by Frank Morin
Shona clung to him, and her muscles hardened with granite. "Don't tap too much," Ivor warned as he aimed for a gentle landing about a quarter mile away. "The extra weight could drag us right out of the air."
"You do know it's a bad idea to insult a girl's weight, right?"
Shona's lovely face was barely inches from his, so he couldn't miss the look of fear in her eyes. That surprised him. He hadn't thought Shona was afraid of anything.
"I'm sorry, does flying make you nervous?"
"Not nervous, angry. Makes me think of that Grandurian Builder wench." Hatred burned in her eyes, but another emotion was buried there too.
In the turbulent air, he struggled to maintain lift, but managed to glide almost all the way to Dougal's tent. The distance might not be huge when they were near earth movers, but he still felt a little safer.
"What's happening?" Shona asked as the rumbling intensified, shaking the ground so hard that they both staggered.
A giant monster leaped through the billowing dust.
It looked strikingly similar to the elfonnel they had faced at the Carraig. It resembled a gigantic scorpion made of earth and stone, but with the enormous, flat head of some kind of angry fish.
This one was a bit shorter, its sinuous, rectangular torso about seventy feet long, propelled by eight thick legs. The deadly claws on its three-toed feet cut deep into the soft ground. Spikes ringed its rounded torso and stuck out from its knees and head. It flicked its forward-arcing tail over its back, cracking the air all the way above its head.
"Tallan's fury," Ivor breathed, wondering if he had fallen suddenly asleep, the way Aifric had started doing at random times over the past days.
This was no dream. It was an elfonnel.
Shona's skin faded to gray as her body shifted into the perfect lines of max-tapped granite. It wouldn't help. The giant elemental monster was like a nightmare come to life, just as terrifying as when it had crashed through the Carraig outer wall.
"How?" she breathed.
"It's Redmund."
It had to be, but part of him refused to believe Redmund could become such a monster. "Connor was right. The elfonnel really are Petralists."
But there was no way Redmund knew how to raise the elements and give them living form. He was a powerful Sentry, but not nearly as clever as he pretended. If Ivor didn't know how elfonnel were raised, Redmund couldn't have learned the secret.
Ivor glanced again toward High Lord Dougal's nearby tent. Had Connor been right? Was this Dougal's doing?
The giant monster trumpeted, the noise like ten thousand lions roaring in unison. It echoed across the plateau, and the entire massed army drew back.
Gregor rose on a heavy tower near the elfonnel's head, and it turned to consider him. Ivor remembered how little Declan had tried challenging an earth elfonnel, but his bravery had only won him the honor of becoming the first to die.
"I don't like this," Shona said, taking a fearful step back.
"If you did, I'd worry you were cracked."
He definitely didn't like it. Didn't like the nightmarish memories the sight of the monster triggered, or the taste of fear that clung to his throat like bile.
"Clear the path," Gregor's voice boomed, enhanced by a Pathfinder. The mighty Sentry, who looked puny next to the enormous elfonnel, slid away from the monster on his tower.
The monster swiveled its head after him, tracking him with the two huge, silver eyes on the right side of its head. It opened its huge maw, revealing several rows of stalactite-like teeth, and roared again. The sound shook the plateau, its breath like a gusting, foul wind.
Shona shared a worried look with Ivor. "This shouldn't be possible."
"You go tell him," Ivor suggested.
For a moment, he feared the monster would pounce on Gregor, but it slowly turned its huge head to face the Drumwhindle Pass. With another bellowing roar, it charged the pass, with the entire remaining mass of earth flowing behind it.
Even though the gathered companies were assembled well clear of the monster's path, everyone pressed back farther. The monster was charging the pass, but Ivor had no idea if Redmund was controlling it, if Dougal was somehow directing it, or if it would suddenly change its mind and decide to eat them all first.
His heart raced with dark memories of that terrifying day at the Carraig. He shuddered at the terrifying memory of fleeing across the broken plain, carrying Verena, with the enraged elfonnel close on his heels.
Most of the soldiers didn't seem to understand the full extent of the danger. How could they? No one had seen an elfonnel in a generation. They were legends, stories whispered around campfires.
Some soldiers raised fists and cheered as the elfonnel raced for the pass, shaking the valley with the force of its passage. Ivor was suddenly very glad that he would not be leading the vanguard, trailing in the wake of the monster.
"I have to get back to my post." Shona looked shaken, but determined, and turned toward the central command tent.
The huge, double doors set in the outer wall of Dougal's palace tent opened and High Lord Dougal hobbled out, leaning heavily on his cane, with Healers at both elbows. His temporary health was gone, replaced by a look of weary concentration. He didn't seem to notice Ivor or Shona, but focused on the distant monster thundering toward the gap.
He bared his teeth in a fierce grin and whispered, "I have you now."
Ivor hoped Connor wasn't on the north side of the mountain.
Chapter Twenty-One
"One cannot force the young pedra to fly and to hunt. It alone must choose to take wing and leap off the cliff."
~Padraigin
Ingrid stepped into the Word Hub at the heart of the Grandurian army camp on the plateau beneath mighty Mount Osterwald and the narrow Badurach Pass. It still amazed her to think the Obrioners standing on the southern side of the same mountain called it by a different name.
She scanned the packed rows of tiny desks, each manned by a busy ear-scout. The women each managed several speakstones, cradled in little boxes along the upper edge of their slightly tilted desks. Each box was labeled with the name of the officer assigned to the little stone's twin. The huge tent was always a flurry of activity, and Ingrid loved the energy and the constant low hum of a hundred conversations melding together.
The duty captain, a pudgy ear-scout with a ready smile, approached. Ingrid had often seen her transcribe messages from half a dozen speakstones simultaneously. All the ear-scouts were women. Men seemed to struggle with tracking multiple conversations as well, and none had won places in the new, but already prestigious company.
"Builder Ingrid, welcome back to the Hub. We've got a lot going on today. The forward Longseer hovering over the pass has caught glimpses across the Obrioner side that suggest unusual troop movements. We've already got three pairings that need attention, and we're expecting a shipment of replacements today that will need to be activated immediately."
"I'll get right on it," Ingrid promised.
She headed to the back corner of the tent where her narrow desk was squeezed between two rows. It was cramped, but she was pretty small herself, and she loved it.
The news of troop movements made her nervous, and she hoped the dreaded first assault didn't begin before Uncle Dierk arrived. She felt far too alone without him. Even better, maybe Hamish would come with him.
Dozens of the ladies waved as she passed. She might be the youngest Builder, just turned fourteen, but the ear-scouts treated her with respect she had never experienced before. They depended on her, and she worked as hard as possible to not let them down.
She found the troublesome speakstones on her desk and picked up the first pair. With a flicker of her Builder senses, she explored the stones. As was usually the case with pairs that stopped talking together, one of the two contained a vortex of power that had altered the release rate, throwing the pair out of balance. It took her only a moment to correct the issue and get the stones speaking again.
"The right words can save lives," was a popular mantra of the ear-scouts, and Ingrid believed it with all her heart.
Ingrid wasn't much of a Builder yet. She had only discovered her Builder sense a couple months prior, but every Builder was needed to help the war effort. She couldn't build the complex mechanicals that were in such demand, but speakstones just made sense. Her innate talent with them had landed her in the Hub, and she was thrilled to be back.
Uncle Dierk had promised to continue her training soon, and Builder Verena had even promised to teach her. The thought of creating mechanicals with Verena was a favorite dream.
"Good morning, ladies." The deep voice of General Wolfram sounded in the tent, and every ear-scout not actively transcribing communications rose to salute.
Ingrid wove through the tight-packed rows of desks toward the general. He always asked her opinion about the status of the speakstone stores, and she took the responsibility very seriously.
Wolfram was a tall man with broad shoulders and large hands. His gray hair and long, drooping mustaches lent him an air of authority that was magnified by the penetrating gaze from those deep, blue eyes.
"Ah, Builder Ingrid," General Wolfram said, giving her a warm smile. He always treated her with more respect than she felt she deserved, and she loved him for it. With him in charge, how could the army ever lose? "I'm glad you're back. We'll need you to ensure everything works at top form today."
"I've already fixed the problematic pairings," Ingrid told him. "Everything else seems to be working fine."
"Very good."
She glowed with pride, reveling in the fact that her tiny gift was helping the huge, complex army communicate in ways it never had before. In moments like that, she felt almost confident enough to actually speak with the handsome Hamish the next time she saw him.
"General!" a nearby senior ear-scout cried, gesturing wildly. "Major alert. Urgent word from the Longseer stationed in the forward windrider."
Several other women started calling major alerts from officers stationed along the fortified wall that blocked the Grandurian side of the pass. Ingrid felt a thrill of fear as she followed Wolfram over.
The duty captain's face paled and she snatched the paper away from the ear-scout as soon as she finished writing the first line. "Sir, we have a report of some kind of giant monster closing on the pass from the Obrioner side."
"Reports of a mass advance from the Obrioner lines," another ear-scout shouted from the next row.
Wolfram took the speakstone and spoke into it. "This is General Wolfram. Describe what you're seeing."
"Oh, General. I'm so glad you're there." The woman sounded frantic. "It's enormous. I've never seen anything like it. Far too big to be summoned."
"Elfonnel," Wolfram said, his tone grave. "Has Dougal no sense? No respect for international law?" He handed the stone back to the ear-scout. "Record everything she describes, and bring it to me at once."
Ingrid didn't know what an elfonnel was, but the duty captain looked ready to faint. It had to be bad.
The general's voice boomed through the tent. "Ladies, listen up. We have a confirmed major alert. The attack is underway. Code Avalanche. Repeat, code Avalanche."
A gasp rippled across the assembled ladies, and Ingrid found it hard to breathe. She hadn't memorized all the pre-arranged code words the ear-scouts used, but she had seen Avalanche at the very bottom of the list. It meant that things were going very badly.
"Issue warnings to all units," Wolfram ordered, his voice loud, his tone serious, but his expression calm. "All auxiliary units commence full retreat. Evacuate the camp. Healers prepare all mobile treatment platforms at the lower end of the plateau and be advised of possible mass casualties."
As ear-scouts scrambled to get the word out, Wolfram turned to the duty captain. "Get me Anton at once. All tertiaries assemble at the southern picket. I want Solas ready for distraction bursts."
"Yes, sir."
She rushed off, shouting orders to the already-busy ear-scouts. Ingrid wasn't sure what to do, and she wrung her hands together nervously. Stress and fear radiated from the ear-scouts in nearly palpable waves.
"Which element?" Wolfram asked the ear-scout still transcribing from the Longseer. He leaned over her paper, scanning what she had already written, and his eyebrows drew together a bit, the only outward indication of concern.
"It's dragging a mountain of earth behind it," the voice came through the speakstone. "It has already leaped the Obrion causeway walls."
"Earth bound," Wolfram said. "We lack the water to stop it."
Several ear-scouts rushed up. "We're ready for additional orders, General."
"Good. Notify all tertiaries the elfonnel is earth bound. The Water Moccasin company is to prepare all reserves. Sappers must focus efforts on reducing its ability to seize the plateau. Flameweavers, prepare incineration initiative."
He turned to Ingrid. "I am afraid we may need that bomb of your uncle's, Builder Ingrid."
"It's ready to go, but I don't think there are any Builders available."
His brows crept closer together. Turning to the hovering ear-scouts he asked, "What are the current locations of our Builder corps?"
It took only a moment to gather the information, and the news drew his brows closer together until he was nearly frowning. "Are you telling me we have no Builders anywhere nearby?"
"No, sir," the lead ear-scout responded. "They've all been deployed. We never have enough Builders as it is, but we usually have at least one here at command."
Another ear-scout rushed up. "Sir, I just reached Builder Hamish. He's got Builder Dierk's speakstone. He's within earspeak range, and he said he's barely ten minutes out."
"Tell him to hurry," Wolfram ordered.
The news that Hamish was coming bolstered Ingrid's confidence and she spoke up. "Sir, there is one Builder available."
"Who?" All eyes turned toward her.
"Me." She spoke softly, a lump of nervousness nearly choking off the word. She cleared her throat and continued, forcing more confidence into her voice. "I'll take the windrider up and drop the bomb."
"Are you a flying Builder?" an ear-scout asked.
"I'm a flyer in training. Almost approved for solo flight."
Wolfram considered her, one hand stroking his majestic mustaches. Most of the ear-scouts had already returned to their duties, hastening to relay all his orders.
"Are you sure you can do this?"
The fact that he treated her with such respect, despite her youth and inexperience strengthened her resolve. She was a Builder. She would make her uncle proud, and if she did a good job, maybe Hamish would stop treating her like a little sister.
"I've flown with Uncle Dierk, and I did pretty well. Once I pass my last test, I'll be approved."
She didn't mention that she had failed that test miserably when she first tried it. She could handle lifting off and hovering just fine, but even though the controls for banking and turning were simple enough, the complexities of reading the wind and the air, and becoming one with it like Builder Verena taught were so confusing.
Still, she felt confident that if she could point it in the right direction, she could get the windrider to the gap. Then all she had to do was hover, activate the components of the bomb, and push it out the back. It couldn't be that complicated.
The nearest speakstone, the one from the Longseer in the scout windrider, spoke again. "Tallan preserve us! The elfonnel changed size and ran right into Badurach Pass. The entire opening is filling with earth."
The ear-scout tried to ask a question, but the Longseer cried, "Oh, no! It just consumed the barricade wall. Just buried it and everyone there. Wait. Look out! Go! Go!"
The voice cut off abruptly, and the ashen-faced ear-scout looked up at Wolfram. "I think they're gone, sir. But I don't see how. They were so high."
Looking grave, Wolfram turned back to Ingrid. "Builder Ingrid, you are perhaps our best hope. Take the windrider. Drop t
hat bomb on that monster. Go with the Tallan's blessing."
"I won't let you down!" Ingrid cried.
One of the ear-scouts pressed a speakstone into her hand and gave her a little hug. "Keep us posted, and good luck."
Clutching the little stone to her chest, she rushed from the room. A cheer went up from the ear-scouts she had grown to love, and she vowed to destroy the monster that threatened their lives. She was a Builder, and it was her duty to protect.
The idea terrified her, and filled her with quivering excitement at the same time. Running helped, so she sprinted for the windrider. It waited in a little, walled courtyard, guarded by a pair of Allcarvers. When she burst through the door, they had already learned of her mission.
One of them saluted as the other hoisted her up onto the high wagon seat. "Good luck, Builder. Strike it down for all of us."
"I will!"
The wagon felt so much bigger when she was the only person riding in it, but surely the weight of that huge bomb in the bed would help settle her flight.
She glanced back at the Last Word bomb and wondered if it was really powerful enough to destroy a giant monster. It looked simple enough, just an enormous ceramic pot, over two feet in diameter, resting on fat, stubby legs, sealed with a plug of granite, surrounding a tiny core of diorite.
It was filled with a special blend of chemicals and materials that produced intense, explosive fire. Ingrid didn't know exactly how it worked, but did understand that she needed to open wide the release rate on the diorite core before pushing it out of the windrider. Then fly away as fast as possible.
First, get there.
Grasping the control handles, she felt for the thrusters and threw wide the release rate on all of them. Wind howled through the little courtyard, driving the Allcarvers back as the thrusters activated. The heavy wagon lurched off the ground, but twisted in the air and crashed into one of the walls.
Ingrid yelped as the impact nearly unseated her. She wished Uncle Dierk had installed those safety harnesses in this windrider too. Maybe she shouldn't have activated the directional thrusters yet.
