by Frank Morin
Be cautious, my Guardian. You are in company with perhaps the most dangerous people on the planet. I know you have reason to mistrust my father, but know that I want only what is best for you. The Grandurians have promised you fairness and truth and even love, but they are not the saints they pretend to be.
Be watchful, Connor, and when the lies begin to be revealed, know that I understand why you had to leave, why I had to send you into that deadly peril. Know also that I am here for you always, and when you are ready to return to my side, do not hesitate. Come to me, and together we can set all things right.
With love and hope,
Shona.
Connor read the letter twice, not quite believing it. Verena joined him, slipped under his arm, and read it too.
"That woman," Verena growled. When Connor did not immediately reply, she glanced at him, a look of concern on her face. "You don't believe that rubbish, do you?"
"With Shona, it's hard to know what to believe," Connor admitted.
"You should have burned it. She twists everything."
Connor smiled. "She says the same thing about you."
The attempt at levity failed and withered to ash under her glare. "What she says does not change the fact that I'm right, and she's a poisonous viper."
"Sorry," he apologized quickly. Clearly Verena would see nothing about Shona as a source for humor.
He had always thought of Shona more like a hunting pedra, beautiful, graceful, and absolutely deadly. He rolled up the letter and tucked it into his shirt.
Verena didn't look happy about that. She was probably right that he should just burn it, but he needed time to think. At least some of what Shona said in the letter was true, but the trick was knowing which parts were lies or carefully-crafted half-truths.
Hamish landed a moment later in a whoosh of thrusters. Connor hadn't even noticed him take off. He carried a couple of planks and some nails. Connor hated to use his father's hammer for anything as mundane as pounding nails, but it was the best tool for the job.
"Let me," Martys said, taking the hammer and nails from him and quickly fashioning a sturdy platform atop the supply box at the back of the Swift.
Connor decided it was probably good that he wasn't the one wielding his father's hammer. Accidentally triggering its diorite power would blow up the Swift, scatter their party, and probably wreck half the town again.
Definitely not the way he planned to end the day.
"This way, you'll still be able to access what's inside," Martys pointed out when he finished, a surprisingly short time later.
"You're very good with those tools," Hamish said, admiring the handiwork.
"If you'd built it, we'd have fallen off before we reached the top of the Torr," Connor told him.
Hamish barked a laugh. "And for growing up in a house with a hammer, you probably would have nailed your feet to the ground."
"Time to go," Kilian said. He looked impatient to leave.
Martys gripped Connor's hand. "Have a care, lad."
"I'll see you in a few days. Try not to fight with them. I want you to arrive in one piece."
Martys chuckled. "And deprive those two a good bash fight?"
He trotted after Ilse and her team, who were heading for the path up toward Quarry Road to begin their landward trek toward Mount Ingram and the border beyond.
"Let's go, Connor," Verena called.
He jumped onto the plank at the back of the Swift with Kilian, and Verena opened up the thrusters and lifted off the ground. Hamish, with Jean clinging to his back, swooped in close as they rose above Wick Torr. "Granadure, here we come!"
Connor glanced back down at Alasdair, trying to memorize every detail.
He did not expect to ever see Alasdair again.
Chapter Twelve
"Victory is weighed on scales of success, not solely upon the heartstrings of the martyr."
~Anton
"There it is," Verena said, slowing the Swift and hovering about a thousand feet in the air above the southern end of a long, green valley that extended several miles to the northwest.
Connor leaned closer to hear her better. The movement gave Kilian and Jean a little more space, perched on either side of him on the narrow platform.
Hamish flew beside them, reclining on his left side in the air and easily keeping pace with the heavily-loaded Swift. At one point he had actually started snoring, but then he pitched down toward the ground, and with a startled squawk, woke up and stabilized his flight.
He had carried Jean quite a bit of the way, but they had learned that they could travel farther faster by shifting her every hour back to the Swift. Kilian had pushed them hard ever since they soared over the mountains dividing Obrion from Granadure. He was eager to return to his office and catch up on the current state of things.
It was often cold in the heights, and they lacked enough flying leathers to keep them all warm. Kilian had placed a hand on Jean's shoulder every time she started shivering and shared heat with her. He had taught Connor how to maintain a low marble burn to keep himself warm. With that minuscule amount of marble being consumed, he maintained a mouth-watering spicy taste that made him constantly hungry.
The precious diorite chisels were packed in the storage box, under the platform where he stood. His father's hammer was clipped to his belt. He had fingered it as they flew through the long hours of the day, convincing himself that taking it had been the right thing.
Hamish drifted close and pushed up his visor. He was already chewing on a breadstick, and like a best friend should, he tossed one to Connor. "Nearly home. Can't wait to see what's for dinner."
The casual comment startled Connor. Did Hamish really think of the Builder compound as home? Would Connor find home there too?
"What do you think?" Verena asked.
After a brief hesitation, Jean said, "The valley is lovely."
That was a nice way to put it. The Builder compound itself was a sprawling mass of buildings clustered in the center of the wide, green expanse. Buildings of every size and type of construction crowded together around a massive, central structure. It sported perhaps a dozen additions of varying sizes, shapes and heights, turning it into a bizarre construct unlike anything Connor had seen. The strange structure looked like it had gotten hungry and started eating nearby buildings.
"That's the dining hall," Hamish said, pointing. "Beautiful."
Verena eased open the rear thrusters, drifting over the valley and taking them on a gentle arc around the compound. She descended toward one huge, blocky structure on the north end of the jumble. "That's our main research facility."
The building faced north toward the fields of tall grasses, still green despite the late season, and long empty fields of brown dirt and the stalks of harvested crops. Groves of hardwoods, bare of leaves, were scattered between fields. Several miles in the distance, a thin strip of blue suggested a river along the northern boundary of the valley.
The high, north-facing wall of the research facility was filled with huge, square, sliding doors, twenty feet to a side. They towered over a wide, paved courtyard.
Half a dozen long, low buildings, running in parallel lines north to south formed a western barrier to the Builder compound, as if trying to hold in the sprawling mass of buildings.
Connor pointed toward them. "What are those, the ones that look like they were actually planned?"
"Warehouses. They hold all the finalized mechanicals," Verena said. Then she glanced over her shoulder at him. "What do you mean planned?"
Connor shrugged. "Well, the rest of the compound seems to have been dropped out of the back of a flying wagon and then used where they landed."
Hamish laughed and rolled an entire backward somersault. "Yeah. Never thought of it that way. Most of the time, we were so focused on research and crafting new mechanicals, I never really noticed how crazy this place is."
"That's because it started small and grew a lot faster than anyone expected. It compl
etely took over the town that used to be here," Verena explained, looking out over the buildings with a little smile on her lips. "I think there are plans to straighten things out, but we just haven't had time."
Kilian said, "We'll get around to it. For now, we have to stop a war."
Hamish said, "I didn't even know there was a town here before. I thought the nearest town was Faulenrost."
He pointed to the east, toward rows of low hills that rose from the edge of the valley about a mile away. Nestled in the rising folds of land, Connor could make out a picturesque little town. From what Verena had told him, the capital city of Granadure, Edderitz, lay to the northeast, beyond the snow-capped mountains that reared behind Faulenrost. He hoped to visit it some day.
Verena was nodding. "It wasn't much of a town, but Schwinkendorf has been around for over two hundred years."
"So that's why they gave the new road that stupid name," Hamish said.
They had flown over the wide, even road the last few miles. Verena had explained it was a new highway being built between the compound and Edderitz. There were plans to add a new speedcaravan line near that road to facilitate moving mechanicals and supplies.
"There's always a reason for things," Verena said.
Hamish drifted around to the back of the Swift, and Jean swung onto his back. She'd done it enough times that she didn't even look bothered by the three-hundred-foot drop below them.
Hamish was still chuckling. "No wonder you just called this place the Builder compound. What a ridiculous name."
"Don't make fun," Verena chided as she adjusted to the shift in weight from Jean's departure. "It was named after the man who originally founded it, Vinzenz Schwinkendorf."
"Who was he?" Hamish asked.
"He was only the greatest chef in Granadure two hundred years ago."
"Really?" This time Hamish sounded interested.
"Oh, yes. He was the king's own chef. In fact, I was told once that the book of his greatest recipes was kept somewhere here, but it's been lost."
"No," Hamish breathed, glancing around as they descended the last hundred feet toward the courtyard of the research building. "How could something so important get lost?"
Verena shrugged. "I have no idea. It could be anywhere, though."
"It's a pity, really," Kilian agreed. "Old Vinzenz was really amazing."
"You knew him?" Connor asked, awed that someone could have lived so long.
"I've known a lot of people, but today we have work to do."
Verena gently landed the Swift, and Connor was happy to jump off. He enjoyed flying with Verena, but he preferred walking with her, holding hands or letting her nestle under his arm.
The nearest immense door rolled up on concealed hinges, revealing a cavernous room beyond. A skinny Builder with glasses, wearing a long, tan jacket, rushed out, beaming with excitement. A girl of maybe fourteen, with thick, black hair, trailed him. Connor remembered meeting the man in Alasdair during the battles, but didn't remember his name.
"Dierk!" Hamish rushed over to pump the man's hand. "What's for lunch?"
"I took the liberty of ordering something," Dierk said.
"Excellent!" Hamish grinned at the girl, who had sidled up beside Dierk. "Hello, Ingrid. How's your training going?"
She blushed and dropped her gaze, mumbling something that Connor couldn't hear. She turned away and rushed to Verena, gripping her hands and looking at her with wide-eyed excitement. "Oh, Builder Verena. It's so good to see you again! I've started flying with Uncle Dierk."
Verena gave her a warm hug. "I can't wait to fly with you."
"Really?" Ingrid exclaimed, but then her smile faded and she added. "I'm sorry, Builder Verena, but I'm just about to leave. I'm catching a ride down to the pass with the windrider transporting the latest bomb." Her expression lifted again and she finished excitedly. "I've been working with the ear scouts at the front."
"That's a very important post," Verena assured her, and Ingrid beamed even wider.
"I don't like her posted at the pass," Dierk admitted. "But we're so desperately short of Builders, and she's got a real gift with the speakstones."
"Congratulations, Ingrid," Hamish said, extending a hand toward her. She looked up at him for a moment, but immediately blushed and looked down. She started reaching out to accept his hand, but then drew back again.
She seemed completely unable to handle speaking with him. Connor smiled to see it. She'd probably realized that his hands weren't usually all that clean.
Dierk bowed to Jean. "I remember you, Lady Jean. Your bravery in rallying your town was inspiring."
"It's a pleasure," Jean said with a smile. She also greeted Ingrid, who curtsied graciously. When Hamish took Jean's hand and pulled her closer to point at something inside the building, only Connor noticed Ingrid's brief glare at Jean's back.
"There is much to be done," Kilian said. "I'll need to see troop reports, distribution records for the mechanicals, and updates on latest intelligence from the pass." He looked at Verena. "You and Hamish get settled and get up to speed on the current manufacturing situation."
"Of course," Verena said.
Dierk chased after Kilian as the Dawnus marched into the cavernous room inside the building. "Come along Ingrid, or you'll miss your ride to the front."
Hamish took Jean's hand. "Come on. I'll show you my workshop."
"Great," Jean grinned, and the two headed inside.
"Do you have time to show me around?" Connor asked Verena. "Or do you have too much work to catch up on?"
"It's waited this long," she said, grinning. "I want to show you my workshop."
She hopped back into the Swift and rose into a hover. "We'll go in through the outer door to my shop. Come on."
Connor jumped onto the back, and she sidled sideways, down the long row of huge rolling doors to the second-to-last one. He jumped off and, ignoring the thick chain used to slowly crank open the door, he tapped granite strength, grabbed the massive door and heaved. It rumbled up the track, rattling the chain, and slammed against the stop. He cringed. He'd heaved a little harder than needed.
Verena didn't seem to mind. She smiled as she flew the Swift inside. "It's good to be home."
Chapter Thirteen
"The storms of time obscure and conceal more than the snows of a winter tempest, and the days subsequent to war are turbulent and full of chaos."
~Evander
Verena's enormous workroom was well organized, with rows of tables and materials laid out with precision. An enormous windrider flying wagon with a broken runner on the left side sat leaning heavily over near the outer door.
Verena nodded at it. "A work in progress."
Connor slid a hand along the polished wooden rail as he walked past. The beautifully crafted wagon was longer than a hauling wagon from Alasdair. This one was configured with benches for troop transport, and could probably carry at least fifty soldiers. A high bench ran across the front for the pilot, with several quartzite-inlaid levers for controlling the thrusters. The lift thrusters underneath were ten times bigger than the ones powering the Swift.
"What do you think of Granadure so far?" Verena asked as they walked deeper into the workroom, an eager note in her voice.
"I like what I've seen, but I haven't seen much," he admitted. The landscape was rugged and beautiful, and snow already clung to the higher peaks. They hadn't passed any major settlements, but the small villages he'd glimpsed had looked remarkably similar to Obrioner towns. Part of him had expected something more foreign. "I'm looking forward to exploring the Builder compound."
"I plan to show you everything. You're going to love it."
Connor paused near the inner door at a table covered with gauntlets of all shapes, sizes, and materials. He picked one up and examined it. "These are for that slippery coal stone, right?"
Verena nodded. "Blind coal. This is where I designed the protective gauntlets."
"I'm glad you brought a pair with you
to the Carraig." Connor thought back to that terrifying moment when the elfonnel had lunged and swallowed her. "If you hadn't. . ."
He couldn't finish the thought.
She drew close and hugged him. "Without the gauntlets and the shieldstone, I would have been long gone before you found me."
Connor held her as she trembled against him. He had followed her into the monster and saved her from its sludge-like stomach acid. They had barely escaped with their lives.
"There's so much to do, Connor," Verena said softly. "And some days I wonder if we'll get it all done before the war starts. Once the fighting begins, I don't see how we're going to stop it before a lot of people get killed."
"We'll figure it out."
She sighed. "Kilian believes he has to kill Dougal to stop him."
"He might have to. And somehow I have to spread the truth about patronage. We might be able to use that to drive the Guardians away from their high lords."
"Are you ready to deal with civil war?"
"I worry it'll come to that. Would that be better than an invasion? Either way, a lot of people are going to die."
Verena considered that as she released him and paced away. "We'll figure it out, Connor. We made it this far together, so I have to believe we can."
"Do you think removing Dougal would really open the door to lasting peace?" he asked.
"Maybe." She sighed, a wistful sound. "Wouldn't it be nice to have some quiet time to relax?"
"That would be a welcome change," Connor agreed.
He hadn't felt truly relaxed since before the battles of Alasdair. The intrigue at the Carraig was not conducive to relaxation. Nor were Shona's constant manipulations.
Verena said, "When we win peace, I'll show you around Granadure. We can stop by Edderitz. My family will be so excited to meet you."