The Queen's Quarry

by Frank Morin

  Harley had probed his outer perimeter a couple of times, but had not pressed farther. If she planned to hit them by surprise, he’d hopefully sense it early enough to shout a warning.

  Luckily Ilse walked the earth with him, and her presence boosted his confidence. Harley might fool him, but not Ilse. The Grandurian captain watched the approaching force with stony-faced calm. Connor dearly hoped they could find a way to secure Lukas’s release. If they didn’t, Ilse would no doubt challenge Harley directly, even though she couldn’t hope to beat her.

  That would trigger the fight that might actually offer their best chance at beating Harley. They’d discussed that possibility, but Kilian had pointed out that she understood the situation and would be ready to counter any surprise aggression.

  Connor’s tension grew as Harley’s tower drew to within a hundred yards, then stopped and sank into the ground with a soft rumbling and spray of disturbed snow. Through his earth senses, he felt her presence like a shining beacon.

  Connor tapped quartzite to his eyes while the others raised long-vision goggles that the Builders had already set to five-times magnification. Tapping multiple tertiary stones simultaneously was especially challenging. It was almost as if the green energy resented his tightening bond with red and increased its efforts to interfere.

  So he watched Harley and her party with stomach-flipping lurches, his vision zooming in, then dropping back to normal, again and again. If he got sick, he should absorb some diorite so he could explosive-vomit at Harley.

  Lukas stood in front of Harley, battered and dirty, lips swollen, left cheek bruised, blood matted on his scalp. His hands were chained in front of him and he looked exhausted. He had clearly not surrendered without a fight.

  Connor saw no sign of his men.

  Ilse sucked in a long breath as she studied her husband. She spoke with icy calm. “He lives and appears mobile.”

  Connor hoped he could be as tough as Ilse when he grew up.

  Shona stood to one side of Harley, dressed in Boulder battle leathers under a long, white fur coat, looking as elegant and beautiful as ever. High Lord Dougal, wearing armor under a long, leather jacket, stood beside her.

  Shona had once forced Connor to look on Verena, chained and bloody, at the Carraig. He’d been filled with such rage, if he’d had access to power stones, he would have laid waste to everyone who tried to stop him from going to her. Shona had used Verena to force him to consent to marrying her.

  She’d eventually released him, sent him north with Verena to escape the disgusting second-breed rights proclamation from the king. He appreciated that, but it didn’t change the memory of what she’d done.

  “They’re keeping a respectable distance,” Rory muttered.

  Harley’s voice boomed into the cold, dry air. “You came at my bidding. That’s a good sign. Now, surrender and let us be done with this farce of an uprising.”

  “So Harley’s in charge today, at least,” Kilian commented.

  Rory grunted, “Marching makes a lot of people grumpy, but she seems to have handled it well. Do you mind, lad?”

  He gestured toward his throat. Connor managed what he hoped was a confident grin and applied quartzite to Rory’s throat. The connection felt shaky, so he dropped his connection to earth and max-tapped pumice. He focused with all his will, determined to keep Rory’s voice from shaking. That would convey the wrong message.

  Praise the Tallan, it seemed to work. Rory’s deep voice boomed back. “Freedom is no farce. Justice for crimes committed against this people is no farce. If you supported either, you would join us now.”

  Connor bit back a laugh. If Harley suddenly found a conscience and actually offered to join them, what would they do?

  Dougal spoke next. “Rory, you’ve dishonored yourself, man. Are you really willing to sign the death warrants for so many good men and women whose only crime is their loyalty to you?”

  Rory shook his head, even though Dougal probably couldn’t see the gesture. “You are incorrect, my lord. It is you who has dishonored yourself and your entire house. My troops dedicated our lives to serving you and our nation only to discover you lied to us the entire time. You enslaved us through false patronage, destroyed men and women who counted on you for their livelihoods, and forced some to become abominable rampagers, knowing they would have to die in your service. You built your life upon a web of lies and blood. You know me. Can you honestly believe I would not stand against such corruption?”

  High Lord Dougal looked annoyed, but Shona looked troubled. Connor had told her the truth about patronage, but had she doubted his word? What did she believe now? Would it make a difference? Ailsa had suggested she might become an ally, but he couldn’t imagine Shona sacrificing her privilege and position for any cause, no matter how noble.

  Harley only laughed. “Pretty speech, General. I see why those poor wretches cowering behind Merkland’s walls follow you. Speak about honor and choices all you want, but today you face but a single choice. Surrender and enjoy the potential for life once you’ve been re-educated . . .”

  “She means mind-wiped,” Connor said.

  “. . . or stand against us and die in misery and agony. It’s your choice, and honestly, I hope you choose to fight. I haven’t destroyed an entire city full of fools in a long time.”

  Connor frowned. “What about that town in Althing? Doesn’t she even remember that?”

  “Probably not,” Kilian said. He motioned Connor to enhance his voice too.

  Connor silently prayed he could keep the solid connection, and tentatively pushed quartzite power out to Kilian and wrapped it around his throat. For the moment, it seemed to be holding.

  Kilian said, “Harley, this fight is folly. Return to my mother and tell her I will no longer allow her atrocities in my homeland.”

  “Kilian, your foolish pranks have gone too far. Your mother sends her final regards. Boy, it will be my pleasure to share your final lessons tomorrow.”

  Ilse growled and took a step forward, but Rory held her back. He said, “You offered to release our men if we met to parley with you. We’ve met, so release them.”

  Harley chuckled, the sinister sound rolling like thunder across the valley and echoing from the hills. It sent shivers down Connor’s spine. It was amazing. He needed to develop an evil chuckle of his own.

  “I did offer to release your men from all pain. All but one have been released. This last scrapper might just manage to survive the long walk between us.”

  Kilian muttered, “She likes that term ‘release from pain.’ Death is the ultimate release, and that’s what she offers to us.”

  “My other men are dead,” Ilse said with perfect calm, then shouted, not bothering to wait for Connor to enhance her voice. “Let him walk!”

  Harley said, “Even better. Your own strong woman is here for you. What is your name, oh beloved one?”

  She prodded Lukas, who looked willing to endure her worst tortures without saying anything. She frowned at his silence and struck a casual backhand blow that flattened him to the ground.

  “Lukas!” Ilse shouted. This time Connor enhanced her voice so it cracked like thunder across the valley. “His name is Lukas. Release him, woman.”

  “Lukas. A strong name for a strong man with a strong woman,” Harley said approvingly. “Do you trust your woman, Lukas?”

  “With my life,” he said through bruised lips as he stumbled back to his feet. Someone enhanced his voice so they could hear. Connor had to wonder if it was Harley. She’d enjoy ensuring they heard everything.

  “Well said, indeed. What is your woman’s name?”

  “Ilse.”

  “Here’s the deal, Ilse. I will allow Lukas to walk back to you on the condition that he must walk at standard parade march and not deviate.”

  Connor exchanged glances with Rory. He couldn’t believe that was it.

  Lukas started forward, but the ground rose up and grabbed his legs. “Not so fast. To make things fai
r, I will take a little sport in exchange.”

  “What sport?” Rory asked, although Connor wished he hadn’t.

  “Lukas will walk. Every tenth step, I will try to stop him. Ilse and only Ilse is allowed to defend him from where she stands.”

  Kilian shook his head and muttered, “She’ll never allow him to return. She’ll use this as a test to probe your strength, Ilse, and she’ll cheat. No doubt she plans to murder him within arm’s reach of you.

  “What choice do I have?”

  “None.”

  She spoke, her voice firm and calm, as always. “I accept.”

  Lukas looked immensely proud. “I trust you, love. I know that if you cannot save me, no one ever could.”

  He spoke softly, calmly, in a voice that did not waver.

  Ilse’s expression turned fierce and she nodded and whispered to herself, “I’ll see you soon, love.”

  Harley said, “Remember control, Ilse. This area is dangerously unstable. If you escalate this into an underground bash fight, I’ll destroy you both and we’ll most likely trigger an earthquake that will leave Merkland a shattered wasteland like Alasdair.”

  “How intense we fight is entirely up to you,” Ilse shouted.

  “Oh, no. It’s your call, Ilse. I will start small, but every time you save his life I will intensify the next round. I leave it to you to decide when the worth of your man no longer outweighs the risk to tens of thousands of others.”

  “That’s barbaric,” Aifric whispered in a tone of disgusted awe.

  Connor saw it differently. Harley was actually playing into Ilse’s hand with that taunting twist to the game. No one could match Ilse for clever uses of small amounts of applied power. If only he could believe Harley would keep her word.

  “She’s just teasing. She can’t allow Lukas to live,” he said softly.

  Ilse glanced at him and said, “You know me better than that, Connor. Of course she plans to kill him. Are you ready?”

  “Ready for what?”

  She gave him an annoyed look. “Whatever you plan to do to yank him out of that queen-loving toadie’s grasp when I tell you.”

  Oh, he was so grouted. “Of course I’ll be ready,” he assured her with what he hoped was convincing sincerity.

  She held his gaze for another second and said gravely. “My husband’s life is on the line, Connor. I trust your cleverness will not abandon you in this moment of need.”

  He nodded. That Ilse trusted him so much gave him confidence, but could he really trick Harley?

  “I will help too,” Kilian offered quietly.

  Ilse shook her head. “She’ll expect you to interfere. She knows you and she will be on her guard. Probably has Petralists monitoring you from afar. She might underestimate Connor.”

  “Perhaps,” Kilian acknowledged. He too glanced at Connor, raised one eyebrow, and asked, “Are you ready?”

  “Working on it,” he said although he wanted to shout at Kilian that of course he wasn’t ready. Kilian knew better than anyone how much he was struggling.

  So what could he do? He could barely tap any tertiary stones. He definitely couldn’t use slate. With both Harley and Ilse grappling along the road, they’d already be taking a terrible risk of destabilizing the area.

  Lukas stood calmly in front of Harley, his expression grim, his eyes locked on Ilse.

  “Start walking,” Harley ordered simply.

  Connor felt a flash of panic. He wasn’t ready, and had no idea how to help.

  Lukas began to walk.

  76

  Lukas’s Walk

  As Lukas began walking in a steady, measured stride, Connor tried to think, tried to plan, but his mind felt frozen, his enhanced gaze locked on Lukas’s feet. Lukas was starting his walk about a hundred yards away. Standard parade march was short steps, maybe two feet maximum. That meant over a hundred and fifty steps. That could be as many as fifteen attempts on his life.

  No way he would survive so many.

  Kilian spoke softly into his mini-hub, relating the situation to Verena and asking her to pass word to Hamish and Ivor. The situation could easily escalate into full-blown battle.

  Aifric started counting the steps aloud when Lukas reached his seventh step.

  Eight.

  Ilse crouched slightly, hands half raised, palms down.

  Nine.

  Pillars of earth rose to either side of her and she plunged her hands into them to strengthen her connection to the earth. Connor touched slate and felt a flicker of her presence, like lightning across his earth senses.

  Ten.

  The ground softened under Lukas’s boot. Harley simply liquefied ten feet of earth below Lukas. He’d plunge into it and drown.

  His foot came down upon a single flat rod of earth that extended across the mire, just in time to catch him. Barely three inches in diameter, it was just enough to support his weight and allow him to continue over the trap.

  Lukas never slowed, his expression never changed. He kept his eyes locked on Ilse and continued to walk with the same measured strides.

  Aifric started her count over again.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  “Don’t tempt earth,” Kilian said to Connor.

  “I’m not planning to.”

  “What are you planning?”

  “Working on it,” he repeated tersely.

  Nine.

  Ten.

  Again Ilse’s presence leaped across the distance just as the ground beneath Lukas dropped away into a spike-lined hole. With his next step, he’d fall and impale himself. This time, the outer edges of the hole began to spin. If Ilse attempted the same simple trick of spanning the hole with a supporting rod of earth, it would get chopped off.

  For a second Connor felt a surge of panic. If Ilse needed him now, what would he do? He could access soapstone, marble, or quartzite, at least for a couple of seconds, but which? Nothing felt right.

  Lukas’s foot plunged down into the hole, but a tentacle-like rope of earth erupted up between two of the spikes and caught his boot. It quivered, but held, and a second slender tentacle rose to catch his next step. He continued, trusting the unsteady footing as the tentacles of earth slid beneath him, catching his feet for two more perilous strides until returning to the solid roadway.

  “Good move!” Hamish’s voice spoke from Aifric’s speakstone.

  The count began again.

  “Focus, Connor,” Kilian urged. “We’re ready to help, but you must get Lukas out of there.”

  “I’m focused.” Connor considered and rejected a dozen ideas, from simply wrapping Lukas in water or fire, to complex plots that not even he could keep straight, and which would never work.

  The problem with using soapstone, other than his fear that it simply wouldn’t work, was that Harley would see the snow or river water moving. He had to assume even a fraction of a second’s warning would be too much. If only Lukas had a bit of quickened pumice.

  Aifric probably intended her steady count to help, but the numbers rang in Connor’s ears like drumbeats of doom. When she hit seven, he couldn’t concentrate. All he could do was watch.

  Ten.

  A single spike of earth erupted out of the ground behind Lukas, spearing up at his back with enough force to shatter his armor and his torso.

  Another spike, topped with an open hand, erupted right up between Lukas’s feet and intercepted the first bare inches from his back. The first spike plunged into it, but the hand wrapped around the spike and dragged it sideways so that it scraped past Lukas’s shoulder, showering him with dirt.

  He kept walking without slowing, without flinching. In fact, he flashed his wife a tight smile. Connor didn’t think he could have maintained that steady pace, knowing that every tenth step might kill him. Lukas had crossed almost a quarter of the distance, and the tension was making Connor want to pant. The remaining distance seemed like miles.

  Sweat beaded Ilse’s forehead, despite the c
hill, and she leaned forward, her expression fierce, her lips curling back just a bit in a defiant snarl.

  Harley’s voice boomed across the road. “Very good, Ilse. For a weak young thing, you’re clever. I’ll give you that. It’s a pity you prefer to die along with your beloved instead of simply surrendering to our queen and swearing loyalty to her.”

  “She grows annoyed,” Kilian warned.

  Ilse nodded. “Once more. After that, Connor?”

  “I’ll be ready,” he promised, and as Aifric counted off the steady marching steps again, he forced himself to focus.

  He was tempted to tap obsidian, but maybe the entire elaborate, twisted game had been devised by Dougal as a way to force him to do just that. They were close enough that Dougal might be able to seize his mind if he dared obsidian, so he couldn’t take the risk.

  He could try stilling, but he’d never still Harley enough to matter. The light-burst attack might hurt her, but he didn’t have the time required to gather and condense the necessary light.

  “Ten.”

  He had so focused on his problem that he’d blocked out Aifric’s slow count. So he glanced from Harley to Lukas, completely unprepared for what might happen next.

  Wide slabs of earth pivoted up out of the ground to either side of Lukas. Six feet wide and seven feet tall, they slammed inward with bone-crushing force.

  Dozens of wrist-thick bars of earth leaped out of the ground at Lukas’s feet, rising into the air all around him, ends pointed at the slabs and barely wider than his shoulders. They reached the apex of their short flights just as the two slabs of earth crashed together.

  Earth billowed around Lukas in a blinding cloud, obscuring him for a moment. Connor tried to feel what was going on through the earth, but Ilse and Harley were squabbling over the ground directly beneath Lukas.

  Harley wasn’t limiting this attack to a single strike. She battled Ilse, their clashing wills like water and ink mixed violently in a glass, and he couldn’t tell what was going on.

  Then Lukas erupted out of the cloud, tumbling wildly through the air. He was covered in dirt, and one arm was twisted awkwardly, while blood was spreading across a ragged hole ripped through the left side of his armor.