by Frank Morin
"But is it the strongest?" Connor asked. "I started exploring the idea during the Tir-raon, combining different affinities in our mock battles. It surprised everyone and gave us a big advantage. There have to be other ways to do that."
Kilian nodded, looking pleased by the idea. "In the past, that type of cooperation was more common. Through the last few centuries, as the number of Petralists has declined, so has that inter-affinity cooperation."
"What do you suggest?" Wolfram asked.
Verena spoke first and said enthusiastically, "Mud!"
"That would be a challenge," Connor agreed. He was thrilled but not surprised that she caught on to the idea so quickly.
Wolfram nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed. The heavy water content would make it hard for Sappers to manipulate, but such dense impurities of earth also make it onerous for the Water Moccasins."
"But what if a Sapper and a Water Moccasin worked together over the same mud pit?" Connor asked. "They could reinforce each other's control. With a little practice, they'd gain a huge advantage."
Verena grinned. "Enemy Sentries or Spitters would try intercepting it individually, which would dilute their control."
"I like it," Wolfram said, then glanced at Anton, who did not look thrilled. "Although it will take some convincing to get our Petralists to implement it."
Verena faced Anton, who stood nearly twice her height, and gave him a sweet smile. "You'll try it for me though, won't you?"
He sighed and she grinned. "I knew I could count on you."
"A beam of sunlight may penetrate the darkest abyss, yet lack the force of the radiant smile of jubilant youth."
"You say the sweetest things."
"I hope your team will remain to help," Wolfram said to Kilian. "Your presence will bolster morale and I have no doubt it would tip the balance in our favor."
Kilian hesitated for a second. "We'll be here, but not in the main force."
"Why not?" Wolfram asked.
"This war is personal for Dougal. The most likely reason he would dare break the Baltray so early in the war is to draw me out in anger to counterattack."
Wolfram nodded slowly. "I am definitely tempted to place you and Connor at the front. Together, we could shatter the Obrioner advance and send them back through the pass."
Kilian said, "But Dougal possesses the greatest collection of sculpted stones of any Obrioner high lord. Once he confirms my presence, there is nothing stopping him from sacrificing other Petralists to raise elfonnel to fight me."
Connor hadn't believed anything could scare him more than the thought of fighting another elfonnel. Fighting several did the job handily.
"So I propose we prepare to defend Harz and take the fight to the Obrioners, utilizing the tactics Connor was just discussing, as well as all the mechanicals our Builders can prepare. Let us see if Dougal will dare raise another elfonnel, or if he'll allow the battle to run its natural course."
"And if he chooses to raise one?" Wolfram asked.
"Then we have no choice. I'll intercept it."
"I don't like it," Verena said before Connor could voice his concern. "That would still leave the threat of Dougal then committing other elfonnel to the field. You can't defeat several at once."
"Probably not," Kilian admitted, but a flicker of flame in his eyes made Connor wonder. Could Kilian really think he might?
"Even if you could," Verena continued. "We'd risk breaking Granadure apart, wouldn't we?"
"Letting elfonnel run amok and destroy Granadure wouldn't be much better," Wolfram pointed out.
"Then our plan is not complete," Verena said. "When the battle begins, Hamish, Connor, and I will position ourselves in the sky. If Dougal raises an elfonnel, everyone will be focused on it."
"It's almost impossible not to," Hamish agreed.
"What do you have in mind?" Connor asked.
Verena gave him a predatory smile. "They won't be ready for us to strike. We drop down from the sky and attack the commanders. We might even be able to intercept or capture the other sculpted stones before they're put into play."
Hamish nodded, his expression grim. "I like it. Take the fight to them."
"You'd be taking an awful risk," Kilian said.
"Too much," Martys agreed. "Ye're talking suicide, lass."
"I'm not. I know it's a risk, but all battle is a risk. It's better than letting Dougal unleash multiple elfonnel against us, and they won't be expecting it."
"Perhaps," Kilian said. "How long before the Obrioners advance this far?"
"At least a couple of days," Wolfram said. "Moving nearly forty thousand troops this far and preparing to fight will take time, even without the harrying strikes we've already launched."
"Good. That gives us time to prepare a more detailed battle plan."
Verena said, "And time to get our new craft tested. I think we're going to need it."
"New craft?" Hamish perked up at that. "Sounds fun."
"Inform me if you learn any intelligence about Dougal's sculpted stones," Kilian told Wolfram.
"Everything our spy assets discover," Wolfram promised. "But at the moment, all of our communication channels are in shambles."
As the group began to disperse to their various duties, Kilian pulled Connor aside. "I will likely be very busy over the next few days, but I think it's important we continue your training."
"You mean now?" Connor asked, surprised and excited at the same time.
"Do you have anything more pressing?"
He'd love to get some quiet time alone with Verena, but he didn't dare say that aloud. So he said, "No."
Martys said, "When ye're done, find me, laddie. After that long ride, I be needin' some real exercise too."
Connor grinned. "Of course."
Erich clapped Connor on the shoulder, smiling. "Is good. Fight for better sleeping."
Anika joined them and winked at Connor. "We wrestle, Connor boy. Is good show strong hands for Verena."
Martys gave her an appreciative look. "I'll take that offer, lass."
Connor shook his head as the siblings focused on Martys, a gleam of eager anticipation in their eyes. "Oh, that was a really bad idea."
Chapter Twenty-Six
"The pastry eaten fresh out of the oven is always better than the one found in a sock under the bed."
~Hamish
Harz Fortress was not a large, walled city like Merkland, so only a fraction of the army could fit inside. The central keep was reserved for Wolfram's senior officers and command post.
Five round towers rose around the keep, with smaller buildings and courtyards between them. The thick wall surrounding that inner sanctuary was twenty feet tall, while the outer curtain wall that circled several hundred yards farther out, was almost thirty. They looked impressive, but would do little to block Sentries, or even Boulders in the grip of battle rage.
The main gate was closed for the evening so Connor followed Kilian out through a small postern gate. Together they absorbed basalt and raced through the township, past the thousands of soldiers camped in the fields flanking the fortress, and out into the long valley to the south. There they accelerated into a fracked sprint for three miles to a ridge at the southern end of the valley.
"This should do," Kilian said as he slowed to a stop.
The land south rose into a series of hills that faded into the early evening darkness. In that direction lay the border and the invading Obrioner army, but at the moment all was calm. The air was pleasantly cool, the sky clear, and the first of the stars already beginning to emerge.
Connor felt inside his battle jacket for the reassuring bulk of the precious sandstone pendant his Aunt Ailsa had sculpted for him. Touching it always comforted him, as if Aunt Ailsa stood nearby, ready to share her wisdom. He hoped she was doing well at the Carraig.
Kilian said, "We'll start with marble, but prepare soapstone too."
Eagerly, Connor extracted a small leather flask from his belt pouch. It contained a mixt
ure of soapstone powder and water. Giving the flask a practiced swirl to make sure the powder hadn't all settled to the bottom, Connor downed a long gulp. Then he took a tiny piece of marble, slipped it under his tongue, and sucked on it.
He loved the initial spicy burst of flavor from marble. It reminded him of all of his mother's favorite spices, wrapped together and set to simmer for an hour.
He stopped sucking on it after just a moment, before the taste intensified to painful heat. Walking for long with marble must be something like walking on live coals, as Gisela had told him some of the Sehrazad raiders did as a show of bravery. Only he was walking with his tongue.
"What do you want to burn?" Connor asked, filled with the reckless confidence of fire. Not quite as savage as porphyry, it could still easily escalate into a firestorm.
"Burning things is easy," Kilian said as his own eyes filled with pulsing white flames. "I'm going to teach you a deeper truth."
That sounded fun, although maybe they should burn something while they talked. It seemed wrong to not incinerate things after fire had responded to his call.
Kilian lifted his left hand to chest height, and it ignited with crimson flames. "Most of the time, those of us who dare the dangers of fire focus on wielding the mighty flame. What many Petralists don't understand is that the flame is but one aspect of what we can do with marble."
"What else is there?"
"Heat. Fire is the outward manifestation of the reaction of burning fuel, but the heart of the flame is heat. We can manipulate that too."
Connor hadn't ever considered heat as separate from the flame. "How does that work?"
"Now that you've ascended, you've unlocked deeper sensitivities to the elements so it'll be easier for you to learn this truth now."
The flames winked out around Kilian's hand, and he extended it toward Connor. Connor reached out to grasp it, but recoiled when he plunged his hand into an invisible bubble of intense heat.
"Don't retreat," Kilian said. "You're walking with fire. You wouldn't fear clasping hands with me while flames burned around my skin."
"True." His connected to marble protected him from the flames. The heat hadn't harmed, but only startled him.
So he tried again. This time when he felt the heat, he focused on it, imagining invisible flames wrapping Kilian's hand. His marble senses grasped that heat, and he felt it respond to his touch, but not in the same way flames would.
When he walked with fire, it felt like a wild, hungry dog on a leash, tugging and urging him to let it lunge and feed. Pure heat, on the other hand, felt more like a sleeping nuall might, a soft coat wrapping a coiled, deadly power that only needed to be roused to fury.
"Amazing," Connor grinned.
Kilian relinquished the heat, and the invisible bubble of heat flowed across to him, wrapping his hand in a soft cocoon.
Kilian nodded approval. "Good. Now, shape it. Cool it, then intensify it."
Connor attempted to do so, but heat didn't leap to do his bidding like raw flames did. It really did seem half asleep, sluggish and reluctant to move. When he poked it hard with ethereal fire senses, it erupted into crimson flames that shot twenty feet into the air.
Kilian's will slipped around it and neatly plucked it away. The flames winked out, and a hot wind whispered around Connor, tickling the back of his neck, as if teasing him for failing.
"You can't whip heat around like you do fire. Manipulating heat is a more subtle aspect of your marble affinity, and thus requires a more subtle approach. When you find some quiet time, practice working small amounts of heat. Get used to how it feels, and remember pure heat is more like an oven baking sweetbreads, steady and even-tempered."
The thought of sweetbreads made Connor's mouth water. He decided he'd practice until he could take a bit of raw dough and cook it into a perfect sweetbread in front of Hamish. He doubted Hamish could accomplish the same with his Builder powers.
"On to soapstone," Kilian said.
"There's not a lot of water here."
Maybe they should have headed north instead, toward the lake. Or maybe Kilian knew of a concealed source underground.
"There's enough for our purposes."
Marble might allow Connor to generate heat and flames where none had existed before, but soapstone only allowed him to manipulate existing water. The purer the water, the better.
"You have experience working with soapstone and marble together, correct?" Kilian asked.
Connor grinned. "As the Masked Dawnus in the Tir-raon, they were my tertiary powers. Ivor taught me one of the techniques for making them work together a little better."
"What did he teach you?"
"It's a mental game. I imagine the gateways to the elements like actual doorways, facing away from each other. It was as if the elements needed to pretend their opposite was not in the room so they could avoid instantly launching into a fight."
Kilian nodded. "The mind of a Petralist is always their greatest asset. Their muscles and their affinities serve the mind."
"Do you use the same technique?"
"Not exactly, but you're off to a good start. Now, I want you to imagine those two doorways close together, back to back."
Connor wasn't sure how slate would react to that. He usually imagined the gateways for marble and soapstone standing to either side of the sunken, stone-lined pit of slate. But slate didn't get to play at the moment, so he'd deal with that later.
He released marble and banished his previous image of the gateway. The power of fire lingered in him, like a spicy meal recently consumed.
"Okay," he said once he was ready.
"Imagine the gateway to marble first."
"But I'm better with soapstone."
"Exactly. Get fire sorted first, and soapstone will still answer your call."
It made sense, although Connor wondered if water would feel betrayed. It took only a moment to form the image of the fiery doorway, then imagine the pulsing liquid gateway close behind it.
"You're creating doorways made of the elements?" Kilian asked.
"One step ahead of you," Connor confirmed, starting to feel a bit more confident. He knew he could make these elements work.
"For soapstone, imagine it as a smooth expanse of water but with a tempest ranging within."
Oh, he liked that. He might not understand the full, poetic implications of the image, but he did the best he could. Imagining the tempest within the door turned the whole construct a bit chaotic.
"The tempest will come in time," Kilian assured him.
With the two images firmly fixed in his mind, Connor plunged a mental fist through the fiery gateway to marble. It opened without hesitation and flames burst around his right hand. The burn in his mouth grew hotter.
He next thrust fingers of thought through the gateway to water. It too opened at his touch, and he grinned at the familiar bubbling sensation of soapstone. But when he scanned the surrounding area for water to draw upon, he found nothing.
"Good," Kilian said, and water condensed around his left hand.
"Where'd you get that?"
"You have all you need."
That whole mystery approach to teaching was a little annoying.
The only liquid Connor could find nearby was his own blood, but manipulating blood in a living body was nearly impossible. The more a liquid deviated from pure water, the harder it was to use. Plus, the flesh that housed blood also seemed to offer some sort of shielding.
At the Carraig, the Spitter students were under a strict rule to never attempt it. The idea of ripping someone else's blood out of their body was fairly disgusting, so Connor had avoided thinking about it much.
He glanced up into the clear, evening sky and sensed no handy rain clouds. "Can I get a hint?"
"Look deeper."
Connor let the fire peter out around his right hand and focused entirely on soapstone. He was eager to figure out the mystery. Soapstone was his favorite tertiary affinity, but he felt no water ne
arby in the earth.
So how was Kilian doing it?
He cast his soapstone senses out in every direction, and only then did he notice the air around him glowed ever so faintly. Large or pure sources of water glowed brighter, and that's what he'd been scanning for. As soon as he noticed it though, he wondered that he hadn't seen it before.
Air was not water, so why would it glow? Intrigued, he grasped at the surrounding air and actually felt something. Not the direct, solid contact like a stream or even a cup on a table. This connection seemed wispy and fragile, but it was definitely there.
It was like holding fluffy dandelion seeds right before blowing them into the wind.
Connor cupped the air with his soapstone senses and squeezed. Four drops of water formed on his outstretched hand.
"How is this possible?" he laughed, peering down at the water, which appeared pure and clear. He had pulled it out of thin air!
"There's water all around almost all the time. Haven't you ever noticed that some days there's so much water in the air it feels heavy and hard to breathe?"
"Sure. Summer in Alasdair gets so humid, sometimes I could taste the water in the air."
"Water is water. Your sensitivity to it is enhanced now, allowing you to draw it forth even from the air, drop by drop. You can also extract water from solid ground, but that's even harder."
"Could I use slate with soapstone to make that work better?" Connor wondered.
"That would be an interesting experiment," Kilian said with a nod.
Connor decided he'd try it as soon as possible. Lack of ready water was one of the greatest limitations of Spitters in battle. Armies generally transported large water wagons as their fuel supply, but loss of that water could cripple Spitters. That was why Sentries were often considered the most effective battle Petralists.
Focusing again with renewed enthusiasm, Connor cast a wider net with his soapstone senses and pulled. The air around him grew absolutely dry as he drained all the water out of it into a tiny sphere floating over his hand.
"Very good," Kilian said. "The air here is dry enough that we won't get much, but we don't need to flood an entire battlefield in order to win. It's not so much how much force one brings to bear, but in how one leverages that force."
