No Stone Unturned

by Frank Morin

  "How could I not get distracted by all this?" Connor demanded, pointing at the burning pillars and vast, ruined cavern. "It's amazing, but what if Jean was lost down here?"

  "The impetuous youth may, when motivated by a greater cause, bend their will to study of import worthy of greatest efforts."

  He had no idea where to go with that, so best to continue the conversation as if Evander had said something that made sense.

  "I already checked the inner library. It doesn't look like she's been there for days."

  "All fountains of knowledge lie mapped and secure in the vault of memory thus guarded and cataloged?" Evander asked with a hint of a smile.

  That gave Connor pause. Jean had shared with him the secret of the inner library. Had she withheld other locations where she was doing additional research?

  A throbbing headache began behind his eyes.

  "So you do know where she is? Please show me."

  Evander stretched a hand that was bigger than Connor's head up to a massive, cracked stone rib and drove a finger into it. Connor blinked. That was amazing. Sentries could bend earth to their wills, but he'd thought they couldn't walk through solid stone.

  Either Evander knew deeper truths, or the man was just that strong. Connor wasn't sure which possibility was more impressive. He felt like a child facing the mighty Petralist.

  The giant withdrew his hand, and the hole closed. So it was a deeper truth. Evander fascinated Connor, but he wished they could meet in the sunlight and chat over lunch.

  Evander said, "The window does not importune the light, but accepts it every day with willing gratitude."

  "Just give me a straight answer," Connor pleaded. "Or I'll assume you want me to punch a few windows into the roof there to let some light shine down here."

  "A pebble cast upon the mountain may yet unleash the avalanche." Evander's voice rumbled with a hint of danger.

  Maybe he should have backed off, but Jean was one of his best friends. Was Evander holding her prisoner? Had she stumbled upon some secret he guarded in the belly of the Carraig?

  "Is the window of her prison open to the light, or are there bars blocking her freedom?" Connor demanded.

  "The bird may be caged to keep away the ravages of the hunter."

  Was Jean the bird, the cage, the hunter, or was he totally misinterpreting that one?

  "Or it could be freed to fly away," Connor retorted.

  "Children play with glass and cast aside the words of wisdom that lead to treasures of knowledge." He was starting to look annoyed.

  Connor scanned for the nearest exits and pleaded, "Just tell me she's all right."

  "Fire can purify or destroy. Winds may cool or tear asunder. Truth that enlightens the understanding may overwhelm even the stoutest heart."

  "I'll find her," Connor promised. "Don't worry about how much she can survive. She's tougher than you think."

  It felt right to bow to Evander, so he did. Then he left.

  He only held a slow walk for five steps before tapping marble and pulling the flames from the burning fungus back to his shoulders. He didn't worry about leaving the giant in darkness. Evander's earth senses could map the entire undercity with far better accuracy than even Connor's quartzite vision.

  Before he reached the gap between ancient pillars that would allow him to return to a nearby street and head back toward the less threatening undercity, the earth rose to block his path.

  Evander had followed, although Connor had not heard a single footstep. Looming close, the giant gestured at the deep shadows surrounding them. "Secrets of ages past are of need guarded with careful tongues."

  "Why wouldn't you want anyone else to know about this place?"

  "Swine trample and tear without thought or care. Impetuous tongues are silenced by the stern mistress of dire need."

  Connor shivered. No way to misunderstand that one. "I'll keep your secret, but only if you tell me where Jean is."

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

  Connor decided to interpret that one that Jean would return tomorrow. He couldn't beat clarity out of Evander. Alone in the secret ruin where no one would know to search for him, he lacked much leverage.

  "Tomorrow then. If I don't speak with her, my silence is no longer guaranteed."

  He turned to leave and the earthen wall blocking his path sank into the ground without so much as a rumble. That simple fact reminded him how much he needed to learn.

  Without looking back, he returned to the ruined street and silent buildings keeping their eternal vigil. There he tapped basalt and raced back up the long avenue, eager to get as far from Evander as possible. The giant's voice echoed down the street after him, seemingly magnified by each ruined structure he passed.

  "The path to victory is fraught with danger not yet imagined. Hold fast to truth most cherished and soon to be discovered, and the fires of your tribulation may yet purify instead of destroy."

  With that dire warning echoing from all sides, Connor ran faster.

  Chapter 14

  When Connor returned to his Kilian suite in the central keep of the Carraig, he paced the beautifully-decorated living room, running the cryptic conversation with Evander over in his mind. Sentry-speak was even more challenging to decipher than to speak. Good lines carried multiple levels of meaning and he couldn't afford to miss anything Evander might have been trying to convey.

  Besides, some of those lines were fantastic. He didn't quite dare quoting any verbatim, but they might inspire his own Sentry-speak to greater heights of inscrutable perfection. The effort left his head pounding enough that he would have welcomed one of old Mhairi's foul tonics.

  Had he understood Evander's promise about Jean correctly? If Jean didn't appear some time the next day, he'd need to act. Would he dare defy Evander and reveal the long-standing secret of that sunken city? He really hoped he wouldn't have to, but he was already planning to return and explore further. He'd seen only a fraction of the secrets lying under the plain.

  Since thinking wasn't helping much, Connor changed into his custom battle leathers, pulled on his Kilian mask, and headed for his personal training facility attached to his suite. He was just deciding whether to practice with soapstone or marble when his new teachers arrived, trailed by Tomas and Cameron.

  Camonica looked irritated and kept shuffling farther away from Cameron. He seemed linked to her by some invisible thread, because he kept pace, following with an awestruck look on his face that bordered on open adoration.

  Connor was definitely going to have to ask him about that.

  "This will be a lot of fun," Captain Aonghus grinned as he surveyed the cavernous training facility.

  All of the Boulder classes could have used the huge space for mock battles. It was remarkable to consider how much of the enormous keep was dedicated to the private suites of the Dawnus. Then again, the game was everything, and the champions made the Tir-raon possible.

  The army of linn workers that Lord Nevan had assigned to prepare the area had produced a series of pools of still water, interspersed with giant open tanks of liquid fuel. A paved track that circled the outer edges of the room extended onto the rounded walls, allowing Connor to race around the arena at full fracked speed.

  "First, tell us about what you can do so we can determine how much ground we need to cover," Camonica said after shooing the Fast Rollers out.

  "With marble, I've been practicing long distance attacks. I've found that snapping a little fiery distraction at someone can give me an advantage."

  "Absolutely," Aonghus agreed. "Too many people fear getting burned."

  "Daly's got a pretty neat trick," Connor added, gesturing at a heavy plank lying near one of the fuel vats. "He rides up a pillar of fire and leaps off."

  Aonghus made a dismissive gesture. "Too much show and not enough substance."

  "I think you've just defined your life," Camonica said, actually cracking a smile.


  "You've fallen for the ruse just like everyone else. They expect Firetongues to be a bit crazy."

  That sounded exactly right. When Connor walked with fire, he felt that way. Only Ivor seemed to handle that wild insanity well.

  "Early in the process, that's often true," Aonghus said, appearing far too thoughtful, despite the little man-shaped flames pacing out his ears and up the side of his head to his unruly hair. "However, one eventually learns the secret."

  "What secret?" Connor had to ask. Even Camonica leaned closer to hear.

  "I can't tell you, or it wouldn't be a secret!" Aonghus chortled.

  Camonica groaned and went to examine the nearby pools of water. Aonghus leaned closer and continued in a fierce whisper to Connor. "No one else understands us, boy. Fire is the great purifier. Only those who step through the flame to the far side realize the truth. Have you completed your journey?"

  His burning gaze bored into Connor, who felt a bit intimidated by it. "I'm not sure."

  "Then you haven't."

  The flames winked out of his eyes and the fires nesting in his hair disappeared. "But you have to before the group battles begin, or you won't be prepared. I guarantee from everything I've heard about Ivor, he has."

  "Enough," Camonica said. "A Firetongue talking philosophy is even worse than a Fast Roller spouting sonnets.

  "Have you ever heard--" Connor began.

  "I don't want to talk about it," she said with a shudder. "Tell me what you can do with soapstone, boy."

  "It was my first tertiary affinity," Connor admitted.

  That pleased her. "I was privileged to witness that incredible monument you raised above the Rhidorroch."

  "Just before you destroyed it!" Aonghus laughed.

  "That wasn't my fault." He was getting tired of saying that. Maybe he'd inscribe the words on the back of his armor.

  "I sensed its collapse," Camonica said, her tone softening, her expression turning thoughtful. "The sheer magnitude of that dome would overwhelm all but the most powerful Spitters. Tell me about it."

  "It was too much to control," Connor admitted. "When we raised it, I couldn't have done it alone. If not for Ivor and the other Spitters joining the effort, I would've only killed a bunch of people."

  "And yet you drew them into the matrix." Camonica beamed. "You managed an entire matrix on your first attempt, and with such incredible volume. If I hadn't seen it, I would not have believed it."

  Connor shrugged. "It needed to be done."

  Camonica poked his chest with a finger. "Only those who become one with water can manage such a feat. Did you feel the threshold?" Her eyes lit with an intensity that unnerved him, and the blue-tinted ends of her tawny hair seemed to glow.

  "The what?"

  Aonghus hissed like steam in a kettle. "This is a topic we do not discuss, Camonica. You forget yourself."

  Her normal calm returned like a blanket. "You're right. We must start at the beginning."

  Connor wanted to ask what she was talking about, but didn't want Aonghus erupting. What had she almost said?

  "You walk as a trusted companion with water," Camonica declared. "It is a good start."

  Aonghus spat and mumbled under his breath. "Purification first."

  She gestured toward the nearby pool. "Time to begin."

  "What do you have in mind?"

  "A simple test."

  Camonica motioned Connor toward the nearest pool, then jogged over to another, with a tank of liquid fuel between. She stepped onto the waters and skated across the surface with abundant grace, but still not quite matching the effortless slide of Kilian, the Water Moccasin.

  Connor stepped onto the other pool, embracing the pulsing flow of soapstone in his bloodstream. The pools all began to glow to his water senses, and a dim halo appeared around Camonica. Walking with elemental water came easy to Connor and he strode out onto the pool as easily as hiking across solid ground.

  On the other pool, Camonica smoothly rose twenty feet into the air upon a column of water. Connor followed. It was a simple thing to drive the water into the shape he needed. After creating the giant dome, he barely had to think about forming something so small.

  "Good," Camonica called. "Now, the challenge. I will attempt to wrest control over your pool of water and unseat you while you attempt the same against me."

  That sounded like a lot of fun. Connor grinned and Camonica said, "Go."

  Her will struck at his column of water like a battering ram and it shook wildly from the impact, leaning dangerously over. Connor only barely managed to hold on, forming the waters around his feet like anchors to keep him secure. For a second, he hung over Aonghus, who scurried away from the impending dousing.

  With a surge of will, Connor melded his mind to the element like he had while forming the dome. It became a part of him, sealed to his will. Camonica's influence slid off, like vapors of smoke clinging to the exterior of a steel structure.

  His column of water solidified and he returned to face her. She looked startled and in that second of hesitation, he snatched for the pool of water supporting her column. He didn't bother trying to wrest control over the entire pool. All he needed was the top fraction of an inch.

  He turned it to ice, then pushed.

  The entire column slid across the thin skim of ice. All he needed was for Camonica to squawk with surprise and fumble for a critical second or two.

  Camonica was no student. Her will slammed down upon his thin crust of ice, and legs of water speared out of her column, driving through the surface. He tried to maintain his hold, but she held the advantage and ejected him.

  "Very good," she called. "Ingenuity, assertiveness, and an understanding of the influence dispersal gradient."

  Connor was glad he'd impressed her, but what was she talking about?

  "Thanks, but I pretty much just thought it would be fun to knock you onto your back side."

  "You first," she grinned.

  They resumed the contest, snatching at each other's columns, trying to push, pull, twist, and collapse them, but neither gaining advantage long enough to knock the other off. Camonica manipulated water with an elegant finesse that made Connor feel brutish and clumsy.

  Brute or not, he didn't fall. Water sprayed across the training facility, dousing Aonghus so many times that he finally ignited the farthest vat of liquid fuel and stepped into its protective flames.

  Connor threw himself into the contest against Camonica, merging his thoughts with the waters until they became extensions of his will, like ethereal limbs.

  Limbs that kept getting amputated.

  He and Camonica held too much control over their individual pools, so they reached farther, yanking upon the waters of the other pools and using them like battering rams and horizontal waterfalls against each other. They were too closely matched to cause much damage though, because whenever their watery arsenal touched their opponent, they snatched control over it.

  Eventually, every loose drop of water in the entire vaulted room was swatted back and forth between them, exploding in cresting waves that broke upon each other's wills before churning back the other way.

  Connor laughed in the midst of the flood, then coughed from the water he swallowed. The air was filled to bursting with moisture, and breathing became a challenge. There had to be a way to filter the water out of the air, but he didn't know the trick to it yet, and that tiny distraction gave Camonica the opening she needed.

  She clapped her hands together and the waters crashed in on him in a mighty wave. As Connor tried to block it, the heart of the wave condensed into a spear of ice that burst through the flood and caught him in the chest.

  The impact catapulted him off his tower and interrupted his concentration just long enough for Camonica to deny him the ability to save himself. A mighty wave smacked him down onto the outer track like flotsam dashed upon the rocks. The impact blasted the breath from his lungs and left him momentarily stunned.

  By the ti
me he sat up groaning, Camonica had returned all the waters to their pools. She grinned at him, her eyes still flashing with excitement from the contest.

  "You've made far more progress than I had feared," she beamed. "You are indeed a Spitter at heart, young Connor."

  "Don't damage his potential," Aonghus growled. He'd snuffed out the fires in his defensive inferno. "He needs to be far more than a simple Spitter."

  "Every Dawnus has a primary focus," she insisted. "For Connor, it must be water."

  "We'll see about that. Time to ignite the burn."

  "Are we just going to try to incinerate each other?" Connor asked, feeling a bit nervous as he glanced at the giant vats of liquid fuel. He wasn't sure he was ready to immerse himself to the purification point that Aonghus kept mentioning.

  "Not today, boy," Aonghus said. "Destruction is only one aspect of fire. Let's test those creative sparks in your mind."

  "Before you burn them all out," Camonica added.

  Aonghus ignored her and nodded at the track ringing the chamber. "Try to keep up."

  Without explaining, he dashed away, tapping basalt speed. Connor had not used all the basalt from earlier, so he didn't need to absorb any more, but took off after Aonghus. His worries evaporated as he embraced basalt speed and shifted onto the wall to take the first turn, running horizontal, a laugh bubbling in his throat.

  As Aonghus approached the second turn, flames erupted out of a nearby vat of fuel and splashed along the wall in front of him, clinging to the corner like a thin crimson carpet. He dove onto them and, as he rode them around the corner, they rippled beneath him, whipping him forward faster than he'd been running. He catapulted off the flames after the turn, actually slowing in the air before touching back down in his fully fracked sprint.

  Connor had never tried anything like that, but couldn't wait to. He tapped marble, his mouth already burning with intense heat. With the flick of a thought, he ignited a spark in that same vat of fuel and cast the flames along the wall in front of him.

  Then he leaped. He had used fire to cushion falls before, but never as an accelerant to a dive. So he bounced off the flames and tumbled around the corner, bouncing from the wall to the floor and back again several times, shouting as the world spun madly and his stomach flipped with anticipation of spewing his last meal.