Affinity for War

by Frank Morin

  Verena frowned down at it. "It looks broken."

  "But it's not dead," Jean growled.

  "It took two bombs to destroy the earth elemental, and one of those blew up inside of it," Dierk pointed out.

  Verena nodded. "Kilian said water-bound elfonnel are susceptible to fire, so the impact was probably worse than for the earth bound.”

  "We don't have any more bombs," Hamish said as they all studied the monster that was moving in seemingly random directions back and forth across the rubble-strewn waters. "How do we finish it off?"

  "Another explosion, probably," Connor suggested.

  Hamish said, "We do have those chisels from Alasdair in one of the storage compartments under the Storm. I don't think anyone would object to sacrificing one to kill that monster, especially after it attacked Jean."

  "And your home," Jean said softly.

  Verena clung to Connor again, and fresh tears welled in her eyes. The Builder compound was a special place, but she seemed to be taking its loss unusually hard.

  Connor said, "A full chisel will make a huge explosion, but will that be enough?"

  "Weaken it first," Verena said, brushing tears from her face and glaring down at the elfonnel. Talking about killing it seemed to help her focus. "We've got soapstone in one of the crates."

  Hamish nodded. "Good point. We can activate wellstones. Drawing water away from it might weaken it."

  "Maybe ring it with them," Verena suggested.

  Hamish nodded again. "We've got enough stone. You take some and drop them in a perimeter about a quarter mile out."

  "My pleasure," Verena said.

  "I'll drop some more closer around it, then hit it with diorite."

  Jean gripped his hand with fierce strength. "Kill it, Hamish."

  Hamish saluted, then descended to the side of the Storm to fetch a chisel. Connor handed him some pieces of soapstone from the back. Verena had already taken off in the Swift and made a quick circuit of the flooded valley, dropping activated soapstone every few seconds. As soon as the stones struck, geysers of water erupted.

  "It's working," Jean cried, and it looked like it really was.

  The wellstones drew the nearest water to them, and areas of dry ground were forming between each of them and the elfonnel in the middle, forming a barrier that blocked the elfonnel from its reserves.

  "My turn." Hamish hefted the long chisel from his hometown and headed toward the monster.

  It had slowly oriented toward the higher ground on the east side of the valley and the town of Faulenrost. It might be damaged, but it seemed to remember its destructive intent.

  All of their mechanicals, all of their possessions, all their power stores, everything was gone. So much food wasted! It was one of the worst tragedies he could imagine.

  "I suppose I'll never find that cookbook now," he muttered, but couldn't generate the sense of outrage the thought should trigger. Food had been his greatest passion until Jean usurped that spot, and knowing that she was safe eclipsed any culinary tragedy.

  As he circled toward the slow-moving elfonnel, he decided he must be holding Stuart's chisel. Somehow that made him feel better about what he was about to do.

  It took only a moment for Hamish to drop pieces of soapstone in a tight ring around the thirty-foot, pulsing blob of water that now made up the elfonnel. He dropped ten wellstones, barely fifty yards to either side of it.

  Geysers of water erupted from every one, sucking water away from the elfonnel. That triggered a response, and it rolled forward with remarkable speed, engulfing the first wellstone. There it paused for a moment, and Hamish tossed the remaining wellstones around it. The monster seemed to shrink a bit, and he took that as a good sign.

  Stopping to hover three hundred feet above the creature, Hamish licked the handle of the chisel, throwing wide the release rate. As it had the time he tasted the Ashlar's hammer, Hamish's entire body shook from a jolt of power from the chisel. It was as if he had just swallowed a sweetbread made of lightning.

  The formless blob of the elfonnel contorted, and a woman's head formed along the top. It rotated up to stare at him, and undying hatred boiled in its eyes.

  "Good night," Hamish growled, then threw the chisel with all his might.

  The elfonnel opened its mouth wide, and sound like the crashing of a thousand waves boiled forth. The chisel plunged through its open mouth and disappeared inside.

  Hamish imagined he saw an expression of surprise on the monster's face before an explosion ripped it asunder. The blast of white-hot fire was every bit as awesome as he had hoped.

  More like a white-hot ball of living lightning than the normal, flame-filled explosions most of their bombs produced. The chisel erupted with a fury as if driven by all the vengeful indignation of an entire village that had nearly lost their favorite daughter.

  The shock wave punched Hamish fifty feet higher, a brutal blow that cracked a couple of the protective granite leaves of his armor. It would have turned his innards to jelly if not for his suit. Hamish's breath erupted from his lungs and the world lurched as he spun seventeen back flips.

  A keening wail rippled across the valley, like the final angry cry of the Petralist who had given her life so the elfonnel could walk the land. The screaming air pounded him from every side as it threw him higher, driving with so much force that he eclipsed the stomach-purge threshold almost instantly. He hadn't eaten nearly enough to fully take advantage of that moment, but he still achieved incredible distance.

  By the time Hamish managed to level out and his head stopped spinning enough to look back at the elfonnel, the clouds of steam and fire were already dissipating. That second explosion was more than the elfonnel could handle.

  Nothing but a charred crater remained of the elemental monster.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  "At the rising of the sun, shadows retreat into darkness and brightness of hope is rekindled."

  ~Evander

  Verena cheered when the elfonnel disintegrated. She jumped up and down, despite how that rocked the Storm. The monster that had destroyed her home was dead!

  Martys clutched his seat and shouted, "Have a care!"

  She ignored him and threw her arms around Connor and kissed him joyfully. His comforting presence helped fill a bit of the gaping hole in her heart left by the loss of her home. But when she glanced out across the debris-filled, flooded lands that covered her home, fresh tears threatened to spill free.

  Connor placed an arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him. The Builder compound had been her home more than any of the grand palaces her family owned.

  She'd abandoned everything to move there and explore her Builder powers. Her family supported her decision, but she'd still sacrificed so much. It had all been worth it, and she loved pushing the limits of discovery and unlocking secrets lost for centuries.

  Now all that hard work was gone.

  Hamish landed in the cluttered bed of the Storm, looking satisfied. Jean clambered over the seats toward him, but paused in the third row and stared down in surprise. "Aifric?"

  Verena had forgotten all about the Healer. How could Aifric sleep through such a horrific experience? The thought made her irrationally angry.

  She joined Jean in the third row. Aifric was slumbering on the floor, curled up on one side, one hand thrust into her coat. She looked completely comatose. Jean crouched beside her, shaking her lightly.

  Verena shoved Aifric's shoulder roughly. "Hey, get up. This is no time for sleeping."

  Aifric didn't move. She didn't snore or grunt or acknowledge the contact in any way. Verena frowned. Wasn't she supposed to be an Assassin?

  "What's wrong with her?" Connor asked.

  "Nothing," Martys said. He waved Verena back. "Leave off, lass. I've seen exhaustion wounds. She'll recover, but needs rest."

  "I don't think so." Jean looked worried and leaned over Aifric to touch her forehead. "No fever. No visible marks of trauma, but lack of response to sti
mulus suggests traumatic brain injury."

  She looked up at Connor. "This type of comatosis is not normal, and can easily degenerate to a life-threatening condition. It is beyond my ability to treat."

  "Aifric be a Healer," Martys said, his tone impatient. "She said all she needs is rest."

  "But what if she's wrong?" Verena asked.

  Her anger had fled, replaced by concern. They had lost too much already. She couldn't bear the thought of losing someone even casually considered a friend.

  "What should we do?" Hamish asked.

  Connor said, "I'll see what I can find. Get her up on those seats."

  Martys insisted, "Ye should leave her be. Ye dinnae want to anger a sleeping Assassin."

  "I'll take my chances," Connor said.

  Together they gently lifted Aifric and lay her across the last row of seats. The fact that she didn't rouse, even when Hamish banged her legs against the seat only intensified Verena's concern.

  Connor crouched in front of her and pulled from under his leather jacket a sandstone pendant on a silver chain, shaped like a clenched fist. Verena had seen him use a similar pendant with marvelous healing power.

  "Is that a gift from your Aunt Ailsa?" she asked.

  Connor nodded. "It's sculpted sandstone, so it should have enough healing power to help."

  Martys whistled softly, a look of wonder on his face. "Ye be full of surprises, laddie."

  Connor was no Healer, but with his other pendant, he'd once healed Verena's broken leg. She had been captured trying to free the boy Nicklaus from the Obrioners. Of course, it was Connor who had caused the broken leg in the first place.

  They watched in silent anticipation as Connor clutched the pendant in one hand and placed the other on Aifric's forehead. He bowed over her for a moment, and Verena wished that she could share what he felt.

  After a moment, Connor looked up, his expression confused. "She seems healthy, but she's actively tapping obsidian."

  "I thought Petralists weren't supposed to tap affinities while they sleep," Verena said.

  "They're not, and she shouldn't be able to. Leaving primary affinity powder in one's system while sleeping usually triggers untapped reversal sickness. This doesn't make sense."

  "Best to leave off and wait for her to wake," Martys suggested.

  "I hope you don't take this wrong, but I don't think you know as much as you think you do about this." Jean told him, her tone frustrated.

  Verena considered Aifric's hand thrust into her coat and got an idea. "Jean, help me."

  Connor stepped aside so she and Jean could slip into the small space in front of Aifric and unbutton her jacket. Inside, her hand was clutching a leather pouch, with two fingers buried inside. Verena pried Aifric's hand open, and Jean pulled the bag free, then handed it to Connor.

  He checked inside and nodded. "Obsidian, all right."

  "She's been asking for a lot of obsidian ever since she arrived at Harz," Verena said.

  Connor nodded. "I got her enough to last most Blades a month, but she kept saying it wasn't enough."

  Verena said, "And I got her some twice. I'm thinking she's got a powder addiction."

  "Professor Hector was addicted to granite. He had to use more to get the same kind of effect, but it never knocked him out like this." Connor glanced at Martys. "Have you ever seen obsidian addiction?"

  "No, lad. 'Tis a mystery."

  Jean said, "Let's get to Faulenrost. We'll have more room to treat her there, and we can check on the survivors from the elfonnel attack."

  "I'll sit by her," Martys suggested.

  "I will too," Jean said, and it was strange that Martys didn't look happy about that. Verena wondered why he took such an interest in Aifric's condition. Maybe it was because she was Mhortair.

  Connor also lingered near them as Verena took the controls, explained to Dierk their plan, then banked away to the east. Hamish rolled off the Storm and led the way toward Faulenrost. Verena could have outraced him, but decided to take it slower with the strangely sick Aifric.

  They left the floodwaters behind and soared over the hills marking the eastern boundary of the valley, heading toward the high ridge of Faulenrost township. Verena's mood brightened when she saw crowds of survivors from the Builder compound clustered on the outskirts of town. Dierk and Jean had rescued hundreds.

  Jean's heroic actions made her love her like a sister. To think she'd managed two flights in a windrider full of refugees without tipping or crashing. It was astounding.

  It was abundantly clear that they had stumbled upon something truly revolutionary with that keystone. She needed to study its full potential as soon as possible. That familiar rush of excitement that came with delving into deeper Builder truths helped ease the aching hurt from the loss of her home.

  Hamish landed first, and was immediately surrounded by a huge throng, shouting happy greetings and asking if they were still in danger. Verena settled the Storm a little farther from the main crowds. She was happy to see that the people of Faulenrost had welcomed the refugees with their typical friendly enthusiasm, led by Lord Eberhard.

  When Hamish informed them that the monster was dead, Lord Eberhard led a round of cheering. He then launched into a long, impromptu speech about the need for solidarity in the face of affliction. He promised to provide shelter and food until additional help arrived.

  When he mentioned that he had already ordered a pigeon sent to the capital, informing them of the disaster, Verena noted Hamish's look of disgust. She agreed that there had to be a better way to communicate over large distances, but now was not the time to figure it out.

  Bruno the blacksmith, who Verena knew from testing earlier mechanicals, rushed out of the crowd toward the Storm. He cheered when he saw Jean.

  "You live!" Bruno laughed as he lifted Jean from the Storm. "You mighty brave girl!"

  Jean flushed under the praise and explained, "Bruno helped manage all the people while I flew the windrider. Without him and his big voice, we would have flipped over for sure."

  Bruno saluted Verena and said in Grandurian, "This young lady is the hero of Faulenrost! She saved us all from that monster. I thought she died when she jumped out of the wagon and rushed back to face that monster."

  Verena told him, "It was a close thing, but she dropped a bomb on it. We helped her finish it off."

  "Thank you, Builder," Bruno said with another salute. Then he took Jean's hand in his massive one and said, "Come, hero girl. Meet town. Meet Lord Eberhard."

  Jean gestured back at the Storm. "In a minute. Our friend is sick. I need to find a place for her to rest."

  Bruno nodded. "I find place. I bring."

  Connor and Martys lifted Aifric, and Bruno cradled her like a child in his burly arms.

  Gisela appeared through the crowd and rushed to Connor. "What is wrong?"

  "Aifric is sick."

  "You should bringing her to the inn. There is a man needing to speaking with us."

  "Who?" Martys asked as he jumped from the Storm after Connor.

  Her expression turned worried. "I do not knowing him, but I am thinking he is Assassin like Aifric."

  Chapter Forty-Four

  "To remain unseen, one must embody what is not there."

  ~Ilse

  As they followed the huge blacksmith into Faulenrost, Connor stayed close to Verena. She had seemed so devastated by the destruction of her home, but the happy reunion with so many friends seemed to help.

  The loss of the Builder compound was a terrible thing, but Connor found he only dwelt on the loss of the porphyry. He was startled to feel a simmering anger at Verena. If she'd given him the powder when he'd first asked for it, it wouldn't be lost.

  With effort, he forced the irrational anger aside.

  Lord Eberhard intercepted them as they tried to push through the crowds. He and Verena spoke quickly for a moment in Grandurian. Bruno added his booming voice, which easily carried over the crowd. People cheered and pressed in closer
around Jean, trying to hug her. Many wept as they tried to reach her.

  Hamish shielded her from getting crushed in the press and shared a wondering look with Connor. "Who knew being a hero could be so dangerous? They're going to love her to death, if they're not careful."

  Lord Eberhard spoke in a loud, commanding tone, and the crowds gave Jean a little room. She was flushing deeply, but waved to everyone. "I'm just glad I could help."

  After another brief exchange, the cheering faded, replaced by a somber mood. Lord Eberhard began speaking rapidly, making grand gestures, his tone comforting and earnest. He had a good voice, and whatever he was saying seemed to help.

  "He is again promising aid," Verena said, looking emotional herself. She took Lord Eberhard's hand and thanked him.

  After that, the crowd parted for them and Bruno led the way into town, toward the village square. People called out to Hamish and Verena, many with tears in their eyes.

  Connor was impressed that Hamish was able to converse with them. Although his Grandurian sounded rough, they clearly appreciated him speaking in their native tongue.

  Connor decided he needed to begin learning Grandurian too. If this country was to be his home, perhaps for a long time, he should know the language. Besides, he loved listening to Verena speaking her native tongue. It would be even better if he understood what she was saying.

  Faulenrost was a large town, and it appeared prosperous. The main street leading toward the central town square was eight blocks long, paved with slate cobblestones. Two-story, steep-roofed buildings crowded both sides.

  The wooden buildings looked clean and recently painted. They were made in an interesting, half-timbered design, with the heavy framing timbers visible, the openings between them filled with bricks or plaster. Most were roofed with slate or ceramic tile.

  In the narrow side streets, the second stories of the buildings extended out over the street a couple of feet. Twice, Connor spotted stone arches spanning the streets, with towers built atop them that rose even higher.

  Shops occupied most of the ground floors, with living quarters above. Although the architecture was foreign, the town felt friendly. Connor decided he liked it.