by Frank Morin
As Connor hurried away from Kilian’s apartment, he was starting to wish he had never ascended. Petralist powers had always seemed exciting, but now he was learning there was a darker aspect to affinities.
Now that he knew, he feared what else Dreokt or Harley might have planned for their subjects. He also feared what he might have to do in order to stop them.
60
Leave Some Things to the Professionals
Hamish looked up when Aifric slipped into the small culinary storage room where he was hiding with the other three Assassins. She’d discarded her normal healer whites and replaced them with a fine burgundy gown. He made a point not asking where she got it.
The room felt crowded with Assassins, rolling cabinets of silver trays, and carts with leftovers from some recent feast. Hamish alone had bothered exploring the food remnants on the carts.
That seemed like a professional oversight on their part. What if they were unexpectedly invited to attend a banquet? Not knowing what foods were popular could be a critical mistake.
“What’s with that ridiculous hat?” Hamish asked as Aifric swept the wide-brimmed thing from her head. It was colored a garish, bright green, with an enormous red eoin feather hanging off the right side.
“It’s apparently the height of fashion, and it helps conceal my features.”
She dropped a bundle of clothes on top of the nearest food cart. Mister Two looked pleased and ordered them all to don the clothes. Hamish was already wearing a billowing, black cape to conceal his battle suit.
“What did you learn?” Mister Two asked softly.
“No sign of alarm. No one noticed our entry into the city.”
That helped Hamish feel just a bit better. Donleavy was a beautiful city, but it felt wrong. Almost half of the desserts were left on those silver plates. Many of them looked like they’d only been nibbled at, even though they tasted perfectly fine. Even nobility could be counted on to finish quality sweets.
They had flown in during the hour prior to dawn. Hamish had ghosted up along the steep eastern escarpment, the sound of the Hawk’s thrusters easily drowned out by the thunder of all those waterfalls. He’d found a low garden, heavy with trees, and dropped the others off, then left the Hawk hovering under an overhanging ledge near the top of the cliff, tethered to the rock. They’d easily slipped into the city and the palace after that.
“How about the throne room?” Sir asked.
“I foresee no issues gaining access.”
“Are you completely insane?” Hamish demanded. “The throne room? Really?”
Aifric rolled her eyes. “I only checked the entrance. There are guards at the door, but they barely look at the people entering. People are desperate to avoid the throne room, so no one expects anyone to go who doesn’t absolutely have to be there.”
“Sloppy,” Mister Two said with a tight smile. “Exactly what we hoped for.”
They were all cracked. Hamish had realized that early in the flight and now wondered for the thousandth time if he’d made a colossal mistake. He also wondered if Connor had damaged some important self-preservation aspects of Aifric’s personality when they resurrected her. Aifric was supposed to be a Healer, not a spy.
She also wasn’t supposed to be Agor.
Hamish doubted Connor had any idea what he’d done in that head of hers, but on the journey south, she’d revealed that although the memory of her previous affinities existed, she still needed to reestablish them. While she’d worked on that, she’d exclaimed that she’d managed to establish primary affinity with two different stones. Apparently, despite her many personalities and their various affinity arrangements, she’d never managed an Agor gift before. She hadn’t revealed which primaries she now enjoyed, but had confirmed she’d reestablished her very strong affinity with sandstone.
She’d also revealed that she’d managed to establish affinity with quartzite for the first time. Hamish had encouraged Connor to help her come back better than before, but it still unnerved him to see her changing so drastically. What had Connor done? Was his tampering the reason she’d kept up so well in the sausage eating competition in the Hawk? That could almost be considered cheating.
It did make sense that she become a Pathfinder, since her mission was to eavesdrop on the queen. He still thought her daft, cracked, and stir-fried for approaching the throne room. From everything he’d heard, that was the heart of darkness that few people escaped unharmed.
They all gathered around Aifric as explained how the corridor where they hid emptied into one of the main hallways that led to the central palace main atrium. The description of the waterfall plunging through the center of the building intrigued Hamish, as did the many hollow stairway columns leading up to the throne room perched high above.
“Harley wasn’t there, and she’s not expected to return to the throne room until tomorrow.”
At least they had that going for them. Attacking the queen was crazy, but attacking her and Harley together was an entirely different level of insanity.
“I heard there are fewer nobles in attendance than usual, but High Lord Dougal and Shona are with them.”
Mister Two smiled grimly. “Good. They would prove exceptional secondary targets if we get the chance.”
Hamish hoped they’d kill Dougal, but he’d feel better if the man was not in attendance. Dougal was too smart by three servings. They didn’t need the complications. Shona was an arrogant, heart-twisting cobra of a girl, but Hamish wasn’t sure he wanted her dead. Shaved bald, maybe, but not dead.
Daulah took a step toward the door, his expression grim, but eager. “What are we waiting for? Now’s the time to strike.”
“Wait a minute. You’re not going to attack her right now? Right there in her own throne room?” Hamish asked. Somehow, despite the whole reconnaissance mission, he’d assumed they needed more time to prepare.
Daulah’s favorite expression was looking disgusted, and he used it again on Hamish. Mister Two looked surprised by the question.
Sir said, “Of course.”
Aifric explained. “Her throne room is her seat of power. It’s the place she feels most in control, therefore the place she will least fear an attack.”
“You’ll have to fight through everyone to get to her,” Hamish protested.
Sir asked, “Do we question how you do your work, Builder?”
“You probably could if my work was about to get you killed.”
Aifric said, “The queen has so dominated everyone that she has beaten all independent thought out of them.” She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Except perhaps for Dougal and Shona. Those two are exceptionally clever.”
Sir said, “What’s important to understand is that not only will the speed of our strike shock them, they will hesitate out of fear of the queen. In those seconds, we will either destroy her and cow them all, or she’ll destroy us.”
They were even more insane than Hamish had figured. “Oh, when you put it that way, it sounds like a great idea.”
“It does not concern you anyway. Your mission is to stay back and provide the escape route for any of us who survive.” Mister Two said.
He turned to Aifric and added, “You will wait with him.”
She looked shocked, as if he told her she had to serve them all sweetbreads without getting one herself. Her expression shivered and hardened as Student Eighteen took control.
“You need me. I have the right—”
Mister Two held up a hand to cut her off. She silenced immediately, although it looked like it took all of her willpower to do so.
“Your mission is to observe. Should our assault go poorly, you must bring word back to the people.”
“Father, please let me stand with you,” she begged, her expression agonized.
“I have spoken,” he said, his tone unbending, but his gaze softened.
She still looked upset, but did not protest again.
Sir looked like he approved, and Daulah just gave he
r a superior look, as if somehow he was scoring major points by getting to risk his life while she waited behind. Hamish bit back a mirthless laugh. He’d almost considered the rear guard position he and Aifric would take as ‘safely behind’.
Without further ado, they left the supply room and walked purposefully up the hallway. Student Eighteen lagged, twirling her fancy hat in her hands, with Hamish trailing behind.
“From what you’ve told me, there’s little chance they’ll even get into the throne room before she realizes something is wrong,” Hamish said softly.
She slowed, letting the other three Assassins draw farther ahead before whispering, “They’ll get in just fine. We have access to a power that has been lost to time.”
“Another secret affinity stone?” He wondered how many they had. “Tell me about it.” When she hesitated, he added, “If this goes really badly, and if I’m the only one who escapes, I need to understand what I’m seeing so I can explain it to others.”
“That’s not the reason you want to know, and you know it.”
Hamish shrugged. “I know that, and you know that, but if we have to explain ourselves to your father later, it’ll be a good excuse.”
She grinned, and he knew he had won.
“Pumice.”
He stared, expecting her to laugh, but she looked like she had just shared her mother’s favorite secret cookie recipe, passed down for fifteen generations and shared only with the eldest daughter of the family.
“Pumice? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Like I said, lost to time.”
Hamish tried to believe her, but pumice was only used in helping to quarry granite as far as he knew. Otherwise, it was completely useless. It was dry, tasteless, and made him cough when he tried it.
“What does it do?” He asked.
“It conceals. When tapping pumice, a Petralist is invisible to the senses of other affinity stones, particularly the elemental powers. It’s like you don’t even exist.”
“Are you sure Connor didn’t accidentally break something when he was in your head last time?”
“I’m fine. Think about it. Pumice is an unusual stone. It’s a rock, but it floats. It acts differently than any stone should. Affinities with pumice create a similar effect magically. The Petralist skims across the senses of others instead of sinking into them where they can be felt.”
“That’s why you weren’t afraid to get close to the throne room,” Hamish guessed. “On the flight over, you were establishing that new affinity.”
She nodded. “Whatever Connor did, I’m Agor for the first time.”
“So pumice is a primary affinity?”
“Yes. It’s paired with granite.” She looked extremely pleased about that.
“Can I have a piece of pumice?”
She gave him a warning look instead of a rock. “I can’t allow you to start experimenting with a new affinity stone, Hamish.”
He gave her the ‘I’m innocent’ look that he always used on his mother. It did not work on her either.
“I’ll give you one on the return flight,” she promised.
Hamish wanted to ask more, but they reached the main atrium and he nearly stumbled into her as he gawked at the huge, vaulted room, with the magnificent waterfall plunging past the wall of protective glass.
They started up one of the many staircases to the throne room. The three Assassins moved purposefully, but outwardly appeared calm. Hamish and Aifric followed at a slower pace to allow some space between them and the lead strike team.
At the top of the stairs, they reached a glass-walled antechamber paved in blue and silver tiles, with a final wide set of white, marble stairs leading up to the gilded double doors of the throne room. A pair of guards stood at attention, but did not challenge them as they entered, exactly as Aifric had predicted.
Hamish tried to look calm, but his heart raced and he wished he could wipe his sweaty palms within his gloves. They were really doing it. They were insane. He was cracked for going in with them.
Then he stepped across the threshold and stopped to stare again. The stories he’d heard of the wondrous room completely failed to convey the majesty of it. The rare, transparent crystal floor took his breath away as he stared down toward the main palace far below. The domed ceiling of blue crystal made him feel like they’d somehow stepped into the rushing current of the falls.
It took a couple of seconds to notice the people. About thirty people stood in the huge, vaulted chamber. Many of them glanced in his direction, but they quickly dismissed him as a nobody. Probably because he lacked a feathered hat.
Queen Dreokt sat on her throne, listening to a florid-faced, beefy lord, who was petitioning for the reduction of taxes levied on Raineach to help accelerate production of power stone.
High Lord Dougal stood to the queen’s right, along with Ailsa. The previous royal family stood to the queen’s left, several paces behind the throne, looking as empty-headed as Connor had described.
The way Shona was standing, listening to the high lord’s petition, she was looking almost directly at the door. So it was only natural for her to glance up at the newcomers.
Her gaze locked on Hamish’s and she could not entirely suppress a look of shocked surprise, then fear before she again schooled her features to neutral. Hamish realized with a cold sense of impending doom that he and Aifric should have waited longer before following the other Assassins in. The three men had crossed almost half the hall, without drawing any attention.
High Lord Dougal noted his daughter’s surprise and followed her gaze. Hamish tried to duck his head and slip behind a fat lady with an extremely wide skirt, but he wasn’t quite fast enough.
“Builder!” Dougal shouted, pointing.
Aifric was gone. Hamish had not even seen her move, but she had luckily slipped away.
The queen leaped to her feet and pushed past Dougal, her expression enraged. “A foul Builder here? Where?”
Everyone scattered from her angry glare, including the fat woman shielding Hamish. He moved with her, keeping her between himself and the queen.
The ruse would not work for long, so he glanced at the outer doors and prepared to activate his thrusters. He could escape in just a couple of seconds.
The solid quartzite floor beneath him and the fat lady simply disappeared. She screamed as she plummeted through. Hamish instinctively ignited his thrusters, caught her by the many layers of fabric billowing around her, and hauled mightily, throwing her back up into the room.
He wanted to turn and throw wide the release rate on every thruster and escape, but Aifric was in there. Maybe he could keep the queen distracted long enough for the Assassins to complete their mission.
As he rose back through the floor, cloak billowing dramatically around him, every eye focused on him. The queen was glaring so hard, he immediately second-guessed his choice. By her expression, he wouldn’t live much longer.
So he waved and said in a cheery voice, “I’m sorry, I thought this was the banquet hall.”
That surprised her just long enough for him to trigger one of the diorite missiles embedded in the left arm of his suit. It tore through the sleeve of his cloak and leaped away in a rush of air, shooting across the throne room toward the queen’s cold heart.
Air gusted around her, deflecting the missile away. It struck the enormous windows behind her and exploded in a very satisfying explosion of fire and glass.
In that same second, the Mhortair struck.
Daulah stepped out from between a pair of huddling lords, not twenty feet away from the queen. His cloth belt fell to the floor behind him. Under it, he’d actually worn a second belt. It looked to be made jagged lengths of steel. As he stepped from cover, he grasped the buckle and gave it a flick, and the entire thing slipped free and fell in coils around his feet.
It wasn’t a belt, but some kind of bladed whip sword.
Daulah lunged and swung his arm around and forward. The whip-sword lashed out, sla
shing across the queen’s stomach with a soft snicking sound.
It cut her completely in half.
Hamish was already turning to flee, but he paused to gape, horrified at the blood and entrails erupting from the queen’s severed torso as she fell, as if in slow motion. Her scream of pain was lost among dozens of other screams from shocked lords and ladies.
Daulah swung the belt around again, even before the queen struck the floor. She raised her hands to protect her head, and his awful weapon snicked past twice more, severing her arms at the elbows in sprays of blood.
On the dais, Ailsa remained remarkably calm, expression intent as she watched the assault. Shona was stumbling back, her form already shifting into the perfect lines of max-tapped granite. Dougal was crouching in a fighting stance, hand snatching for a dagger on the nearby weapons rack next to the throne.
Mister Two and Sir charged from the opposite side. White-hot flames erupted around Mister Two and he hurled the deadly fire at the mortally wounded queen. Sir raced past with obsidian grace, twin swords already raised to take off her head.
It was actually going to work! In less than three seconds, the Assassins would kill the most powerful Petralist in the world.
Hamish couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, seemed frozen in position as he watched. Could she really die that easily?
No.
As Daulah’s whip-sword flicked back toward her again, the stones beneath her brutalized body erupted into protective walls. The whip-sword slashed cleanly through one of the blocks of stone, but could not reach her. Mister two’s fire rebounded from an invisible wall, changed direction, and speared toward Sir.
He leaped through the flames without harm, but the royal family charged in, screaming, “Save the queen!”
Sir cut down both of King Turriff’s sons in an eyeblink and kicked the enslaved king and queen to the floor. Then with two quick steps, he leaped high. It looked like he would clear the protective stone barrier.
It exploded.
Stone shards tore him to pieces, and more ripped the air in a deadly, outward ring. The overwhelming barrage caught Daulah, and his body seemed to simply disintegrate into a cloud of bloody mist.