Blood of the Tallan (The Petralist Book 7)

by Frank Morin

  Shona went next, trying to retain her poise until the moment she sniffed the essence of privy. She instantly gagged, but remained upright long enough to spew. Distance puking was clearly not a subject taught to high noble ladies, though. She lacked focus and sprayed far too wide, robbing her heave of distance. Still, she looked proud of herself for competing and not getting totally overwhelmed like Connor had.

  If she ever teased him about that, he’d give her a whiff of mega stench with activated quartzite. Then they’d see who was laughing.

  Kilian sniffed the skunk extract, closed his eyes, and heaved with no other outward sign of distress. His control was inspiring, and he got amazing distance, perfectly tying Eystri. Cacilia took over from Eystri, her posture shifting slightly as she sauntered up to Kilian and embraced him. Her voice turned silky and throatier and she said, “I’m impressed, Kilian. I like a man who can keep up.”

  Connor felt himself flushing, and was glad he wasn’t the target of that smoky stare. Kilian just laughed and made an extravagant bow to Cacilia.

  “All well and good, but I’ll beat you both,” Ivor promised as he took his position. He tried Verena’s trick of taking only a tiny sniff of mega stench. He instantly gagged, and his muscles rippled as he instinctively tapped granite.

  It didn’t help.

  He also tapped his tertiary affinities, but for once lost control over them. He blasted himself over backward with water, right off the ice pedestal, as he heaved an impressive quantity that splashed over the ground behind them.

  “Disqualified,” Kilian declared. Connor joined in the clapping and laughter, relieved to see the mighty Ivor undone as badly as he had been.

  “I suppose I need to review the distances and decide which of you won,” Jean told Kilian, looking more squeamish than she ever did treating the worst diseases.

  “No need, my dear,” Kilian told her grandly. “I cede to the lady Eystri and her sisters.”

  Aifric took over the control position, raised her hands, and shouted in victory. Then she leaned in and kissed Kilian on the cheek. “Every man should take lessons on etiquette from you.”

  Hamish laughed. “Etiquette lessons during a puking competition. Perfect.”

  29

  All You Can Do Is the Best You Can Do, Especially with Explosives

  Verena lifted away from the field in the Swift, with Connor in the back seat, arms draped over her shoulders. She kept the window shields down to allow the cool air to refresh them. She’d rinsed her mouth several times, but that vile mega-stench still clung to her throat, making her want to gag.

  “Next time, we’ll manage the launch stage better,” Connor said.

  Verena chuckled. “I’m not really looking forward to a next time.” The challenge had appealed to her, but intentionally subjecting herself to such an ordeal again seemed foolish.

  Connor shrugged, kissed the side of her neck, then massaged her shoulders as she ascended higher over the valley. She sighed, enjoying the rare quiet moment together.

  “How is work going?” Connor asked.

  “Better than I feared. We’ve completed retrofitting all of the missiles. The engines were giving us trouble, but Hamish came up with some brilliant ideas.”

  “I thought Hamish was working on the Thunder Towers.”

  “He is, but he’s been tapping obsidian all the time. He can’t get enough of his new affinity, and it’s really speeding up his work.” Of course, she tapped granite at every possible opportunity, and had trained every day with Shona. Bash fighting was amazing, and under Shona’s excellent tutelage, she was advancing very quickly. Her growing friendship with Shona seemed even more miraculous than her new affinity.

  She added, “He’s been sharing new ideas about retooling mechanicals every day, and Jean’s been doing the same thing, when she can tear herself away from practicing with sandstone. She redesigned the deployment plan for all the forces that will be stationed on the Battalions.”

  He squeezed her shoulders. “I’m so glad they’re doing so well. I’ve heard that not everyone is picking up the nuances of their new powers so quickly.”

  Verena nodded. Merkland was awash with Striders crashing into buildings and Boulders accidentally ripping doors off hinges or walking through walls, but most folks were handling the disturbances with a sense of wonder rather than frustration.

  “Do you think you’ve created enough new Petralists to make a difference?” she asked.

  He sighed, leaning his forehead against her hair. “I hope so. Tonight I’m hoping to make another two dozen.”

  “You’re still getting some who fail?” she asked.

  His hands tensed on her shoulders, and when she glanced back, he looked troubled and said, “Some people convince themselves they can’t do it. Either they’re not good enough, they’re so afraid they’ll fail that they don’t even try, or they assume if they weren’t born with a talent, they can’t learn it. It’s crazy.”

  Verena considered that as she slowly banked around Merkland, five thousand feet up. “I’ve known people who limit themselves like that. I hadn’t realized a person’s mindset might affect their chances of establishing affinities. Don’t let it get you down. They have to want it.”

  “I know. If they want it, no matter how impossible it seems, I can usually help them. If they don’t want it or refuse to try, I can’t help them.” His expression turned pensive. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m really doing people any favors.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He sighed and resumed rubbing her shoulders. She sighed, loving how her knots loosened under his touch. He said, “We’ll throw every one of those new Petralists into battle against enemies who have probably had a lot more training. How many of them will die because they’re so inexperienced?”

  “You’re right. Some of them will die, but Connor, what would happen to them if you didn’t help them?”

  “They wouldn’t dive into the middle of a bash fight they couldn’t win, or commit to a running battle when they can barely turn.”

  “But they would also lack the weapons to even fight Petralists. The regulars face even worse danger. The new Petralists you are creating might be inexperienced, but at least they now have the tools to fight for their liberty. Don’t feel guilty that you’ve given them that opportunity,” she told him, and she meant it.

  Her words seemed to help ease some of his worry. Wolfram and Rory had organized an extensive, even brutal, training program for new Petralists. That would help too, but she knew that Connor would carry a heavy weight of guilt for every death that occurred. She felt the same weight on her shoulders. People would die in the fighting, and some of them might die because her mechanicals weren’t good enough. But they had to try, had to save as many as they could. Doing nothing would be worse.

  “Let’s just make sure we win,” she said, turning to hold his gaze, her expression determined. “That will make all the sacrifice worth it.”

  “We’ll win,” he promised.

  Verena twisted farther so she could kiss him on the lips. Then she held his face close to hers and said, “Train hard, Connor. We’re doing everything we can. It’s all we can do.”

  “Let’s just hope it’s enough.”

  She considered those words as she banked back toward Merkland. They were out of time. The queen was advancing, and they couldn’t simply retreat forever. They had to stop her now, or all of Granadure would be overrun. They had to find a way.

  Aifric was waiting for them outside Verena’s workshop. After a final kiss good-bye, Connor left with her for another round of training.

  Verena headed inside her cluttered workshop and happily inhaled the scents of stone and wood, dust and steel. Time to make some bombs.

  30

  The Best Teams Perform As One Unit

  Connor ran south with Rith to another big pasture field, near where they had just held the puking contest. He was glad they’d made the time to do that but wished he’d performed better. />
  “You did an amazing job today,” he told her as they slowed to a stop.

  She smiled proudly. “Like Hamish said, when we focus, there’s little this group can’t accomplish.”

  “Well, let’s see if we can accomplish some training,” he said with a grin.

  They spent an hour crisscrossing the field, switching between basalt, granite, and obsidian, dueling with earth and water, blinding each other with limestone, and pushing each other hard. The nineteen women in Aifric’s head could switch positions in the blink of an eye, changing affinities just as fast. She could keep up with Connor as long as he tapped only one set of affinities at a time, but when he started mixing in more, he quickly overwhelmed her.

  After clobbering her with a wagonload of mud that he wielded with combined earth and water, she said, “You know, Connor, I could offer more of a challenge if all of us could work together better.”

  He nodded, draining the mud away from her, leaving her clothes clean and dry. “I wish you could.”

  Her expression turned eager and she stepped closer, her posture becoming more confident as Student Eighteen took over. “Why can’t we?”

  Connor hesitated, surprised by the question. She added quickly, “Mister Five figured out how to wield powers from two personalities at the same time.”

  “Except he was working with two mirrored people,” Connor reminded her.

  “He proved it’s possible. You’ve helped scores of people establish new affinities. We don’t need that. We just need to figure out how to connect ourselves. There has to be a way.”

  Connor wasn’t convinced, but he wasn’t about to deny her. The thought of succeeding in such an ambitious goal sent chills creeping down his spine. Aifric unleashed like that would become as powerful as he was. He grinned as he considered the idea. Aifric, Blood of the Tallan by committee.

  So he said, “It can’t hurt to try.”

  Actually, it could. He knew Aifric and all of her mind-sisters better than anyone. He understood the delicate construct in her mind that allowed them all to share that same brain. Messing with it could hurt her a lot, but with so much riding on the fate of the upcoming battle, he didn’t dare not dare to take the risk.

  “Who do you want to start with?” he asked. He’d visited the common area in her mind where all the women could meet together. He’d seen the walled partitions that created the brainspace for each of them, but realized he’d never actually visited any of their affinityscapes.

  “Start with me,” Student Eighteen said. “I was the first and I have chert. That might help.”

  So he tapped obsidian, sandstone, and chert, then looked deep into her big brown eyes. They sucked him in, and his world disintegrated into swirling gray. It materialized a moment later into a stone-paved courtyard, surrounded by tall, grim stone buildings with no windows, all clustered in the shadow of a tall, rocky mountain peak. With a start, he recognized Jagdish Mountain.

  Student Eighteen appeared beside him, dressed in soft black clothing that fit snugly, but wasn’t constrictive. Her thick, brown hair was braided, and she wore four daggers on her belt. She looked around, eyes widening with recognition, and a little smile tugged at her lips.

  “What is this place?” he asked, also turning. The view was similar on three sides, while the fourth ended abruptly in the usual fog-filled chasm with floating islands and bridges.

  “The kill academy training courtyard,” she said happily. “I trained here for hours every day for most of my life.”

  Good. That made it a very powerful anchor point for her affinities. No wonder they were so strong. Heavy rope bridges extended to both obsidian and pumice, with additional bridges to chert and limestone, and then bridges from those on to serpentinite. A faint tune emanated from that island. It had a martial beat, with lots of drums and energetic horns. It fit Student Eighteen perfectly.

  “Do you feel the other ladies at all?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Nothing. Here we’re in my brain space and it’s just me.”

  Connor concentrated, closing his eyes and questing out with every sense, but he felt nothing either. They were firmly in Student Eighteen’s mind. Locked in that space, he couldn’t tell that she shared her mind with anyone else. He started to pace, trying to solve the puzzle.

  “Any thoughts?” Student Eighteen asked, looking calm but hopeful.

  “Not yet. I wonder if we can sense your affinityscape from the common area?”

  She considered that but frowned. “I don’t think so. I’ve never been here like this before, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like this from any of the others.”

  “The walls of your partition are constructed from your affinities. Maybe we can find a connection point there,” he said.

  “It’s worth a try. Come.” She turned her back on the abyss and led the way across the practice courtyard. A wooden door with a brass plaque appeared in the far wall. Connor recognized it as the door that led out to the common area in her mind. They exited and sure enough, found themselves in front of the long wall of her partitioned mind.

  The other women who shared her head waited for them, with white-garbed Aifric in the lead. Tresta and Hemma flanked her on the left, both wearing battle leathers, while Mariora and Rith stood on the right side, bouncing a little where they stood, as if they were already tapping basalt and eager to rush off for another race.

  Cacilia wore a stunning gown of black silk with a plunging neckline and a long slit up one side that showed off her legs. Her hair was piled into in a complex knot atop her head, and she wore a delicate gold chain around her neck, sporting a huge emerald. Eystri stood nearby, smiling wider than he’d ever seen, wearing a colorful Althin dress, with many pockets.

  “Do you like my emerald?” Cacilia asked, her voice as silky as her dress.

  “Don’t tease him today,” Isabell told her. She dressed in black like Student Eighteen. “I got that emerald during that job in Crann. Don’t forget I’m loaning it to you.”

  “I display it better,” Cacilia said with a wink at Connor.

  He wisely said nothing. Cacilia could get him tongue-tied faster than anyone but Shona, and he didn’t have time for that.

  Eystri said, “I have interviewing all of the ladies, but none are having felt glimmerings from affinity mind spaces. I calculate less than a nine percent chance of finding successes studying the wall.”

  Student Eighteen said, “Don’t discourage him. We’re just getting started.”

  Eystri blushed but didn’t retreat into the crowd like she would have in the past. It looked like victory suited her.

  Tresta said, “Make it happen, Connor, and we can try bash fighting during a running battle.”

  That idea seemed to please everyone. Connor didn’t want to let them down, but also didn’t want to promise something he couldn’t deliver. “I’ll try.”

  He turned to face the long wall of their partitions. It extended into the distance on both sides, rising high into the air above them. The nearest section, with Student Eighteen’s nameplate door, was constructed of blocks of stone from her several affinities, arranged in seemingly random order. He spotted additional doors breaking the wall at regular intervals along both sides, but as he focused on the wall, he still felt no connection to their affinities.

  “If your affinityscape is locked behind your door, I’m thinking the only way to link your affinity abilities with any of the others would be to create doors between your partitions,” Connor suggested, gesturing toward the point where Student Eighteen’s wall met the next section, which belonged to Aifric.

  Her wall was made of different stones, arranged in a much more regular pattern. Connor had experimented with those patterns while rebuilding Aifric’s partition, and the result had strengthened Aifric’s affinities dramatically and opened the door for some of the ladies to establish Agor affinities.

  Student Eighteen frowned. “I once proposed making pass-through doors between our partitions
with Mister Five, but he said never to do that. He feared that would weaken the integrity of our separate identities, which could lead to degradation of our individuality.”

  That could get ugly really fast. Connor shuddered to think of nineteen women sharing one head suddenly suffering mental breakdown. He wasn’t sure the kingdom would survive the potential catastrophic problems that might result.

  “Well, we need to establish a connection somehow,” he said, feeling frustrated. So he tapped stilling and obsidian to create a super-think burst. His mind accelerated, and the usually fuzzy concepts surrounding chert and Aifric’s unique mind clarified, but still no solution became clear.

  As he mulled over the challenge, Connor willed himself into the air. Since they were just projections in her mind, physical laws only worked because he subconsciously decided they should, but they could be suspended when needed. Student Eighteen rose beside him, but the other ladies waited below in the common area.

  “What are we looking for?” she asked.

  “Just looking for now,” he said as the great construct of her partitions spread below them. Up close, the wall looked flat, but as he rose, it became clear the partition wall actually formed a nineteen-sided shape.

  An idea percolated to the top of Connor’s thoughts and he gestured toward the shape. “That’s just a mental projection of one way to interpret your partitions, right?”

  Student Eighteen nodded. “It’s more complex than it appears, but this representation seems to work well.”

  “We’re looking at it as if all of your partitions are next to each other, but we don’t have to limit ourselves to a horizontal relationship,” he said slowly, working through the concepts, feeling like an answer was hovering just out of reach.

  She nodded. “Sure. We can make it look any way we want.”