Affinity for War

by Frank Morin

  Martys crashed into the head table, his stone-hardened weight smashing it to pieces. Connor caught the flying wood with his flames and used them as more fuel. Martys shouted curses, but was unable to break free. His stone-hardened skin protected him from burning, although the fiery bonds left black singe marks on his skin.

  Normal flames couldn't act as physical barriers like that, but when manipulated by a Petralist, somehow they could. Connor didn't understand how it worked, but he'd seen it many times and counted on those unique, magical properties.

  He raised a fist and drew the bound Martys into the air to face him. Martys glared, displaying no fear, only a burning desire to reach Connor and beat on him with unrestrained fury.

  "I respect your strength, Uncle, but you can't beat elemental power."

  Martys's fury melted away, replaced by a look of humor. He spoke in a low whisper, barely loud enough for Connor to hear. "Do ye think me daft, laddie? Of course I know that, but we had to give everyone a show, didn't we?"

  For a second Connor wasn't sure what to say. Martys was hanging in the air, back to the crowd, so no one else could have seen or heard. Martys's bulk and the flames billowing around Connor effectively concealed his reaction too.

  "Snap out of it, lad," Martys hissed. "Or ye'll give up the whole deception."

  "You're not reacting the way I need you to," Connor growled.

  "It's clear as a mountain loch that ye cannae stay, lad. I see what ye be doing, and I salute ye for it, but I've got my part to play to make it work. So punch me block a good ringer. We can talk once ye kidnap me."

  Connor wasn't sure what to do, so he took his uncle's advice and punched him in the side of the head. The crack of his granite-hardened fist slamming into Martys's rock-like skull rang across the clearing and silenced the shouting. Villagers stared in mute terror as Connor released Martys, allowing him to slump motionless to the ground.

  No one spoke, but all eyes turned as Hendry stepped a couple paces out of the crowd, flanked by Lilias, Amhain, and Peigi. He spoke softly, but his voice carried easily across the quiet square.

  "You're a disgrace to Alasdair, Son."

  Even though he knew his father was playing a necessary part, the words seared Connor's heart. He forced himself not to flinch, made himself meet his father's gaze with unblinking, cold detachment.

  "Bring me those chisels, Dad, and your hammer. Don't make me ask twice."

  Many of the townsfolk looked ready to burst with rage, but no one dared move. They were powerless against Connor's Petralist powers.

  Hendry turned to face the crowd. "Cutters, bring me your chisels."

  "You can't be serious," Stuart exclaimed.

  "They're not worth your lives, and today they cost me my son."

  Stuart looked like he planned to fight instead of surrendering his precious chisel. Connor didn't blame him. If High Lord Dougal didn't provide replacements, they'd default on existing loans.

  Many of the families now glaring at him could end up enslaved to pay the debt. He might not be striking at them with granite-hardened fists, but he was delivering a potentially killing blow to the town all the same.

  Within minutes, the angry cutters fetched the long diorite chisels and placed them on the nearest table. The pile of precious black-and-white stone tools represented the town's true wealth, the very meaning of their existence.

  Before placing his chisel down, Stuart snarled, "You're a traitor, Connor. I hope High Lord Dougal tracks you down like the unclaimed animal you are and rips your heart out."

  A murmur of agreement rippled across the crowd. He'd accomplished exactly what he had hoped to. Why did he feel so rotten?

  So he winked at Stuart. "High Lord Dougal is a villain, a liar, and a murderer. He's the one who had better watch out."

  "Don't go insulting good High Lord Dougal," cried Neasa, the fat baker. "He's done nothing but good by our town." Many voices raised in agreement. "He even gifted your own daddy a new hammer!"

  Connor forced himself to say, "And I'll put it to good use."

  Hendry returned then, carrying the precious Ashlar hammer. He did not put it down on the table, but approached Connor and extended it to him.

  Unlike the hammer Connor had watched his father wield all his life, this one wasn't worn from generations of use. The fact that his father was willing to play along, to trust him, and to part with the precious tool, nearly brought tears to Connor's eyes.

  "I can't take this, Dad," he whispered.

  "You have to. Like you said, it's our best hope. Use it well until the day you return it."

  Connor took it and met his father's gaze. "I will."

  Then he motioned to Captain Ilse. "Gather up those chisels. Let's go. And take Martys too."

  "You're going to kill him?" Stuart demanded.

  "The less you know, the fewer nightmares you'll have."

  Kilian didn't look pleased when Erich hoisted the still-unconscious Martys onto one beefy shoulder. With a leaden heart, Connor turned and led the way toward East Gate.

  Shouted curses began behind them, led by Stuart and Amhain, but the villagers did not pursue them. Hamish walked in dejected silence beside Connor, while Verena walked on his other side and slipped one warm hand into his.

  "They wouldn't leave," Hamish said, shaking his head. "Thought me daft to even suggest it. Just wish I could have told them the truth."

  "You're dad's no actor," Connor reminded him. "He never could have played the part, and everyone would have realized the whole thing was a sham."

  Hamish growled, "I still don't have to like it."

  Jean appeared around the next corner with Mhairi. Connor tensed for another tongue lashing. Mhairi in a fit of anger was as terrifying as Anika max-tapping granite.

  Mhairi only shook her head slowly. "I always say we should look deep and see clear before making decisions. On the face of it, you've all just struck at the heart of our town's very livelihood, but I know you." She looked form Connor to Hamish, then patted Jean's cheek. "You young-uns have done something hard, but I believe you've done the right thing. Safety go with you."

  With the traditional blessing delivered, she pulled Jean into a fierce hug. Tears stood in Jean's eyes as she hugged her grandmother. "I'll miss you, Gran."

  Mhairi looked to Hamish. "If you let anything happen to my girl, I'll whip you from here to Donleavy, boy."

  "I'll keep her safe," Hamish promised.

  Mhairi gave him a rare, warm smile. "I know you will, lad."

  She then kissed Connor's cheek. "Take our hope with you, son. Be brave and remember why you did what you did today, and you won't stray from the right path."

  "Thank you." He should have known they'd never fool Mhairi.

  Then she poked Martys in the ribs. "You can stop play-acting now, boy."

  Martys sighed. "Was I doing such a poor job of it?"

  Erich dumped him to the ground as Mhairi shook her head. "Nay. I'm sure you fooled everyone who needed to be."

  "That's why you brought him along," Kilian said as Martys rose. "But to what end?"

  "Because I'm coming with you," Martys said.

  "I don't think so," Kilian said, and Erich grinned, ready for a bash fight.

  Connor said, "Uncle Martys, I actually need you to go back to Merkland and tell Dougal how deranged I am, how evil I've become, and how everyone in town hates me."

  "Aye, twas a magnificent performance, but I'm not leaving until I know the truth."

  "The truth about what?" Kilian asked with a frown.

  "All this," Martys said, gesturing around the group. "I pay attention, and I hear things. Connor helped clear up the mess here last year, then he appeared at the Carraig leading his own army, and all signs pointed to marriage to Lady Shona herself. Then I find him suddenly here, on the run from our high lord, in company with Grandurians, swearing my liege is a liar and a murderer."

  "You're well connected, Uncle."

  "Like I said, I travel in company with
some important people. I know the war's coming, but now you lot say you think you can stop it. And you, laddie, you've broken with your high lord, but no have turned unclaimed."

  "What if I told you I won't? What if I told you patronage is a lie?"

  Martys blinked, looking as surprised as Connor expected. For a second, he even looked angry. "That's a powerful big lump of coal to swallow, laddie. I'm thinking yer head's out the window on this one."

  Connor shook his head. "We don't have time to explain everything now, but I promise you that patronage is a lie. You've been enslaved to Dougal's service your whole life for nothing."

  "We need to go," Kilian said.

  "And I'm going with ye," Martys insisted.

  "You are willing to betray your nation?" Captain Ilse asked.

  Martys scratched his head. "Well, if what Connor just said is true, maybe betraying my country is the best patriotism, eh?"

  "That's a quick change of heart from a man who's served all his life," Kilian pointed out suspiciously.

  Martys shrugged. "Some of me work I enjoy, but it's a sore fight for half a loaf, don't ye know?"

  "And what exactly does that mean?" Ilse asked with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

  "Work hard all yer life, but get less than half of what ye deserve is about what I'm used to. Either Connor is telling the truth, and I'd be daft not to join the revolution now. Or he's corked and spun till his head's sprung a leak. That'd be your fault, and I'd be daft twice over if I left him in your company without protection."

  "I don't need protection," Connor said, although he felt moved by Martys's show of support.

  Martys shook his head. "Ye're family, laddie. I no have enjoyed much of that in me life, so I figure I owe ye. I'm sticking to you like flies to fresh dung until I sort out the truth."

  Jean grimaced at the analogy, but Hamish looked like he was filing it away for future use.

  "That's assuming I allow you to come," Kilian said in a tone that made it clear he was leaning more toward unleashing the siblings.

  Martys shrugged. "I dinnae plan to play dead twice in one day, so I come, or we fight until some of us be dead for real."

  "I can leave you any way I choose," Kilian said, and fires ignited in his eyes.

  "Perhaps," Martys said, looking unimpressed. "But will ye murder me in cold blood then? Because if you let me live, I'd have to assume ye're lying and confusing my nephew, and I'd be obliged to explain to my lord Dougal all about yer little plot."

  "No." Connor hadn't just suffered through that horrible experience only for Martys to waste the effort. But he couldn't condone murder either.

  He met Kilian's gaze. "We take him with us."

  "This is a mistake," Ilse said.

  "I won't let you murder him," Connor said. "And I won't let him waste what we just accomplished here. So we take him with us."

  Kilian leaned a bit closer to Martys, the flames growing white hot in his eyes. "Don't make me regret not killing you now."

  Martys clapped him on the shoulder. "You do right by Connor and you and I will get along."

  Kilian grunted and turned away. "We've wasted too much time already."

  Martys winked at Connor. "I just so happen to have my pack stashed over by the gate. I can pick it up on the way out."

  Uncle Martys was proving far more fascinating than Connor had expected. He wondered how long it would take for Martys to regret forcing his way into the group, but until then he was looking forward to getting to know him better.

  They exited East Gate without further delay, but just as Verena was settling into the pilot seat of the Swift, fast movement caught Connor's eye.

  "Strider," he warned, and tapped granite. The others reacted just as quickly, falling into fighting stances.

  The Strider, dressed in Dougal's colors, skidded to a stop nearby, and Connor recognized him.

  "Donald?" The man was the head Strider in Captain Rory's Fast Roller company.

  Donald waved. "Hello, Connor. I thought I might find you here."

  Chapter Eleven

  "The fires may ravage the sun-dried forest, but reunion gladdens the heart with a deeper flame."

  ~Evander

  Connor grabbed Donald's arm. "Has Dougal sent an army against Alasdair?"

  "Easy, lad," Donald said, wincing at the pressure. "I am alone."

  Connor sighed with relief and let go. "Sorry. I wasn't expecting to see you today."

  "I just arrived in Merkland yesterday on the speedcaravan. I was dispatched after the earthquake. My official mission is to check on the town and verify the quarry is undamaged."

  "It's undamaged, but production is about to suffer," Connor told him, gesturing at the canvas sack full of chisels that Anika carried. He had kept the Ashlar hammer.

  Donald nodded. "Might be the first quarry struck on this side of the border, but I'm pretty sure at least one raiding party's been sent into Granadure to try to accomplish the same thing."

  Kilian exchanged a glance with Ilse. "Why would you share such intelligence with us?"

  Donald shrugged. "By the time you get back, you'll probably have a report about it waiting for you. I'll pass word along about the attack here. Don't worry."

  "What was the real reason you came?" Connor asked.

  "And are more coming?" Hamish demanded.

  Donald shook his head. "Everyone I saw was headed for the front, but I don't make those decisions." He pulled a rolled parchment out of his leather jacket and handed it across. "This is for you."

  "From Captain Rory?" Connor asked.

  Donald shook his head. "Rory and the rest of the company are heading for the front, along with High Lord Dougal, Lady Shona, and most of the senior officials."

  "Again you share intelligence with us. Why?" Ilse asked.

  "I was ordered to." Donald glanced at the Grandurians looming around him, and for the first time looking a bit nervous. "You all helped at the Carraig. It was easy to guess you might pass through here on your way out of the country. If I caught up to you, High Lord Dougal ordered me to tell you to inform Kilian that he was heading for the front to take command, and that the day of reckoning is upon you."

  Kilian grunted. "He really does like to grandstand."

  "Lady Shona gave me that letter for you," Donald told Connor.

  He glanced at it more closely. Verena took a step closer and looked like she wanted to burn it.

  Donald turned to Anika. "And Captain Rory asked me to say hello."

  Anika grinned, grabbed Donald by the shoulders, and lifted him off the ground. "Tell mine capitain--"

  She drew Donald closer, as if to pass a kiss to Rory through him, but he shouted, "Whoa! Hold on, miss. I get it, really. I'll tell him."

  Laughing, Anika placed Donald back on the ground, and he quickly retreated a few steps.

  Martys looked at her with new interest. "Captain Rory, eh?"

  "You know him?" Connor asked.

  "By reputation."

  Anika said, "Capitain has strongest hands."

  Martys sighed. "Guess I need to find another girl to wrestle."

  Kilian spoke to Donald. "Has the order to invade been given?"

  "Not that I'm aware. And I'm not authorized to say anything more about that." He glanced at Connor. "I'm sorry to see you forced to run like this. Captain Rory said if I saw you to tell you he understands, but he cautions you not to join the fighting against your homeland. We cannot show mercy on the battlefield."

  "I understand." Connor hesitated then asked, "If I give you a message for Rory, are you duty bound to share it with High Lord Dougal too?"

  "I report to Captain Rory, and I give my reports to him directly. If he chooses to share information further up the command chain, that is up to him, isn't it?"

  "Tell your captain that my intention is to find a way to stop the war, if possible."

  Donald gave him an incredulous look and Martys said, "I've tried to tell him, but he's one of those young kids who thinks he c
an change the world."

  "He just might manage it," Donald said.

  "Tell Rory that Dougal is my enemy, not Obrion."

  Donald nodded. "I'll tell him."

  "And make sure he knows that we've broken with Alasdair, stolen their tools in an attempt to disrupt the flow of stone to fuel his Petralists, and we will never return."

  Donald nodded again, turned to go, then looked back. "Good luck, Connor."

  Then he sped back into town.

  Martys chuckled. "Life is never dull around you, nephew. I'll give you that."

  "We need to get back over the border," Kilian said.

  "These last mountains are difficult, but not impossible," Ilse said. "I can create bridges to get over the chasms."

  "I need to move faster." Kilian glanced at the Swift.

  Verena said, "I can't carry everyone."

  "I know. We'll have to split the party," Kilian said with a frown. "You and Hamish will fly Connor, Jean, and myself north with all possible speed. Ilse, you take the rest of the team overland and meet us at the Builder compound. Try not to kill Martys before you arrive."

  "I'm going with Connor," Martys insisted.

  Verena shook her head. "No. The Swift's not a troop transport. We'll be lucky to make it without running out of quartzite as it is."

  Connor turned away from them as they finalized details. He considered the letter from Shona for a moment, not sure if he should burn it or read it.

  Shona had a way of twisting things in his mind and his heart, making it hard to think straight. Then again, she had freed him at the last. That fact was enough for his curiosity to win out. He unrolled the parchment.

  Dearest Connor,

  I hope this letter finds you somehow. I know you have to leave, and I can't imagine how hard it is for you, but surely you'll stop in Alasdair one final time before escaping the insanity that has swallowed up our lives.

  Oh Connor, I already miss you more than those dark days when I thought you dead. To think we got a second chance to correct those first dreadful mistakes, that we came so close to accomplishing everything we had dreamed of, only to be separated again by such awful circumstances. It is almost more than I can bear.

  Don't hate me, Connor. I think by now you know me enough to understand that I am as much a prisoner in my life as you nearly were. Together, it might have been bearable, but now my life stretches before me, grim and dark, and full of choices forced upon me by my birth, the demands of my station, and my duty to my father, my house, and my people. Your courage and unwavering loyalty inspire me, Connor, and I promise to press on, despite the challenges.