Affinity for War

by Frank Morin

  Jean said, "I've been thinking about that. I usually met with him in the inner library or the secret inner library. But even though I spent a lot of time there, sometimes days passed when I didn't see him."

  Verena grimaced. "We can't wait that long. We've got to head back toward the border by tomorrow morning at the latest. I want to report to Kilian before Dougal has time to spring his trap."

  They had made excellent time. They'd flown a windrider, packed with their families for the trip to Alasdair. On the way south, they had circled wide around the retreating Obrioners and the broken lands north of Harz. Their circuitous path had taken them close to the Emmerich quarry, and they'd decided to fly over it.

  The town had suffered heavy damage, with one entire section little more than a charred ruin. The nearby quarry was located in a patch of barren, rocky land that rose into a large hill that held the quarry pit. The northern edge of that pit was ruptured, as if a huge explosion had ripped through it, tossing debris for half a mile.

  "That must be where the elfonnel struck," Hamish had said.

  Verena frowned down at the devastation. "What a stupid waste."

  Amhain had grumbled, "Can't even build a quarry right. Everyone knows quarries should be on a mountain."

  Connor had laughed. "As if they decide where they'll find power stone."

  Peigi had commented, "But what a strange life, quarrying that black, glassy stone."

  Connor smiled at the memory as Verena circled the inner city at about a thousand feet. They had dropped their families just outside of Alasdair, concealed the windrider at the top of Alasdair Mountain, and picked up a strong tailwind south.

  They had flown all the next day, remaining high above the clouds. Connor felt pretty sure that no one knew they were in Obrion. They had stopped only briefly in secluded areas to stretch their legs and relieve themselves. Hamish and Verena had taken turns flying, and they had all slept when they could.

  All they had to do was find Evander and get him to share information quickly and clearly. No problem.

  Connor said, "Head for the ruins. Every time I set foot in there, Evander showed up. I bet he'll feel us land."

  "And he could bury us without anyone the wiser," Hamish pointed out.

  Connor shook his head. "Evander might not care about the rest of us, but I don't think he'd hurt Jean."

  Hamish hugged her little tighter. "Of course. Everyone loves our Jean."

  Jean gave him a warm smile, then leaned forward for a better view as they soared lower and Verena dropped the protective air bubble that had blocked out the wind. Its faint shimmering tended to blur their view a bit.

  Jean grinned excitedly. "It's strange. The entire time we were here, we were trying to figure out how to get away, but somehow I feel like we're coming home."

  "That's because for you, home is where you have the most patients or the most books," Connor said.

  "And for you, a place isn't home till you've destroyed it," Hamish joked.

  Verena swooped once over the plain so they could study it. Connor hadn't gotten a chance to really look at the ruin that day they fought the elfonnel.

  It was even more impressive than he'd sensed while exploring it. Seeing the ruin next to the wrecked modern Carraig helped him gauge the scope of it. The little that remained was like a shadow of the past, but it suggested a city of unrivaled glory.

  Crumbling walls had once been palaces even bigger than the ones in the inner city. The rubble-strewn streets and the broken lines of once-magnificent fountains hinted at beautiful thoroughfares. The graceful, soaring palaces of the inner city had always seemed almost more than he could take in. Now he was starting to realize the modern Carraig was but a pale shadow of what the city had once been.

  Verena swooped around for a landing and settled the Storm into the ruins. She chose the open arena. The plain had once reared over fifty feet above. The many broken stone bleachers were mute reminders of when the elfonnel had chased Connor down into the concealed under city.

  They landed in a swirling cloud of fine dust thrown up by the Storm's thrusters and Connor spoke through a cough. "You're right, Jean. With all the memories of near-death struggles, this really does feel like home."

  Verena cut power to all the thrusters, but just sat for a moment, staring at the stark, deeply-shadowed arena. "I thought I lost you here that day."

  She had just barely arrived in the Swift in time to see the elfonnel corner Connor on the plain. From her vantage it must've looked like it had eaten him whole.

  He had only barely managed to drill a hole through the concealing stone that had held up the false roof over the ruins. He was tempted to summon that same little squirrel with the big feet that he had formed to distract the elfonnel. It would make the homecoming feel more complete.

  He placed a hand over hers. She did not draw away, but met his gaze. He was surprised to see her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

  She whispered, "How has everything gotten so crazy?"

  "We'll figure it out," he promised.

  Her emotional reaction to returning to the Carraig made him nervous. He wasn't used to seeing her like that. She was the strong one, the girl who punched boys, who could stop entire armies with her mechanicals.

  He hoped Evander arrived soon. Maybe that would help her shake off the strange mood. Connor climbed out of the Storm. As he offered a hand to assist Verena, he reached through the gateway of slate already wedged into his boot. He connected with the earth and the gateway opened almost immediately.

  The ruin held a sense of vast age and layered history. As always, the earth carried with it a faint taste. That ruined ancient capital tasted like cider left too long in storage, right on the point of turning. He also caught the scent of quality work, like a whiff from his Aunt Ailsa's workshop.

  As he carefully extended his senses farther, scanning that ancient ruin, he quested for Sentries. He expected to feel Evander moving toward them, or even snatching away his access to the earth altogether, but he felt nothing.

  After a moment Hamish asked, "So, where is he?"

  Connor exchanged a glance with Jean as Verena activated a small lightstone. The faintly greenish light from the limestone illuminated the area, but also made it feel somehow more lonely.

  Connor shrugged. "Maybe he's sleeping."

  "Maybe you should break something," Hamish suggested.

  Jean snapped, "Don't you dare."

  "This ruin is already pretty well destroyed," Hamish agreed. He led the way out one of the gaping exits of the crumbling arena and pointed down the nearest street. "I suppose we could knock over another one of those palaces."

  Verena said, "We actually don't want anyone to know we're here. The students may be gone, but we don't want an open battle in the Carraig."

  "That might not actually be a bad idea," Connor said with a grin. Breaking things at the Carraig was one of his best-proved talents, after all.

  Hamish nodded eagerly. "Yeah. If we took over the Carraig, they would almost have to send an army to fight us."

  Aifric grinned. "It would kinda be fun to rule the Carraig, at least for a while."

  "Lord Hamish does have a pretty good ring to it." Hamish puffed out his chest and assumed an arrogant pose.

  "Lady Aifric sounds better."

  Their enthusiasm made Connor grin. "Wrestle over titles later."

  Jean gave Hamish a playful punch in the shoulder, then turned to Aifric. "You've been hanging around us too long. Aren't Healers supposed to fix things?"

  She shrugged. "When I need to break things I can be someone else."

  "Do you have any good bash-fighters in that head of yours?" Hamish asked.

  "Later," Jean said. She started marching up the lane with purpose. "Let's check the inner library."

  "You said he often doesn't go there," Verena pointed out.

  "True, but sometimes he leaves me notes or messages. If he's not there, we can try the inner secret library."

  As
the rest of them followed her, Verena hesitated. "I'm tempted to take the Swift, but I suppose flying it underground isn't the best choice. I hate not having it with me."

  "I could pull off one of those speedslings and carry it along for you," Connor suggested.

  She actually considered the idea before shaking her head. "It's not designed for easy disassembly, but I should add that as a future upgrade. I could see times when it would be helpful to have a portable speedsling along."

  Walking through the ruins of the ancient city under the pale moonlight was a unique experience. Connor could almost imagine they were walking through time back to when that city was the center of the mighty Obrion Empire, spanning the entire continent. He tried to imagine what it must have been like, but glimpsed little more than shadows of that reality.

  They reached the border of the ruin about a quarter of a mile from the inner city, where the ground again concealed the lower levels. A huge steel door had been installed across the corridor that led all the way to the undercity concealed under the Carraig palaces.

  Connor pried it open using slate, hoping the movement of the earth would draw Evander from his hiding place, but still saw no one. They walked the long, dusty corridors under the Carraig and reached the inner library without encountering anyone.

  While they walked, Connor tapped quartzite, listening and sniffing. The air smelled of dust and broken stone and torn timbers and recent destruction, but he smelled nothing of living beings. There were fewer torches than he remembered, and their far distant hissing and sputtering only reinforced how empty the Carraig felt. Even the wind that sighed down the open corridors seemed to complain that it found nothing to brush against.

  The library was cold and empty. None of the fireplaces looked like they had been used since Jean had last been there. A thick layer of dust covered all of the books and the many comfortable chairs scattered across the big room. Jean paced around the room, her fingers tracing the spines of the heavy tomes. A couple of times she paused to look at particular titles.

  "You really don't have time to read any of it," Connor reminded her.

  Jean gave him a wistful smile. "Despite all my research, I only read a fraction of them. These weren't the interesting ones anyway. Evander had taken all the best ones, and shared a few of them in the secret inner library."

  "How many libraries does one guy need?" Hamish asked.

  Aifric retorted, "How many meals does one man need?"

  "Good point." He pulled a handful of smashpacked cubes from the pouch at his belt and passed them around.

  Connor popped one into his mouth and was amazed by the rich flavor of roasted pork. Whatever sauce it had been cooked in was delicious, and the flavor was so intense that for a moment all he could do was just chew slowly and savor the dense meal.

  While they ate, Jean led the way out of the library and through the warren of darkened corridors to the secret inner library. Verena called for more light from her activated lightstone.

  Connor could have probably done the same thing, but limestone was one of the last stones that he had established affinity with. Sometimes it still seemed to begrudge that fact and resist working for him.

  The secret inner library was much smaller, just a couple of padded chairs facing a fireplace, with a small bookshelf nearby. The bookshelf was empty. The fireplace looked like it had not been used in weeks, although less dust coated the room than in the other library.

  Jean drummed her fingers on the bookshelf, clearly frustrated. "He even took the books away."

  "Well, you weren't here to read them." Hamish said.

  "What now?" Aifric asked. "Should we go kidnap Lord Dail to see if we can get Evander to react?"

  Hamish nodded. "I vote kidnap and take over the Carraig."

  "If Evander hasn't come to find us yet, I'm not sure he would react well to that," Connor said.

  Jean frowned, "So where is he? The ruined city is exposed, the Carraig is partially destroyed, and a lot of his secrets must be coming out. Not many people knew about that ruin under the plain, and I bet they're asking him all sorts of questions."

  "What if he's still traipsing around Granadure?" Connor asked.

  Verena looked horrified by the idea. "How could we not have considered that?"

  Connor shrugged. "Evander and Carraig pretty much go together." He didn't want to consider the fact that they might actually have no idea how to find the giant Sentry.

  "Maybe I should say a limmerick," he suggested.

  "Please don't."

  The deep voice surprised them all. As one, they spun toward the door, hands reaching for weapons.

  Evander stood just inside, and none of them had heard him enter.

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  "This battle we fight with water and fire.

  To win is your only hope and earnest desire.

  You'll try really hard, and stay on your guard,

  But your troops will mourn like a pitiful choir."

  ~Connor

  Jean recovered first and stepped toward the giant Sentry, whose head reached almost to the high ceiling.

  "Evander, thank you for coming!"

  He sank to one knee to greet her and she took his extended hand. "I'm so glad you're here. I heard you helped stop that disaster at Harz, but no one knew if you were all right."

  The hint of a smile cracked the mahogany façade of his face. "Fires may ravage the sun-dried forest, but reunion gladdens the heart with a deeper flame."

  "Oh, I'm glad." Jean stammered, actually blushing a little.

  Hamish elbowed Connor as the rest of the group slowly approached. "Told you everybody loves Jean."

  Connor envied him the absolute confidence he felt in his relationship with Jean. He could enjoy the fact that she received such universal love without even a hint of jealousy or worry.

  Connor glanced at Verena, who still had one hand inside her satchel and was watching Evander with guarded concern. He hoped they'd get to that point eventually, but couldn't imagine how.

  Aifric stood to one side, a slender dagger in each hand, her stance relaxed and poised in the deadly stillness of a Blade ready to strike. It was comforting to know she was ready to help if the situation turned violent.

  It probably wouldn't help against Evander, but it was comforting anyway.

  Evander scanned the rest of the group with his dark eyes. As usual, the weight of that gaze made Connor nervous. He was all too aware of Evander's physical might and his unmatched power with earth. Hopefully they could all get along.

  Evander's expression darkened when he glanced at Aifric. "The Mhortair are not welcome here."

  Connor had no idea how he knew. Even more terrifying than the low, growling tone he used was the fact that he spoke clearly. Aifric seemed to understand the danger and she paled.

  "Then you should be welcoming her," Connor said before violence could erupt. "She's broken with her people and sworn her oath to me."

  Evander terrified him and they needed the knowledge that the ancient Sentry alone might be able to share, but he would not allow the man to harm his friend.

  Evander glanced from Aifric to Connor. "The strongest tree is one that grows against much opposition, but true friendship is a safe harbor that few find in the storm."

  Connor hoped that meant that Evander approved. Better that than assume Evander was the storm about to shatter him before he could find safety.

  So he said, "We need your help."

  "The fool proclaims the time of the harvest when vines are laden and heavy, but the wise man sows and plans for the reaping."

  "Do we look that desperate?" Hamish asked.

  Connor decided he had probably interpreted that one correctly. Maybe it was time to share the height of fashion.

  "There once was a man from Altkalen.

  Trading problems upon him had a-fallen.

  The Obrioners had come, beating war on their drum,

  but their invasion instead has stahlen."


  "Stahlen?" Hamish asked.

  "It's art. Work with me," Connor whispered.

  "Failed art maybe," Hamish said with a chuckle. "We came here to ask for help, not to confuse the guy."

  "Just stop it you two." Jean sounded frustrated. "Evander, I bet you know exactly what has been happening."

  "A murder of crows feasts only in times of blood, but the shaking of the earth cannot be restricted to a single mountain."

  "Exactly," Jean said, giving the big man a warm smile. "The problem is, High Lord Dougal is retreating toward the border as a ruse. We know he plans to raise another elfonnel, one he claims is ancient and powerful. But we took his sculpted stones, and he has no ascended Petralists. We're hoping you can help us figure out if it's possible that he might have discovered how to track down one of the ancient, hibernating elfonnel."

  Evander looked from her to the rest of the team, his expression unreadable as usual. His eyes settled upon Verena then glanced at Hamish. "Time steals the sound of laughter even from the mind, but the glimpse of new life rekindles the faint memories."

  "Your uncle Kilian mentioned once that I remind him of your mother," Verena said softly, taking a step closer and pulling her hand from the satchel. "Please help us so we can avoid another great purge."

  An old sadness deepened the lines of his face, and he glanced down at Jean, who patted his arm reassuringly. "I know the old memories can be painful, but we're trying to make better new ones."

  Evander sighed, the sound like a blacksmith's bellows.

  "Mountains of ice in the ocean float mostly underwater, and the fires of hatred burn hottest in the heart."

  Connor exchanged confused looks with Hamish and Aifric. He wasn't sure where to go with that.

  Jean tucked her hair behind her ear and looked up at Evander with a warm smile. "I usually love speaking with you. I enjoy having to think deep before figuring out what your words mean. Today we're kind of in a hurry, though. I'm sorry."

  "Come." Evander pushed open the door and led them back into the corridor.

  Without speaking more, he traversed nearly a quarter of a mile through the gridlike pattern of dim hallways before reaching a long stair that descended into pitch darkness.