by Frank Morin
Countering Ivor's influence over the flames taxed Connor's uttermost limits. Ivor was like a firestorm encased in flesh, and Connor had to draw ever deeper on marble. His union with water helped insulate him from the growing intensity of the burn in his mouth and the wild insanity now tempting him to unleash the beast raging in his heart.
He could do it. If he struck Ivor with the intent to kill, he could burn him to cinders.
He didn't want to. Did he?
It was hard to think. The crashing of the screaming elements around them and inside of his mind was drowning out thought, replacing them with raw emotion. The one that was rising on the tide of fire was fury. He needed to stop Ivor now, or he'd kill him.
Ivor's eyes were burning, his hair was burning, and his skin was glowing, as if fires were burning just beneath. Connor could feel it too. Ivor was on the cusp of complete union with fire. Connor had stepped across that line with water, and he knew how tempted Ivor must be to surrender everything to the flames.
"Ivor, beware, or the burn will incinerate you!"
"You feel it too. Don't pretend you don't." Ivor laughed in a tone of wonder. He grinned, and flames dripped from his mouth. "The fire can also purify, Connor. I know the deeper lore. Sometimes surrendering to the flames can refine Petralists like gold. There's only one way to find out. Are you willing to take the risk?"
Ivor's expression turned expectant and he gazed at Connor with burning eyes, as if hoping the two of them could take the ultimate dare together and see which of them could survive the purification.
"Are you cracked?" Connor asked, filling his voice with as much disgust as possible.
Ivor scowled. "Coward!"
He was burning too deep. Even his words echoed as he spoke, filled with hot air.
That was the answer.
Ivor struck again, more intensely than ever, and Connor had to throw everything he had into blocking him. Flames leapt all around him, and the heat blistered his face before he could drain it away. Ivor's will over the flames was more powerful than ever, and he threw his arms out, as if in ecstasy.
Ivor started to scream.
Connor stepped through a crackling wall of white-hot flames. As Ivor drew in a deep breath to scream again, Connor tapped quartzite.
He shoved a blast of wind down Ivor's throat.
Ivor's ecstatic trance snapped and he convulsed, trying unsuccessfully to cough. His eyes widened as his chest expanded, his lungs filled to bursting with the sudden rush of air. The flames dimmed noticeably as he tried to expel the choking air.
Connor shoved in a little more.
Ivor glanced at him, and Connor saw recognition in his eyes. He was pulling back from the brink. A wave of relief swept over Connor as he closed the last steps to Ivor, who began beating at his own chest to try forcing air out.
Connor gripped him by the shoulder and met his frightened gaze. "You had me worried there for a minute. You nearly burned yourself alive."
Ivor gestured at his mouth frantically, his eyes pleading.
"Release your tertiaries, and I think I can help."
Ivor's influence disappeared, and Connor controlled all the fire, all the water still whirling around them. It was a heady feeling, being absolute master of those elements.
"You know, we have a lot to talk about. As soon as you wake up."
He curse-punched Ivor in the stomach.
As Ivor doubled over from the blow, Connor allowed him to release all the air trapped in his chest. Ivor coughed several times, gasping. After a moment he finally stood up straight.
So Connor curse-punched him in the chin.
It was a good one too.
Riding the euphoria of that mingled, elemental storm, he punched perhaps an ounce or fifty too hard. Ivor was tapping granite a little, so the punch didn't rip his head off. It still knocked him off his feet.
Ivor crashed to the ground and lay still. Connor released the elements and beckoned to Ilse and Lukas, who had chased him across the plain and were circling nearby. They rushed in and chained Ivor.
Connor pried the worn fragment of sculpted stone from Ivor's still-closed fist. It radiated power, and Connor tucked it into his belt pouch.
"We should kill this one," Lukas said, gesturing at Ivor with his war hammer. "He's one of the most dangerous I've ever seen."
"He's a friend, and hopefully will become an ally," Connor said.
"You trust people too much," Ilse said.
"I trusted you, and that turned out all right."
"So far."
Ivor groaned, and Ilse helped him sit up.
"Drink this," she said in a gentle, motherly tone. She poured something into his mouth, forcing him to swallow.
Ivor coughed and swallowed. Then his eyes widened and he vomited explosively. He fell back to his knees, heaving again and again.
Lukas explained, "This purges soapstone. He won't have enough left in his system to spit."
Between heaving bouts of vomiting Ivor glanced at Connor, looking disgusted. "That was a rotten trick."
"What? Saving your life?"
"Is that what you call this?" Ivor turned away to heave again. Nothing came out, but he groaned and clutched his stomach.
Connor dropped to one knee beside him and placed a supporting hand on his shoulder. Ivor looked sickly gray, and very miserable, but he was alive.
"If I hadn't intervened, you would have destroyed yourself, or Kilian would have killed you. So yes, that's what I call it."
He helped Ivor to his feet and gestured south, where the Obrioner army was in full retreat, pursued by Kilian and elements of the Grandurian forces. In the distance, Gregor was sliding south fast on a short little tower that looked worn and beaten. Hopefully that meant that Anton had defeated him with Hamish's help.
"Looks like today's fight is pretty much over. Try to get some rest. I'll come find you after I check on Verena."
Ivor grimaced. "Do you really think Alyth will be embarrassed of me for failing today?"
"You didn't fail. You held off half the Grandurian army long enough for your company to retreat to safety. She'll probably think you're a hero."
"It does sound better when you put it that way," Ivor agreed.
Connor clapped him on the shoulder. "I might even pull some strings and have you transferred to my staff. I could use a valet."
Chapter Sixty-Nine
"The raft upon the waters can but steer within the torrent, but the dam athwart the chasm may subdue the raging flood."
~Anton
Connor found Verena in a comfortable, private room in the citadel, not far from Saskia's quarters. A maid in Saskia's colors ushered him into the bedchamber where Verena rested in an enormous four-poster bed.
She looked tiny, with the fluffy, white down comforter pulled up under her arms. She sat propped up by half a dozen pillows, and although she looked pale and tired, her smile seemed to light up the room.
The sight of her safe and recovering filled him with joy. The battle had gone well for Granadure, he hadn't died, and neither had his close friends. Just looking at her helped ease the ache of knowing he'd been forced to kill. He felt so happy, nothing could wreck the rest of the day.
"I'm glad someone's here who can tell me what's going on. I forgot to grab my mini hub," she said, eagerly gesturing him closer.
Connor moved to her side, and sat on the edge of the bed. He couldn't help but notice how she'd phrased that statement. The Shona situation was still clearly on her mind. That might just rain on his happy day.
He took her warm hand in his and asked, "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, but the Healer insisted I needed rest. So Saskia ordered me closeted away in here like some invalid. What's happening out there?"
It was a good sign that forced bed rest irritated her so much. She had to be healing quickly. Unfortunately, that made reconciling with her over Shona that much harder.
"The Obrioners have been driven back. Anton staved off a general volc
anic eruption. I killed General Carbrey."
Verena gasped and leaned closer, her warm hands gripping his. "That's wonderful news!"
He looked down and nodded. "I had to."
When he looked up again, her smile had disappeared, and she looked concerned. "Are you all right?"
He hesitated, then nodded again. "Like I said. I had to do it. He made it personal."
"I'm sorry you had to do that." She squeezed his hand again. "I'm glad you did, though. Did that turn the tide?"
He shook his head. "Hardly. Almost no one seemed to notice at first. I helped the Crushers capture enough of the tertiaries that they had to retreat. I even defeated Ivor and took him prisoner."
"I'm glad you didn't have to kill him too."
He wasn't sure he could have. "Kilian is chasing the Obrioners to make sure they keep retreating."
"Let me know when he returns. I'll check up on the listening stone I planted in Carbrey's tent. I've had an ear-scout assigned exclusively to that one."
"I doubt we'll learn more than we already know."
"Maybe we'll learn who Dougal appoints to replace him." She sighed then and gave him a serious look. "Connor, I'm glad Altkalen is safe and you survived, but I'm not sure I'm ready to spend more time with you right now."
He tried not to grimace. He needed to explain about Shona, and fast. Otherwise she might get her satchel full of stones back before he saw her again. Or her throwing knives. He hated the look of sorrow on her face, and hated more that he was the cause of it.
Verena meant everything to him, and he decided he really did hate Shona for causing this rift between them. His relationship with Verena was already unsettled from his worries about her royal connections. This latest episode with Shona threatened to derail it completely. How could Shona cause so much damage even now?
He wanted to hug Verena, but didn't want her to feel pressured, so he only wrapped her hand in both of his.
"Verena, I'll leave if you want me to, but I think now is the best time to explain what happened out there with Shona."
She did not pull away, but her frown deepened. "Connor, my home was destroyed on Dougal's order. Today a lot of people died. Their lives, and those of their families are destroyed because of him."
She didn't hide her anguish at the loss of her home. He'd thought she'd gotten over the worst of it while they were in Faulenrost, but clearly the tragedy was still very fresh. Although he was conditioned to deal with loss like that better than she was, he understood her grief. His home had been destroyed once too.
Verena's expression turned harder. "Shona is the daughter of the man who caused all that destruction. How could you have allowed her to kiss you again? After everything we've been through to get you away from her, don't you have any sense?"
"I'm sorry, Verena. I didn't want to, but. . ." How could he explain it so that it made sense to her like it had in the moment to him?
"You didn't exactly look like you were fighting her off. She is not your patron anymore, Connor. You don't have to do what she says. I thought you understood that."
"Things get crazy around Shona." He understood her anger. He shared it. He had been an idiot to let Shona position him like that. He appreciated the fact that Verena was giving him a chance to explain.
"Kissing her is not the way to clear your head," Verena snapped.
"I needed to explain to the others what was going on," Connor protested. "The only way I could do that was to agree to kiss her afterward. I felt it was worth the price if I could convince them that patronage was a lie. I thought it might be the best way to begin spreading the truth."
"Oh, Connor, even you can't be that dense!" Verena cried, pulling her hand from his grasp. "They'll inherit the very houses that keep Guardians enslaved. They'll never risk their position by changing things or even allowing the truth to be shared."
"I know that now, but at that point I still hoped they might."
She shook her head in amazement. "You lived at the Carraig, Connor. You know them. Why would you think that?"
"Because I know them," he snapped back, unable to rein in his frustration.
He wasn't sure how to explain that he felt they should be better. He wanted to trust them with the truth so they could rise above the lies they would soon inherit. He met her gaze and added, "I had to try. They're my friends too. That's why I accepted that condition."
"Shona understands you too well, Connor. She played you perfectly."
When he started protesting again, she raised a calming hand. "I can't believe it, but I can actually see your point. It was foolish of you Connor, but at least that's behind us now, and I don't think you'll make a mistake like that again."
"Well. . ."
"What?" she demanded, instantly suspicious again.
He wished he could just let it go, leave the conversation there in that good place, but she'd find out the truth eventually. "We didn't actually get a chance to kiss. The bash fighting started and Ivor ordered his entire command to form up. Shona had to leave."
"I saw her kissing you," Verena stated.
He shook his head. "That was just a tease."
Verena sighed and gave him a relieved sigh. "Why didn't you just say so, Connor? That's not nearly so bad. I'm glad the bash fighting interrupted. Now you can stay away from her."
When he looked down and didn't respond, she asked slowly, "What haven't you told me yet?"
He felt like an idiot, wanted to beat himself senseless, and was barely able to meet her unhappy gaze. "I still owe Shona that kiss. I swore an oath when we made the deal, and she expects me to keep my word."
Verena's expression turned fierce. "Not if I kill her first."
"Verena," he warned. The last thing he wanted was for her to hunt down Shona in a blood-oath rage. The two already seemed intent on fighting to the death, and the thought terrified him.
"Don't 'Verena' me," she snapped, and hit him with one of her pillows. "I can't believe you still plan to honor that twisted agreement."
"I gave her my word. . ."
"I don't care!" Verena shrieked. She threw another pillow and shouted, "Get out, Connor!"
He held up his hands in a placating gesture, not sure what he could possibly say that might make things better. He really should leave, but would she ever speak to him again? "Verena, please listen."
"No, you listen to me, Connor," she declared in a regal tone unlike anything he'd ever heard her use before.
She sat straight, her chin up, her eyes flashing with indignant anger, and in that moment she looked as regal as Shona had ever managed. "You made a choice to come with me, Connor. You chose to leave Obrion behind. I risked my life to save you! You cannot go back to her, or everything you've done, everything you've said to me is a lie. Can't you see that?"
By the time she finished, tears shone in her eyes. Connor wanted to tell her she'd never looked so beautiful. Even he realized that would be a colossal mistake. She was far too worked up, and such a gesture would probably send her scurrying to find a stone or a knife.
"I think we need to wait until you're better before we finish this conversation," he said.
"This conversation is over. And we're over if you ever go back to her. Connor, can't you see how stupid you're being?"
His sorrow and shame at allowing Shona to manipulate him was turning to anger. He'd done so much for Verena and for Granadure. He'd just beaten and captured a good friend to save her and Altkalen.
"I'm not the only one acting stupid. You're acting like Shona now more than ever."
"How dare you!" she shrieked.
"How dare you?" he shot back. "I was stupid, yes, but what makes you think you can dictate our relationship? We're supposed to be working things out together. You claim you're different, but listen to yourself. You're trying to control me and place conditions on my life to suit your pleasure."
"Get out," she hissed, her expression seething with fury.
Connor stormed from the room, wishing there
was still an army close enough for him to fight. In that moment, he would have released the beast in his heart without hesitation.
Why did she have to be so unreasonable?
Chapter Seventy
"A mighty stone, marred by invisible cracks, crumbles under the force of a single, well-placed hammer."
~Connor
Verena paced the plush bedroom, filled with boiling fury, hands clenched so hard her wounded shoulder ached. Her bare feet padded silently across the thick carpet, but she wished she had boots on so she could kick something.
She growled angrily as Connor's words seared her memory. She snatched up one of the pillows from the floor and threw it with all her might. It bounced harmlessly off the window, and she was tempted to find something harder to smash it with. She really could savor the sound of breaking glass right now.
She couldn't believe Connor actually planned to honor that agreement with Shona. How could he? She'd never gone back on her sworn word either, but then again, she'd never swear to such a ridiculous agreement in the first place.
She loved Connor, but at the moment she hated him too.
The worst was that he honestly seemed to believe that she and Shona could be at all similar. Getting compared to that vile woman infuriated Verena so much, she found it hard to think straight.
She had thought she knew Connor, that she understood him, but clearly she didn't. Was it a difference in their cultures, or just something in him that made him so block-headed?
She wasn't trying to control him, but she would defend her right to his exclusive attention with fierce and implacable determination. Connor had chosen her, and she had chosen him. How could he not understand that he owed her complete fidelity?
A knock on the door interrupted her angry pacing and she spun toward it, shouting, "Go away, Connor!"
The door swung open, but it wasn't Connor who peeked inside.
It was Mattias.
He smiled, and his handsome face still tugged at her heart strings. "I'm glad to see you're up and about."