by Frank Morin
"Is there ever a time I'll be able to use both granite and basalt together without suffering double-tap sickness?" Connor asked.
"Not yet. Even though you've ascended, it will still disable you, so make sure you purge every time."
"So it will be possible eventually, like if I ascend through other thresholds."
"Don't jump to conclusions," Kilian cautioned. "You don't even understand the effects of your first threshold. It's far too early to teach you about others."
Connor felt an intense curiosity to learn more. Every scrap of knowledge helped. Like the gaffers liked to say, "Many a mickle makes a muckle." The little things eventually added up to big things.
Patches of dirty snow clung to the shadows and Kilian nodded in that direction. “Usually this entire area is covered by at least a foot of snow this time of year, but winter has delayed coming.”
“I wish it would arrive,” Connor said. “Verena suggested a heavy snow could delay the invasion until spring.”
“Indeed. It’s more than a little insane for Dougal to be rushing toward war at this time of year. A good storm would probably remind even him that next year is early enough to invade.”
Connor would love a few quiet months with Verena to explore Granadure. No doubt Hamish knew the best sledding places too. It would be so nice to simply relax for a while.
Relaxing would have to wait. Kilian gestured toward the large boulder nearby, at least ten feet tall, roughly oval in shape. "Lift that."
Connor eyed the rock critically. That would challenge even his max-tapped muscles.
He stripped off his shirt. He didn't have any extras, and he didn't want to rip this one his first day in Granadure.
Tapping granite, Connor applied it throughout his body. His muscles hardened but he didn't max tap yet. If he had known they were going to use granite, he would have asked for a set of battle leathers, like the Boulders and Rumblers used. Those armored jackets possessed sliding plates that could accommodate the shifting bulk of Petralists.
As he felt for good handholds on the rock, he wondered at the purpose of the test. His granite curse was one of the strongest of anyone he knew. He had first begun training with Tomas and Cameron by ripping trees out of the ground, so he could lift a lot.
Connor found good grips and increased his tap rate. His muscles swelled with strength as his skin hardened and faded to gray. It was the signature color of pure Alasdair White.
When his muscles reached their maximum size, it still felt somehow like there were depths to his granite powers that he hadn't yet tapped. Like basalt, they seemed more profound than they ever had been.
This was going to be fun. Grinning, he gripped the rock and heaved.
It didn't move. His fingers dug into it, breaking off tiny chips around the handholds as he pitted his strength against the enormous, unmoving weight of the stone. His back strained and his legs swelled with granite power as his feet sank several inches into the hard soil.
Connor max-tapped.
He wasn't sure he could grow any more without turning into a big, solid chunk of muscle, but maybe his skin would turn black like that time he'd used the triple-strength enhanced granite that Aunt Ailsa had prepared for him.
That didn't happen. In fact, his muscles actually shrank. He still felt stronger though, so he poured all his strength, all his will into lifting. With every muscle quivering with the strain, he shouted with the effort and heaved.
This time he lifted it!
His rock-hard feet sank even deeper into the ground as he hefted the mighty stone, which actually extended another three feet under the ground. He was lifting several tons. Not exactly easily, but he was doing it.
"This is amazing," Connor shouted as he pivoted and heaved the stone.
Few things were as simply satisfying as throwing rocks. Throwing a really big rock was even better. The huge stone soared twenty feet before crashing to the ground and tumbling down the slope.
"Not bad," Kilian said, a little smile on his lips. "But, I told you to lift it, not throw it. Now you've got to go retrieve it and put it back where you found it."
"Seriously?" Connor complained.
"We can't destroy the area every time we want to train."
It took several minutes to fetch the stone and hoist it back into place. By the time he finished, Connor was panting from the effort, despite his new super strength. The fresh mountain air smelled of pine and clover, with the smell of stone coating everything.
"Why is it that now when I max tap, my muscles actually get smaller?"
"If they got any bigger you wouldn't be able to move," Kilian said, poking Connor's enormous bicep. "There is a physical limit to how big you can get before the sheer mass of your muscles impedes your mobility."
He wondered if anyone had ever managed it.
"So how can I be stronger and smaller at the same time?"
"It has to do with the way the tiny fibers of your muscles are connected to the bones. Normal muscle fibers run parallel to the bones, and they have to swell in size to produce a corresponding increase in power.
"Now that you've ascended, max-tapping granite triggers a physiological change, similar to fracking with basalt. Those little muscle fibers twine together into braided twists, making them far denser and more powerful. So it actually takes less mass to achieve greater strength."
"Wow. What do we call this effect? Braiding?"
"Plaiting actually, but we don't talk about it with non-ascended Petralists."
"Why plaiting? Sounds like the same thing."
"The term conveys the sense of plate armor. You may not have noticed, but your skin is also harder with granite now, offering better protection."
"I like it," Connor decided.
"Few people who have not ascended learn these secrets. As you probably have guessed by now, all of your affinities have strengthened as a result of your ascension. You have deeper reserves, and your fuel stones last longer."
"This is amazing. "Connor grinned.
Kilian continued. "But the most important aspect of ascension relates to your tertiary affinities."
As Blood of the Tallan, Connor could establish affinity with every power stone. Despite Kilian's age, experience, and that roguish air of mystery he wore with such flair, he couldn't. He was a Dawnus, with two tertiary affinities, elemental opposites of each other.
All tertiary affinity stones were metamorphic, providing a gateway for Petralists to connect with one of the elemental powers. All Petralists established their primary affinity with an igneous stone. Perhaps half of them established even a basic secondary affinity with a sedimentary stone. Only a small fraction of all Petralists could establish that critical tertiary affinity with a metamorphic stone.
Those tertiary-affinity Petralists could walk with the elements. Those few were the ones who decided the outcomes of battles. Managing their tertiary Petralists was perhaps the most important responsibility that generals faced.
"I've already noticed that I'm stronger with soapstone," said Connor. "Without that enhancement, I don't think I could've connected with it while I was a Rampager."
He thought back to that terrifying day battling the elfonnel. The memory of those moments of glorious, terrifying power still sent shivers down his spine. It also kindled a renewed craving for more porphyry. Maybe he could get Verena to share some of what they had captured from that rampager camp.
"No one who hadn't ascended could have managed it, and very few who had would have succeeded." Kilian's expression turned grave. "But I warn you, Connor. Porphyry seems to be extremely addictive. The rampagers we captured were desperate for that powder. It twisted their souls, and if you aren't careful, it could do the same to you."
"I can handle it," Connor assured him. "Do you want me to prove it?"
That would be the perfect excuse to get more powder.
Kilian shook his head. "No, Connor. I don't want you to touch it again. In fact, I have ordered the destruction of the li
ttle porphyry we captured."
"No!" Connor cried before he could stop himself, taking half a step closer to Kilian, one hand raised into a fist.
Kilian didn't look surprised. "As I suspected, you feel the grip of porphyry in your heart. Connor, you must never give in to that craving, or you could destroy yourself."
"I'll be careful, I promise." He wished he hadn't slipped and revealed so much. "I don't want to turn rampager again. It was nearly impossible to maintain control. But what if Dougal attacks me again? Shouldn't I have a little porphyry to defend myself?"
Kilian shook his head. "I don't think it's wise, especially since we know so little about it."
"But losing control to Dougal would be worse."
"Perhaps. I'll consider it."
So maybe he hadn't destroyed all the porphyry after all.
Kilian said, "For now, we will turn our attention to slate."
"Why not soapstone or marble?"
Water was his strongest element and he wanted to learn how to shield underwater.
"We'll get to soapstone," Kilian promised.
As Connor tucked a small wafer of slate into his boot, Kilian gestured at the rock he'd just lifted. "Go ahead and move that boulder again, but this time, no granite."
Connor released granite and sighed as his muscles deflated back to normal. A person could get addicted to the feeling of incomparable strength. Hector had, and that addiction had twisted him. Connor had grown up trying to hide his curse. He no longer saw it as a bad thing, but it wasn't how he defined himself.
Enough with deep thoughts. Time to throw another rock.
Connor formed the image of a sunken pit in his mind, lined with slate stones inscribed with the confusing riddles of Sentry speak. He imagined a stone door set in the ground of the pit slowly opening, creaking on ancient hinges, releasing the slightly stale scent of secret treasure troves.
Slate allowed him to connect with the vast powers of earth, but earth moved at its own pace and was sometimes reluctant to establish connections. It seemed to like the effort he spent preparing that image, though. In his mind, he stepped into the pit and jumped into the dark hole gaping below the open door.
Connor's senses extended into the earth like long, ethereal fingers that allowed him to see, touch, and even taste the earth. The area had good soil that tasted a bit like home-baked bread.
He focused on the boulder and reached out with his earth senses, grasping it underneath. He easily lifted it off the ground on a pillar of earth, popped it into the air, rolled it over a few times, then settled it back into place. Moving rocks with earth was as easy as thinking.
"I could have done that before I ascended."
"Except that's not what I asked you to do."
"What, then?"
"I asked you to pick up the stone."
Connor frowned. "But you told me not to tap granite."
Kilian nodded.
Connor figured old people had a right to be eccentric, so he crouched in front of the boulder and heaved. He didn't strain with all his might because he didn't want to pull a muscle.
Of course it didn't move.
He glanced at Kilian, who looked ready to wait a while, so maybe there was an actual point to the lesson. Kilian had specifically asked him to connect with slate. Why do that, if not to use it?
Walking with the earth did fill him with strength and vitality. Sentries generally lived exceptionally long lives, although he suspected other tertiary-affinity Petralists might as well.
Sentries were generally large in stature and mighty in strength. He had just assumed that kind of person would naturally tend toward earth, but maybe there was more to it than that. Just like a Boulder who maxed granite too often became permanently larger and stronger, perhaps a Sentry who used slate often was affected too.
Could that sense of strength he received from the earth make such a difference? Only one way to find out. As Uncle Martys liked to say, time to give it laldy.
Connor's earth senses mapped out exactly how huge the rock was, but he tried not to think about that. Instead he reached for the strength of the earth, and for the first time consciously sought to draw deeper from it, as if it was a dark well just under his feet.
He imagined leaping into that well, like when he used to jump from the cliffs above Loch Sholto. He plunged into that secret well of strength, and the power of earth flooded into him like an avalanche.
It didn't hurt, it didn't swell his muscles like granite, but it filled him with the rushing power of an earthquake.
Laughing with the wonder of it, Connor heaved again on the boulder. He felt connected to the earth, as if his legs had set down roots, linking him to the mountain. The rock might be heavy, but it was nothing in comparison.
Using the power of the mountain, Connor lifted the stone into the air. It was as if the mountain was doing the lifting, passing through him and using his limbs. As Gregor had once said, 'The bucket does not command the river to flow. It is filled only when placed in the waters'.
He was the bucket. He had stepped into the waters, and he was filled to overflowing. Only in that act of surrender could he unlock the incredible power of the earth. The feeling was profound and a bit disconcerting. Did Sentry speak result from those kind of deep thoughts the earth seemed to trigger?
He only held the rock for a few seconds. He might now wield the strength of the mountain, but his grip was awkward, so he dropped it back with a heavy thump.
"That's amazing," Connor breathed as his tight bond with the surrounding earth faded. "It was like I was part of the mountain."
"I've heard it feels like that. Consider what you've learned today. We'll make time to train with the other elements soon."
Chapter Eighteen
"The beauty of the weed is the thorn, but the tares may choke the golden wheat."
~Connor
Ilse awaited their return, resting in a soft earthen chair in the warm afternoon sunshine outside of Verena's workroom. Martys was snoring loudly in a hammock, attached to two earthen pillars Ilse must have raised for him. The rest of Ilse's team were nowhere to be seen.
"You made good time, Captain," Kilian said when he and Connor skidded to a halt nearby.
Connor combed fingers through his hair, which stuck out in wild disarray from the wind. He spat out several bugs that he'd caught in his teeth. He knew better than to laugh while running so fast, but he couldn't help it. Basalt was just so much fun.
He'd managed to swallow four bugs, including one big, juicy one that had nearly choked him. He wished he knew what kind it was. It was so big, it might have broken Hamish's record from the previous summer.
Captain Ilse rose and saluted, even though she looked exhausted. "Thank you, sir. We pushed hard."
"I thought you might have diverted to Harz," Kilian said.
"I probably would have, if not for him." Ilse gestured at Martys. "He insisted on rendezvousing with Connor. Besides, I figured it might not be wise to take a Guardian sworn to Dougal into Harz right now."
"Good point. The next day or two will be busy, then we're heading to the front. You can share your full report after you eat."
"Thank you, sir." She looked relieved.
Her earthen chair melted into the ground, as did the pillars supporting Martys. He awoke with a start when he landed on the ground.
"Oy, lassie, hold yer head! I'm pure done in here. Give a man a rest."
He scrambled to his feet, noticed Connor and Kilian, and laughed. "Speak 'o the Tallan, and in walks this pair, with me a pure nick." He brushed at his clothing, which helped as little as Connor's attempts to straighten his hair.
"We'll find you a bunk after you eat," Kilian offered.
"Aye, a full meal would be a grand thing," Martys agreed. He glanced at Ilse and added, "Ye did most of the work, lass. Ye're lookin' a bit peely-wally fer the hard miles."
Ilse rolled her eyes at his odd phrases, saluted to Kilian again, and headed inside. For his part, Connor
loved to listen to his uncle talk, even though he didn't entirely understand him either.
Kilian said, "I'll show you two to the dining hall. Then I have some work to catch up on."
Martys made a shooing gesture. "Off with ye then. We'll find the food anon. But I think afore that, what I need the most is a bit of real exercise. What do ye say, nephew? Up fer crackin' them knuckles against a real blockhead?"
"Absolutely." Connor missed his daily bash fighting practice with Tomas and Cameron, and was eager to get a feel for his uncle's fighting ability. Besides, there was nothing like punching a man in the face to help develop a stronger friendship.
Kilian pointed toward a nearby field. "Enjoy yourselves."
He headed into the building, and Connor fell into step beside Martys. "How was the trip north?"
"Twas a fright," Martys admitted. "That Ilse moves over the land like an avalanche with a grudge. Barely stopped to rest. Fifteen hours of sliding over hill and vale nearly gave me the boke. That one's not got the quits in her."
Ilse was as determined as she was crafty. She might not be the most powerful Sapper in Granadure, but anyone who underestimated her would regret it.
"Do you have granite?" Connor asked.
Martys nodded, patting his belt pouch. "One ration. Enough for a couple fights."
"We can replenish it," he promised.
"Thank ye, lad. Wouldn't want to run out in enemy territory."
"Do you consider them enemies?" Connor asked. Martys looked relaxed, but he'd been a Guardian his whole life, and the fact that he now stood deep in Grandurian territory must make him feel nervous.
Martys shrugged. "They haven't attacked yet. I gave me word, lad, and I mean to swallow judgment until I know the truth. But I cannae speak fer how they will react to me."
"Just walk carefully, and I'm sure we'll be fine," Connor said, although he reminded himself to exercise caution when away from Verena, Kilian, or Ilse. Other Grandurians didn't know him.
They walked for a couple hundred yards to where the grasses were trampled flat. It looked like a favorite training spot, although it was empty at the moment.