by Frank Morin
No doubt if the queen ever decided she needed the lives of her people to fuel her strength, she would not hesitate to snuff out as many lives as it took. The thought that he might be relishing the same temptation that she would surely give in to helped Connor regain his equilibrium and sever stilling.
As his influenced faded from the army, he could feel many of the soldiers gasping or crying out in panic, but he did not believe any of them would die. He had absorbed so much energy that his previous nervousness evaporated, like water flash-boiling from a superheated pan. If he could ever face the queen and survive, it was now.
So he hurled his senses into the city. Ignoring the feeble lives of the citizens and soldiers there, he closed in on the brightest life force of all. Queen Dreokt blazed like a bonfire among candles. He sensed that she was already awake, moving through the grand central palace. He wasn’t sure if she had sensed his attack, or just hadn’t retired, but he didn’t feel her will pushing through the city to find him yet.
Time to get her attention.
Connor gathered up his stilling power like a tidal wave, and just as he felt the first flickers of the queen’s will rippling out from her, he struck with every ounce of power he could throw into the blow. An avalanche of stilling boiled over the queen, and for a second Connor felt it connect. A vast current of energy sucked away from her, crossed the city, and thundered into him.
His grin faded, though. He clearly sensed her towering fury at the despicable insult. That he might attempt to still her unlocked a rage so fierce, it was like an all-consuming fire.
Somehow she shattered his stilling and flung his influence away. She was so strong! She’d invented affinity powers after all, and had centuries of experience wielding them.
Connor swallowed a flicker of fear. He was still so full of raw energy, not even the queen’s wrath could completely snuff out his confidence. She might be ancient and powerful, but he still enjoyed the element of surprise.
So Connor cast off his shielding and erupted out of the river, rising a hundred feet into the air on a shimmering, intertwined column of fire and water. He tapped limestone to blaze like a living sun, and tapped quartzite to his voice for the final touch.
Connor laughed, magnifying the sound a thousandfold. In his mind he was going for an evil thunder chuckle like Harley had created with such great effect outside of Merkland. What he got sounded like a convention of hysterical maniacs.
Well, we might not be instilling fear, but at least he definitely got everyone’s attention. He also spared a moment to reach up through the air to the clouds high above the city and seize the long, narrow missile Verena had set circling the city. He yanked it straight down and wrapped it in the heaviest shielding he could. As soon as it turned vertical, Verena sensed the change and threw wide the missile’s thruster. It plunged downward with inspiring acceleration and would strike in seconds.
The waters of the river around him suddenly erupted into giant fists. Twelve of them converged on him, grasping at him like claws of destruction. Queen Dreokt hadn’t wasted any time pinpointing his location.
Part of Connor wanted to seize those waters and wrestle the queen for dominance. He was infused with so much energy, and enjoyed such a close association with water that he could not imagine that he might lose. But that was not the plan.
So he tapped pumice and threw himself into the air, slipping through the grasping watery claws and rocketing skyward to five hundred feet. That high, he was out of range of any of the other Petralists. The city spread below him, lanterns twinkling like tens of thousands of fireflies. The enormous host spread north, even larger than the swarm that had nearly destroyed Merkland. He appreciated the view, but couldn’t get distracted. He’d gotten the queen angry, but needed to goad her into chasing him without bothering to consider the consequences.
Queen Dreokt rose swiftly, but with regal poise above the central palace, standing upon a platform of air. She wore an impressive gown of crimson and blue, hands on hips, glowing like the rising of the sun. As soon as she appeared, he felt the weight of her gaze like a tangible link and tensed, reinforcing his already strong mental shielding.
“You!” Her voice boomed like thunder over the plain. “I thought you were captured, your mind broken.”
“You’re not as convincing as you think. In fact, my Builder friends have another gift for you,” he shouted back, again seizing the missile in its super-fast plunging descent. It was slightly off course, so he pushed the nose over to better aim at the queen.
She somehow sensed his effort and her will slammed into his, smashing aside his shielding and pushing the missile aside with overwhelming force.
He let her. He didn’t need it to actually hit her, but it was close enough. The missile had closed to within a couple hundred yards, almost directly above her. Connor spoke clearly, the speakstone link back to Verena already active.
“Let her have it.”
The missile detonated.
The explosion was pretty impressive, a charge of diorite designed to burst the hollow ceramic container at the head of the missile containing the payload and spray it downward with terrific force.
Queen Dreokt glanced up just as a fine mist of disgusting puke-worthy stench settled over her. Hamish had perfected the blend using his milked skunk extract, the mega stench, and a few other vile chemicals from the Althins. Even from more than a mile away, Connor saw her shudder, her expression turning disgusted.
“I call it a vomit rocket, Your Majesty!”
Then he ran.
Air laughed as she held his hand and yanked him into the sky faster and faster. She asked, “So you want to feel what real speed is like?”
“Show me what you can do,” Connor urged.
With her hair blowing around her like a thunderhead, she laughed again and tripled their speed. Soon they raced north, rivaling the fastest he had ever flown in the Hawk. He’d reach his friends in moments.
He glanced back, and sure enough Queen Dreokt was giving chase, flying as fast as he, standing easily in the air, hair unruffled by the speed of her flight. Her voice spoke directly into his mind. “Foolish boy. You dare attack me? I meant to raise you to greatness, to teach you truth, and to bequeath to you a nation united.”
“United by insanity isn’t my idea of fun,” he shouted back.
“So your Builder friends still live? You should have used the time to flee. I will teach you respect, and together we will protect our world from the true dangers, even if that means obliterating those annoying Builders you so desperately love.”
“The honey bee flitting between flowers commands its tiny domain, but the grumpy old lady who spanks a pedra gets eaten.”
That was pretty good, but his insolent grin faded as she responded with a colossal mental punch aimed at the center of his brain. That strike would have snuffed out the mind of anyone else, but Connor was already tapping chert with all of his mental shielding in place. The blow rattled him, but he gritted his teeth and imagined himself sheltering in his family home in Alasdair. The sturdy structure, built by his father, stood intact and secure, buffeted by a mighty storm but undamaged. He managed to hold on, although his progress slowed a little as the mental buffeting shook his connection with Air.
He struck back out of pure instinct, tapping limestone and forming a mirage of Verena in the Swift suddenly shedding a cloak of invisibility. The imaginary Verena swept in toward the queen, speedslings firing hornets while she cast handfuls of quickened stones that shot through the air toward the queen.
Queen Dreokt actually cried out, shrieking like a housewife who just spotted a mouse in her cupboard. Definitely something about Builders worried her, but an instant later she struck with a firestorm of combined elements that would have obliterated Verena, the Swift, and all of her activated stones.
Connor let the mirage drop and tried his booming thunder chuckle again. He managed to avoid sounding so hysterical, but his voice still came out high-pitched and shriekin
g, as if he had magnified the sound of a rather sick steaming teapot.
In his enhanced sight he saw the queen frown in his direction, her head tilting a little in concern. No thunder chuckle of his would ever scare her, but maybe she now worried that she had partially damaged his mind from that assault.
He couldn’t help flicking his chert mental senses across the distance. He could not read her thoughts, and sensed her anger had been replaced by a sense of raw determination. He needed her angrier, less in control, so he cast out the thought, “Why don’t we settle this over a fresh batch of scones that my Builder friends just finished baking? I think you tried some of their sweets before. Which one was your favorite?”
That did it. Her rage exploded and she shouted, “I will catch you, boy. There is no escape now. So you’re stronger? You cannot withstand me for long, and for your impudence you will help me torture your beloved Builder girlfriend for a year before I wipe her mind and send her to perform the most menial and disgusting labors I can devise. She will live a long, miserable life. And it will be your fault.”
Connor very nearly turned around to go punch that smug smile off her face, but fought down the urge. He had rattled her, he shouldn’t be surprised that she was good at rattling in return.
To reinforce the illusion that he was fleeing out of fear he turned the keystone on his minihub to the common channel and shouted in a panicked voice, “Our intelligence was wrong. The queen is with the army and she’s chasing me. Help!”
Verena responded immediately according to plan, sounding panicked. “No, Connor. Don’t lead her here. We’re not ready.”
If the queen didn’t already know she could eavesdrop on speakstone conversations, she’d just learned. That should give her a sense of victory and reinforce her confidence.
Connor glanced back, forcing an expression of fear. Queen Dreokt continued to chase him, looking smugly confident.
He would wipe that look off her face forever. Soon.
86
The Greatest Battle Petralist of All Time
Connor landed on the barren ridgetop they’d chosen for their trap. The location was perfect, wide open enough to allow them to fully engage, but broken and rough enough that no one lived in the area and they could easily conceal their surprises.
“So far so good,” he said to himself. First phase complete, and he was still alive.
Now for the hard part.
Connor quested through the ground with slate but felt nothing. Even though he knew they were there, Evander had prepared for several hours, and Connor had never met anyone who could best the giant in shielding. When he quested out through the air, he caught only a faint hint that something might be there, high above, but invisible to the eye.
Again, Evander’s shielding was exceptional, combined with mechanicals designed to help conceal flying craft from view. No doubt Hamish and Verena were also tapping pumice to help hide them from elemental powers. Connor felt confident the queen would not spot any of them before it was too late.
There was water available from an underground stream that Kilian had identified, but which Connor now struggled to locate. It too was extremely well hidden.
Queen Dreokt landed about ten long paces from Connor, and he embraced all of his affinities. He would need everything and was ready to unleash it all in a fight to the death. Hopefully her death.
The elements appeared in the air around him, wearing leather or steel armor. He decided the surprising choice was a good sign. The queen gave no indication that she saw them, thankfully. They might seem to be standing openly beside Connor, but somehow he was still seeing them only inside his mind.
“Today you face great peril,” Water said calmly, but she looked eager for the fight to commence. Her long hair was braided, and she wore armor that reminded him of Verena’s custom set.
“And perhaps great opportunity,” Air added.
Fire scowled. “Focus until the right moment.”
Earth, who was entirely encased in armor that looked like granite said, “Days of strife offer opportunity to the one best prepared.”
“And that will be . . . Connor,” Water said, glancing at him and giving him an encouraging smile. That pause was odd, but Connor didn’t have time to ask her about it.
Queen Dreokt’s expression was again calm, and she regarded him like Lady Isobel from Alasdair might have regarded some new treasure she was about to acquire. The queen spoke in a disapproving tone, “You fly exceptionally well, and you’ve learned to shield your mind, at least at a distance. You show promise, boy, but you were a fool to ascend so soon.”
“It’s not foolish to learn to defend oneself,” he retorted, happy she hadn’t launched into the fight. Every second she waited was another second his team could set up their counter-attack.
“You display reckless foolhardiness in crossing a bridge before you know the danger,” she snapped angrily, her stance turning more aggressive. “You think you are clever, but you walk paths of destruction. You think you are clever, but you led me to this barren hilltop. What advantage could you hope to gain over me here?”
“Every advantage, of course,” Connor replied, happy that his voice sounded calm. Now that the moment of battle had arrived, his fears faded under a rising tide of eagerness. They’d dreaded this fight for months, but now all their preparation would pay off. Together they would destroy her and guarantee peace for their families, their communities, and their nations.
Connor drew upon his elemental affinities. Water and fire appeared, ropes of elements twining together to form a protective cage around him. He added earth, slender fingers of brown mixing in with the others. Then air joined the mix, tightly wound vortices, like miniature clouds weaving in amongst the rest.
Finally he tapped serpentinite, wrapping the structure in the sounds that he most cherished. Verena’s laughter, his mother’s voice, the sound of Jean’s pencil on her notebook, and even the sound of that last explosive vomit that had won him the title from Hamish.
Queen Dreokt waited for him to finish, pursing her lips. “You stabilized your elements, and you even manage connection to serpentinite, despite the difficulties. Yes, indeed you have potential, once I educate you and teach you caution and control.”
He had hoped she’d seem more intimidated.
Connor tapped a little bit of porphyry, and the beast stirred in his heart. It was his reserve weapon. Then he tapped chert and drove a mental dagger toward the queen.
She easily deflected it and actually chuckled. “I control the minds of all who serve me. Your fledgling mastery of your affinities offers no real threat. Surely you understand that.”
“I understand you’re overconfident and more than a little overfed.”
She surprised him by clapping her hands and laughing in delight. “Excellent. Enough presence of mind to cast insults in the face of guaranteed defeat. Excellent indeed.”
Her laughter disappeared and she took a step closer. Connor tensed to fight, but her expression turned weirdly sincere. “Listen to reason, boy. You do not need to be destroyed. I can complete your instruction in all of your affinities, help you understand your powers in ways that it would take you decades to grasp.” She extended a hand and beckoned him closer. “Bow to me, as is your eventual fate, and I will spare your family.”
So she knew about his family. He shouldn’t be surprised, but he couldn’t avoid a new trickle of fear. If he refused and lost, what would she do to them? Probably whatever she was going to do to them anyway.
Not if he stopped her.
“How about you surrender to me? I promise to try teaching you how to not be such a screaming psychopath. You might even figure out how to enjoy life for a change,” Connor retorted.
Her calm expression evaporated under a flash of rage. She struck, calling elements out of thin air and blasting them into an intertwined column at Connor. As ready as he thought he was, the brutality of the strike still caught him by surprise. It shredded his defensive cage a
nd slammed into his chest, catapulting him off his feet.
At the same time, she struck at his mind, like a thousand fingernails scraping down slate practice boards the children sometimes used in their lessons. The mind-numbing shriek of it tore at his mental shields as he fought to push the elements away. Fire boiled around his face, while water scoured his exposed skin. Air screamed across his nostrils, threatening to rip out his breath, and earth tried creeping over his eyes. He smelled cinders somehow. Was he burning?
He felt unbalanced, overwhelmed, and deeply afraid. Whispered voices seemed to laugh in dark corners of his mind, taunting him, telling him he’d been a fool to think he was strong enough to fight Queen Dreokt.
Connor lunged back to his feet, pushing through the cloud of elements and debilitating fears. He needed to strike at her, but wasn’t sure how to fight off her mental assault. It was a form of warfare he had too little experience with and she kept slipping around his defenses like a cat nimbly jumping around a small child’s playful swats.
So Connor tempted porphyry. The beast erupted out of his heart and filled him with its deadly intensity. He felt his limbs shake with the potential for change, but for the first time he felt completely in control of whether or not to call upon that change. The rage of porphyry coursed through him, but did not smother thought as it always had in the past.
Instead of fighting him to control his own body, porphyry stepped into his mind like a rampager that crouched beside the elements. They shifted away from it and it growled in warning to them before speaking in a raspy, hoarse voice, its red eyes glowing with bloodlust.
