Affinity for War

by Frank Morin

  He'd first explained that term at Alasdair when he'd used a bucket of water to turn back Carbrey's army by nearly drowning Carbrey with it.

  "You have the power to manage vast quantities of water," Kilian said, "but you must also learn to manage tiny portions. In time, you'll be able to accomplish more with that handful than most Spitters could with a flood."

  "I hope you're right. I think we're going to need that advantage."

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  "Thus light reaches even the dimmest corners of the darkened canyon at the rising of the noonday sun."

  ~Sentry class teacher

  Verena poked Connor awake with her foot, and he rolled out from under the wagon, but kept his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. It looked far too early to be rising, and it was chilly. He glanced around and asked, "What's wrong?"

  He and Kilian had returned so late from their practice that the others had already been sleeping. He'd missed his bash practice. He was tempted to punch Martys in the face to help warm up. He doubted his uncle would mind.

  Verena grinned at him with far too much enthusiasm. "It's a beautiful morning. Perfect time to test our new flyer."

  "Can't it wait until after breakfast?" Hamish asked as he too crawled out from under the wagon. Even though his bright red hair was cut short, he still managed to look disheveled and grumpy.

  Verena said, "There's some fruit in the windrider, and probably some of yesterday's bread."

  "That's a good start." Hamish dropped his blanket and leaped into the wagon. "Good thing I have some smashpacked omelets too."

  "How do you smash-pack an omelet?" Connor asked.

  "I don't think you want to ask too many questions," Verena suggested.

  "What are you complaining about?" Hamish asked with a hurt expression. "You've eaten tons of them."

  "Like I said, they're great, as long as I don't know specifics."

  "Keep talking like that, and you'll get boiled tripe instead of omelets," Hamish grumbled.

  "Stop moaning," Verena said with another bright smile. "We're flying today."

  "And a day flying is a good day," Hamish agreed.

  Jean entered the courtyard carrying a tray of mugs of steaming cider. Her blue dress was smooth, her hair already combed and shining in the early morning light, and her cheeks were flushed from an early morning scrubbing.

  The cider chased away the chill, and they ate quickly. Connor had to admit the dense little smash-packed cube that Hamish tossed to him really did taste like a cold omelet. He popped a piece of marble into his mouth and drew upon a bit of fire to heat it. That made the tasty little cube absolutely delicious.

  "That's a good idea," Verena said when he told her. She extracted a small piece of marble from her pocket and pressed it to her lips.

  "I could heat up your lips easier than that," Connor offered. He was thrilled when Verena laughed and gave him a quick kiss.

  She didn't linger, but put the marble back in her mouth, along with the smashpacked breakfast cube. She said around the mouthful, "Eating and kissing don't exactly work well together, Connor."

  "Depends on how motivated you are."

  Hamish jumped from the windrider, landing near Jean, but when he stepped close to her, she put up a hand to hold him back. "Don't think I'll kiss you while you've got something in your mouth either."

  Hamish protested. "That'd be combining two of the best things ever."

  Jean shook her head. "Not going to happen."

  Connor grinned, "I guess that means you two have only actually kissed maybe once or twice?"

  Verena laughed and raised a hand for him to clap. "Too true, Connor."

  Hamish shrugged. "I just swallow whatever I'm eating. Hasn't stopped us yet."

  "But you suck on rocks all the time," Connor pointed out with a grimace.

  "I think we should change the subject," Jean said, extracting her notebook from a pocket and opening it. "If we're going to fly this morning, we need to focus."

  While Verena and Hamish inspected the new craft one last time to make sure everything was ready, Connor glanced around. "Where's Martys?"

  "He left early," Jean said. She had already settled into the middle seat in the second row. "Said something about finding breakfast."

  Connor didn't like the idea of Uncle Martys wandering around Harz Fortress alone. Chances were pretty good he'd start a brawl.

  Verena told him, "Relax. I sent a runner to find Erich and ask him to act as Martys's guide this morning."

  "That's supposed to make me relax? Erich could easily be convinced that starting a general brawl would be good for morale."

  "Do you really want to stay behind?" Verena asked.

  "No, but if we come back and find the fortress demolished, it's not my fault."

  "All ready," Hamish declared. He had donned his flying suit as they ate breakfast, and now pulled his helmet on. "Let's go."

  The rest of them pulled on heavy flying leathers, then Hamish and Verena took two of the front seats, with Verena behind the control rods in the center. Connor climbed into the middle row beside Jean, and they both donned goggles and warm, woolen hats.

  "Here we go," Verena said, a note of excitement in her voice.

  The thrusters along the bottom of the craft roared to life with a blast of wind that whooshed through the courtyard, flinging dirt in every direction. It caught Hamish's blanket, which he hadn't stowed properly and sent it soaring through the air.

  The craft lifted off the ground. As it rose above the walls of the courtyard, Verena tipped it back to about thirty degrees and added the push thrusters at the back. The craft accelerated smoothly and rose far quicker than the ponderous windriders would have.

  Connor glanced at the fortress falling away beneath them. In the crisp, early morning light, it looked tranquil. People were already moving about, preparing breakfast, but the fortress lacked the grim feel it had the day before. The nearby town already bustled with activity, and the wide fields flanking the fortress were full of soldiers eating, tending to equipment, or assembling for morning drills. The lake to the north was smooth as glass and reflected the clear sky like a mirror.

  Verena piloted them half a mile into the air, then began working the craft through a series of turns to test the various thrusters. Connor leaned forward and asked, "How does it feel?"

  "It responds beautifully," Verena said with a grin. "It's so much more nimble than the windriders."

  "Let's test the speed," Hamish said. "See if you can keep up."

  He rolled over the port-side railing and momentarily fell out of sight, then reappeared a moment later with thrusters roaring. He pointed toward the row of hills marking the eastern boundary of Harz Valley, nearly three miles away. "First one to the hills."

  Without waiting for a reply, he rolled away and ignited his boot thrusters, accelerating rapidly toward the target.

  Verena pivoted the craft and shouted, "Hold on!"

  She ignited the push thrusters, and they roared like lions. The craft vibrated, as if eager to race, and accelerated so fast the force drove Connor back into his chair and strained his neck. He wished he'd absorbed a little granite before taking off so he could reinforce his muscles. Beside him, Jean clutched her head and whooped, urging Verena to go faster. She really had spent far too much time around Hamish recently.

  The craft continued to accelerate, driven through the air by those huge thrusters. They caught up with Hamish within a quarter mile, and Connor waved as they passed. Hamish was close enough that Connor easily read his shock, and Hamish's thrusters roared louder. When he continued to fall behind, he added the force of his hand thrusters, usually used only for balance and turning.

  It wasn't enough. Verena laughed as they tore through the early morning sky, increasing their lead. The cold air that high numbed Connor's cheeks, but he didn't care. He loved the feeling of unrivaled speed. By the time they shot over the eastern hills, they had pulled half a minute ahead of Hamish.

&nb
sp; Verena activated directional thrusters to turn the craft sharply back around, and the craft pivoted abruptly, slewing sideways in the air. The abrupt change wrenched at Connor's back as the huge push thrusters now threw them sideways to their original course.

  Verena cut power and they slowed. She asked, "Are you all right?"

  "What happened?" Jean groaned, rubbing her back.

  "I forgot I wasn't in the Swift. In that, I can pivot even at full speed. This thing is much bigger, and it's even faster, but I can't use the same techniques."

  Hamish caught up with them as Verena slowed to a hover. "That thing's incredible. I wouldn't have thought anything could outrun me at full power."

  "It's the weight-to-power ratio," Jean said, glancing at notes she'd started scribbling in her notebook while they flew. "I've been making some calculations. You'd need thrusters twice as big as the ones you've got installed now in your suit to keep up."

  Hamish shook his head. "Too big. That would mess up my air flow and would be too heavy for walking."

  Verena patted the front rail of the new craft. "I think we should call this the Storm."

  Connor nodded. "I like it."

  Jean said, "Me too. It's faster than any thunderstorm."

  "And we can rain destruction on Dougal's army," Hamish added.

  "I need to test the turning, though," Verena said. "It's fast but not as nimble as I'd hoped. Still, it'll get the team where we need to go in a hurry. I might have to adjust the placement of the directional thrusters so we'll bank farther over when turning at speed."

  Hamish nodded. "That should help. You might have to increase lift thrust along the front half to help pull it around through the air."

  As they discussed ideal placement of the various directional thrusters, Jean tapped the corner of her mouth with her pencil, looking up into a nearby wispy cloud, her expression thoughtful. "You know, we may be able to improve the physical design of the next craft we build. If we're going to move this fast and need to bank and turn, we can probably improve performance by changing the boxy, wagon shape."

  Verena said, "Good idea. I'll add that to the list of things we need to consider as we prepare to test the non-Builder flyer I want to design."

  "I don't think we'll have time to build an entirely new kind of flying craft before we return to the Builder compound," Hamish pointed out.

  "I know," Verena admitted. "I'm planning to do the first tests with one of the windriders. It'll be a bit crude, but we should be able to prove the concepts at least."

  "And figure out how to explain flying to someone who's never done it," Hamish said.

  Verena nodded. "Even most of the other Builders struggle with flying. Everything's so new, we barely understand half of it, let alone know how to teach it."

  "Well that settles it," Jean said, with that confident tone she always used when diagnosing patients. "If we're going to do a proper series of tests and document the principles and hazards of flying, I need to be the first non-Builder test pilot."

  Hamish shook his head and drifted right up to the rail of the Storm, closest to Jean. "You don't know what you're signing up for."

  "I won't know until I experience it, will I?"

  "I could test it," Connor said.

  Verena grimaced. "No offense, Connor, but I've seen you try to fly. I think Jean's a better choice."

  "I'm not that bad," Connor said, but he really was.

  Flying the heatstone oven had been an accident. Flying with a block of quartzite had proven pretty disastrous too. He had managed to fly a bit tapping elemental air, but that was very inconsistent, not like the Builders could with their thrusters.

  Verena said, "Hamish, you brag all the time about how smart Jean is. We need someone with an analytical mind to ask difficult questions and document her experiences. It's the only way we'll ever make this work and make it something we can teach others."

  Hamish gave her a disgusted look. "If Jean gets hurt, I'll never let you punch me again."

  "I don't think you really understand what the word 'threat' means," Jean laughed. "But I appreciate the sentiment. When do we start?"

  "Not on the Storm," Verena chuckled. "I need to finish work on the keystone. Then we'll start in one of the windriders, hopefully tomorrow."

  "I guess we could head down for breakfast then," Hamish suggested.

  "You just ate," Jean said.

  "That was a pre-breakfast, anti-starvation snack. I wouldn't call that an official breakfast. Flying always makes me hungry."

  Connor smiled to see Hamish acting more himself. His lack of appetite the day before while they discussed Ingrid's tragic death had worried him. It was definitely not like Hamish to stop eating.

  "It's a beautiful morning," Jean said, glancing around at the countryside spread out beneath them. "Shouldn't we test the Storm a little more?"

  "We could scout farther south," Verena offered. "I think Dierk was scheduled to fly one of the scout windriders during the first shift after dawn. They're stationed ten miles south of Harz. We could see if they've seen any sign of the Obrioner advance."

  Connor said. "Good idea. Let's do it."

  Hamish settled into the seat on the opposite side of Jean, so Connor hopped to the front row with Verena. As she banked the Storm around and accelerated south, he draped an arm around her shoulder. Once they reached a fast cruising speed, she leaned against him.

  He loved holding her like that, although it would have been nicer if she hadn't been wearing that helmet. It prevented him from touching her hair, or feeling the warmth of her cheek pressed against his neck.

  "This is a good way to travel," she said over the wind.

  It would be nicer if they weren't moving so fast. The air was warming now that the sun had crested the eastern mountains, and they could have enjoyed the view and the quiet togetherness a lot longer.

  A few minutes later, they slowed and angled toward a windrider hovering over a very wide, green valley. Dierk was indeed flying it. A Longseer woman with her blond hair styled in an intricate braid sat beside him on the high pilot bench, huddled under thick furs and two blankets.

  With a blast of thrusters, Hamish soared across the narrow gap between the wagons and landed in the long, empty bed of Dierk's windrider. The Longseer yelped and gripped her safety harness.

  "Careful," she snapped, the sonorous quality of her quartzite-enhanced voice not masking her note of fear.

  "Sorry," Hamish said as he trotted over to pump Dierk's hand. "I forgot you're afraid of flying."

  "I am not afraid," she lied.

  Verena waved as they hovered close. "Any sign of the Obrioners?"

  Dierk shook his head. "Nothing this far north. We've got two other scouts flanking us, and one scout farther south watching the Obrioner camp."

  The Longseer said, "They reported a small party of Obrioners moving north under a white flag."

  "We should check that out," Connor said, and Verena nodded agreement.

  "Be careful," Dierk cautioned. "They know to watch for flyers now, and a Firetongue could burn you right out of the sky."

  "Not with me aboard," Connor assured him.

  He pulled a small piece of marble from his belt pouch and tucked it under his tongue. He'd hate to need it and not have it ready.

  "Besides," Verena said. "If they're moving under a white flag, they're probably messengers."

  "Don't make assumptions," Dierk cautioned.

  Verena waved, banked the Storm away, and accelerated south again. Hamish caught up, then she added some lift thrust to climb. "We can see farther from higher up, but that'll make it harder for them to interfere with us."

  "Head for those." Hamish pointed toward a bank of wispy-looking clouds moving in from the south.

  Verena slipped into the clouds, slowed a bit, then powered south. They could see for miles in every direction, but the clouds would help conceal them.

  Connor said, "You should paint the Storm like the Swift. That pattern really helps
conceal it."

  "If we can find some paint at Harz. I forgot to bring any along."

  They flew for another ten minutes in silence, studying the ground below. Hamish set Jean's long-vision goggles to a constant five times magnification. Connor just tapped quartzite. The landscape looked even more breathtaking through Pathfinder eyes. Every color seemed more brilliant and sharp, and he could swoop his gaze down over the land like a diving hawk.

  Half an hour later, they spotted the Obrioner party marching north along the main road to Harz. Connor focused on the ten people and he recognized some of them.

  "That's Ivor and Captain Rory," he exclaimed with a surge of excitement. Those were two of the people he most wanted to speak with.

  "Rory," Verena growled, her hands tightening on the control levers. The Storm tipped forward into a steep dive, and the speedslings along both sides began to whirl.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “A small fire is soon quenched, but a little wind can transform a single spark into an inferno.”

  ~Source Unkown

  As the Storm plunged out of the clouds, Connor shouted above the rushing wind, "Verena, what are you doing?"

  "I'm considering hitting them with a few hundred hornets," she said, her expression fierce.

  Rory and his Fast Rollers had held Verena prisoner while Shona had used her to force Connor to submit to her. He hated the memory of Verena disheveled, her face bloody, standing in chains before Shona, who wore a gloating expression of triumph.

  Since Shona had eventually let him go instead of sharing him with women from every high house, he hadn't thought much about that moment again. Apparently Verena had.

  Connor placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. "I hate what they did to you, and I know a bit of how you must feel."

  "Do you?" Verena asked sharply, glancing at him, her blue eyes flashing with anger.

  "Actually, I do. Remember, Shona helped execute me once."

  Some of Verena's anger faded and she sighed. "Those were crazy days."

  "So are these." Connor hoped they could avoid execution again. It hadn't been pleasant. He leaned closer and placed one hand over hers on the nearest control lever. "I need to speak with them, Verena, not kill them. Please?"