The Queen's Quarry

by Frank Morin

  Even though he kept up a distraction attack against the eastern flank of the Obrioner army, he turned his main focus toward Kilian and brought that entire area, just south of the township, into clear focus through his soapstone senses.

  Kilian was advancing toward Dougal and the three Blades who supported him. The two men and one woman moved in perfect unison. Clearly they’d worked closely together before. They advanced in an inverted curve formation, with Dougal and the woman in the center. The other two led on either side. This way they could encircle Kilian and strike from every side.

  The long, rectangular “room” the unknown Sentry had raised to box them in was plenty big enough for a duel. The cobbled pavement was swept clean of snow and ice by the fierce elemental fighting, and the air was comfortably warm.

  Ivor decided he needed to focus on turning the tide on that fight first. The annoying young tertiaries still hammered at Kilian’s defenses with high volume strikes meant to distract. Once he closed with the Blades, he couldn’t spare the attention to deal with them, and they could actually prove deadly.

  First, the Sentry. The man was easy to spot, standing alone near the western wall of the dueling room, atop a squat Sentry tower. He seemed to be focused on the fight inside his kill box.

  So Ivor seized some of the falling snow near the Sentry, condensed it into ice, and slammed it into his head from three sides. The unexpected strike knocked the Sentry right off his tower. Ivor caught him with snow, preventing him from touching the ground. The man appeared knocked out, or at least stunned, but Ivor wasn’t about to take any chances. With fingers of water, he stripped the man’s boots off to remove his slate, then dragged him around the earthen duel “room” and into the river. There he dropped the slumbering Sentry into one of several prison rooms he’d hollowed out of the river.

  Inside the kill box, Kilian had wrapped fire and water around himself to ward against the ongoing elemental attacks as he faced Dougal and the three other Blades closing on him.

  Ivor accelerated onto shore, sliding on a sheet of snow, aiming to land behind the long line of distracted Spitters and Firetongues. He kept himself carefully shielded and felt fairly confident none of them yet realized he was there.

  Time to say “Hello.”

  Ivor pulled hard on the river. The surface near the shore erupted in an enormous geyser. He coalesced the waters into an eight-foot tall shapeless blob and sent it rolling onto the bank, accelerating toward the line of tertiaries attacking Kilian.

  They couldn’t miss noticing its approach. The watery blob sounded like it had swallowed a hundred crashing ocean waves. Ivor grinned as he drove it forward. He was enjoying this construct immensely and needed to remember to use again some time. Maybe he’d introduce Connor to it the next time they practiced together.

  As the blob bore down upon the tertiaries, the Spitters rushed to the front, forming a defiant line, throwing their combined wills into stopping the surprise assault. Ivor did not cede control, but pushed it on even faster.

  As the blob closed on them, Kilian noticed what he was doing and joined in, striking at the distracted Firetongues, snapping a whip of mixed elements across all their backsides.

  Ivor grinned as the young Petralists yelped and jumped, grabbing their backsides. That was too much dishonor for one of them. He blasted off the ground on a column of crimson flames and arced high over the blob, back toward the opposite side of the river and the main army.

  Kilian snapped the whip back at the others, aimed at their heads this time. Most of them ducked, but one tried to catch it with his own flames, but ended up taking the whip in the face. The blow toppled him unmoving to the ground. The other four Firetongues erupted off the ground, following their cowardly but inspired comrade back to the safety of the main army.

  Good decision for them, although it meant Ivor would need to hunt them down again later. Unless Aifric in her super-schizophrenic battle frenzy took them out first.

  The blob of water thundered toward the row of defiant Spitters, but Ivor allowed them to beat through his control and stop it several feet short of where they stood. They raised victorious fists.

  So none of them noticed Ivor as he sprinted out of the shadows on fracked legs, meteor hammer already spinning. Ivor flashed down the line of the Spitters before any of them realized a new threat had appeared.

  He’d practiced a lot with that meteor hammer. He loved the deadly weapon and he’d mastered enough technique for what he planned. He spun it as he sped down the ranks of the Spitters, clunking it into the back of every one of their helmets.

  Direct hits. Each of them pitched forward, sprawling on the ground. Most did not move. A couple groaned and sat up. So Ivor returned and hit them again.

  Kilian spoke through the mini-hub. “Took you long enough.”

  Ivor chuckled. “I’ve been busy. Finish playing. Hamish needs help with Harley.”

  He didn’t quite dare imprisoning a bunch of Spitters in the river with his other prisoners, so he wrapped them all in cages of crimson fire to block them from easily reaching their affinities when they awakened. Then with a blast of mixed fire and water, he swept away the earthen walls surrounding Kilian so he could see with his own eyes what was going on.

  Dougal and his Blades had nearly reached Kilian, who waited for them, sword and dagger at the ready. It seemed wrong somehow to watch Kilian fight with steel instead of elements, but he did not look concerned. In fact, his expression looked eager as he faced opponents who should be able to easily cut him down. He wasn’t a Blade, after all. Enhanced by obsidian, they moved too fast, too gracefully, too balanced. Whatever Kilian had in mind, Ivor approached, ready to support him.

  Kilian saluted, and the trio returned the salute. Dougal only scowled. The leading Blades were barely six strides away and four paces to either side of Kilian, just wide enough to make it hard to know where to strike first. An optimistic fighter might try to leap between them and try to strike at Dougal or take down the woman before they could close from either side.

  That meant she was probably the deadliest of the trio.

  If Kilian turned to the left or the right in an attempt to remove one of the flankers, again the others would sweep in behind and cut him down.

  Ivor had studied enough battle lore to recognize the time-tested tactic. It would work against almost all foes caught alone. He hoped Kilian had a plan because otherwise he was about to die.

  If only they could strike them down with elements. The queen must have made them Agor so they could tap protective pumice. If he rushed in with his meteor hammer, they’d carve him to pieces. He wasn’t sure how to help.

  The two flanking Blades drew even with Kilian, swords ready, and Dougal and the woman approached Kilian directly. Still looking calmly confident, Kilian stepped into the kill circle between all four, facing Dougal and the woman in the center, who both looked eager to cross swords with him.

  Suddenly the woman froze in place, one foot raised slightly as she prepared to take another step. She looked completely immobile, and Ivor realized Kilian had hit her with stilling.

  Why hadn’t he done the same to the others?

  Dougal and the other two Blades leaped at him in unison, swords slashing. Ivor opened his mouth to shout a warning, but his voice died on his lips, his mouth hanging open in astonishment instead.

  Kilian erupted into a blur of motion. Ivor was an accomplished Strider and he recognized that Kilian must have applied basalt to every limb, but Ivor never would have imagined anyone could move so fast.

  Kilian’s sword and long-knife whipped around with superhuman speed, clanging against his attackers’ weapons, deflecting them wide as he spun out of the way.

  They responded without hesitation, flowing around him and each other, swords dancing out, fast as viper strikes. Even Dougal leaped into the fray, moving with the same deadly grace, face locked into a mask of hatred as he struck with terrifying speed.

  Kilian deflected them all.


  Ivor watched in awe as Kilian flowed around his opponents, moving with even greater speed. Blades were supposed to be the fastest and therefore the deadliest, but Kilian was taking away that advantage. He was demonstrating a mastery over basalt that eclipsed anything Ivor had ever heard.

  As the four of them whirled and spun, twisted and slashed, blades moving faster than sight, Ivor read the Blades’ surprise. They were all fighting so fast, even enhanced by obsidian, they were moving on instinct alone, reading the next strike through long training and perfect understanding of fighting forms.

  Kilian wasn’t a Blade. He shouldn’t be able to keep up.

  Somehow he did, and he grinned as he fought. Ivor found his own pulse quickening as he watched the epic duel. The group of blurring fighters seemed to meld together into a confusing view of slashing steel and clanging swords.

  Then the woman shook off her stillness and leaped into the fray with a shout. Maybe Kilian couldn’t keep it in place while fighting so fast. Now Kilian fought four Blades together, the group swirling around with even greater intensity, swords clanging a staccato rhythm. Dougal and his three Blades worked well together, trying to box Kilian in to hit him from all sides at once, while he moved among them, trying to keep at least one of them between him and that one’s companions.

  He managed it for five glorious seconds, using basalt speed and his long years of training to counter their enhanced abilities.

  Then they finally moved together in the perfect chorus of deadly steel and dancing feet, and for a split second Kilian ended up in the center, with his four opponents spread evenly around him. He was facing Dougal, and Ivor saw victory shine in Dougal’s eyes.

  Not even Kilian could avoid all of them striking in unison now.

  But Kilian winked.

  And he fracked.

  As his opponents closed with perfectly coordinated attacks that no living being should be able to survive, Kilian exploded through them, arms and legs all fracked, every limb moving at whirlwind speed.

  Ivor shouted with exultant disbelief, eyes glued to the fight, not sure he could feel any deeper awe. The clatter of swords became a long, continuous peal of steel thunder. Kilian’s entire body blurred as he entered a super-fracked state that Ivor had not imagined possible, and doubted any other Petralist had ever achieved.

  Kilian was the ultimate Strider and he introduced the Blades to what speed in battle really meant. His weapons hummed through the air as he broke out of their circle, slashing the woman’s hands and arms twenty-six times in a single heartbeat. She screamed and fell back, swords flying from her nerveless grips. Blood covered her from shoulder to fingertip and she stared at the wounds that to Ivor looked like they’d struck like a single blow.

  Kilian continued to accelerate as he swept back around Dougal and the other two Blades, settling into a whirlwind spin of arms and steel. He caught Dougal across the chest, cracking his armor and sending him tumbling away. The next Blade tried to accelerate to match, but Kilian blasted through his defenses, slashing his arms and hands exactly the same way he had the woman. He also sliced the man’s hamstrings and toppled him screaming to the ground.

  The final Blade, with those two extra seconds to realize what was going on, recognized he couldn’t win and tried to retreat.

  Kilian reached him in a blink and whirled an entire circle around him, steel whipping in a frenzy of cuts that slashed every tendon. The man screamed and fell limp to the ground, unable to move.

  Only then did Kilian return to normal speed with a final sliding stride that placed him in front of the fallen woman. She faced him defiantly.

  Kilian saluted. “You kids are pretty good. I left you alive because your high lord has brought death to too many of his best followers. Think about which side you really want to be on.”

  The man gasped, “How did you do that?”

  “It’s all in knowing how to apply your strength to best effect. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  He left them open-mouthed, and marched toward Dougal, who was staggering back to his feet, gaping at his abruptly defeated champions.

  Kilian said, “I think perhaps now you’re finally beginning to understand your folly.”

  Ivor drew closer as Dougal faced Kilian with hatred burning in his gaze and spat, “Your problem is that you never think ahead.”

  “And your problem is you’re about to die.”

  Dougal chuckled and pointed his sword north. “Did you forget about precious Mattias? Are you ready to sentence him to death too?”

  Connor and Verena were approaching from that direction, with Mattias encased in ice sliding right behind. Ivor should have known Dougal would try a final bid for freedom.

  When the trio arrived, Connor glared at Dougal. “Aren’t you dead yet?”

  Kilian said, “I figured you’d want to be here for the big moment.”

  Dougal frowned at them. “You’re all fools. You stand here celebrating the chaos you’ve unleashed upon our homes.”

  “Not the way we see it,” Kilian said.

  Verena said, “Release Mattias and we might let you return to your army to die with them.”

  Dougal gave her a disgusted look. “Oh, no. I make the terms. You will cede to my demand, or your beloved Mattias dies in front of your eyes.”

  “What do you want, Dougal?” Kilian asked with a tired sigh.

  Ivor couldn’t imagine they’d reach an accord, but maybe they could use the time they wasted arguing about it to figure out how to free Mattias.

  Dougal gave Kilian a victorious smile. “I want nothing.”

  96

  Even Evil Psychopaths Love Someone

  Connor glared at Dougal. He was one of the few people Connor truly hated. Dougal’s thirst for vengeance and ambition had twisted him into a monster. How many thousands of lives had been destroyed, how many families shattered all to feed his selfish goals?

  “What do you mean, nothing?” Connor demanded.

  “I want you to do nothing more in Obrion. Leave. All of you. Take all Grandurian forces with you.”

  “We won’t surrender to you,” Verena hissed.

  “I’m not asking for surrender, Builder.” He infused his voice with such disgust, Connor longed to punch him back to Donleavy. “You’ve invaded my home and corrupted many of my best people. You’ve done enough damage. Leave now and I’ll let you go in peace. Try me. Release your precious friend from the ice. He is yours to take home, as long as you leave now.”

  Connor slid Mattias around until he stood a little behind and to the side of Dougal, then drained the water away. Mattias did not lunge, but dropped to his knees, completely docile.

  “Rory won’t go, nor will the troops loyal to him,” Connor said.

  “Ah, those traitors are a different matter. They must stay and pay the price for their insurrection, but that’s none of your business.”

  “The future of this nation is our business,” Kilian said evenly.

  “So stay and fight, but Mattias dies.” Dougal pointed at Mattias, who was staring at Verena with pitiful, imploring eyes.

  “Please, Verena. Please save me. Don’t let me die like this,” he begged.

  Verena looked horrified by the choice they faced. The three of them could kill Dougal for sure, but could they do it fast enough to prevent him from killing Mattias too?

  Connor tapped chert and focused on Mattias. He sensed two different pulses of emotion from him, one calm and calculating, the other enraged. He heard two different streams of thought.

  One, clearly Dougal’s, was whispering, Beg for your life. Make that vile Builder suffer for you. The sentimental fools will play right into my hands.

  Mattias could not deny him. Under the obsidian force of Dougal’s will, he maintained his imploring look and begged again, “Verena, if I mean anything to you, please let us just leave.”

  But in his mind, Mattias was raging. I’m going to rip out your heart, Dougal! Give me just a second, and I’ll kill you!

>   Connor wanted to warn Verena that Dougal was making Mattias beg, but he hesitated. She might already see the truth. She knew Mattias, and as much as Connor disliked him, he’d never seen Mattias act the coward in the face of danger. Could he somehow help Mattias escape, use the deception against Dougal?

  Options flitted through Connor’s mind, but he rejected one after another. Elemental attacks would need a second or two to destroy Dougal. How much time did he need to kill Mattias? The queen had snuffed out Aifric’s mind in an eyeblink, but did obsidian mind control work just as fast? He simply didn’t know.

  Kilian said, “You’re clever, Dougal, but you’re assuming we believe the life of one man is worth the lives of the thousands we’d be sentencing to death if we left now.”

  “That depends on how dearly you love the one,” Dougal said smugly.

  That gave Connor an idea.

  He focused limestone, gave the light a wrenching turn, and tapped serpentinite at the same time. Then he pointed toward the river. “Some are more dear than others.”

  The waters of the river bubbled, and a motionless body floated to the top, then slid to the shore. It approached over a thin coating of water, limbs lifeless, skin cold and blue, eyes staring. The waters bubbled softly over the paving stones.

  Shona was clearly dead.

  The mirage was so lifelike, so exquisitely perfect that for a second, Connor nearly believed it. The sight of Shona lying cold and dead on the ground shocked him to the core.

  It shocked Dougal more. He gasped and screamed, “Shona!”

  Mattias blinked and swayed where he knelt. Then his eyes focused on Dougal and a knife appeared in his hand. He lunged with startling speed even as Dougal swung toward Connor, sword sweeping up, murder in his eyes.

  Mattias struck first, his knife plunging into Dougal’s back. Dougal gasped, and Mattias collapsed, grabbing at his head.