Affinity for War

by Frank Morin

  "I swear I'll kill you," Connor snarled, so angry he could barely think.

  "Only one way to do that boy," Martys grinned, pointing at the porphyry. "And you won't come back from that road. Not a second time."

  Verena opened fire, raining a stream of deadly hornets across the quarry at Martys.

  He was ready for it. He leaped aside, then began to howl as he transformed.

  The sound dug into Connor's ears, reminding him of those terrifying, thrilling, unrivaled moments when he had changed into a rampager and become an unstoppable killer. He had faced the elfonnel unafraid. Ripping Martys and his mates apart would be simple in comparison.

  The rest of the rampagers joined the chorus, convulsing where they stood as they changed from men and women into ravaging beasts. Their muscles bulged, stretching their skin to the cracking point as it thickened into tough leather, covered in a sparse carpet by coarse, burnt-orange hairs. Short spikes of bone protruded through a second later.

  Their arms lengthened while their legs shortened, hands and feet shifting into deadly clawed paws. Their skulls expanded, forming heavy brow ridges and long, powerful muzzles. Their hair melted into their heads, and the resulting bald scalps were covered in maroon colored hide. Their eyes transformed into glowing purple orbs.

  The transformations still horrified Connor. The monsters rose on all fours, looking roughly like giant wolves the size of bears. They possessed the speed and strength of Petralists, resistance to elemental damage, and the full force of their intellect twisted into rage and bloodlust.

  They were simply the most perfect killing machines on the planet.

  Verena and Hamish swept in, spraying hornets across the transforming creatures and gouging terrible wounds in their hides, but not seeming to have any effect.

  Connor shouted, "Stop! The transformation heals them. You can't do any good until they're changed."

  "Hornets won't stop them once they are," Hamish shouted back.

  "Connor." He turned and met Kilian's gaze. "Go. Protect your family and kill that traitor. I'll deal with Dougal."

  "But what about Gregor?"

  "One problem at a time," Kilian said, his eyes igniting with white-hot flame.

  Connor leaped off the rim to the next wide step ten feet below. He tapped granite to absorb the shock of landing, then sprinted with ponderous, leaping strides down the quarry tiers toward Martys.

  His uncle rose, a massive beast with reddish-gold hide, an enormous maw, and eyes burning with purple light. Martys howled once, joined by the dozen other rampagers, and stared across the distance at Connor.

  Challenge accepted.

  Verena shot Martys in the face with a hundred hornets.

  Some of them contained diorite, and the explosion knocked Martys backward. He rolled and came up running. With terrifying speed, he and the other rampagers bounded up the steep ramp toward the exit that would lead them out the tunnel to Quarry Road and past the empty lochs to the plateau beyond.

  Connor stopped running and growled, "You shouldn't have threatened my family."

  Then he tapped slate, and his mind plunged into the earth. For the first time in his life he was eager to kill.

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  "The tree knows not to fear the avalanche, but claims the mountainside as its domain."

  ~Evander

  Tapping granite, Connor's earth senses walked as easily through the quarry as they did clean earth, expanding to touch every corner of the open pit. For a second, the entire quarry glowed in his earth senses, perfectly mapped and complete.

  Growing up, the quarry had always been at the heart of his family and the town. Despite the countless hours he'd spent exploring its regular steps and watching the cutters work and move the heavy stone, he had never comprehended it so well.

  Movement along the surface drew his attention and he focused on the thirteen rampagers galloping up the exit ramp. Martys and the lead monsters had already passed onto the road beyond the quarry, and the mixed grade there made it harder to track them.

  The others would not be so lucky.

  Connor yanked at the stone, and the solid ground under the remaining rampagers dropped away beneath them. Most of the beasts leaped up in spectacular bounds to escape the trap. Connor snatched at them with fingers of solid granite that moved to his will as easily as the waters of the loch.

  He grabbed hold of the two rampagers lagging behind the rest and yanked them back down into the hole. They struggled with inhuman fury, howling their rage and snapping the slender bands. He wasted precious seconds reinforcing his hold upon them, long enough for the other monsters to escape the trap. With growing irritation, Connor slammed the walls of the hole closed.

  Tons of solid granite shifted three feet, closing the deep hole in half a heartbeat. The crack of stone smashing into stone shook the quarry like a thunderbolt, drowning out the mushy splat of the hapless rampagers squashing into jelly.

  Connor felt no remorse.

  He yanked again on the earth, creating a minor explosion of stone under his own feet. It catapulted him across the quarry and down to the floor. He landed beside the little pouch Martys had dropped and reached for it. His eager anticipation mixed with terrified reluctance.

  Hamish was already soaring over the shoulder of the mountain in pursuit of the rampagers, but Verena banked the Swift to a hover nearby and shouted, "Don't use it, Connor!"

  "I can control it," Connor assured her, despite his own secret doubts.

  "How can you be sure?"

  "I can't be," he admitted.

  They didn't have time to argue. The need to chase Martys was like a living thing raging through him.

  She drifted closer, her expression anguished. "He wants you to use it, don't you see? If you do, you might never come back."

  She was probably right. "There might not be any other way."

  "There has to be. We'll stop him somehow," she insisted.

  "I will do whatever it takes to save my family." Connor tapped slate, sealed his feet to the granite underfoot, then accelerated up the long exit ramp after the rampagers, sliding over the stone like ice.

  Verena gave chase and Connor said, "If I lose control, do what you must to stop me from hurting anyone."

  "Don't ask me to do that, Connor."

  He gave her a reassuring grin. "You've been prepared to kill me before, Verena. You're stronger than you pretend sometimes."

  "That was different," she insisted, sounding anguished.

  "It's the same. Promise me, Verena, or I'm going to take that porphyry now."

  Verena glared at him. "That's not fair, Connor."

  "Neither is finding out that you still love Mattias," he snapped back.

  She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came. He turned away from those bright eyes filled with emotion. He couldn't afford to let her distract him, not now.

  Maybe she did love him. Maybe she loved Mattias more. They could figure it out if they survived.

  The roar of the thrusters on the Swift tripled, and the nimble little craft accelerated away. Verena swooped right through the exit tunnel.

  As Connor tapped quartzite to listen for the rampagers, he heard her whisper, "I hate you for asking that of me, Connor."

  He nearly stumbled. The thought of Verena hating him was like a stone chained to his heart, but he couldn't afford the time to work things out with her. Any hesitation, and his family would die. Verena was many things, and he loved every aspect of her.

  Except the part of her that still loved Mattias.

  He would find a way to secure her love somehow. But first he had to kill his uncle.

  His hands shook with the need to rip open the bag of porphyry and shove his hand inside, but he forced himself to tuck it into his belt. He'd use it, but maybe he could wait until after they defeated Martys and could do so in a more controlled test.

  He wouldn't let Martys dictate the fight. It was time his uncle learned what Connor could do when he was really
angry.

  As he sped toward the exit tunnel after Verena, a flicker of movement drew his gaze and he turned his quartzite vision on the eastern flank of Wick Torr, high above the quarry.

  Mister Five was crouched there, already bringing his hands together in that telltale sign he was about to unleash his deadly, long-range, compressed ice bolt. He looked to be aiming at either at Dougal or Kilian.

  Connor tapped soapstone just as Mister Five released the bolt. It flashed down from the mountain and across the quarry, moving too fast for him to seize it, but he managed to yank at it, pulling it from its path.

  It had been aimed at Kilian.

  On its new trajectory, it instead drilled into Gregor's shoulder, nearly a hundred feet away, rocking the big Sentry out of his trance. He took a step back, and the solid rock of the quarry rim rippled like the waters of a pond.

  Connor felt torn as he slid toward the exit faster than a fracked Strider. Mister Five was a deadly threat, but he had to focus on stopping the rampagers from slaughtering his family. Kilian must now recognize the danger and could take care of himself.

  Another flash of movement drew his gaze.

  Aifric.

  She was sneaking up behind Mister Five, creeping along a ledge fifty feet above and behind him.

  She glanced in Connor's direction and saluted.

  He almost saluted back, but that might tip off Mister Five. He silently wished her luck, and was happy to know she was on the hunt. He glanced back a final time toward Kilian and Aonghus.

  Upon his pillar of fire, Aonghus burst into white-hot flames. His laugh echoed across the quarry, driven to the brink of insanity by the deep burn he was embracing. "I don't need to ascend to defeat you, Kilian. Not even you can quench the sculpted fires." He launched into the air toward Kilian.

  In the center of the quarry, at the deepest point of the pit, the stone began to shake and bubble, like soup beginning to boil. It was at the weakened spot that had appeared during the recent earthquake activity. Connor wasn't sure what the new activity meant, but he didn't have time to deal with it.

  With renewed determination, he reached the top of the exit ramp and threw himself into the air with an eruption of stone. Then he tapped marble, and fire erupted out of his feet, hurling him higher still. As he soared above the hillside at the beginning of Quarry Road, he gained an unobstructed view of the road. His gaze swept past the empty holes that had been lochs until he blew the mountain.

  The rampagers had already reached the edge of the steep cliff overlooking the plateau and were vaulting over the edge.

  Connor applied quartzite to his throat and shouted as loud as he could, "Ilse, beware! Rampagers!"

  In the distance, he heard the first scream.

  As he fell back toward the earth, he purged granite and absorbed some basalt. Then he max-tapped and outran the landing.

  His legs fracked immediately, but he didn't even notice the pain. Pouring on every ounce of speed, he flashed down the road to that cliff edge. Not slowing, he ignored the steep, switchback road and leaped off the edge, throwing his hands out wide and soaring like a nuall pretending to be a pedra.

  He tapped marble, forming fiery wings as he scanned the plateau. The rampagers had nearly reached the bottom of the cliff, bounding down in fantastic leaps that would have shattered the strongest Boulder's legs.

  In the center of the rocky expanse of the plateau, Ilse, Lukas, and the Crushers stood in formation, facing the onrushing danger. The men of Alasdair stood behind them, armed with spears and axes, led by Hendry and Amhain. The rest of the villagers were probably already concealed down in the bolt hole.

  In front of everyone, Mattias stood alone, twin swords drawn, his entire face glowing like a miniature sun, illuminating the entire scene. Connor focused on him with quartzite vision, and the sight of the man who was trying to steal Verena away filled him with murderous anger.

  Mattias opened his mouth, and a horrific sound erupted from his lips. It was brutally loud and it stabbed at Connor's mind like invisible daggers.

  He wobbled in flight and dropped fifty feet before stabilizing. If he'd been tapping quartzite to his ears, the horrible noise might have knocked him out.

  The sound rose to a teeth-jarring crescendo as Mattias sang with all his might the worst song Connor had ever heard. Verena had said he had the voice of an angel, but if that's how he sang love songs, maybe Connor shouldn't feel so threatened by him.

  The monsters cringed under the vocal onslaught, rubbing their ears against the solid rock and howling in pain as the brutal sounds tore at their ears. Mattias kept singing, but the rampagers recovered from their initial hesitation and resumed their charge.

  Mattias ran to meet them.

  Connor spotted Hamish and Verena, both diving toward the plateau to help, but they'd arrive too late. The monsters would tear the fool Mattias apart.

  Verena opened fire with her speedslings, but the rampagers barely seemed to notice the stinging hornets. Even the small but concentrated explosions of the diorite-tipped projectiles barely slowed them.

  Martys led the charge, speeding toward Mattias with the speed of a Strider, howling with bloodlust.

  "Mattias, look out!" Verena screamed.

  Connor reached for the waters of the Wick, running past the far side of the plateau. Through his soapstone senses, he connected with the deep waters and pulled.

  An inverted waterfall erupted with a roar that drowned out Mattias's horrible song, as the waters responded to Connor's need. It seemed half the river tore free of its bank and churned up and over the slope of the plateau, surging across the scoured stone surface toward the monsters.

  With a sinking feeling of dread, Connor realized the waters would arrive several fatal seconds too late. He wanted to shout at Verena to look away, but knew she wouldn't.

  Martys was in the lead, his rampager hide distinct by a splash of white on one shoulder. He leaped at Mattias, huge jaws snapping.

  Mattias flowed around him, slashing him half a dozen times with swords that flashed like bolts of lightning. His movements were so fluid and graceful, his limbs seemed to blur.

  Then he dove into a roll that took him right under the next leaping rampager, one sword trailing a long gash in the monster's snout. He rolled back to his feet as more rampagers leaped at him, dancing through their raking claws and snapping jaws with grace and speed that was inspiring, even for an Allcarver.

  Ilse and the Crushers broke into a charge, with the shouting men of Alasdair on their heels. The sight of his father running to battle against the deadly monsters filled Connor with horror.

  He tucked his marble wings in closer and banked into a steeper dive, while pulling even harder on the waters. It would be close, and he doubted Mattias would last even those few precious seconds. He just couldn't get there fast enough.

  Hamish could.

  He plunged into the mass of rampagers, taking them completely by surprised as they pressed in, eager to rip Mattias to shreds. His entire suit burst into flames, and he smashed into the beasts, tumbling monsters in every direction. He flung out his hands repeatedly, throwing small stones.

  Several were diorite, much bigger than the single-grained darts and hornets. Explosions tore into the rampagers, gashing skin and shattering bone. One monster caught a piece of diorite in its maw, and its entire snout exploded in a gush of blood and bone.

  Other stones sprayed fire, while two were speedcrack stones. They accomplished little on the solid stone surface of the plateau, however, forming little walls barely six inches high.

  Martys, at the front of the pack, was the last one that Hamish passed. That brief extra instant was too much time.

  He leaped at Hamish, deadly claws raking down Hamish's torso, ripping right through the layered, hardened granite plates and tearing into his flesh.

  Hamish screamed, and Martys managed to rake one claw down Hamish's leg and rip through his left boot. The thruster burst free, and Hamish somersaulted away, o
ut of control. He struck the stone of the plateau and bounced over and over, tumbling fifty yards after he cut off the last thruster. When he finally stopped rolling, he lay in a crumpled heap, motionless.

  Martys lifted his muzzle and howled with victory.

  Mattias slashed him across the throat with both swords, parting even his thick hide and leaving streaks of crimson. The blades didn't sink deep enough to pierce vital arteries, though. Martys leaped upon Mattias, knocking him off his feet and into the middle of the pack.

  Connor's waters were barely seconds away, but Mattias was doomed.

  One rampager lifted him by the throat, its huge maw gaping wide enough to rip his head off in one bite.

  Verena dove out of the night sky, her speedslings whirling. Hornets tore into the ranks of rampagers, distracting them for a precious second. Mattias slipped out of the monster's grasp.

  Connor realized with horror that Verena wasn't banking away. Screaming with fury, she held her course, aimed at the monsters.

  "Verena!" Connor shouted, his voice cracking with terror.

  The monsters leaped toward her, despite hornets continuing to rake their faces and explode across their torsos. They'd snatch her out of the air and rip her apart.

  Connor couldn't pull the waters faster, so he tried grasping air to knock her sideways, but the fickle air currents didn't respond quickly enough.

  He couldn't save her.

  A split second before she collided with the monsters and died a glorious, gruesome death, steel blades snapped into position along every side of the Swift. Flames erupted down their lengths, with more roaring from every surface as Verena activated every bit of marble on the Swift. The thrusters howled a different note, and the nimble little craft tumbled into a wild spin.

  Every hate-filled pair of purple eyes widened in surprise.

  Verena smashed into the tight pack of rampagers like a bladed meteor, slashing and burning and scattering the monsters in every direction. She hit them so hard and so fast that none of the monsters managed to bite or snag her out of the air.

  She hit the stomach-lurch threshold and spewed her last meal as she spun, but she didn't slow. She continued on like a tornado of fiery steel, screaming defiance at the deadly rampagers.