Blood of the Tallan (The Petralist Book 7)

by Frank Morin

  As he approached, he waved to the Longseer scouts stationed in windriders near the mountain. Instead of heading straight for the central command building, Hamish banked around to the east side of the plateau where an enormous area had been allocated for flying craft. He spotted the Albatross immediately. It crouched among the others like a bird of prey. Lady Briet must be meeting with her officers coordinating battle strategy. The Albatross had become her unofficial command vehicle, and he bet she planned to try taking it with her back to Althing if they survived the war.

  Dozens of standard windriders were parked in orderly rows, but Hamish focused on a truly awesome development in their flying arsenal. Sixteen giant troop carriers consumed a huge amount of space. Known simply as Battalions, each was the size of a hundred windriders lashed together. They created huge, flat expanses upon which to marshal troops, supplies, and additional mechanicals. Each was powered by great quartzite blocks, and each carried huge engines, fifty times bigger than the ones that powered the Juggernauts. Those engines could provide the staggering amounts of supplemental power required to run their defenses and to charge up some of the mechanicals that would be deployed.

  He slowed and descended to fly over the last line of Battalions. The decks were already filling with scores of mobile battle mechanicals. Hamish focused on the biggest ones. General Wolfram liked to call them multi-mechanical simultaneous launch platforms. Verena had dubbed them Thunder Towers, even though Hamish had pointed out that the name suggested they were stationary instead of mobile. It was otherwise a great name, so it stuck.

  They’d been upgraded since he saw them last, although they were swarmed right now with Builders and engineers working to retrofit the systems that utilized marble. They’d either draw power from quartzite or from the onboard engines that already powered some of the other weapons systems.

  Blocky and very solid, each Thunder Tower was self-propelled, equipped with many different weapons, and built of triple-reinforced Sehrazad steel glass to protect its three-man crew, but also provide unlimited visibility.

  He spotted Fyodor and dropped to one of the Battalions beside the big warrior engineer. “How goes the work?”

  “As well as can be expected. Maybe even a little better.”

  Up close the Thunder Tower was even more impressive. Multiple launch tubes of varying sizes protruded from the central housing, while armored racks holding missiles, enormous speedslings, and rapid-fire siege weapons were attached to the hull. The entire huge assembly rolled on heavy steel tracks. Hamish had first envisioned them as hovering battle platforms, but some of the weapons recoiled enough that they needed the stability of resting on the ground. Thunder Towers were capable of unleashing enormous destruction as well as deploying a myriad of defensive mechanicals when targeted by powerful Petralists.

  Hamish patted one barrel, a tube that was designed to spray marble flames. “Tell me you figured out something else to spit out of this. If not, I once built a mechanical that mass-produced the best dessert jellies. If we sprayed those across the battlefield, it might not hurt anyone, but it would definitely distract them.”

  The big man chuckled. “I would like to see that mechanical in action, but not on board one of these. We are exploring three options for generating fire. We’ll know within the next day or two which alternate solution is the most viable. If the expected timeframe proves accurate, we should have time to retrofit them all.”

  No one was going to get much sleep over the next week. Hamish only hoped someone figured out a new way to deal with the queen before then. If they could remove her from the equation, Hamish felt optimistic that their combined forces of Petralists, Builder mechanicals, and Arishat League reinforcements could defeat the queen’s army. They couldn’t possibly be ready for Thunder Towers and flying Battalions.

  “I’m going to be helping retrofit missiles and other ordnance,” he told Fyodor.

  “Good. We have too few Builders for the work.”

  Hamish clapped the big man on the shoulder. “I’ll get right to it, after dinner.”

  He launched back into the sky, activating thrusters, and outran the big man’s laughter. They had shared enough meals together for Fyodor to know that dinner was not an event Hamish ever wanted to miss. More importantly, he needed to see Jean. She had arrived that very day with the last wave of reinforcements and supplies. The need to see her, to hold her, and to kiss her was like a huge piece of activated marble lodged in his heart.

  He shot across the plateau, noting the many companies of Petralists and regulars. Granadure had committed over sixty thousand regulars and two thousand Petralists. It was a staggering number, and must have heavily depleted their reserves, but if Merkland fell, the invasion of Granadure would follow soon thereafter.

  Arishat League forces camped in thousand-man divisions, and Hamish counted forty of them, including twenty divisions of Varvakin armored shock troops. Then came a sea of Sehrazad conical tents, mixed with huge paddocks full of horses. Hamish had not seen the Sehrazad warriors fight much and was eager to see what they could do.

  The Althin contingent was situated close to the Builder warehouses and workshops. The two groups worked so closely together it made perfect sense. Few of the Althins were soldiers, although Hamish spotted dozens of their trebuchets with stacks of carefully monitored crates containing chemical weapons.

  Even Ravinder hosted a large camp. They would not be supplying many troops, but by the thousands of long wagons pulled into orderly rows behind their tents, it was clear they had brought many other supplies.

  Then Hamish spotted a familiar figure and descended to land near Student Eighteen. She was walking with Commander Six and a company of over a dozen other Mhortair soldiers. She waved as Hamish pushed his visor up and asked excitedly, “When did they get here?”

  Student Eighteen grinned like a little girl. “Barely an hour ago. My people found safe refuge with a couple of our smaller communities.”

  “And fifty of our best warriors came to help fight,” Commander Six said proudly.

  Hamish grinned and pumped the short warrior’s hand. “I’m so happy to hear it.”

  The other Mhortair recognized Hamish and eagerly shook hands too. Of course they spoke Obrioner with no accent whatsoever and thanked him for helping free their people from the ruins of Jagdish. Hamish was so thrilled to see them. He loved knowing that at least some of the queen’s victims were finding safety. If they were successful in the upcoming battle, hopefully entire nations would finally enjoy peace.

  “You’re just in time for the next meal. I shared your recipes with the cooks and I think tonight we’re having one of the meals that Mister One gave us. That’ll be perfect.”

  Their good humor faded to stoic expressions of grief. Student Eighteen said, “Thank you, Hamish. We will all celebrate the memory of our brave leader, slain by the matron of evil.”

  “And we will renew our oaths to destroy her,” Commander Six vowed. His companions all agreed. They looked like a tough bunch. Hamish was glad so many had come, but wished they had a thousand more.

  He said, “Did you hear? We hurt the queen pretty badly.”

  Student Eighteen said, “I was just telling them about that.”

  One of the soldiers said, “It helps. A little.” Another added fiercely, “But we’re happy that we’ll still get a chance to help finish her off.”

  “We’ll need you for sure,” Hamish told them. “It’s really good to see you. I’ll catch up with you soon, I promise.”

  He wanted to hear about their long journey, but was too impatient to see Jean again. So he lifted into the air and accelerated, not even slowing to study the long ranks of Tabnit soldiers and their amazing sparky sparky boom drums.

  The command building looked pretty busy, so Hamish landed on the roof. He was surprised to find no one had created a rooftop access door. They really had built these in a hurry. So he jumped off the roof and soared in through one of the top floor windows.

>   He landed in a small conference room where General Wolfram, Captain Ilse, and Lady Briet were meeting with several high-ranking officials. Hamish waved, noting that they did not even have any snacks on the table. Must’ve been an impromptu meeting.

  “I don’t mean to interrupt. Have any of you seen Jean?”

  Ilse was grinning, but General Wolfram sighed. “Hamish, it’s considered bad form to simply fly into the middle of a meeting.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have left the window open. Any Pathfinder worth their salt would be able to overhear what you’re talking about.”

  Ilse chuckled. “Thanks for the reminder. We forgot to activate the shielding around the window.”

  He chuckled. “I’m glad. Bouncing off would’ve been embarrassing.”

  “Your Lady Jean is just down the hall, meeting with her flight leaders,” Lady Briet said.

  Hamish waved and left them to their meeting. He found Jean in another conference room, packed with flight leaders and officers. They were all wearing new uniforms made of sturdy blue cotton that Jean had developed. That was the color that she looked best in, so he was glad she chose that for her personal army too.

  Jean rushed to him. For a moment all he could do was stare, nearly overwhelmed by emotion. Her unmarred face seemed to glow, framed by her gorgeous, thick hair hanging halfway down her back. She took his hands and he grinned to see her perfectly restored arm and the fact that she ran to him without any limp. He swept her into his arms. Jean smelled like healing spices and ink, as usual, but also wore just a hint of new fragrance. Had she actually started using perfume? He loved it.

  “You should’ve called ahead. We had no idea.” Jean laughed.

  Hamish shrugged. “It’s been a busy day, and I was already planning on heading up here to help with the mechanicals. I just heard about your arrival. Perfect timing.”

  “We’re just discussing our duties in the upcoming deployment.” She gestured to her officers, and Hamish waved to them as they saluted in turn. “It’s going to be the biggest engagement since the Tallan wars, and many of my people will be helping to pilot the Battalions or stage our hospital craft to help deal with the injured.”

  “There’s probably going to be a lot, but definitely less than there should be. I saw your notes from the last test of the latest model of personal defensive mechanicals. The numbers are amazing,” he said.

  She nodded. “I’m so glad we got them done. We’ll have enough for a lot of the soldiers, and we can pass on the older models to just about everyone else. We brought everything we could from New Schwinkendorf, so there should be plenty of supplies.”

  “How are we doing on diorite?” Hamish asked.

  She frowned, and it looked adorable on her. “That’s the one stone were struggling with. There’s never been a huge supply, and we consumed a lot of the reserves in the battles against High Lord Dougal.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. More and more of our battle mechanicals rely on diorite.”

  “We brought every scrap of it that we could. We should have enough for one major engagement, but after that we’re likely to start facing shortages until the mines catch up or we can discover new sources.”

  “Well, if the battle goes poorly, we’ll need a lot more than just extra diorite.”

  She nodded agreement, then returned to discussing orders for her troops. She held his hand the entire time, and Hamish was content to simply stand beside her and listen to her lovely voice.

  At one point, he interrupted and said, “I need to get one of those jackets. They look very comfortable.”

  Dulax, the huge Boulder leading Defender Flight, gestured proudly at his jacket. “We’ve been calling it Jean’s cotton, but as the term is becoming well known we’ve just started shortening it to Jean’s. Everyone knows what we’re talking about.”

  “Great idea. I’d like one, if there are any to spare. I think it would be fun to give one to Rory as a wedding present tomorrow.”

  Jean gasped. “What? They’ve moved it up to tomorrow?”

  “Yup. Got a speakstone message on my way up here.”

  “I’m so excited for them!” Then her expression fell. “Oh, no. My dress isn’t finished.”

  13

  Impossible Relationships Sometimes Work Out

  Connor followed as Hamish and Jean pushed into bright sunshine in the huge square in front of the great Merkland palace. The sun stood almost directly overhead, and it was proving to be a clear, warm day. For that moment, it was possible to forget that the dread queen and her vast host were marching to destroy them all and simply enjoy a wedding.

  The entire square was packed with people, with more squeezing in every second. Many wore their military uniforms, although the majority had donned bright, festive attire. Not only did it look like every person in Merkland was trying to attend, but droves of people had flown down from Badurach Pass for the occasion.

  There was no way even half of the tens of thousands of people eager to witness the union between Rory and Anika could fit in that enormous square. So sightstones had been arranged around the raised platform where the ceremony would take place, and huge viewing screens were set up in every square around the city and along the outer walls so people could watch and hear from just about everywhere.

  The rubble had been removed, and the square was decorated better than during the Sogail. Every building facing it was hung with banners. Decorators had artfully concealed the worst damage from the swarm attack and the recent earth shaking under every banner they could invent, including the Merkland city and the personal crest of High Lady Shona. Others included banners for Granadure and the nations of the Arishat League. Elsewhere, they’d draped plain cloth sheets in festive colors. Chains of early season flowers draped from windows and balconies everywhere.

  Anika had overseen the effort, despite having so much to do to prepare herself. Connor had struggled to believe reports that she was a celebrated florist in Granadure, but couldn’t deny the evidence. How the terrifying battle maiden could also produce such delicately beautiful floral arrangements seemed an impenetrable mystery.

  With such fancy decorations, Connor decided it was good he hadn’t worn his custom armor after all. It was fancy enough and there were enough other people in military dress that he would not have seemed out of place, but Verena would’ve probably punched him for not making more of an effort.

  So he was wearing a stylish suit, gifted to him by Shona herself a few weeks prior. Although Verena no doubt hated the fact that it was Shona who gave it to him, it did look good on him, so she would probably forgive him for wearing it.

  Not that anyone would notice him or any of the men. Connor bet only Verena would even notice if he showed up in his smallclothes. Everyone would be gawking at Anika, and those who looked past her would be staring at Verena or Jean.

  Verena walked beside him, wearing a beautiful gown of deep green, fitted along the bodice, but with a flaring skirt. As much as she complained about not having anything to wear, she’d done well. The gorgeous gown had probably been gifted by her father for a fancy noble event. She’d probably made some alterations so she could consider it a new gown, but whatever she wore would look stunning.

  Connor stumbled on a rough piece of paving stone, nearly tripping.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, giving him a dazzling smile.

  For a second it was hard to breathe, let alone respond. She was so beautiful, and he felt stunned for the thousandth time that she had chosen him out of all the men she could have. Her hand was warm in his, her big, blue eyes bright, and even though he wasn’t tapping chert, he could sense her joy.

  He couldn’t imagine losing her.

  Suddenly all of his excuses for not proposing and making their betrothal official seemed idiotic. He couldn’t wait. One or both of them might die in the coming battle. He’d almost died in that volcano. No matter what happened, though, he could face it better if she was bound to him with a formal promise t
o wed as soon as possible.

  Connor opened his mouth to ask her right there, but Hamish glanced back from where he walked just in front of them with Jean and said in a loud whisper, “Hey, Connor, I was just thinking, triple-ascended Petralists can have kids, right?”

  “What?” Connor demanded, blinking a couple of times as the intimate moment crashed into pieces around his feet.

  “First and second-ascended Petralists can’t have kids, right?” Hamish asked.

  Jean glanced back too and said, “That’s right! Oh, Verena, did your family know Connor was affected that way before he ascended the final time?”

  Jean looked stunning in a gown of deep blue, trimmed in gold, and seemed to float as she walked. Her hair was done up in a complicated pattern, piled atop her head and held in place by jeweled combs and a little tiara. Jean was usually very unassuming, but Verena had managed to convince her that as Lady Jean, she owed it to her subjects to represent them well, which meant wearing all of that finery.

  Now Verena blushed, the rosy coloring making her even more beautiful. “Um, I haven’t spoken with them about that bit.”

  “Probably a good thing. Your dad already hated Connor enough without thinking he couldn’t get grandkids,” Hamish added.

  Connor actually hadn’t thought through that ramification of his ascension, and he felt his face grow hot. That was a very private conversation he and Verena needed to have. It wasn’t a topic for general conversation while marching to Anika and Rory’s wedding.

  “Thanks for reminding us,” he managed to say.

  “Any time,” Hamish said happily, turning forward again, walking tall beside Jean as they made their way through the crowds toward the platform. They were among the privileged few who could stand closest to their dear friends as they were united in matrimony. For once Hamish had left his battle suit behind and wore a fine suit cut in the Grandurian fashion. He almost looked a match for Jean.