by Frank Morin
He gasped as power thundered through him. It had been crafted by a master sculptor, and for a second he could only marvel at the magnitude of it. The night erupted with the bright lights of visible sounds, and he laughed with joy, then laughed again as his laughter erupted from his mouth like a flock of yellow butterflies.
“I did it! I can feel serpentinite!”
The others clusters around him, calling out a hundred questions. He gestured with the stone dagger and added, “I couldn’t do it before, but the combination of this sculpture’s power, combined with pumice and obsidian bridged the gap.”
“Praise the first and great one, but I still can’t access my power. Why did you try that combination?” Mistress Four asked.
“They help me stabilize my connection with the tertiary powers,” Connor said. He focused again on his serpentinite connection, and only then realized why.
He sensed no red energy flowing through serpentinite, but only green. Pumice and obsidian helped stabilize his connection to the tertiary powers because they were stones attuned to green energy more than red. They were both odd stones, unlike the other primary affinities, and it wasn’t until his second ascension that he’d begun understanding why.
He interrupted another barrage of questions. “Listen. The link to serpentinite is broken for everyone under the first two thresholds. I can reach it because with the second ascension I can access a different variant of the power that fuels affinities.”
“Really?” Mistress Four asked. She looked amazed. “I know nothing of different variations in power.”
“It’s something few people know,” Kilian said. Connor could tell he didn’t like sharing that secret, but Connor didn’t care. They were allies now, and if sharing a secret would help secure that alliance, it was well worth it.
“You’re sure the connection is solid, despite only accessing it with this variant?” Mistress Four asked.
In answer, Connor seized the sounds of her words. Using the techniques Student Eighteen had taught him and that he had practiced through the winter, he split apart the words, reordered them, and filled in the missing pieces with other sounds in her same voice. Then he released them.
They heard her voice say, “The connection is as solid as Commander Six’s skull.”
Aifric laughed, Kilian chuckled, and Mistress Four actually smiled. Commander Six scowled, so Connor shrugged and added, “I bet you believe me now.”
“So you can ascend?” Aifric asked.
“I think maybe I can,” Connor said with a happy grin. He felt weak with relief. The queen might have somehow broken serpentinite, but he could get around that!
“Not here, not now,” Mistress Four cautioned. “We witnessed the queen leave, but the sound of your ascension might still reach her ears. We cannot risk her return.”
That was fine with Connor. He didn’t want to try ascending until he read their little book anyway.
Kilian clapped Connor on the shoulder, his expression deeply relieved. “Well done.”
Then he added, “We’ll make the attempt tomorrow. Tonight, we’ll see to your people and make plans. There is one other point I need to address before I consent to allow you and your team to join us. I need to know how Tallan was killed.”
That squashed the good humor. Mistress Four frowned, and Commander Six took a step back, his hands again going to his belt. The belt was wide, made of cloth. Did he have one of those whip swords wrapped around his waist like Daulah had? If so, they would need to take him down fast if a fight broke out. That weapon had sounded particularly dangerous.
Kilian added, “Let me make one thing clear. I am not interested in fighting you. We’ve come to terms for peace, and I welcome that. You’ve made it clear that you do not hold me culpable of the crimes of my bloodline. You have chosen not to hold Connor culpable of the atrocities committed by my mother simply because he shares the same affinity set. I am willing to offer you the same courtesy. I will hold you and yours responsible for the crimes you commit, but not for the crimes committed by your forebears. I need to know what happened to Tallan, not because I seek revenge, but because we seek knowledge. Any weakness that might have been exploited to destroy him is a weakness we might be able to exploit to destroy my evil mother.”
Connor was impressed. He had feared Kilian still harbored resentment over the loss of Tallan all those years ago. He probably still did, but he was wise enough to put their future success ahead of vengeance.
Mistress Four inclined her head to Kilian in a sign of respect. “We are not strangers to revenge. It is sometimes necessary, but never as effective in blotting out offenses of the past as looking to the future. I accept your conditions of treaty, and agree to abide by them with my people.”
Commander Six looked like he wanted to protest, but she continued. “Mhortair himself assassinated Tallan.”
Kilian took a long, deep breath, his expression resigned and a little sorrowful. For a moment, Connor glimpsed ancient pain in his eyes. “No doubt your community considers that murder a great victory. I ask you not to speak about that. We will disagree on that point.”
She said, “I fear your hope in gleaning secret weaknesses will prove unfruitful. Mhortair administered a powerful sedative to Tallan. Only while sleeping was he completely detached from his affinities and therefore vulnerable.”
That made so much sense, Connor felt like an idiot that they had not considered the idea. He exchanged an excited look with Student Eighteen. Although murdering Tallan in his sleep after drugging him had been such an act of cowardice, Connor felt no compunction about attempting the same with the queen. She was so deadly, there might be no other way to defeat her.
He also decided to be very wary of accepting any food or drink offered to him by the Mhortair, particularly Commander Six.
Kilian nodded, his expression unreadable. “I suspected it might have been something like that. Why is this information not helpful?”
“Because we’ve already tried to destroy the dread queen this way more than a dozen times.”
Student Eighteen gasped. “You attacked her again? It was my right to join the kill team assigned that mission.”
Commander Six snapped, “It is also you’re right to be executed for questioning the decisions of the kill council.”
Mistress Four raised a calming hand. “I will forgive the lapse. Student Eighteen, you were already providing critical intelligence and performing a service that no other Mhortair could. There are others far more talented than yourself in administering poison, those who are not known in Donleavy.”
“Did the queen kill them all?” Connor asked. She had killed so many, he could not imagine anyone surviving a failed assassination attempt.
“Every one of them escaped after administering the poisons and sedatives when it became clear they had no effect.”
“How is that possible?” Student Eighteen asked.
Mistress Four shrugged. “We have no idea.”
Commander Six spoke. “I made one of the attempts. I infiltrated the kitchens and laced the queen’s plate with enough poisons to have killed half of the capital, and enough sedative to have probably sent an elfonnel into the long slumber. She consumed the meal with no ill effect I could identify.”
Connor struggled to believe that. Sure, the queen possessed an even more powerful healing affinity than Harley had, but how could she ignore poison?
Mistress Four said, “We are prepared to share all the intelligence we have gathered. Perhaps we can discover a weakness on our journey.”
Kilian nodded. “Agreed. Let’s get some sleep. Connor, tomorrow you need to ascend.”
56
Mind Killers
Just after dawn, they rose above the ruins of Jagdish. Connor looked out over the broken landscape at the bands of refugees already wending their way through the rubble at the start of very long journeys. Even in the soft light of early morning, the mountain of rubble looked desolate, and the view left him feeling melanch
oly.
He had no idea how many hundreds or thousands of people had died and were buried under that rubble, but he felt a lingering sorrow that if he had somehow arrived a little earlier, some of them might have survived.
“We will grow into a mighty people again some day,” Mistress Four vowed softly from the middle row of seats where she sat with Aifric and Commander Six. Two other soldiers sat in the last row.
The rest of the Mhortair team were quiet, although Commander Six was looking around in wide-eyed wonder. None of them had flown before, and Connor suppressed the urge to ask Hamish to demonstrate some of the more aggressive maneuvers they could manage in the Hawk.
At some point they should, just to make sure the entire team understood their full capabilities. He’d told Mistress Four they would share information. That would be one piece of information he’d love to share with Commander Six.
“You are part of our alliance. We can offer aid in rebuilding,” Kilian said.
She inclined her head in thanks. “I believe the resources we have invested in the various kingdoms should suffice, but I may take you up on the offer. For now it is enough to know our survivors will find safety.”
“Then the fighters will join us for the war,” Commander Six promised.
Connor welcomed as many fighting men and women as they could get. Most people distrusted the Mhortair for good reason, but no one could argue they weren’t great killers.
“Where to?” Hamish asked.
“North. Head for Badurach Pass,” Connor said.
Hamish banked in that direction, but Kilian asked, “You don’t want to return to Merkland immediately?”
“Not yet. Ascensions can be rather traumatic. I don’t want thousands of people nearby who might accidentally get hurt when I try it.”
Kilian nodded approval. “Badurach Pass it is, then. The reinforcement army should arrive there shortly.”
“I thought they were heading for Merkland,” Hamish said as he increased thrust and the Hawk shot into the sky, ascending toward the clouds.
Mistress Four began grinning widely, craning her head to look at the fast-receding ground. Commander Six was pressed back into his seat, hands gripping the arm rests so hard his knuckles whitened. Connor found that strangely satisfying.
“Eventually they may, but the initial staging ground will be the pass. The flying army should have the battalions online soon, right?” Kilian asked.
Hamish nodded. “Last I heard they were barely weeks away. I bet they’ll finish early.”
“Good. With that work completed, they can stage out of almost anywhere,” Kilian said.
“What are these battalions?” Mistress Four asked.
“Enormous flying platforms, capable of transporting hundreds of troops, flying fighting craft like this one, and other battle mechanicals to the battlefield,” Hamish said proudly. He’d helped develop them. Connor hoped they worked as planned. He still wasn’t convinced anything so huge, carrying so much weight could actually lift off the ground, despite the size of the many thrusters they planned to install.
“I am eager to see these new inventions you speak of. We know much of the work you’ve done, but seeing it is so much better,” she said.
Connor glanced back at Student Eighteen. He’d known she was sending reports to her people as part of her efforts to secure the alliance. He wondered how much she’d shared with them. He trusted her completely, but didn’t necessarily want the Mhortair knowing everything they could do.
She winked at him. He hoped that meant she understood his concern and was reassuring him that she’d been careful. He didn’t dare ask about it with Mistress Four nearby. In fact, he reminded himself to keep his mental shields reinforced. She had already demonstrated a powerful affinity with chert.
“Even the best of friends should keep some secrets safe,” Mistress Four’s mental voice spoke to him. “So yes, I recommend you practice your shielding. Your technique is a little rustic. I will teach you.”
“Thank you. First, allow me to study the book you shared with me. Then I’m happy to practice with you,” he responded.
After helping Hamish find the best current flowing north to bolster their speed, Connor extracted the little book and eagerly read it.
The pages were thin and fine, but only a handful of them held any writing. Some of it was in Obrioner, and he quickly scanned its contents. It didn’t offer nearly as much as he had hoped. Apparently some of the notes had been written by Mhortair himself after interviews with Tallan.
That was incredible. He looked at the little book with new respect. It had been written by people living centuries ago. He tried to imagine those days, and found it was pretty easy. Mhortair and Tallan had lived in times of terrible strife and brutal warfare, not dissimilar to their day. He glanced at Kilian, who had turned in his seat to chat with Student Eighteen and the rest of the Mhortair in Havaen.
Kilian had lived through those long years. It seemed marvelous that he had survived that terrible war, witnessed the sundering of the original Obrioner empire and the creation of Granadure and the Arishat League. He’d lost most of his family, including Tallan to war or murder. Why hadn’t he assumed the throne? How had he maintained purpose through the long intervening years?
Connor knew much about Kilian, but suddenly felt like maybe he didn’t know as much as he thought. The man was a mighty Petralist, a trusted mentor, but still in some ways an impenetrable mystery.
Kilian glanced over and noticed him looking. “What is it?”
Connor felt embarrassed, but held up the book. “Some of this is written in a language I can’t read.”
Student Eighteen extended a hand, and he passed over the book. “It’s written in Havaen.”
She scanned the pages and read aloud from notes that Mhortair had jotted down about ascension, serpentinite, thresholds, and higher forms of affinity powers.
“What does he mean, the queen often warned of the dangers of ascending.” Connor asked at one point.
Mistress Four and Kilian both craned around to read along with her. She said, “It’s not clear. He just adds that although greater powers can be unlocked through the thresholds, as the bridges are strengthened, so too grows the risk of opening the gateway to destruction.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Connor muttered.
Commander Six, who had taken to staring at the ceiling as he clutched the arms of his chair, looked down long enough to say, “Too much power corrupts. That’s what he means.”
“Perhaps,” Kilian said, scanning the rest of the page. He shrugged. “There’s no explanation. Most of the rest of the page is filled with bits and pieces of wisdom that he heard my mother say. She never elaborated and was not taken to sharing deeper secrets. I did hear her warn of the dangers of ascending, but she never explained in detail since I could not ascend the third threshold.”
“Did she share it with Tallan?” Hamish asked.
“She loved Tallan more like a son than me sometimes,” Kilian said softly. “He was a good boy, and she did give him private lessons. I don’t know any other great secrets that I have not shared, but as I think on it I do remember Tallan seeming hesitant to embrace the elements too deeply.”
“That’s weird. Your mother loves using elements,” Connor said.
He nodded. “I thought so too, figured maybe she was trying to scare him so he didn’t ever threaten her dominance, but maybe there was something else going on that he hadn’t shared with me.”
They read through the remainder of the little book three times, but found little concrete information. Just lots of warnings to approach thresholds carefully and not become overly dependent upon the elements. One cryptic line warned of keeping the bridge to humanity strong and never to cross to the other side. Connor wished the queen had followed that advice. He’d sensed her mind, and she’d seemed more like an alien than a human.
As far as the third threshold, Mhortair’s notes made Connor more nervous than eve
r. He spoke of it as a terrible trial that pushed the ascending Petralist to the ultimate edge of existence. He described it as standing in the threshold of life itself, on a knife’s edge between the greatest power and ultimate destruction.
Hamish whistled softly when they read that part again. “We’d better break out the full cooking gear and make sure you get a real meal, not just smashpacked cubes before you make the attempt.”
Connor appreciated his friend’s thoughtfulness. Last meals should be meaningful. But he refused to give in to the fear and said, “Better to prepare a big celebration feast.”
“Just to be safe, we should do both,” Hamish said with a grin.
Mistress Four frowned. “You two seem to focus on eating a lot.”
“I do have a highly developed food affinity to feed,” Hamish said with a straight face.
Connor shrugged. “And friends should help their friends develop their talents, right?”
She chuckled. Commander Six was starting to look a little green at the talk of food. Connor smiled. He’d known a few people that got sick flying. He didn’t understand it, but then again some people got sick after eating four helpings of dinner. There was no explaining it.
“Will you practice chert with me?” Connor asked Mistress Four.
“Of course.”
“May I join you?” Student Eighteen asked eagerly.
“Of course,” she said again. “You have lacked a mind killer instructor for too long, daughter.”
While Hamish kept the Hawk powering north at best speed, Connor practiced with the two Mhortair. Mistress Four was a senior mind killer, versed in all the secrets of using chert, and she shared much with him.
First she taught him how to better shield his mind. “Unlike shielding with earth, you cannot make a mind killer think you have no mind or pretend you don’t have thoughts. Instead you must insulate them, wrap them in a blanket of obscurity that will protect you and warn you of foreign tampering.”
Connor listened eagerly. Student Eighteen had helped him develop a solid foundation, and now he practiced higher forms of shielding. It helped when he thought of it like wrapping his mind in sweetbread dough, then cooking the dough, forming a sweet shielding layer that anyone trying to breach could get distracted chewing on.
