by Frank Morin
He glanced back at Martys, who was nodding appreciation at Verena's skill. Hamish started to speak, but choked on a smashpacked cube and started coughing instead. Martys smacked him on the back hard enough to send him staggering. "I knew she's brilliant with a sword, but I've never seen her throw."
"Every girl needs a few secrets," Verena said with a prim little smile as she retrieved her daggers.
Connor was really looking forward to learning the rest of them.
A deep drum boomed three times over the keep.
"We need to get airborne," Verena said, leading the way to the Storm. "That's the signal that the Obrioner army has crested the southern edge of the valley and is marshaling for attack."
She jumped into the Storm and settled behind the controls. The Swift was already tethered to the back, its thrusters humming and keeping it aloft for easier towing. Several open-topped, wooden crates had been loaded into the small bed of the Storm, behind the three rows of seats. Most of them were filled with power stones, although one held a single large ceramic jar.
Hamish nodded toward it. "Not as powerful as the Last word, but might come in handy today."
As Connor and Hamish took seats to either side of Verena she said, "We couldn't use the Last Word anyway. It'd wipe out both armies and the fortress."
Martys climbed into the second row behind Verena and glanced nervously at the bomb. "I cannae say I like sitting next to that Tallan-spawned mechanical."
"Relax," Hamish said as Verena ignited the thrusters and lifted them into the air. "Connor's breath could kill us all even faster."
"Don't make me fill your suit with warm water," Connor retorted with a grin.
His smile faded as they ascended into the early morning sky. The Grandurian army was already assembled in battle formation a mile south of the fortress, facing the Obrioner army. A mile of empty valley separated them.
The Obrioner army filled the southern end of the valley. In the shadows that still held sway there, they looked like a swarm of insects as they marched into position. Company after armed company assembled, preparing to unleash death and destruction upon everyone standing in their way.
Verena soared above the Grandurian army, giving them a perfect view of the massed defensive forces. General Wolfram and his commanders were already assembled atop a high earthen tower at the rear of the main force. Wolfram was flanked by a pair of Longseers and several assistants to manage the speakstones linking the general with the ear-scout hub.
Connor had visited the hub the day before. He was impressed by how they had developed the basic idea of the speakstones into a battlefield-level strategy. The bustling hub gave Wolfram unprecedented communications.
Connor had no idea where Kilian was concealed, but he didn't doubt the man was ready. He'd seen Aifric earlier, and she had assured him that she would be on the move, watching for Obrioner assassins.
The many companies of the Grandurian army stretched east to west across much of the valley, with most of the Petralists in the front. Grandurian Sappers stood upon earthen towers, with Anton in the center. Marshal Gunter and several senior officers joined him on his wide tower.
As Connor watched, the Flameweaver there summoned crimson flames which flowed into grooves set in the outer face of the tower, forming several ancient symbols of power. A moment later, streamers of silvery water rose from a barrel behind the Water Moccasin, a woman with long, blue-tinged hair, who wore blue plate armor. The water formed more beautiful symbols.
"Impressive to look at," Martys grunted as they soared past at three hundred feet. "But that won't win a battle."
"No, I think they will," Hamish said, pointing at the thousand Rumblers assembled in formation in the very center of the front lines. Many wore shifting leather battle armor like Connor and Martys, but some were encased in solid steel plate armor. They hefted gigantic shields, and wielded hammers so huge it seemed impossible that even their superhuman strength could manage them.
More Rumblers on both flanks were already carrying the deadly speedslings. Connor had expected to see more of the mechanicals. Maybe they were keeping some in reserve.
Wingrunners flanked the Rumblers on either side, ready to leap into a ground-eating running battle. The much smaller tertiary-affinity companies were assembled fifty yards behind the Rumblers, with a screen of deadly Allcarvers positioned immediately in front of them.
Huge pits had been opened in the earth directly behind the tertiary Petralists, filled with blazing bonfires. Water Moccasins were already pulling water from Harz Lake through gaps between the assembled companies.
Auxiliaries had assembled by the thousands, with swordsmen and spearmen flanking the tertiary-affinity Petralists. Archers and slingers were assembled behind. Heavy, armored cavalry stood at the ready farther back, long lances set at exact angles, armored mounts pawing the earth.
Several Builder catapults, like the Thump Driver that Dierk had used at Alasdair, were arrayed at the rear of the army. Connor studied them.
The siege weapons were built atop thick-timbered wagons, and looked like giant crossbows equipped with wire mesh slings instead of bolts. Eight foot tubes of basalt extended out the fronts, angled into the sky. They would help accelerate the payloads. A dozen traditional catapults flanked the thump drivers, but they looked pitiful compared to the complex Builder siege weapons.
The sun lifted free of the eastern hills a moment later and flooded the valley with bright, morning light. Verena climbed a mile into the sparse cloud cover and Connor surveyed the huge Obrioner army.
If the elemental Petralists fought to a standstill, the next wave would be the beloved bash fighting and the intricate running battles of basalt. With so many auxiliary forces poised to join the fray, they could potentially tip the final tide of battle too. They might lack Petralist powers, but there were an awful lot of them.
Verena settled the Storm into a hover, then climbed into the back to draw the Swift in closer. The Obrioner lines settled into position and advanced to within half a mile of the waiting Grandurians. There they stopped and an expectant hush settled over both armies.
Connor spotted Carbrey and his high command positioned atop an earthen tower, almost identical to Wolfram's, at the rear of his army. He did not see High Lord Dougal, but he did spot Ivor on the right flank, commanding a company of reserves, including many of the students from the Carraig.
That placement seemed odd. Why would Carbrey sideline a powerful Dawnus like Ivor? Did Dougal not trust him for some reason? Was he worried that if Connor appeared in open opposition to Obrion that some of those students might side with him?
Or was Dougal holding Ivor back to make it easier to give him a sculpted stone? Connor hoped Ivor was wise enough not to take it. The temptation to ascend would be hard to resist once he tasted that power.
Without preamble, a barrage of round, earthen missiles erupted out of the ground behind the front lines of Obrioner Boulders. About a foot in diameter, the missiles sailed over the empty middle ground before arcing down toward the lines of granite-hardened Rumblers.
"That seems like a weak opening volley. What's he playing at?" Hamish asked.
"Maybe he's probing the defenses," Verena suggested.
Earthen barriers rose to intercept the rain of earthen missiles in front of the ranks of Rumblers, and most of them simply thudded into the barriers and seemed to melt into them. Several of the missiles erupted on impact, though, and clouds of gray powder billowed across the lines of Rumblers.
"What be that?" Martys asked, peering through a pair of long-vision goggles. They were already activated at a five times magnification, so he could enjoy a better view of the battlefield than either of the generals down below.
"I hope that's not the weakening powder," Connor said, suddenly worried. He'd seen what it could do. Those clouds of billowing powder could disable half the Grandurian Rumblers, and it took hours for Petralists to recover.
He was surprised when Hamish grinned and said
, "Excellent. Look!"
Instead of collapsing to the ground as soon as they inhaled the debilitating powder, Rumblers were donning masks that fitted over their mouths and noses. Water was already spraying across their ranks, washing the powder out of the air and off their skin.
"What are those?" Connor asked.
"They're breath masks," Verena said. "They're so new, we don't even have a good name for them yet. The concept is simple. Each has a tiny piece of quartzite attached that emits a steady stream of air, just enough to breathe. It protects them from the weakening powder until the Water Moccasins can wash it all off."
"That's brilliant," Connor said.
"We figured General Carbrey couldn't resist trying it after fearing it for so long. He had to be eager to throw it back in our faces," Verena explained with a proud smile. "We don't have an antidote for it either, but those breathing masks were one of the new mechanicals we came up with over the past couple of days."
Hamish said, "Verena thought of it, so I had to make most of them. Got so much glue on my hands attaching the cotton to the leather, I nearly starved."
Verena chuckled. "You shouldn't have tried eating those smashpacked cubes while you were working."
"Glue is supposed to dissolve," Hamish muttered.
Verena laughed. "He tried cramming half a dozen of those cubes into his mouth, but they all stuck together. Nearly choked himself. I had to beat him on the back to knock that goop out of his mouth."
"Nearly broke my ribs," Hamish complained. "I think you need to punch Connor more often to work out your aggression."
"Why didn't you tell me about them? I could have helped," Connor said.
Verena said, "We didn't tell anyone. There's no way we've found all the Obrioner spies at Harz. Wolfram's got spies in their camp too. We couldn't risk him knowing what we planned."
"I'm glad you thought of it."
Only a handful of soldiers had collapsed inside the cloud of weakening powder, and Wingrunners were rushing to drag them back to the Healers set up at edge of town. Even as mists of water scrubbed the air and the Rumblers clean of powder, five of the thump driver catapults fired a return barrage back at the Obrioner lines. Large ceramic jars shot high into the air.
Verena's smile turned predatory. "One of the opportunities that present themselves with the presence of spies is misdirection."
Connor watched with even more interest as fingers of earth rose in front of the Boulder lines to intercept the incoming missiles. The ceramic jars exploded in mid-air before impact.
Verena grinned. "Perfect. The timing for those was tricky."
Flames erupted from the exploding missiles, but the Obrioner Firetongues seized them immediately, and the fire sped harmlessly above the Boulder lines. Soldiers raised their fists and jeered the feeble Grandurian attempt.
"That can't be all," Connor said.
Verena shook her head, not looking away from the distant lines of Boulders. Without warning, dozens of tiny earthen walls erupted out of the ground. Barely two feet tall, and ten feet long, the stout little walls slid across the ground with remarkable speed.
They smashed through the surprised Boulder lines, toppling the granite-hardened soldiers and creating chaos in the few seconds before the Obrioner Sentries could seize control over the walls and sink them back into the earth.
"Midget-pounders. My idea," Hamish said proudly.
"They didn't accomplish much," Connor pointed out.
"They did what we needed," Hamish assured him.
The other five thump drivers were already firing. As their ceramic missiles arced toward the confused Boulder lines, Obrioner Firetongues cast whip-like lengths of fire to intercept them.
The missiles burst even earlier than the previous wave had, but instead of erupting into flames and a rain of annoying little earthen walls, they burst into silvery clouds that settled over the Obrioner lines.
"Wolfram made the Obrioners think we didn't have any more weakening powder," Verena said, her tone satisfied. "Those midget pounders were designed to make sure all those Boulders were actively tapping granite."
Sure enough, soldiers were already toppling unmoving to the ground as they breathed in the cloud of weakening powder and it interacted with their active granite affinity.
Martys whistled softly and glanced at Verena with new respect. "Ye skelped ol' Carbrey with that, lass. I dinnae ken how the daft fool cannae know ye've got more of that powder."
"People hear what they want to hear," Verena said. Down below, Obrioner Spitters were spraying the air above the Boulders to scrub away the disabling powder, but over a hundred Boulders had already collapsed. Auxiliary soldiers were rushing forward to carry them from the field.
Martys grunted, "A wink's as good as a nod to a blind horse, that's the truth."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Verena asked, and Connor was glad she did.
"Doesn't matter what ye say to a proud fool, if'n they dinnae listen," Martys said with a shrug. "Carbrey shoulda known better."
"You sound upset that it worked," Verena said.
"I dinnae agree with this war, an I cannae say I want to see me ol' mates get killed, but I hate to see men suffer from a fool of a leader."
Connor said, "I wish they'd all been affected. Maybe without any of his Boulders, Carbrey would retreat."
"I doubt it," Verena said.
With the weakening powder washed away, a burst of blue lights shot into the sky above General Carbrey's position.
"Here it comes," Martys said softly, leaning over Connor's seat for a better view.
Instantly, crimson flames erupted from the mass of Firetongues and tore across the middle ground, setting the dried, autumn grasses alight. The tops of enormous tanks of water that the Obrioner army had carried with them burst off, and battering-ram-sized pillars of water hurtled after the fire. The earth in front of Gregor and the other Sentries heaved, casting ripples into the middle ground between the armies.
The Grandurian lines were ready.
Flameweavers met the Firetongues with their own flames, pulled in white-hot sheets from the glowing pits of live coals. Water Moccasins cast their streams of waiting water into the air to join in battle against the Spitters.
The ground between the armies bubbled and boiled as the Sentries and Sappers fought for control. Occasional eruptions of dirt sprayed several hundred feet, driven by the immense pressures smashing in that invisible battle below ground.
The other elements clashed in violent, beautiful splendor overhead. Fire and water collided, twining and rippling back and forth, casting a multi-hued mist over the contested battleground.
Fire changed hues from crimson to white to super-heated blue. Droplets exploded from whipping, darting ropes of water, glittering like diamonds in the explosions of colliding flames.
With his eyes riveted on the contest, Martys said, "Once the elements be subdued, time for bash fighting."
For several long minutes, the contest appeared to be an even match. Fire whipped back and forth in tortured sheets and sudden bursts, covering the battlefield in shifting hues of crimson and white. Water sparkled and hissed into steam as deadly ropes smashed into glowing orbs. They were all then swept aside by long, horizontal sheets that burst into sprays of foamy mist when they struck opposing wills. Droplets condensed again before they could fall to the earth, and struck once more.
Then the Obrioner Firetongues, led by Captain Aonghus, who was wreathed entirely in blue flames, unleashed a new barrage of fire. It was so intense that it covered the entire contested middle ground in blinding brilliance and flashed all the water to steamy mist.
The Grandurian defenses were momentarily overwhelmed and the dueling flames began to writhe closer and closer to the Grandurian lines. The Firetongues pressed their advantage with wild rage and seemed to sense victory.
Connor worried about what was coming next. Aonghus must have burned through a full day's ration already.
"There's just too man
y of them," Hamish muttered, gripping the front rail of the Swift so hard with his armored hands that the wood creaked under the pressure.
Verena rapped him on the side of the helmet. "Breaking the Storm won't help."
"Sorry," he mumbled, but did not tear his gaze from the fight that was now clearly going against Granadure.
"I thought Kilian was going to help," Connor said as the Obrioner Spitters seized one of the streams of water away from the Grandurians and used it to knock several Water Moccasins flying.
His blood was pumping, as if he was in the fight himself, and he felt a powerful urge to leap out of the Storm and plunge his will and body into the fray. He had already swallowed a large dose of soapstone and water, and now he connected with that gateway.
All the water below glowed softly in his soapstone vision. Despite the distance, he felt the dozens of Water Moccasins and Spitters battling for control. Their wills whipped the elements into a wild frenzy.
If something didn't happen soon, the Obrioners would win the critical middle ground and open the way for a Boulder charge. With so many troops, they'd overwhelm Wolfram's army. Maybe Kilian was in trouble? If he didn't intervene, Connor would have to.
Then his worst fears were realized. The ground under Anton's command tower erupted in a spray of black earth, shredding the brilliant symbols of ancient power. Anton's officers and assistants tumbled away.
Somehow Anton himself managed to withstand the barrage on a slender pillar, even though spears of earth pierced the air all around him. His pillar slid back toward the main Grandurian lines, while he caught his companions with fingers of earth and pulled them to safety with him.
"No!" Hamish shouted, pounding the rail. "He's lost the center."
The Obrioner lines cheered so loud that Connor could hear the roar without tapping quartzite. He felt a sinking sense of dread as the Boulder lines broke into a charge, followed by the first wave of several thousand auxiliaries.
Strider companies leaped from their flanking positions and raced with fracked speed far out around the eastern side of the dangerous middle ground. Grandurian Wingrunners leaped away from their positions to intercept.
