by Frank Morin
“Do you feel her?” Ilse asked.
“Not really. What are you sensing?”
Ilse frowned. “What’s wrong with you today, Connor? I thought you were stable.”
“Mostly. For now, just tell us what you sensed, okay?” He hated that Lukas and Mattias had to hear that he was struggling. He didn’t want the team to fear he might become a liability.
Thankfully, Ilse didn’t press him on it. “She’s coming. She knows we’ll sense her so she’s not even trying to hide. She’s about a mile and a half down the road, and she’s infused the ground with so much of her will that I can’t penetrate the area close to her. She’s so strong.”
“How about the rest of the road around her?” Mattias asked.
Ilse shook her head, her frown deepening. “It’s weird. I don’t sense anything else around her, but why would she approach alone? She’s got an entire army with her.”
Kilian looked troubled. “I sense something for a second, but not enough to get a clear idea what she’s up to. Her Spitters are shielding heavily now.”
Mattias asked, “Does she really think she can fight us all alone like she did in Althing?”
“Was this why she was distracting us, so she could advance closer without us realizing it?” Ilse asked.
“Perhaps,” Kilian said slowly, still frowning. “She may be trying to prove she’s the strongest Petralist after my mother. It would help secure their control over the nation.”
That didn’t sound right. Harley might challenge all the rest of them combined, but surely she didn’t think she could take them all. Not with Kilian on their side. Connor said, “Maybe she figures if she defeats us the rest of the city might surrender.”
“She has to be planning more than this,” Kilian said.
The words barely left his lips when a distant crack sounded through the snowy air, like a far-away thunderclap.
“Inbound,” Ilse warned. “Earth projectiles, maybe a dozen of them, just cast into the sky.”
“I feel them. Enemy Spitters are trying to guide them in,” Kilian said.
Connor tried to connect with earth again, but again he failed. His frustration was growing to open worry.
Ilse said, “They just cast a second wave. I sense other Sentries sliding their influence along the flanks of the road. We may be facing a full earth barrage.”
Verena’s voice spoke over the speakstone on Connor’s mini-hub. “I’m spotting dozens of earthen projectiles, maybe two or three yards in diameter.”
“We’re tracking them too,” Connor replied.
Kilian raised his own mini-hub. “Ivor, help me deflect these away.” Then he glanced at Connor. “Get connected to soapstone. We’ll need your help.”
“I’ll try,” he promised.
Kilian held his gaze, pinpoints of white-hot light glowing in his eyes. “No, Connor. Don’t try. Do.”
Connor nodded, his resolve growing. Soapstone was his most stable element. He could do it. He closed his eyes and focused on it, building a clear image of Water in all her majesty in his mind.
Nothing. The green magic blocked him again.
As he silently cursed his weakness and tried again, Kilian was saying, “Our Sentries behind the wall can shield Merkland from underground incursion. Ilse, watch our feet. As long as we knock the missiles out of the air, the attack accomplishes little.”
Connor took a deep breath, trying not to get distracted as Kilian conferred with Ivor, discussing how many missiles they were deflecting. They were holding them off, but only barely. They needed him.
Driven by that need, Connor focused on soapstone again. He took a long, slow breath, even though with pumice max-tapped he almost didn’t need to breathe. He waited between green waves of power and then plunged his senses through the soapstone gateway.
Finally, Water appeared, although her form seemed indistinct, as if he was viewing her through a screening waterfall. Still, it was something, so Connor plunged a hand into that waterfall and grabbed for her. He managed a weak connection. It was enough to cast his water senses up into the storm. The earthen missiles tore through the falling snow, drawing his attention like ants crawling across his scalp.
He felt the influence of the Spitters, surrounding many of the missiles with protective bubbles. There weren’t enough Spitters to protect them all, though, so he grabbed at the ones flying without aid, forming nets of water, and yanking them off course. He aimed them east to crash into farmers’ fields.
“Don’t waste ammunition,” Kilian said and Connor felt him form the snow in front of one earthen missile into a curving tube. The projectile shot into the tube, which redirected it right around, shooting it back down toward Harley.
Connor grinned. That looked like a lot of fun.
Thinking of fun seemed to help solidify his connection a little. More projectiles were launching constantly, so Connor threw his will into the fray against enemy Spitters. He managed to break through a couple of the protective barriers and knock the missiles off course, although the enemy Spitters broke apart his curving tube before he could send missiles shooting back at Harley.
So he changed tactics, forming blades of ice and shearing several projectiles into little pieces. He noticed that the enemy Spitters immediately lost interest in the broken ones. So he yanked the pieces back around and slammed them into the next missile, shattering it too.
“They’re trying to overwhelm us with volume,” Kilian said. Ilse, get your tertiaries into the fight and ask Verena to pass word to Nevan for their Spitters to stand ready. If any get past us, they’ll have to deal with them.”
As everyone scrambled to obey, Mattias said, “If they keep us busy long enough, Harley will have time to close on us.”
That was an unpleasant thought, but Connor lacked the time to think about it. Over a hundred and fifty heavy earthen projectiles were in the air, shooting toward Merkland.
“Verena, where are you and Hamish?” he asked after successfully knocking another one from the sky.
“We’re monitoring from over the township. Do you need us to intervene?”
“No. Stay back. The elements are getting twisted into knots up there. You’d get crushed.”
“Copy that. We’ll monitor for any other surprises.”
That was comforting, but as Connor fought an enemy Spitter for control over yet another projectile, he realized the approach was not working well enough. His connection with soapstone was not nearly strong enough to dare a second element, so he turned his mini-hub to Ivor’s speakstone.
“Ivor, try mixing water and fire. See if that gives you an advantage.”
“Good idea.”
Kilian overheard, and he nodded approval.
Immediately, Connor felt the difference as both Ivor and Kilian switched to mixed elements. With fire intertwined with their water, they stumped the enemy Spitters long enough to gain critical advantage and knock even more missiles from the sky.
Ilse said, “Harley is still approaching. Less than a mile now.”
They really needed to figure out a plan to take her, but just then another wave of projectiles burst out of the ground, fired all along the road, from back near Harley, all the way nearly up to their own position.
“I’ve got two projectiles fired from the east and west,” Ilse said.
“Only two?” Connor scanned that area, which was far beyond where the others had come from. He found those projectiles, but whoever had thrown them into the air wasn’t very good at aiming. They would both fly right over the city. In fact, they might just smash into each other. If they missed, they’d crash down harmlessly in fields on either side. If those Sentries could fire projectiles from those sides, why hadn’t they sent more?
“Ware!” Ilse cried, suddenly looking tense. “Harley just threw a hundred more projectiles herself, and the other Sentries doubled their volume.”
Connor left the two mis-aimed projectiles and turned his attention to the new swarm of earthen missiles arcin
g up into the air. The sheer volume daunted him. Harley’s Sentries must have pushed themselves to the limits.
Could so few stop so many?
Hundreds in Merkland might die if they failed. Connor could no longer afford to hesitate. He tapped marble, trying to achieve that same dual-element advantage as Kilian and Ivor.
Immediately his connection with Water shattered.
“Tallan’s boiled socks! Why is this so hard?” he cried as he released soapstone altogether and switched to marble.
Fire popped into his mind, laughing with wild insanity. Perfect. Connor grabbed hold of his arm, savoring the explosion of deep, spicy flavor from the stone in his mouth. Most of the Petralists shepherding the missiles toward the city were Spitters, so he struck with fire.
Fire seemed to like him embracing that wild and unstable element, and the connection felt strong. Riding that wave of intense flames, Connor threw himself into the effort of spearing missiles, shattering them, or knocking them off course. There was no time for tricks of finesse. He attacked like a battering ram of white-hot fire.
The rest of the team fought beside him in a frantic effort to quell the tide. Connor allowed a fierce grin. They were going to do it!
The two mis-aimed projectiles did smash into each other high above Merkland.
One of them exploded.
“Did you feel that?” Connor asked. Since when did earth explode?
“Kind of busy,” Ilse muttered.
“One of those projectiles just blew up over the city.”
The others exchanged confused looks. As Connor scanned the air over the city, he found dust and debris filtering down. Harley had concealed a bomb inside one of those projectiles. She must have intended for it to explode above the city, but why?
Connor understood a second later, and his heart chilled with dread. “Harley released powder with that bomb.”
He wrenched his mini-hub to Verena’s stone just as she shouted, “That was Dierk’s bomb! She’s raining quickened porphyry over Merkland. They’re going to tear themselves apart!”
Connor turned to look up at the high, white walls behind them, indistinct through the sheets of heavy snow, horrified by what was about to happen.
Lukas frowned. “Would Dougal allow her to use it?”
Ilse said, “If she chose to send it, do you think he could stop her?”
Verena asked, “Can we do something to stop it? Can you push the dust aside?”
Connor was already trying, but his connection to quartzite was so unstable he barely felt Air laughing at him as she dodged his grasping hands. Every time he made brief contact, his air senses radiated out over Merkland, and he hated what he felt.
Harley was there, riding those currents, twisting them so they sucked the powder down toward the helpless populace. She definitely knew what the bomb did.
“Harley’s driving it down. I can’t stop her,” Connor exclaimed, hating his weakness. Hating Harley more.
He tried switching back to soapstone to help Kilian try to whip the blowing snow across the city and drag the dust away with it. Harley responded by calling forth powerful downdrafts that sucked everything down into the city.
Connor muttered a curse as he tried to reverse the currents, but she was prepared, while he was scrambling to react with weak affinities.
“The Sentries have retreated,” Ilse reported.
Connor didn’t care. His connection was just solid enough that he could feel those deadly grains of powder settling down over the city.
“It was all a distraction so we didn’t intercept that bomb,” Mattias stated.
Three seconds later, the first scream of rage echoed across the city. Even before it died out, more howls of mindless fury rose over Merkland, mixed with screams of mortal agony and fear.
Verena cried through the speakstone, “No! I knew using porphyry was a mistake. The city’s going to tear itself apart.” Her voice fell to a horrified whisper. “The children.”
Connor struggled to comprehend the vastness of the disaster Harley had just dropped on Merkland. Now it made sense why she was coming alone up the road. She’d just struck a crippling blow.
The city was going to rip itself apart.
They had to turn back, had to try to save as many as possible. If they did, they’d never stop Harley and her army. If they didn’t, there’d be no city left to save.
Either way, Merkland was going to die.
No. There had to be a way.
Connor purged granite, thrust a finger into a pouch of obsidian at his belt, and risked absorbing just a little. He hoped Dougal couldn’t sense him across the distance, but he had to take the risk. He couldn’t think of a way out of the trap they’d just allowed Harley to catch them in without it.
He tapped it, and his thoughts accelerated tenfold.
And all of a sudden he realized what he had to do.
Ilse started to speak, but Connor cut her off. “I can save the city.”
More screams echoed into the sky, followed by a series of fiery explosions.
“How?” Kilian asked.
“Stilling.”
The others looked confused, but Kilian nodded in understanding. “Covering the entire city is ambitious.”
“Failing to cover the entire city is not an option.”
“Can you do it?” Ilse demanded, looking back over her shoulder. Harley was still invisible through the blowing snow, but she had to be drawing close.
“Yes.” He had to. “You’ll all have to hold Harley until I get back.”
Ilse nodded, her expression fierce. “We’ll stop her.”
Kilian said, “Focus on your task, Connor. Save them. Leave Harley to us.”
85
Closing the Trap
Hamish circled high above the city in his Builder suit, aghast at the chaos sweeping the city. Soldiers were fighting each other with unrivaled savagery. Even common citizens were leaping upon each other, ripping at each other with hands and makeshift weapons.
He’d once felt the unbridled, unstoppable rage that quickened porphyry unleashed, and he felt sick with horror.
“Hurry, Connor,” he whispered. He couldn’t imagine how Connor could stop that mess, but he believed in his friend. If Connor failed, the battle was lost. Merkland would tear itself apart, killing the revolution and everyone who believed in it.
Even if Hamish and their little core team escaped, how could they approach another city and ask the people there to join them? Who would ever believe again that they stood a chance against the queen? It didn’t matter that they’d given Harley the weapon used to destroy them.
Even though he hadn’t been affected by the porphyry bomb, simmering rage swept through Hamish. Harley needed to pay. He powered higher into the early morning, snow-laden air, seeking the enemy. He soared east, out over the river, breathing deep the clean, cold air as he approached the township built along the far bank. He doubted any Petralists would attempt to attack him so far out, but kept his counter measures ready, just in case.
Kilian and his small team were south of the city, moving down the road to face Harley. It seemed strange that she’d left the bulk of her army behind, but that was a perfect set-up for Rory and his forces to launch their flanking attack. If they kept the element of surprise, they could keep the far larger army busy until the real battle with Harley ended.
Hamish turned south toward that impending fight. He felt eager for a chance to strap into his Juggernaut suit and join the fight, but Kilian had ordered him to stay aloft until they knew for sure Harley wasn’t planning any other surprises.
Hopefully she’d used them all up. Hamish really wanted to beat some comeuppance into her face for the death and destruction she’d unleashed on the city. Mostly, he wanted to pound her to a bloody stump for killing Dierk.
He banked out over the abandoned township, planning to circle back to the windrider hovering high above Kilian’s position, where his Juggernaut armor waited. That’s when he spotted hundr
eds of soldiers marching up the road toward the township. He blinked, at first wondering if he’d imagined them, but the indistinct shapes far below him grew clearer as he approached, seeming to materialize out of the fog.
One more surprise from that Tallan-cursed woman. They must have crossed the river far south of the city. They’d pass Kilian and his team while they were distracted by Harley’s approach.
They must have seen him too, because the gently falling snow suddenly formed into grasping hands that snatched him and sought to yank him out of the sky.
Hamish cried out in surprise, firing thrusters in a vain attempt to break free. He triggered three puking dooms to cut through the snow, but the flames leaped away and turned back against him.
“Cursed Petralists,” he muttered and activated his safety plan.
Pumice.
Water and fire tore the air to shreds around him, but he slipped through, invisible to the elemental senses. Calling for maximum power from his thrusters, Hamish shot higher and banked back toward the city.
“We’ve got a large force moving up toward the township across the river! Just tried to ambush me,” he cried into the speakstone that linked him to Kilian’s mini-hub.
“Ilse doesn’t feel anything.”
“They’re across the river.”
A second’s pause, then Kilian said, “I found them. They’re very well shielded. I hadn’t noticed them during all the distractions.”
“That’s what they were concealing. Everything else was a ruse. This part of the army’s going to hit the township.”
“We’ll deal with them later. Harley is our first priority.”
Almost immediately Kilian spoke again. “Harley just disappeared from Ilse’s earth senses. It’s like she was never there.”
Hamish spun in the air and focused on the distant force marching toward the township. Maxing his long-vision goggles, he scanned them.
Kilian said, “Ilse just caught a glimmer from Harley. She’s shielding, but looks like she’s with that strike force you spotted. I knew this was too easy. She’s played us for fools. Get to your armor, Hamish. We’ll need it shortly.”
