Affinity for War

by Frank Morin

  The wagon pitched and spun, and for a second she feared it might tip over. The heavy bomb rocked up on two of its stubby feet, pulling against the restraining straps. If those straps gave, she doubted the gate across the back of the open-topped wagon bed would prevent the bomb from tumbling right out.

  Terror helped Ingrid gain control, and she eased back the front thrusters while throwing wide the back. The wagon pitched forward so far, only her braced legs and grip on the control handles kept her from toppling right over the front. That was enough to orient the windrider better toward the open sky though, and it shot into the air, barely clearing the top of the wall.

  "Good luck, Builder!" the Blades called again, a new edge of concern in their voices.

  "I will not fail," Ingrid promised as she worked to even out the various thrusters and level the wagon. As she rose higher over the plateau, it seemed everyone was running. The entire camp was in commotion as soldiers rushed to form defensive lines and the thousands of non-Petralist forces helped evacuate the camp.

  The early morning air was cool, but sweat dripped into her eyes as she worked the controls. After what seemed an eternity, she oriented the windrider toward the distant gap. She had never flown very high, so she tried leveling at a hundred feet, then threw wide the release rate on the rear push thrusters. With a satisfying roar, the windrider accelerated toward the gap at the top of the plateau, just over a mile distant.

  When she focused on it, wishing she had a pair of long-vision goggles, she noticed waves of earth pouring through the gap and soldiers fleeing back from the barricades.

  With a sinking feeling of dread, she realized she wasn't flying nearly high enough.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  "Does the river choose to flow when the dam bursts?"

  ~Evander

  Snapping his long-vision goggles into place, Hamish focused on the distant elfonnel, about four miles away. Even though it was slightly smaller than the one that had savaged the Carraig, it seemed just as deadly and destructive.

  "How is it possible?" Jean asked, her voice trembling with fear as she stared through her own goggles.

  "I don't know, but it's bad. Connor's not here to destroy it."

  "Surely all of the Petralists in the army can stop it," Jean said hopefully.

  "With our help, maybe they can."

  The army at the Carraig had been so overpowered by that elfonnel, but there were ten times as many Petralists on the plateau. With his enhanced bomb to tip the tide in their favor, maybe they did stand a chance.

  Earth was still exploding out of the pass, a hundred-foot horizontal avalanche. The elfonnel was already charging through the steep-walled canyon that led down from the pass. It leaped right over the barricade walls, ignoring the Petralists trying to flee, or the few tertiaries attempting to strike at it with elemental power. The wave of earth smashed through those barricades, sweeping away the defenders and burying them in an unstoppable flood.

  "Oh, Hamish," Jean breathed. "They can't get away fast enough."

  The sight sickened him. They had to destroy that monster.

  The Sappers had formed a barricade line facing the southern canyon, and when Hamish focused on them, the mighty tower in the center drew his gaze. Anton stood upon the forty-foot turret, facing the charging monster, flanked by the other Sappers.

  Water Moccasins held the left side, already prepared with a series of inverted waterfalls that tumbled back upon themselves in constant motion. The impressive display still looked minuscule compared to the avalanche the elfonnel brought with it. Flameweavers held the right side, and those men and women were already wreathed in white-hot flames.

  As soon as the elfonnel charged out of the canyon, the ground between it and the Sappers buckled as the Petralists attempted to block its path. At the same time, the water moccasins flung vast sheets of glittering liquid at the monster.

  Earth sprayed past the elfonnel, intercepting the waters and burying them in a muddy landslide. The Flameweavers struck next, but the elfonnel seemed to ignore the fire raging around his head. It charged into that broken, fractured land between it and the Sappers.

  And stopped.

  Its whole body quivered, leaning forward, as if pushing against a mighty, invisible weight, but somehow the Sappers managed to hold it back. If they could hold for just a few minutes, Hamish could get there and drop the most powerful bomb ever built.

  He was not the first flyer to advance on the monster.

  Hamish noticed a tiny shape flying past its head, seeming to wobble in midair. He focused on the windrider, and suddenly felt only terror.

  Ingrid.

  What was she doing flying a windrider alone, and so close to that monster? Then he noticed the heavy object in the bed of her wagon, straining against the restraining straps during the wild pitching of her nearly out-of-control flight.

  She had the other bomb.

  He snatched up his speakstone and shouted, "This is Builder Hamish. What is Ingrid doing up there?"

  "Oh, Builder," cried the ear-scout immediately. "Can you help her? She promised she could fly that wagon, but she's having so much trouble."

  "I'm just reaching the northern end of the plateau now. I've got another bomb with me. Tell her to retreat, and I'll take care of the elfonnel."

  "Hold on," the ear-scout said. "I'm bringing you to her speakstone so you can communicate directly."

  Hamish glanced at Jean, who pushed her goggles back and said, "She's so brave, but she's far too close."

  "I'm glad we got here when we did."

  Hamish pivoted the wagon a little so he could add some secondary directional thrusters and gain another half-raptor bit of speed. All the push thrusters were wide open already. Focusing on the distant elfonnel, he was encouraged to see new waves of fire and water tearing at the monster. Then a blinding light erupted right in front of it.

  "Cursed Solas," he muttered, blinking for several seconds to restore his sight.

  When he looked back, it took a moment to locate Ingrid. She had set her windrider into a hover not far from the monster, had left her seat, and clambered into the back of the wagon.

  "No," Hamish groaned. Ingrid was so tiny, so young. She reminded him of his sisters, and seeing her in such danger terrified him.

  He watched as she stiffened and pulled a speakstone from her belt pouch. "Builder Hamish, is that you?"

  "Yes! I'm nearly there. I can see you."

  She looked up, but of course he was still too far away to see with unaided sight.

  "Get out of there," Hamish cried. "You're too close."

  "I'm going to drop the bomb," she said, and the pride in her voice made him want to slap her.

  "You can't drop it from there." Hamish kept his voice as calm as possible. "The blast would kill you too."

  The monster seemed enraged that its forward progress was being hindered. Movement behind it drew his gaze, and his hopes sank.

  Obrioner forces had followed it through the gap and were moving to flank the beast. Somehow they must be controlling the elfonnel, and that boded very badly for Granadure.

  "Oh." Ingrid's voice took on an unmistakable note of fear. "I don't think I can go much higher."

  "You don't have to. Just retreat. I'll take care of it."

  Before she could respond, the elfonnel tipped its head up toward her. She was hovering barely higher than its back, so it was a miracle it hadn't noticed her sooner.

  "Go!" Hamish and Jean shouted together.

  Her scream echoed from the speakstone as the monster lunged, its terrifying maw opening wide, a dozen snake-like tongues snapping toward her. They yanked her and the bomb from the wagon just as those huge jaws snapped shut over it.

  Another blinding light erupted around the wagon, blocking his view. Through the speakstone, he heard shattering timber and a final scream, which abruptly cut off.

  Hamish stared at the stone in his hand, his heart suddenly cold, grief blinding him more than the Solas ever co
uld. The Last Word never detonated. He had hoped the force of those jaws clamping shut over it would have triggered the explosion, but something had gone wrong.

  "She can't be gone," Jean whispered, her face pale, her expression horrified.

  Hamish would take care of it.

  Blinking back tears, he scoured every thruster for any reserves of untapped power. The windrider thundered across the plain toward the monster. He was still two miles away, flying at over two thousand feet. He'd never drawn so much power from the thrusters before, but he didn't care that he might exhaust them before reaching the monster.

  They'd hold. They had to.

  If they didn't, he'd use his suit to carry the bomb the rest of the way. Nothing could prevent him from destroying that thing.

  Obrioner forces attacked the Grandurian lines. New waves of earth smashed into the broken, contested land between the armies, while sheets of flame and tendrils of water rippled back and forth through the air above. The combined might of the Grandurian Petralists had held the elfonnel at bay, but they could never hope to do so and fight off the Obrioner Petralists too.

  "Order the retreat." Hamish barely recognized the harsh, angry voice as his own. His initial grief had morphed into rage hotter than any Flameweaver fire. "Get everyone out of there, or they will die."

  "On your word, Builder," the ear-scout replied, her voice quivering with grief. "Kill that thing. I'll warn the general that detonation is imminent."

  "Can't you go faster?" Jean asked, her eyes blazing with fury as hot as his.

  "Make sure your harness is tight. The ride will get rough when I blow this thing."

  As Hamish covered the last two miles up the plateau, passing above thousands of men and women fleeing the plain, the rear guard began to retreat.

  They had waited too long.

  As Hamish had feared, the additional attack from the Obrioner forces tipped the balance, and the Grandurian resistance cracked. The elfonnel suddenly lunged forward against the right flank. Flameweavers rocketed off the ground to escape its path, like a flock of bright sparrows.

  As the Grandurian forces scrambled to react, the elfonnel charged north, around the Sapper picket, which was retreating under a concentrated barrage from the Obrioner Petralists.

  Unchallenged, the monster tore into the main camp and began smashing everything. It did not bury the entire camp in a wave of earth as Hamish feared it might, so perhaps the Sappers were still doing some good.

  Hamish reached the monster and slowed to a hover high above.

  "What are you waiting for?" Jean demanded, gesturing toward the huge bomb. "Aren't you going to drop that?"

  "I don't know how many people are still down there. The blast will kill anyone not yet clear."

  "Can they drive it south again?" Jean asked, glancing over the side at the fierce elemental battle raging along the southern edge of the plateau. The Grandurian lines were holding as they retreated, but they seemed barely able to withstand the concentrated Obrioner attack. More Obrioner soldiers were swarming into the camp, following the path of destruction the monster had left.

  "Is anyone still in the Hub?" Hamish called into the speakstone.

  "I'm one of the last," said the ear-scout who he had been speaking with. "Everyone else has evacuated."

  "Can you get me in touch with Anton?"

  "Hold on." A moment later her voice came back "Anton I have Builder Hamish for you."

  "The voice of a friend, like the streaming sunlight after a storm, gladdens the heart."

  "I think I can help stop this thing," Hamish said. "But my bomb is going to destroy everything on the southern half of the plateau. Can you shield everyone?"

  "At the first sign of danger, the chicken spreads her wings over her young ones, but the fox may yet rend and tear."

  "It's the best option we have," Hamish said, resisting the urge to fly down to Anton and punch him in the nose.

  The bulk of the army had already evacuated the camp, but the elfonnel could easily run them down. A rear guard of Rumblers and Wingrunners was forming at the northern end of the camp, a desperate line of defense against the Obrioner forces that were streaming into camp.

  The plateau would be overrun. There was no salvaging it now, and if Hamish did not act soon, he would miss his chance, or one of the Firetongues would notice him and burn him out of the sky. "You have ten seconds. Initiating the drop now."

  The elfonnel was busy smashing through the camp, closing on the command tent. Hamish set the windrider to hover in that direction on an intercept course. Then he leaped into the back and used his belt knife to slash through the restraining ropes holding the bomb in place.

  "Do you need help?" Jean asked.

  "No. Stay there and make sure you're buckled tight. This will only take a second."

  He gripped the stone plug sealing the mouth of the bomb and opened his Builder senses to it. The granite tasted like crackers in his mind, and the core of diorite that extended down into the heart of the bomb felt like licking lightning.

  The bomb was the most powerful one he and Dierk had ever designed. In addition to the core of diorite, the bomb already contained a second piece of precious diorite, the size of a chisel, carefully ground to single grains of powder, with the release rate thrown wide. It was packed into the huge, spherical pottery jar with a deadly mixture of highly reactive chemicals.

  Unlike previous bombs, this one contained one other unique component. Hamish reached through the diorite core with Builder senses and activated the slate. Maybe it would help counter some of the monster's connection with the earth in the critical second the bomb detonated. Then he did the same with the diorite, and recoiled with a gasp from the stone. It felt like he'd unleashed a lightning storm within the bomb. It seemed impossible that it hadn't already exploded. All it needed now was an impact to trigger the massive blast.

  A bomb with but a fraction of that power had leveled half of Carbrey's camp near Alasdair. A small handful of diorite had ripped open the elfonnel at the Carraig. Now Hamish silently prayed this monster bomb would be enough to destroy the monster that had just eaten Ingrid and killed so many people.

  As Hamish clambered back to his seat on the high pilot bench and strapped in, Jean touched his arm. "Hamish, there are a lot of Obrioner soldiers down there too."

  He read the same conflict in her eyes that he felt. He loved his country, even though he'd been driven out of it by a stupid law. Now he was about to unleash unrivaled destruction upon the plateau and probably kill more of his own countrymen than any Grandurian ever had.

  "I don't have any other choice," he said softly. "They chose to attack."

  "I know," she said, tears in her eyes. "I hate that you're forced to do this." Her expression hardened and she added, "But you have to."

  "Hold on then," he told her, preparing to flip the wagon and send the bomb tumbling out.

  A groan echoed through the speakstone. "Ha. . .Hamish?"

  "Ingrid!" he shouted, barely believing it. Jean clutched his arm, grinning with joy.

  "Oh, Hamish." Ingrid's voice quivered with agony. "It feels like everything is broken."

  "Where are you?" He glanced again at the monster as it shattered the command tent, directly below him, perfectly situated for the bomb drop.

  "I'm in its belly," Ingrid said in a terrified voice. "It's like a big room, filled with black acid. It dissolved the wood and stone from the wagon, and the thrusters just cracked. I used part of the speakstone power to form a shieldstone to protect me and the bomb, but the shield is so small, and it's fading fast. I'm scared."

  "I know what to do," Hamish told her, trying to sound calm and confident. "I'm going to drop my bomb. It'll break that thing open. When it does, you use that quartzite to launch yourself out. Do you understand?"

  "Oh, Hamish, I knew you'd know," Ingrid said, her voice filled with hope and relief. "Hurry. I can't hold this shield for long."

  "Dropping it now," Hamish assured her. Then he glanc
ed at Jean and said, "Hold on."

  The elfonnel was still rooting around over the wreckage of the command tent, as if celebrating. Even more than a mile below him, the monster seemed to fill the plateau.

  Hamish gripped the control rods and abruptly changed the release rate on the thrusters. The wagon pitched forward, flipping an entire spin in the air. Only the safety straps prevented them from getting thrown clear.

  Jean screamed, and the Last Word fell free and plummeted toward the monster.

  "Tallan eat your soul," Hamish growled as he righted the windrider, added more lift, then sidled sideways to watch the bomb fall. He wanted to see it split wide open.

  "It's away, Ingrid. Get ready."

  "I am!"

  As the bomb fell, Hamish refused to look at the Obrioner soldiers pushing into the camp. They would die with the monster, but he could not have made a different choice. The line of Sappers, led by Anton, had retreated to the north and, as the bomb fell, they sank into the ground, along with the last of the rear guard.

  "I hope this works," Jean whispered, gripping Hamish's arm so tight, it felt like she was cutting off the circulation right through the armored sleeve of his flying suit.

  The elfonnel seemed to sense danger, because it suddenly tipped its huge head back, and Hamish looked down into those enormous, silver eyes.

  The bomb struck.

  It hit the elfonnel at the tail end and blew the rear third of its torso clean off. Howling flames ripped the air. The concussion shattered earth and dislodged the heavy snow pack at the peak of Badurach Pass.

  The explosion was even bigger than Hamish had feared, fire erupting across the entire upper half of the plateau. It engulfed the elfonnel, and snarling fire and tortured air boiled high into the air toward him.

  The shock wave struck the windrider so hard timbers cracked and several thrusters snapped free. Again the safety straps saved Jean's life, but she screamed under the wrenching, spinning motion of the wagon. Hamish had buckled in too, and he instinctively fired some of his own suit thrusters to help stabilize them.

  For a moment he knew nothing but terrifying pitching and tumbling as the turbulent air howled around them and tossed the heavy wagon like a leaf in a swollen spring river. His vision spun wildly, and his stomach couldn't take the brutal spinning. He vomited, spraying the contents of his last meal in an arc that could have beat his record if he could have found a way to measure the distance. Jean screamed again.