Affinity for War

by Frank Morin

"Just take off," Hamish told him. "I'll bring her up to you in a minute."

  "Say your good-byes then, but don't take too long." With a wave to Connor and Verena, Dierk ignited the thrusters and the huge wagon lifted slowly off the ground, then accelerated north.

  Verena gave Jean a warm hug. "Good luck with your meetings."

  "I'm really looking forward to it," Jean admitted.

  Connor hugged her too, and her expression turned serious. "Be careful, Connor."

  "I'll be fine," he assured her. "Dougal can't get my mind. I gave Aifric all my obsidian yesterday, so I can't use it, even if I wanted to."

  Verena looked surprised. "I got Aifric another double portion of obsidian too."

  Hamish said, "She should have plenty then. Come on, Jean."

  "See you soon," Jean said to Connor and Verena, then jumped onto Hamish's back and said enthusiastically, "Let's fly!"

  Hamish erupted off the ground, and the two soared up into the clouds.

  After they disappeared in the distance, Verena said, "Come find me after dinner. I want to go out scouting later."

  "Sounds good to me."

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  "The window does not importune the light, but accepts it every day with willing gratitude."

  ~Evander

  Connor returned to the lake just as the practice session ended and the senior Petralists disbanded back to their companies. Many of them waved or called greetings, and he felt a little less like an outsider.

  He approached the huge Marshal Gunter. "Where did Ilse end up?"

  Gunter gestured south, toward the hills separating Harz Valley from the invading Obrioners. "The skirmishing soldier has passed the time for practice."

  Ilse was a brilliant, crafty leader and he wasn't surprised to learn she was at the forefront of the fight, but he suddenly worried for her safety. "Already?"

  Gunter grunted. "Did you assume no fighting would start until tomorrow?"

  A straight question from a Sapper lent it extra weight. He had noticed the earth movers had been speaking more and more plainly as the time for battle drew near. Sentry speak was great for many things, but clear communication was not one of them.

  "What's she doing?"

  "Her team harries the Obrioner lines, intercepting scouts and Pathfinders, and shielding this valley from incursion before the allotted time."

  "Sounds dangerous." It sounded perfect for Ilse.

  Gunter nodded. "All prey flees the hunting pedra, but the fox can catch even the burrowing rodent."

  That actually made a lot of sense. "She's clever, but pedras eat foxes when they catch them."

  Gunter grinned and tapped the side of his nose with one thick finger. "If they catch them."

  When he returned to the fortress, Connor found Uncle Martys sleeping in the back of a windrider. He'd been hoping for some bash practice, but decided not to wake him.

  After dinner, as impending twilight turned the air purple and soft shadows began creeping out of their daytime hiding places, he returned to the Builder lab. He found Verena alone there, double-checking the Swift's armaments. Connor was surprised to see blades protruding from nearly every plane of the little craft. The glittering, double-edged steel reflected her green limestone light as she carefully inspected them.

  "When did you add those?" Connor asked.

  The rest of the huge barn was empty, bare of mechanicals. The shadowy silence seemed all the more intense compared to how busy it had been just hours before.

  Verena began snapping the blades back into their concealed compartments. They were virtually invisible when stowed, but ready to snap out and lock into position.

  "I only finished these today. Just in case we have to engage in close fighting."

  He hoped she never had to get so close to danger. She tossed him a set of flying leathers.

  As they donned the flying gear he said, "Looks like you were right. You finished everything."

  Verena settled into the Swift and strapped herself in. "Let's go see the Obrioners for ourselves."

  They exited the barn and accelerated into the sky above the town. The rush of cool air was invigorating.

  Instead of soaring into the clouds, Verena slowed to a hover at about five hundred feet and pivoted back to face the fortress. Torches lined the solid stone walls, and a Solas had ignited a bright light above the central keep, illuminating the grounds so preparations could continue into the night.

  "Do you have any quartzite?" Verena asked.

  "Of course."

  "Listen".

  Not sure what she meant, Connor wedged a tiny piece of quartzite into his cheek and applied it to his ears. The lobes elongated, and as his hearing improved tenfold, a barrage of sounds thundered into his head.

  The clink of armor and weapons from fields full of auxiliary troops was like a clashing flood. Tens of thousands of voices created a mind-boggling cacophony that overwhelmed his ability to process it. Using the trick he'd learned at the Carraig, he forced himself to ignore it all, letting the sounds wash by, like a powerful current in a river.

  Once he felt centered, he scanned the chorus, flicking his thoughts across the torrent of sound for anything interesting. It was like casting a net, letting his thoughts touch the sounds as light as gossamer spider webs.

  By holding in his mind certain words or concepts he was interested in, any sounds associated with those sought-after words would snag in his mind and attract his attention.

  A rushing wind surprised him. It wasn't natural, and it remained centered over the fortress. It fluctuated in intensity, but did not fade away, and it was filled with random-seeming, discordant sounds. It was as if the wind had swallowed a hundred cats trying to play musical instruments.

  "They're shielding, aren't they?"

  Verena said, "Standard practice prior to a major engagement. It's possible that Pathfinders might have crept close enough to eavesdrop."

  "Gunter said that Ilse's out trying to intercept spies."

  Verena resumed their ascent toward the clouds now painted pink with the fading light of day. She slowed again after slipping into the concealing mists and pointed down at the land huddling in deepening shadow.

  "It looks quiet, but there's a complex, subtle game played in the hours leading up to a major clash. Tertiary Petralists either try winning control over important pieces of land, or try slipping close enough to spy on each other, protected by complex shielding.

  "Minor skirmishes are common, and both armies activate defensive measures against quartzite information gathering. Sometimes they even attempt to pass misinformation."

  "We didn't get into much of that at the Carraig," Connor admitted.

  "We studied it some at the academy. Ilse is one of the best skirmishers. She and her team will be in the thick of it for sure."

  "Academy? Like the Assassin death school?"

  "More like the Carraig. I'll tell you about it some time. I made some good memories there."

  She accelerated again, making further discussion difficult. In moments they soared over the southern boundary of Harz Valley. The next valley to the south was filled with the enormous Obrioner army.

  "They're definitely ready to attack tomorrow," Verena said when she slowed again and dipped to the very bottom of the clouds for the best view. Hovering there, they should still remain concealed from Pathfinders below. "They're already camped in battle array."

  Connor swept his enhanced gaze over the army. There had to be at least thirty thousand troops, and he felt a chill of dread. Thousands of cook fires dotted the valley, outlining the battle companies.

  There had to be close to three thousand Petralists and Guardians in the center. Like the Grandurian forces, a full half of them were Boulders. Half of the remainder were Striders. He even counted an entire hundred-man company of Blades.

  "That's a lot of Petralists." His wonder at the sight was tinged with cold fear. That many affinity-powered soldiers represented a staggering amount of force. The
y made the thirty thousand auxiliary troops seem completely unnecessary.

  Verena said, "That's the largest army since the height of the Tallan Wars. Even with our mechanicals and the work you've been doing with Gunter to integrate the tertiaries, tomorrow could easily go against us."

  "Especially if Dougal uses more of those sculpted stones."

  Verena nodded, her expression grim. "I worry about that, Connor. We've got a good plan if he raises one elfonnel. It'll get ugly, but I think we can deal with it. But what do we do if Dougal hands out three or four sculpted stones and orders his officers to use them to magnify their affinity without ascending?"

  When Connor had used the soapstone sculpted stone, it had granted him an unrivaled connection to elemental water. If he had just used it to augment his normal affinity instead of ascending, he probably could have beaten ten other Spitters.

  "I have the other sculpted stones Ailsa gave me, and I could use one to help counter something like that."

  "Would Dougal spend such a vast treasure in that way, or is he saving them for elfonnel? Wolfram does have his own sculpted stone reserves."

  "I figured he must, but why hasn't he mentioned it?"

  "The fewer who know, the better. Wolfram's men won't raise elfonnel with them. They know better, and Kilian would never allow it."

  "Why doesn't Kilian lead the army?" Connor wondered.

  Verena shook her head. "Wolfram is a gifted general, and that leaves Kilian the flexibility to deal with elfonnel and threats of the deepest magic."

  "Better if no one uses sculpted stones at all."

  Unleashing any sculpted stones, even without raising an elfonnel, could rip Harz Valley asunder and probably kill thousands.

  As they hovered there, studying the camp, Connor spotted several windriders monitoring the enemy from three miles out. The Obrioner central command tent was a huge, circular construct very similar, if larger, than the one Carbrey had used at Alasdair. Beside it stood an enormous tent that looked like a portable palace.

  "Whose do you think that is?" Connor asked.

  Verena said, "I was just wondering if my hornets could cover that much distance. I could send Dougal a little house warming present."

  "It's pretty far." Connor liked the idea of raking Dougal's tent with explosive hornets, but only if he was sure Dougal was alone in there. He didn't feel like killing a bunch of servants.

  "I'm still tempted to try, or climb over the clouds and dive to attack. I could probably close before they could stop me."

  "Escaping might be trickier. It's too early for suicide attacks."

  Actually, suicide attacks were a really dumb idea. Hopefully she wouldn't ever consider one seriously.

  Just then, a series of high cloth screens rose around the central command area. The white fabric was suspended on wooden frames and covered the entire center of the camp. They blocked view of the command tent, the palace tent, and the surrounding area.

  "They're starting their own defensive screening," Verena said.

  When Connor tapped quartzite to his ears again, he heard another rushing, noisy wind from the direction of the Obrioner camp.

  "You said it's standard practice."

  "I know, but it's still annoying," she grumbled.

  A grim mood settled over Connor as he surveyed the army preparing to attack tomorrow. Tens of thousands of men and women would try to kill each other.

  The battle would be no student contest where everyone would live to celebrate or complain about the final scores. It would be like the desperate fight against the elfonnel, where death would walk the battlefield among them.

  Suddenly he didn't want to look any more. "I've seen enough."

  "Me too." Verena banked the Swift away, but instead of heading back toward Harz, she rose into the darkening clouds, then turned east.

  "Where are we going?" Connor asked, leaning closer to her.

  "I'm not ready to go back yet."

  Eventually she descended out of the clouds above a row of low mountains flanking the eastern side of the valley, about five miles away from the Obrioner camp. They landed on one flat peak, shed their thick flying leathers, and used them as cushions on the solid stone.

  With their backs against the side of the Swift, they gazed out over the valley. The distant campfires sparkled like crimson reflections of the stars now emerging in the clear, darkening sky.

  Verena shivered next to him, and he wrapped an arm around her. She snuggled closer, but shivered again.

  Connor wedged a tiny piece of marble under his tongue and savored the spicy burst of flavor. When Verena shivered again, Connor kissed her. As their lips touched, he released a trickle of heat through his lips to hers.

  "I like those hot lips of yours, Connor," she grinned.

  "I'm getting better at heating things up."

  He focused on the heat. It was hard, since thoughts of impending battle fit perfectly with the wild ferocity of elemental fire, but he managed it after a few seconds.

  Connor blew out a long, slow breath. Pure heat flowed out his mouth and he used it to gently wrap the two of them in layers of warm air.

  Verena smiled. "When did you learn how to do that?"

  "Kilian taught me."

  She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. "This is nice. I could stay here all night."

  If only they could. He glanced across the valley at the twinkling fires of the invading force. "I wish things were that simple."

  She nodded, and after a moment she sighed. "I can't help thinking about all the people I know who will be in the thick of the fighting tomorrow."

  Connor had been thinking about how he hated sending soldiers into battle while he hung back in a place of safety. "Captain Ilse is already out there. She and Erich and Anika could be in the middle of a fight right now."

  Verena snuggled a bit closer, but her voice turned fierce. "If anything happens to them, I won't just fly up in the clouds tomorrow."

  Connor's relationship with Ilse and her little band had transformed from initial hostility, to cautious animosity at the Carraig, to grudging alliance as the gealls and political maneuvering grew more complicated and dangerous. Now he agreed with Verena. Ilse and the deadly siblings were friends, and he would avenge them with severe prejudice.

  He tipped Verena's chin up so he could look into her blue eyes. "Every person who gets hurt tomorrow while we wait for the chance to hit Dougal or those sculpted stones is a person I might have saved by leading the charge."

  She touched his cheek. "We can't be everywhere. If we succeed, we can end up saving many more in the long run."

  They sat together for several more minutes, warm and comfortable, and Connor simply enjoyed Verena's closeness. His dark mood faded away under the gentle influence of that peaceful moment.

  She was so quiet that he assumed she fell asleep leaning against him, but a few minutes later she whispered, "No matter what happens tomorrow, Connor, I'm glad we have this time together."

  He nodded into her hair, but didn't need to speak.

  Far too soon, Verena pushed away and brushed her hair from her face. "It's getting late, Connor. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

  As they soared back toward Harz through the darkness, Connor hoped everyone they cared about would survive to enjoy another quiet evening.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  "Children play with glass and cast aside the words of wisdom that lead to treasures of knowledge."

  ~Evander

  While dawn was barely staining the eastern hills in brilliant shades of orange and purple, Connor hurried into the windrider courtyard behind the keep. Hamish was already there, dressed in his battle suit, along with Martys, who was dressed in Rumbler battle leathers like Connor.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but Verena came around the back of the Storm, checking the thrusters. When he saw her all he could do was stare.

  She wore a custom set of armor. Form-fitting steel plates covered her torso, shoulders,
arms, and thighs, with burgundy leather peeking out from underneath. Small stones were affixed all over the armor with silver clasps. A wide leather belt dyed a deep burgundy encircled her waist, with at least a dozen small pouches attached by more silver clasps.

  The armor was beautifully crafted, and she looked amazing in it. She carried her helmet under one arm, a pair of studded leather-and-steel gauntlets tucked inside. Her sandy brown hair was pulled back from her face and tied with a wide, burgundy leather strap, with the symbol of the Grandurian royal house worked in silver over her brow. Her regular, travel-worn satchel hung over one shoulder, a belt with five daggers hung over the other, and a short sword swung at her left hip.

  Hamish laughed, "Connor, you look like you left your brain still sleeping under your blanket."

  Verena giggled at the sight of him still staring. "He's got a point, Connor." She trotted over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Her normal scent of high-mountain passes was overlaid by the scent of oiled leather and steel.

  "You look amazing. Where did you get that?"

  She glanced down at herself and her cheeks flushed slightly, making her look like an adorable, but very deadly, warrior maiden. "We are going to war today, Connor. My father had this made for me last year, and Kilian requested it from our estate near Edderitz. It just arrived yesterday."

  Connor didn't usually like to think about her noble heritage, but in that moment he was happy she had such wealthy connections. He reached out to touch the leather-wrapped hilt of one of her five throwing daggers. "Do you know how to use these?"

  "They wouldn't do much good if I didn't, would they?" she smiled and drew one of them. The double-edged, slender dagger looked well balanced and razor sharp. Verena bounced it in her palm a couple of times, then spun and threw in a single, fluid motion.

  The dagger flipped once in the air and struck the wooden post of the door Connor had just entered through. Half a second later, a second dagger thudded into the wood, so close that it scraped the first. The rest of the daggers followed just as quickly, and all found their marks, slamming into the post right next to each other.

  "Wow." What couldn't this amazing woman do?