaustible curiosity about. Connor had listened a little, but had not learned a great deal that Student Eighteen had not already shared with him in the past. He needed to focus on that upcoming meeting with the assassins, but he found his mind wandering a lot during the trip.

  He always loved flying with Verena, loved the panoramic vistas of southern Granadure and the Maclachlan mountains from the air. They spent time chatting about her family and memories of the last few times she had visited the family estate outside of Edderitz where she and Connor had recently gone to visit. He liked most of her family immensely, and was even starting to believe that he and her father would eventually become good friends. The next challenge would be to introduce her parents to his.

  That would either go extremely well or extremely badly. Connor was hoping for extremely well. If his father ended up having to throw Verena’s father out a window, it could seriously damage their courtship.

  Shona and Ivor, along with Wolfram and Lady Briet, flew with Hamish in the Albatross. Wolfram was not an enthusiastic flyer and seemed to prefer the more stable flight of the Albatross.

  Lady Briet loved flying. In one of the many treaties that the Althing delegation seemed to be constantly pushing, she had managed to include a promise that some of her people would eventually be trained to fly, and that they would receive a squadron of windriders, and at least one craft similar to the Hawk. Luckily Wolfram, Jean, and Verena had managed to avoid committing to a specific timeframe for deliver.

  With their close interactions, the secret of the keystone had finally come out. The Arishat League delegates were eager to take possession of a shipment of keystones for their own use and research. That had been one of the other items intensely negotiated as they finalized their joint defense pact.

  In return, they shared all of their ow
n research and development. Everyone was benefiting tremendously by the arrangement, and Connor felt optimistic that they would maintain their good relations even after they survived the war. Verena worried about the long-term ramifications of the secrets they were sharing, but Connor could not bring himself to share her concern. He had enough to worry about.

  It was far from certain that any of them would survive the upcoming conflict. If they somehow did, how many of them would perish in the process? Worrying about what might or might not happen some years down the road seemed a ridiculous waste of attention. Connor hated to consider losing any of his friends, let alone many, or most, or even all of them, but he could not pretend such disasters were not possible.

  They had already lost friends, particularly in the battle of Merkland. He had nearly lost Verena, and he tried to enjoy every moment with her as a result. He had no idea how much more time remained for them to be together, but he was determined to make as many happy memories as possible in the interim.

  As they swept in toward Merkland, Connor studied the city within the walls. It looked similar to the last time he had visited, although more soldiers patrolled the wall. Verena had told him a little about the many upgrades they’d designed for the city, but those changes weren’t visible from the air. He was glad they’d worked so hard with Rory and his forces through the winter because the hoped-for influx of additional revolutionaries had largely failed to come to pass. They were on their own.

  The queen’s ruthless efforts to lock down the rest of the country had worked. Apparently some few Guardians had managed to make the arduous journey to Merkland anyway, and he’d heard of more who had been captured trying to do the same. Those captured had all died grisly deaths as a warning, and those warning had produced the desired effects of intimidating others.

  The truth was a little disappointing, but not exactly surprising. Obrion as a nation would not revolt until they deposed the queen. They had many secret allies throughout the kingdom, but those allies were forced to conceal their true feelings. Hopefully when the time came, they would rise up and help.

  Verena activated a speakstone link to General Rory. “Builder One and Two are on approach, with a contingent of Sender Flight wagons.”

  Rory responded almost immediately. “We see you. You made good time. We’ve cleared space in the main square.”

  They had found ways to link multiple speakstones together, particularly between their flight craft. Hamish’s voice spoke over the speakstone. “I still think we should have used the call signs Sculpted Scones instead of Builders. That would’ve been more appropriate, don’t you think?”

  “No, I don’t think.” Verena had always hated that codename, although after their recent secret attack against Donleavy with sculpted scones, she was softening her view a little. Not enough to name their flight group after them, though.

  Verena banked over the city, and Connor enjoyed the excellent view of Merkland’s famous, octagonal wall. He spotted a couple of hovering windriders farther to the south, elevated scout positions for Pathfinders. They passed over the market area, which looked full of early-morning shoppers, many of whom looked up and raised hands in greeting. Enough shipments of supplies and support had come in from Granadure by windrider that the citizens were getting used the daily flights, and relations between Merkland and Granadure were extremely good. It offered hope that once they resolved the military conflict the peoples of the two nations could find ways to coexist peacefully.

  Most of the daily windrider shipments and dispatches landed in a square in the military district, but Verena flew past, headed for the magnificent main palace. It took up most of the eastern quadrant of the city, overlooking the river and the township on the far side. A huge open square faced the palace, and Connor smiled when he saw the enormous fountain in its center.

  That was where he had triggered the revolution, the day the devious Craigroy had slipped him a bit of porphyry. Ingesting that stone had forced him to change into a rampager. If Connor had not recently ascended the second threshold, no doubt Craigroy would have succeeded in getting Connor to eliminate Rory and Ivor both, then submit to his will, hopelessly chained to porphyry addiction.

  Instead came the revolution. Connor had raced across the city as a rampager, drawing everyone to the square where he had managed to control the beast and shift back to human form. Rory and Ivor had pronounced the revolution, and Craigroy had spent the winter in a prison cell beneath the palace.

  A crowd was already gathered, and as Verena slowed and gently touched down, Connor spotted Rory, Anika, Erich, Tomas and Cameron, and many others. He did not spot Anton, the mighty Sapper on loan from Granadure. No doubt Anton was somewhere outside of the city, atop his tower of earth, keeping watch over everyone. He was the only other Petralist Connor knew besides Kilian and Evander who had survived the Tallan wars. He did not possess a Dawnus gift so had not ascended, but was by far the mightiest Petralist to walk with earth beside Evander and his grandmother.

  Verena shuttered the thrusters, dropped the shielding windows, and jumped from the Hawk. She rushed to Anika, who was beaming like a happy girl. It was really unnerving. There was no telling what Anika would do next when she was smiling like that.

  Aifric followed Verena, already tapping basalt, and reached Anika first. The three ladies embraced, laughing and chattering excitedly in Grandurian. No doubt they were discussing the hundred thousand details that women seemed to insist were necessary for a wedding. Connor had given up trying to understand it all. He was just glad Verena and the ladies did.

  Sometimes he dared think about what life might become if they all survived the war and he got an opportunity to officially propose to Verena. His heart sang with joy when he thought about marrying her, but dealing with all that wedding planning would be pure torture.

  Verena glanced back at him and their eyes met, and he read the longing in her gaze. She too was eager for their courtship to proceed to a more formal level. The excitement of Anika’s impending marriage was like an irresistible cord dragging her toward the day she could begin planning her own wedding.

  They’d talked about it, of course. Many times, but Connor still felt the timing wasn’t right. What if one of them died in the fighting? No doubt they would talk about it again before lunch.

  Rory seemed to be holding up remarkably well. Not surprising. Little fazed the mighty general. Connor and Kilian climbed out of the Hawk and greeted Rory warmly.

  Connor asked, “How are things going?”

  Rory glanced at his bride-to-be and the ladies chatting so excitedly. Other women joined them, and even Lady Briet was drawn in by the irresistible attraction of wedding planning. Rory smiled at Anika’s happy face, but Connor caught a brief flash of near panic in his eyes.

  “I’d say defenses are the best we can manage for now. I’ll feel a lot more secure when the rest of the reinforcements are staged nearby and ready.”

  Then Tomas and Cameron arrived. Tomas pounded Connor on the back hard enough to crack ribs. “Not getting soft training without us all winter, are you lad?”

  Luckily Connor had seen him coming and tapped a little granite. Seeing his old friends always made him grin and he said, “I train with Kilian most days now.”

  Cameron punched Connor in the shoulder in greeting, hard enough that even most Boulders would have stumbled back. Connor withstood the blow, and it triggered a wave of happy memories of the intense bash fighting practice he’d enjoyed with those two indomitable and always irreverent warriors.

  “Kilian’s crafty enough, I wager, but he’s not a bash fighter, lad. A man loses his edge when he’s forced to think too much,” Cameron said in a conspiratorial whisper.

  “I train with Aifric too.”

  Tomas thumbed the side of his nose and nodded in a knowing way. “That girl’s deadly enough, but she lacks focus.”

  “Understanding one woman is impossible. Understanding a whole chorus of them constantly criticizing your choices would
make most people crazier than that old widow with no teeth desperate enough to offer to let Tomas court her.”

  “Says the man so ugly your fleas run away screaming.”

  “Fleas know when to quit. Smarter than some people,” Cameron retorted.

  Connor’s grin widened. Their constant insults always calmed his nerves. No matter how bad things got, those two would make fun of everything, especially each other.

  “You guys haven’t managed to consume all the granite in the city with your daily bash fights have you?” he asked.

  Tomas rolled his eyes and cast an annoyed look at Rory. “No, lad. Not yet. General seems to think there are other things we should be doing with our time besides max-tapped bash fighting with the Crushers.”

  Cameron nodded agreement. “Higher ranks always seems to constrict the minds of even the best bash fighters. We had hoped Rory could resist the effects, but not even he’s immune.”

  “If a man like Rory can fail to see the promise of warehouses full of granite at his complete disposal, there may be no hope for any general,” Tomas said with a theatrical sigh so loud it was more like a belch.

  Rory ignored him. Connor bet he dealt with that argument every single day.

  Cameron chuckled, “Of course, there’s never been any hope for you.”

  “Says the man who couldn’t even court a blind woman without his ugly driving her away,” Tomas retorted.

  Cameron laughed. “You can’t talk. You thought taking a turn with a woman meant seeing how many times you could make her somersault when you threw her into the air.”

  Tomas grimaced, looking sheepish. “How was I to know she had such a delicate constitution? We’ve been training with Anika for months.”

  “Good point. It’s probably good you identified her weaknesses so quickly. She didn’t even get good distance when she released all that fine food down the front of her dress.”

  Connor laughed. They weren’t nearly as dumb as they pretended, although sometimes he had to wonder. “It sounds like Anika is keeping you guys busy.”