by Frank Morin
"Did he hurt you?" Connor asked, his anger building. If Evander had hurt Jean, Connor would find a way to hurt him, no matter how powerful he might be.
"No, but he's such a mystery. I've spent enough time around him that I'm starting to get a sense of him. He's ancient, Connor, and he doesn't do anything without a reason."
"Well he'd better tell me the reasons if he wants me to cooperate."
"Stop it," she snapped. "You can't run a geall on him, Connor. He stands outside of any normal circles we know."
"We need to know more about him," Connor insisted.
"I'll learn," she promised. "But for now, don't cross him."
"It doesn't make sense." Connor frowned. "Why share such a secret, then threaten you? What's his geall?"
"This information is dangerous. People will kill to protect it. Think about the risk to the nation if this truth got out?"
As he considered that, she continued. "I don't know all the details about what triggered the war, but the Great Purge was one of the flash points."
"When they killed all the Builders?" Legends of those dark days at the end of the Age of Discovery abounded, told and retold even in remote villages like Alasdair.
Jean nodded. "The king died around that time too, although I found no specifics about how. Somewhere in there, Tallan rebelled against his grandmother and the war broke out. The fighting killed most of the nobility along with most of the strongest Petralists. The empire shattered, with Granadure and the nations of the Arishat breaking off."
"What happened to Tallan?"
"I found a single reference. I believe he was assassinated."
"I wish we knew more." Connor was starting to understand why Tallan's memory had been demonized so completely if he was somehow to blame for the downfall of the empire.
"I'll keep digging," Jean promised. "There's so much to learn, and I don't have access to it all."
"So how does all that history lead to patronage being a lie?"
"It was those conditions that forced the hand of the few remaining nobles. They were desperate as they scrambled to consolidate their kingdom. They decided that the most important thing they could do was to rebuild their Petralist forces."
"Makes sense."
"But they wanted to consolidate those powers in the noble houses to ensure their rule and to rebuild the powers that were lost. With so many of the noble Petralists killed, they faced the risk that their powers would get diluted. Strong Petralist powers are most often inherited. However, many of the strongest remaining powers belonged to commoners. They couldn't risk common people rising to wrest power from them, but they needed those powers to reinforce and rebuild their own bloodlines."
Connor felt a growing horror as Jean spoke, the harsh reality of those dark days coming alive in his mind.
With her voice dropping to a whisper, Jean continued. "So they invented Patronage. Connor, they invented the whole thing as a way to keep the commoners in check and dependent upon them. This way, any gifted commoner had to come to them. They could pick from the most powerful gifts and adopt those in their bloodlines."
Connor felt sick. "It was all a plan to breed Petralists?"
Jean nodded. "They still run their houses the same way."
Shona and the other nobles discussed their houses and bloodlines like families of horses, but Connor shook his head. "It's compelling, Jean, but I don't believe everyone would fall for such a huge lie."
"No one knows any more," she insisted. "Only the heads of houses are aware of the lie."
"So Shona doesn't even know?"
"I don't think so."
Well that gave him a place to start. "I can try to find out."
"Why?" Jean demanded. "It's a lie. You can leave."
He shook his head. "It's not that simple, Jean. I've seen the unclaimed."
"I'm telling you, that's a lie too."
"How?"
She shrugged. "I don't know."
"We can't act on what you've learned without knowing more. What if somehow patronage started as a lie but has become necessary?"
"How would that be possible?"
"I don't know. Once we understand the unclaimed, we'll know for sure. Until then, we can't assume there's no truth to patronage today. Too many people could die if we make the wrong choice." As she considered that he added, "How can they keep such a secret going? Surely someone must have realized those reports of unclaimed terrorizing villages were all lies."
"That's the thing, they're not." Jean dropped back onto the couch beside him. "I've been studying reports that show there have been well documented instances of attacks for hundreds of years."
"Do they date back to before the Tallan Wars?"
"I haven't seen anything that old. Either Evander hasn't shared that information with me, or the records didn't survive the war."
"So how can patronage be a lie, but unclaimed have been attacking people?" Connor asked. "If it's a lie, then those attacks must be false reports."
"That's what I thought at first, but the attacks really happened. Something did occasionally attack villages and even towns. They're all blamed on the unclaimed, but I don't know enough yet to say for sure."
Connor rose and paced around the room, thoughts tumbling through his head. Jean believed what she was saying, but there had to be more she hadn't learned. Unclaimed were real. If they weren't the result of losing patronage, what were they? How could he find out?
"You have to learn more," he said. "But you can't disappear for days on end. People are noticing."
"There's so much to study," she protested.
"I know, but we need to find a balance. You need to report to Shona. She's getting angry that she hasn't seen you."
Jean grimaced. "I had hoped she was so busy she wouldn't notice."
"For a day, maybe. But you've been gone for a week. She thinks you've been helping me with my new duties, so use that."
"I can make that work," she agreed. "Shona doesn't really care about me serving her every day. She just wants to make sure she stays in control."
"I'll discuss this with Aunt Ailsa," Connor said. "Maybe she'll have some ideas."
"Be careful," Jean insisted. "Evander said we cannot share this information. If the truth gets out, I think he'll kill everyone who knows."
"I'll be careful," Connor said. "Some day, somehow, it has to get out eventually."
"It can't." She looked deeply afraid. "Even if Evander allowed it, the nobility cannot. They'd risk losing control over the Guardians, risk civil war. They're already facing a war with Granadure."
He hated admitting it, but she was right. The political situation was too volatile for such an explosive truth. "But Ailsa has to know. She can keep secrets better than anyone."
"I agree."
"I'll see if I can pry any information out of Shona," Connor added.
"She probably doesn't know," Jean warned. "And revealing that you know is too dangerous."
"I can be careful." When she raised a doubting eyebrow, he insisted, "I can. But even if I just confirm that she knows nothing, that helps verify a little about what you learned."
"I'll get back to studying as soon as I can," Jean insisted. "What are you going to do in the meantime?"
"Think about this some more. There has to be a way to learn the truth about the unclaimed. I'm going to ask Ilse about it when I speak with her next time."
"Be careful," Jean said. "She's not exactly a friend."
"But she can get information from Kilian, and we need as much as we can get."
Jean rose and gave him a hug, leaning against him for a moment.
"I'm glad you're safe." He couldn't have continued playing Lian if she'd been hurt. "Be careful."
"You be careful," she retorted. "You're the one who has to win battles with an army that's too small and too lightly powered."
"They'll get better," he promised. "Time for the first practice."
Chapter 18
The army was assembled an
d at attention when Connor arrived at the Rhidorroch. They might have found the delay irritating, but mostly they looked confused by the location.
The broken skeleton of the great ice dome was gone. Frazier must have needed several Spitters to remove it all so quickly. It shouldn't have surprised Connor that he wasn't asked to help. Frazier didn't exactly trust him at the moment. Teams of workers were already busy, starting the rebuilding process all over again.
Connor loved the Rhidorroch, and he felt a lingering rage at its senseless destruction. Even though he'd helped destroy it twice, he had never wanted it broken, and he longed to see it rebuilt. Not only was he excited to run it with the students, but it was an unrivaled training tool that his army desperately needed.
As Connor approached, he forced aside the whirling thoughts triggered by Jean's incredible revelation. They'd solve that mystery, but at the moment, he needed to focus on training his new army for the daunting missions ahead.
Despite the challenges they faced, he loved being a general!
He commanded an army even stronger than the original strike force Captain Rory had led against Ilse and the Grandurian invaders around Alasdair. In the upcoming battles, he'd be playing the outmatched side, and he planned to employ all the lessons he'd learned watching Ilse trounce Rory.
With a confident stride, Connor approached his army. He knew their strengths and shortcomings from their many runnings of the Rhidorroch. Unfortunately, many of them had more shortcomings than strengths, but that wasn't the part that worried him.
The army already looked beaten.
Although they stood at strict attention, they didn't try to hide the fact that they considered their cause hopeless. They weren't fools. They lived with the reality of the standings every day, and their future plans depended on success in the all-important group battles. They would all feel the personal disaster of defeat as much as he did.
Connor needed to solve the lack of tertiary affinity powers, or their negative predictions would prove all too true. These were his forces, and they deserved his best effort. They needed him as much as he needed them.
In the front ranks stood Shona, Princess Catriona, and a tall fellow with broad shoulders, who wore his black hair longer than most. He sported the twin swords of a Blade on his back, and even standing still exuded a sense of danger. Connor knew him by reputation. He was one of the few members of the newly assigned army that held a high position in the standings.
His name was Fearghas, and he came from a city in Dougal's realm, which was probably how he came to be assigned to this army. Fearghas needed to believe, or Connor would never win over the rest of the army.
Behind Fearghas stood a second Blade named Heber, who Connor knew well. Even enhanced by a strong obsidian gift, his fighting skills barely reached average. His natural gifts ran to numbers, statistics, and calculations, and in that realm, he was unmatched. Beside Heber stood Aifric, one of the few students who looked happy to be there.
Fearghas spoke before Connor reached the front of the troop. "General Kilian, request to transfer to another army, sir."
"Denied. And call me Lian."
"Request to ask your real name."
"Denied."
The Blade scowled. "Request to rip off that mask and drive a knife up your nose."
Connor laughed, even though secretly he was testing his connection with soapstone. No one laughed in the face of a Blade's threat, even if it came with such gross insubordination that he should be thrown right out of the army.
"Thanks for breaking the ice for us, soldier," Connor said in a friendly tone that seemed to unsettle Fearghas even more. He raised his voice. "Welcome to day one."
Fearghas tried one more time, "You expect us to follow a general whose face we've never seen?"
"I expect you to follow orders."
"To what end?" Fearghas asked. "We have no chance of winning."
"To be more precise," Heber cut in. "Given the make-up of the armies, we have at best an eleven percent chance of winning."
Fearghas pointed at Heber, "See, even the numbers weirdo agrees. We're doomed."
Heber combed at one side of his head with carefully-trimmed nails, "Actually, my calculations are only rough estimates since I don't know enough about General Lian's battle strategy to factor in the appropriate coefficients and tangential probabilities."
"And that will make all the difference," Connor assured them. He lifted his hands to forestall other arguments. "This army is more than just a bunch of numbers. You're more than your standings. When I learned who was assigned to my army, I wanted to cheer."
At the ripple of doubtful murmurs, he added, "Honestly, I did."
"You wanted a bunch of losers?" Fearghas asked, "Because that's what you got."
"You're no loser."
"That's why I shouldn't be here." His calm pronouncement triggered more muttering, but no one challenged him.
"You're here for a reason, and you'll discover that reason soon enough." Connor filled his voice with confidence. "The reason I felt pleased to have you instead of students with higher standings is because they feel like they already know how to succeed and would blind their minds to what I can teach them. They would limit their own potential."
"Doesn't matter," one Strider called. "At least they have potential."
Connor grinned. "You just proved my point. You haven't figured out a winning strategy yet, but you will."
"How is it possible?" the same Strider asked softly, as if barely able to muster enough hope to consider the idea.
"Because we're going to have fun!"
Silence ruled until Fearghas spoke. "You've cracked, haven't you?"
"No, my friend. I just remembered something they've been trying to beat out of us for so long that we've all forgotten." He turned to Shona. "Can't you remember a time when learning about what you could really do with your powers filled you with wonder?"
A soft smile played across Shona's lips and her face softened from the slight frown she'd been wearing.
Connor turned back to Fearghas, "When are you the most deadly?"
"When I'm focused."
He shook his head. "When you really think about it, you'll realize it's when you're enjoying yourself."
"How can we have fun losing?" Heber asked.
Connor tapped his nose and grinned, "That's the secret. When you're having fun, you won't lose."
Heber frowned. "Excuse me, General, but even factoring in the widest possible probabilities, I can't see how you can overcome the lack of Sentries. Statistical analysis of that one factor alone negates any positive fluctuations of the other variables you may propose."
Connor clapped Heber on the shoulder. "You don't have all the information yet, but when you do, you'll see."
"Listen to me," he called to his still-depressed army. "I've seen battles where a tiny force with far fewer resources defeated a much larger opponent. It's possible, but requires hard work and discipline. You must trust me and obey my commands even if they don't make any sense at the time. Above all, you must meet every challenge with the determination to enjoy your incredible powers to the fullest."
"It'll never work," Fearghas muttered.
"If you give up, you've already lost and I can't help you." Connor extended his hand. "Do you have the courage to try?"
After a brief hesitation, the lanky Blade took his proffered hand. "Aye, General. I have the courage, and for now I'll follow you just out of curiosity."
Shona spoke for the first time. "General Lian, I'll follow you for the chance to spit in the eye of everyone who thinks we can't do it."
"Let's crack 'em!" Aifric cried and pumped her fist in the air.
That garnered some more half-hearted support from the army. All things considered, not a bad start. It was a thrill to face an army of mighty Petralists, who were all willing to follow him into battle, knowing their chances of winning were slim to none. He felt a heavy weight of responsibility to find a way to flip the situatio
n in their favor.
Fearghas leaned close and said softly, "If you lead us to failure, General, I'll cut out your heart."
Connor nodded. "I would expect nothing less."
Before he could begin defining their training plan, Frazier appeared atop the nearby wall of the Rhidorroch. The outer stair had been shattered by the collapse of the dome, but a rope ladder hung over the side. Frazier didn't bother with the rungs, but slid down the ropes, hands protected by thick leather gloves.
"What are you doing here, General Lian?" he demanded as the students opened a path for him.
"We're beginning training, or course."
"Where?"
Connor pointed toward the wall of the Rhidorroch.
Frazier scowled. "Don't mock me, Lian. I've got too much work to do, and every time you appear, things get destroyed."
"An occupational hazard," Connor said, vowing to change that record. "But you're going to want to hear what I have in mind."
"I doubt it. The upper level is completely shattered, and half of the tunnels are blocked with debris. That dome set us back two weeks, and I've got every lord in the castle clamoring for a new course so standings can get updated."
"It sounds to me like your workers need a bit of fun to rejuvenate their energy."
"I'm warning you," Frazier growled.
"You doubt me?" Connor asked, feigning shock. "After I just saved your life right here?"
He sighed. "What do you want, Lian? Out with it."
"I propose we help each other," Connor said. "My army needs training, and your tunnels need clearing."
"How do we do both?" Frazier sounded interested, despite himself.
"My army will race through those tunnels," Connor said. "If the tunnels are blocked, their challenge will be to clear them in order to proceed."
Frazier's scowl faded, but he gave Connor a doubtful look. "What's the catch?"
"Just clearing tunnels is kind of boring," Connor said to muttered agreement from the students. "So we need to spice things up a bit."
"How?"
"Do you think your workers would like to throw things at students for a change?"
For the first time in days, Frazier actually smiled.