Blood of the Tallan (The Petralist Book 7)

by Frank Morin

  “In the pastures just south of the city.”

  “We’re on our way,” she assured him.

  Connor didn’t hear Shona or Wolfram on speakstone, so he tapped chert and scanned for their thoughts. In seconds, he found Shona in a meeting with Ivor. Wolfram was on a lower level of the palace speaking with Aifric. Perfect. He could send them a direct thought, but the few times he’d tried usually just freaked people out. So he tapped serpentinite, formed the words, and cast them at his friends.

  They all arrived within five minutes. Verena and Jean took the Swift. Aifric switched to Mariora and fracked. Shona and Ivor rode over standing atop a glittering pedestal of water. Wolfram chose the quaint method of riding a horse.

  Hamish returned last, carrying a bulging leather satchel. Connor created a table of ice, and Hamish declared, “I brought ammunition, including five dozen smashpacked meals that failed quality testing. Heavy casserole with way too much garlic and onions.” He grinned and added, “For the less adventurous, I brought the dependable standby choices of baked beans and Grandurian sauerkraut.”

  He then carefully laid out a dozen vials of Althin chemicals and rubbed his hands together eagerly. “All right. Is this everyone?”

  “I think so,” Connor said. They’d never invited so many people to compete for the title. Usually he and Hamish took advantage of moments of gastric distress for impromptu challenges. Lately those had generally involved one of the Althin chemicals Hamish was testing.

  Kilian strode down the line of contestants, looking satisfied. “With the fate of our world depending on our greatest efforts, it’s comforting to see nine brave companions willing to risk everything in this ultimate competition of focused intent.”

  Connor chuckled, as did Hamish. Kilian’s mock gravity was exactly what the competition needed. Ivor was smiling, although Shona looked like she thought Kilian was serious at first, then rolled her eyes when she realized he was joking.

  Jean said quickly, “I don’t plan to compete.”

  “Then you may act as judge,” Kilian told her.

  “Um, okay,” she said, looking a bit disgusted by the idea.

  “Do we need to invite anyone else?” Verena asked. “I bet Evander would love to participate.”

  “Or maybe Ilse,” Connor added, although they were already facing stiff competition. He felt confident he or Hamish would win, but any one of the group might pull off a particularly good heave.

  “Ilse is on patrol south of the city,” Wolfram reported.

  Jean added, “And Evander said not to disturb him before dinner. He’s studying in the vault.”

  “Very well, then we will proceed with the company at hand,” Kilian declared.

  “First we need rules,” Ivor said. “No diorite or quartzite allowed to falsely inflate distances.”

  “And we all start at the same line,” Wolfram said.

  Shona wrinkled her nose. “Competing from the same spot would confuse the results.”

  Connor suggested, “To make it fair, how about we build a start platform wide enough so none of us have to cross streams, and high enough to gauge full distance?”

  “Like this?” Ivor asked, making a grand gesture. The water platform he’d ridden over from Merkland transformed, flowing under them and lifting them all twenty feet into the air. He formed it into an ice pedestal with a straight demarcation line on one end and a steeply sloped ramp extending away. He even added lines every six inches across the slope to assist with easy distance measuring.

  “Show-off,” Hamish laughed.

  Shona regarded the construct approvingly. “You’ve given this some thought.”

  Ivor shrugged. “I believe that if you’re going to do something, do it right the first time.”

  Connor wholeheartedly agreed.

  Hamish gestured toward the table with the food ammunition and the vials of chemicals. “Each competitor gets up to three bowls of beans or sauerkraut, or five smashpacked meals, plus one whiff of the chemical puke-inducing agent of their choice.”

  “Am I the only one concerned about this?” Jean asked, looking a little green.

  “Between you and Aifric, I doubt anyone will get seriously hurt,” Kilian assured her.

  Verena walked to the table and inspected the chemicals. “What did you bring?”

  “We’ve got everything from essence of privy to skunk extract to mega-stench,” Hamish said proudly, gesturing at the various vials. “I even distilled essence of unwashed socks, and condensed the stench of every fart from the Boulder barracks latrine into this last one.”

  Connor was impressed. Hamish’s research into viable alternatives to the mega-stench had progressed farther than he’d imagined.

  Jean was definitely looking woozy, and Aifric was shifting between several of her personalities, speaking softly to herself, as if arguing about who would take the challenge. Kilian looked impressed, Ivor looked astonished, and Verena suddenly looked less eager.

  Hamish caught her eyeing the tiny vial of mega stench. “This is your best chance, Verena. You’ve teased me for months about trying it, but we both know you’ve secretly longed to experience it.”

  “You’re cracked, Hamish,” she said, but didn’t look away from the little vial. Connor grinned. He could tell she was all but convinced to give it a try. The researcher in her just had to know.

  “So, who wants to go first?” Kilian asked.

  Connor planned to volunteer, since he was one of the most experienced in the art of distance puking, but Wolfram surprised him by saying, “I volunteer.”

  “Bravo,” Ivor said, and Shona gave Wolfram a little bow of respect.

  The fearless general chose the baked beans for his ammunition. While he ate, they decided the rest of the rotation. Connor offered to go second, followed by Aifric, then Verena, Hamish, Shona, Kilian, and finally Ivor. Ivor looked pleased with the final position. In many contests, it would indeed offer some advantage, since he’d know exactly the distance he needed to beat, but Connor wasn’t sure it would work so well with the current challenge.

  Connor chose the smashpacked meals, as did Hamish. They both understood that sheer volume of ammunition sometimes made a difference. Verena chose sauerkraut, as did Aifric. Both Shona and Ivor chose beans, but Kilian pushed the rules by choosing a mixture of beans and sauerkraut. By his grimaces while he ate, mixing the two potent fuels might have been a wise choice.

  Wolfram chose skunk extract as his accelerant, and Kilian decided he would go with that one too, saying, “I have a particularly bad skunk memory as a boy that should provide an extra boost.”

  Connor longed to ask about that memory. He of course chose the mega stench. Hamish had regaled him so many times regarding the life-altering quality of that smell that he couldn’t skip a chance to try it and prove its superiority. Hamish and Ivor both chose mega-stench too, and after a long hesitation, Verena sighed and pointed to the vial.

  Hamish whooped and she said, “You’re right, Hamish. I don’t think I could forgive myself if I missed this chance.”

  Shona chuckled. “I don’t think you’ll forgive yourself after you smell it. I would never willingly subject myself to it.”

  “Which one will you choose, then?” Connor pressed.

  She pointed at the essence of privy. “That should prove adequate.”

  Hamish said, “I personally guarantee the effectiveness of all of these scents.”

  Aifric alone chose the distilled Boulder farts, saying, “We’ve experienced some impressive smells over the years, but both Tresta and Hemma have proven that for some reason Boulders produce the most rancid gas of all.”

  “So no one thinks unwashed socks are strong enough?” Hamish asked, looking intrigued. “How about I sprinkle everyone with a few drops after we finish.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Verena warned. Shona looked ready to punch him back to Merkland if he tried it.

  He shrugged. “That’s all right. I’m sure I can find a way to use it durin
g the battle.”

  General Wolfram took up the skunk extract and moved to the starting line. As always, his uniform was spotless, his long mustaches well groomed. With a flourish he unstoppered the vial. Connor grimaced as the smell wafted out. Even from a distance, it was foul. Wolfram placed the vial under his nose and sniffed deeply.

  His eyes bugged out and Kilian only barely snatched the vial from his trembling hands before he dropped it. With a coughing, retching sound, Wolfram settled into a fighting stance, leaned forward, and let loose an impressive volley.

  The beans had indeed given him plenty of ammunition, and he maintained excellent posture as he hurled his recent meal far out over the icy drop. The dark brown sludge splashed down and cascaded most of the way to the bottom, leaving a brown smear. Connor tapped quartzite and called forth a gentle breeze to push the smell away from the group.

  Jean smiled. “Thank you. I was starting to feel sick, and I haven’t even eaten anything.”

  Hamish clapped Wolfram on the back. The general looked sick and sank to one knee, face pale, hands trembling, looking like he planned a second volley. “That was indeed powerful.”

  “Good distance too,” Hamish noted, regarding the smear on the ice slope with a trained eye.

  Verena said, “At least measuring will be easy, since it sticks to the ice.”

  “Are we counting initial splash-down location, or the final travel distance?” Ivor asked.

  After a brief discussion, they decided to go with total travel distance. Connor figured the initial splash-down distance better reflected the power behind the hurl, but that force should translate into better slide distance too.

  So he stepped up to the launch line, next to the spot where Wolfram had made his play. The meals were heavy in his gut, and he felt confident that his experience would help him win the day. So he nodded once to Hamish, who extended the vial of mega-stench and unstopped it directly beneath Connor’s nose.

  Connor took a single, sharp breath.

  And in that second, his connection to quartzite flared, already applied to his sense of smell.

  Ever since his ascension, he rarely managed to completely sever his links to his tertiary affinities, but he’d never accidentally tapped the wrong one before.

  Bad time to try it.

  The mega stench drove up his nostril like Mhortair daggers, dipped in acid. With his sense of smell sharpened to supernatural levels, the stench seemed transformed into a living thing that clobbered his mind and blackened his vision. His body convulsed, and even though he tried tapping granite to help stabilize himself, his legs gave out and he toppled to his side. His entire insides spasmed so hard it felt like he was getting chomped by an elfonnel. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, dimly heard himself scream as the mega stench scoured every available droplet from his innards, wringing them like a washerwoman wringing a wet shirt.

  It all exploded up his throat and out his mouth in a convulsive heave that felt like his toes were getting sucked up through his boots. He lacked the strength to direct it, and lying on his side, his angle was terrible. It felt like everything inside of his skin was getting ejected while he puke-screamed, and he hurt so deep, he wished Erich was there to clobber him with a tree and put him out of his misery.

  No wonder soldiers had fled the battlefield screaming when the mega-stench cloud had enveloped them. Connor’s feet twitched with the need to run, but there was nowhere to go.

  After the initial volley, he vomited again, somehow spewing even more, although he already felt wrung dry. It felt like he was spewing everything he’d ever eaten, everything he’d ever considered eating, and everything he’d ever watched anyone else eat. As he retched, his connection to water snapped back into place. Water rushed through him, easing the hurt a little, but adding immense volume to his second hurl. It intensified into a powerful stream of liquid, the color of mud, sprinkled with chunky bits that sprayed out his mouth with the force of the Upper Wick in spring flood.

  “Foul,” Kilian called immediately, but Connor couldn’t respond. He hurt too much, and he was too busy trying to turn off his affinities.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Hamish replied. “His aim was still off. Distance was terrible.”

  That was the least of his worries. Connor felt like he was going to die.

  In his mind, he heard Fire’s voice, filled with laughter. “The most impressive failure I’ve ever seen.”

  “That could have gone better,” Earth agreed.

  “I don’t think he understood the rules,” Air added, her voice like a light summer breeze, skipping along the Wick.

  Water, her voice tender with concern said, “You shouldn’t have slipped closer to sniff with him. I think that made things worse.”

  Could they really do that? The idea should bother him, but Connor couldn’t make his mind work. He coughed, then his stomach clenched a third time in a dry heave so intense, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to eat again. He was completely empty, and his entire body curled tighter in protest. When the wave finally subsided, he gasped, his lungs burning. Groaning, he tried sitting up, blinking eyes that watered so bad he had to tap soapstone to clear them. Breathing was agony. His lungs burned and his nose felt like it was melting off.

  Then healing warmth poured into him from both Jean and Aifric, who had crouched beside him. The healing helped wash away the worst of the pain and helped him concentrate enough to tap his own sandstone. He finally took a real breath, but felt shaky and weak.

  One glance down the icy slide made him feel even worse. Where Wolfram’s stream had fallen straight and true, Connor had spewed at an angle, destroying his distance and marring the slide with a greasy smear.

  Ivor hauled him to his feet, and Hamish clapped him on the back hard enough that he almost fell over the edge onto the nasty slide. “Wasn’t that amazing?” Hamish laughed.

  “Amazing,” Connor agreed weakly, his voice hoarse, his thoughts still scattered.

  “Lost focus,” Hemma commented as she took the control position from Aifric.

  “See how well you do,” Connor told her. He’d already lost the competition, but seeing the others lose control would help him feel less useless. He needed to find time to talk with the elementals about what happened, but couldn’t muster the energy at the moment. He noticed Verena staring at him with wide, fearful eyes before she looked toward the vial that Hamish was holding.

  She started to shake her head, but Hamish said, “Oh, no. You chose already. No backing out.”

  Verena scowled. “I can make whatever choices I deem appropriate, thank you very much.”

  “Fine,” Hamish said with a nonchalant shrug. “Change your mind. We’ll all know the truth.”

  Hemma chuckled. “He’s got you there, Verena. You never back down from anything.”

  For the first time in her life, she looked like she wanted to.

  Hemma ceded the control position to timid little Eystri. Clutching her hands together nervously, she stepped to the line and nodded for Hamish to bring the fart extract. Apparently the women had decided Eystri’s weaker constitution would result in more explosive results. Hamish unstoppered it under her nose, and she inhaled.

  Her entire body went rigid, her eyes bugged out, and color drained from her face. Eystri threw her arms out wide and screamed, her body shaking, then convulsing forward as she puked so hard her feet left the ground and she nearly toppled over the edge after her lunch. Verena caught her shoulder, which might have been a breach of etiquette, but no one protested. They were all staring at the amazing spray of vomit launching from her mouth. It glinted like muddy crystals in the bright sunlight as it shot far beyond Wolfram’s splash-down point and cascaded all the way to the ground, far below at the end of the ramp.

  “Wow,” Connor breathed. Hamish clapped, as did most of the others. Eystri coughed a couple of times, and when she turned away from the ramp, Kilian pulled her into a joyous hug. He laughed and said, “Well done!”

  “M
aybe don’t squeezing so tight,” she said, still looking green. “Or you might getting another round in the face.”

  He released her, still smiling, and surveyed the rest of the group. “Now we’ve got a competition on our hands.”

  Wolfram made a deep bow to Eystri and ceremonially handed over his spoon. “I admit defeat to your unmatched intestinal fortitude.”

  Eystri took the spoon with a graceful curtsy, looking immensely pleased with herself. Connor hoped the excellent performance bolstered her courage.

  Verena went next, already trembling with nervousness as Hamish prepared to unstopper the mega stench. She took the tiniest breath and immediately heaved. She got excellent distance before collapsing to the ice, weeping and clawing at her nose.

  Connor dropped to his knees beside her, pouring healing power into her. She calmed a moment later, although her breath still sounded ragged and her face was marred by tears. She grabbed Connor’s hand and met his gaze with wild eyes. “It really was life-altering.”

  “Really?” he asked, impressed. He had only wanted to die.

  “Life-altering for Hamish. I’ll kill him,” she growled.

  Hamish, who was standing nearby laughed, but wisely moved away and placed Ivor between him and Verena. She did have a couple of her throwing knives on her belt, after all.

  Ivor held the mega stench for Hamish, who went next. He breathed deep, then gagged, his limbs shaking, face draining of color, but he maintained excellent posture for the explosive response to the stench. He got marvelous distance too, although he didn’t quite match Eystri’s mark. He spewed a second time, much weaker, and drew in a long, shuddering breath. “Wow. That never gets old.”

  “How many times have you breathed that vile stench?” Verena asked.

  He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I don’t know. A few.”

  Connor laughed. Hamish’s name was spoken in whispered tones of awe by the Althin researchers for a reason. Shona was looking at him like she feared he might explode, or something. Everyone else just smiled and shrugged. When Hamish saw that he hadn’t quite matched Eystri’s distance, he threw up his hands and exclaimed, “I knew it! With so many people working together in one body, you can accomplish the impossible.”