The King's Craft (The Petralist Book 6) Read online

  He found nothing.

  Trussed like a helpless child in his own mind, he watched in helpless horror as Verena marched through the firestorm of his rage, protected by Evander and her own mechanicals. She was almost within arm’s reach. Once he touched her, he could pour elemental destruction directly into her and nothing would save her. Why didn’t she run?

  “Run, Verena!” Connor screamed, but no sounds passed his lips.

  “Beware!” Evander called.

  Verena ignored him and took the last step, reaching toward him as Connor lashed out with one hand already burning with white-hot fire.

  Connor lunged against his restraints, howling with the need to save her, but couldn’t defeat the rage monster in the arena he’d created in his mind.

  He’d created the arena.

  In a blink, Connor changed the space, imagining the arena like a fast-spinning ball. The unexpected shifting of force caught the rage monster by surprise as it was flung sideways. Connor threw himself after it, attacking it with all of his fear, his horror, and his love for Verena. He collided with it, and as the two of them bounced and tumbled over and over, he ripped away the claws still grasping him.

  It actually felt like he was ripping white-hot slivers of steel from his mind, and he screamed, infuriated by the rage monster’s ability to hurt him. He was beyond pain, beyond hesitation, and he tore at the monster in a berserker frenzy. It fought back in a blur of claws and grasping chains. Time seemed to slow as his burning hand extended toward Verena’s. He felt the heat beginning to redden her skin, but she did not flinch away.

  Without warning, a torrent of strength flooded into him, buttressing his will and smashing through the chains it was using to try imprisoning him again. Connor leaped upon the rage monster and tore at it with all his strength. He wrestled it for his affinities and managed to shackle fire just as his hand grabbed Verena’s.

  The flames winked out, and the expression of pain already creasing her brows eased. She looked up at him with a flicker of hope.

  Connor wanted to shout with joy, but he was too busy fighting for control. The flood of strength had helped, but the rage monster turned against him and tore at his mind with awful intensity. Images of torture and pain flitted past, dragging terror into his mind. He fought it, but felt himself fading after that initial barrage. He was not quite strong enough.

  “Hold on, Connor. Love always trumps rage. Loyalty always overcomes destruction.”

  Aifric.

  Her voice spoke into his mind and he realized that burst of strength came from her. Only then did he sense her hand gripping his shoulder.

  “Tallan’s mercy! I’m so glad you woke up!” he cried.

  “We can fight this. Together,” she said, and she poured the combined strength of nineteen strong women into his mind.

  He sensed them standing around him like a defensive perimeter, shouldering some of the weight of the rage monster’s wrath. She was fully committed, risking everything to help him break out of his bonds.

  Determination and discipline radiated into him from Student Eighteen. “Every action must be chosen. The consequences must be accepted. Allow no authority other than your own will to ever drive home one of your blades.”

  She spoke the words with reverence, and Connor sensed she was sharing one of the tenets of the Mhortair, a secret her kill instructors had drilled into her. Knowing that she trusted him enough to share something so important, something that had helped define her as a person and an assassin, moved him as deeply as Aifric’s joyful support.

  With their wills buttressing his own, Connor managed to keep from sinking into oblivion under the mindless rage. His mental space shifted back to the arena, and he battled the blob-like monster with new strength, but he was not able to shake off all of its claws. His body quivered from the strain, and his vision darkened.

  “Connor, fight this and I’ll fight with you.” Verena’s words helped him focus on her face. She had stepped close to him, her free hand rising to touch his cheek. Her huge blue eyes seemed to glow with inner light and again the chert connection snapped into place.

  His mind lit with the brilliance of her smile, the one that she reserved for him alone. From their connection he felt her heartfelt love. She loved discovery, exploring new knowledge, and fighting to protect her beloved lands. He felt her unbreakable sense of duty, and thankfully he also sensed her deep and abiding love for him.

  “Connor, don’t let this evil define you. You define you, and you are too stubborn to fall for tricks like this. She may kill us, but she’ll never control us.”

  Connor took a deep breath and redoubled his attack on the rage monster in the arena of his mind. Some of its claws began losing their grip.

  “I’m here too,” Shona offered, pushing in close beside Verena and gripping Connor’s other shoulder. Connor felt her confusion, her fear, and the mutual loathing between her and Verena, but also felt her genuine concern, her determination to help him.

  Evander joined them, one huge hand wrapping around Connor’s neck. His indomitable strength buttressed their efforts and more rage monster claws fell away. Connor sensed his love of research and a deep and abiding hatred for his mother’s domination. He also sensed that if they failed to break him free of the rage monster, Evander was willing to tighten his grip and rip Connor’s head right off.

  Usually that would make him nervous, but at the moment, Connor found it comforting.

  Reinforced by their strength, Connor threw himself at the rage monster, tearing off some of its black claws, driving it back and seizing his affinities from its control. That really angered it, and for a monster made out of pure hate, that was something.

  It pressed back against him, blackness oozing past his hands and splattering his face, forming new claws and stabbing into his mind like physical swords.

  Connor cried out, his legs buckling. He would have fallen if the others hadn’t held him up.

  “Fight it, Connor,” Verena cried.

  “It’s trying to kill him. We may have triggered a secondary compulsion,” Student Eighteen said.

  “How do we help?” Shona asked, looking as worried as Connor had ever seen.

  “Give him everything you’ve got. He needs our strength.”

  They opened themselves to him, and the flood of strength helped, but the rage monster had gained the upper hand again. It continued attacking, spearing deep into Connor’s mind with claws that felt all too real. Aifric poured in healing power, but he writhed in their hands, screaming in pain. His thoughts fled and he felt the rage reasserting itself, knocking him back, forming new chains around him.

  Then Hamish landed in a whoosh of thrusters, carrying Jean with him. They raced in and gripped his arms. Hamish brought enthusiasm, love of life, and appetite for learning as much as for eating. Memories of remarkable feasts poured into Connor’s mind. With every one of the memories came thoughts of the people who had shared the feasts with Hamish.

  Those memories carried a deep and abiding love for friends and family and sharing good things with others. Hamish’s unwavering friendship and determination to protect those too weak to stand up for themselves helped ease the pain just a little.

  “Are you really going to let some mind-twisting old hag tell you what to do and make you miss lunch?” Hamish asked, his expression incredulous.

  Connor laughed, and that seemed to help more than anything else. The new chains that had started wrapping his mental body cracked.

  Jean joined them, her brilliant personality like a ray of sunshine piercing the cold black heart of the queen’s compulsion. She added limitless determination, love for everyone around her, and such a depth of intelligence and grace that Connor’s pain eased further. Her pure willingness to sacrifice herself for others seemed to stymy the rage monster, and Connor ripped away the chains and pulled some of the claws from his head.

  Then Ilse slid right through Evander’s barrier wall. It melted away to let her pass, her summoned ear
then legs holding her upright. She joined them, pouring in iron resolve.

  Kilian landed in a rush of water and flames and touched Connor last of all. His will joined theirs with an eruption of diorite that knocked the rage monster right off of him, sending it tumbling across the arena.

  Evander’s voice spoke loudly in Connor’s mind. “The eel hunts in dark waters, but a pack of nualls can savage even the mighty pedra.”

  At the sound of that Sentry speak, the rage monster recoiled and Connor’s pain evaporated. With the willpower and energy of all of his closest friends expanding his strength, he charged after the rage monster that was cringing back against the wooden wall of the arena. Connor seized its remaining claws and tore them apart.

  It was an ugly thing, loud and mean and deadly. It hissed at him from a dozen gaping mouths and suddenly it smelled like sewer and skunks and terror as it formed new claws and grabbed at him again, but no longer seemed able to find purchase. His skin hardened to impervious granite, and its claws slipped past as if he was wrapped in blind coal.

  In that moment he realized that the queen’s fury was an empty threat. It battered at him like a sledgehammer, its power in isolating and frightening him. That would weaken his resolve so that she could wield influence over him. Queen Dreokt no longer understood the concepts of true love and friendship, or the strength those bonds provided.

  He understood it now, and with that knowledge, he no longer needed to fear her, not within his own mind. As that thought blazed through his soul like a max-tapped Solas, the rage monster imploded and drained away through the sands.

  Connor sagged, feeling exhausted but jubilant. With that intense fury gone, the entire world seemed sparkling bright, and he laughed.

  His friends laughed with him and Hamish said, “No grumpy old lady will ever take down this group.”

  They released him, taking their strength with them, but somehow leaving a residue of friendship that glowed in his heart like a heatstone oven set on low. Only Verena stayed close, her arms around his waist, her eyes glittering with fresh tears of joy.

  “Wow. Thank you,” he told her softly.

  She kissed him lightly, but tenderly and said, “I knew we’d reach you.”

  Student Eighteen said, “Like the queen herself said, you’re best motivated by stress. We’re proud of you, Connor.”

  He hugged her. “I don’t think I could have survived without you.”

  “We take care of our friends,” she said, somehow imbuing her words with extra depth, as if everyone in her head were speaking together.

  Ivor rushed through the gap in Evander’s wall that Ilse had made. He skidded to a halt in front of them and glanced around at the battered park. “What happened? Who were you fighting? Why didn’t anyone call me? Shona, did you get attacked again?”

  “Thankfully not,” Shona said. “I’m not sure what happened. Connor went berserk. Some kind of mind bomb implanted from the queen.”

  Verena nodded, but did not release Connor. Her arms were still quivering against his. The ordeal had drained him, and it looked like it had exhausted Verena too.

  “I don’t know how she did it. I didn’t see anyone hit him,” Shona continued. “We were just talking about how wonderful it is that the spring thaw is here and he—”

  “Not again!” Verena shouted at the same time Hamish cried, “Look out!”

  Ivor’s face twisted with rage and twin elements exploded from his hands.

  23

  Rage Monsters Aren’t the Only Things with Teeth

  Connor reacted a second too slow. He still felt drained by his own recent mind bomb ordeal, and it was startling to see Ivor switch from a trusted friend to a murder-crazed maniac so fast.

  Had he looked so wild too?

  His friends didn’t hesitate. They’d already dealt with his insane fury and were ready. As fire and water erupted from Ivor, aimed toward Hamish and Verena, Kilian deflected them away and seized control over them.

  Connor was still connected with marble and soapstone so he felt the very brief struggle. Usually Kilian showed great restraint when they sparred together, but at that moment he did not hold back. His will was like another diorite explosion against Connor’s mind that totally eclipsed Ivor, and he snatched the elements away like a parent pulling a sweetbread from a toddler.

  Ivor staggered forward a step under the onslaught, and the earth erupted around him, sealing him to his neck in a black column that hardened to stone. The air filled with the scent of springtime. Connor tensed, afraid the thought of spring would again trigger a violent reaction, but felt nothing but peace.

  Ivor struggled within the prison, tapping granite and straining with all his strength. It was a useless attempt. He howled with rage, screaming curses at the vile Builders in both Obrioner and Grandurian.

  “He’s been practicing,” Verena noted after a particularly fluent torrent.

  Hamish had launched into the air at the first sign of Ivor’s mind bomb, and slowly settled to the ground beside the raging Dawnus. In his hand he held a tiny glass vial. He glanced at it sadly, sighed, and tucked it into one of his many pockets.

  “What were you going to hit him with?” Connor asked.

  “A fresh batch of mega stench.”

  Verena grimaced. “That’s vile, Hamish. We all would have gotten dosed.”

  “Maybe a little, but you never have gotten a true appreciation for what it can do,” Hamish retorted.

  Ivor was biting the air in Hamish’s direction, but couldn’t reach the Builder standing so tantalizingly close. Connor approached, flanked by Verena and Aifric. Shona arrived at Ivor’s side first, looking deeply concerned.

  “Ivor, do you know me?” she asked gently, reaching a hand toward him.

  He tried to bite it. She yelped and pulled back. He shouted, “I’ll kill you too, Builder friend!”

  Verena touched Shona’s arm and said, “I’m sorry, Shona.”

  “For what?” Shona looked more startled by Verena’s apology than by Ivor’s rage.

  “I should have warned you what we were doing. I didn’t think you’d be involved today, and I wanted to reduce the number of people who knew about the mind bombs. I made the wrong choice, and a lot of people almost died today. So I’m sorry,” Verena said, and she looked like she meant it.

  Shona held her gaze for a moment, her expression unreadable, then simply nodded. Connor was sorely tempted to tap chert and read both of their thoughts, but wouldn’t do that to them. Hopefully Verena’s acceptance of her mistake would help ease some of their hatred.

  “My mother sure knows how to bring out the best in people,” Kilian said with a grimace as Ivor began shouting more curses.

  Shona turned to Connor. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go save him.”

  Connor glanced at Aifric, but she gestured him forward. “I’m exhausted, Connor. You’re ascended so you should be more effective than I was.”

  “I’d prefer not to have to let him kill me in there,” Connor agreed.

  “Wait, who did you kill?” Verena asked, suddenly worried.

  “It wasn’t real. It was traumatic, but not fatal,” Aifric assured her.

  Verena touched Connor’s arm. “Are you all right now?”

  He nodded. “I saw everything, but couldn’t control it. That was maybe the worst part, knowing I was hurting people but unable to stop myself.”

  That reminded him of who he might have hurt the most. He glanced around and spotted Nicklaus lying on the ground nearby, tended by Christin, his governess. Connor hadn’t even noticed her arrive. The boy looked pale and was still unconscious. He seemed to be panting, and Christin looked close to panic.

  “We’ve summoned Healers,” Shona assured him, noting his glance. “Focus on saving Ivor.”

  Kilian gave Connor a hard look. “And then you’re going to explain exactly what you did to Nicklaus.”

  Connor swallowed a lump of sudden fear. He might not have been in control of himself, but if
anything serious had happened to Nicklaus, he wasn’t sure what Kilian would do. Kilian seemed to be uncle to half the kingdom, but he had a special place in his heart for Nicklaus. So did most of them. Connor wasn’t sure how he’d live with himself if he’d hurt the boy.

  First, Ivor.

  Connor approached his raging friend, who was struggling so hard against his earthen bonds that he might actually be bruising himself, despite tapping granite. His eyes were burning with white-hot flames, but Kilian was suppressing his elemental powers. Connor hated seeing Ivor in such a state. Somehow, he had to free him.

  Connor felt worn out, but he had to make the attempt. He’d crushed one rage monster already. He could do it again.

  So he tapped chert and focused on Ivor. As he stepped right in front of his big friend, Ivor glared at him, and the connection snapped into place. Merciless rage boiled up the connection, but Connor understood it, sensed the will of the queen behind the onslaught, and let the emotions slide off his mind.

  Seizing that connection, Connor plunged his mind through it and into Ivor. His world went dark, then the mental scape coalesced around him.

  He stood outside of a spacious log house perched high on a mountain, with panoramic views down over a community Connor did not recognize. The sky was a breathtakingly blue, and the air held a hint of evergreen.

  Ivor stood on a wide deck that wrapped around the entire ground floor of the three story cabin. He was dressed in casual finery, like a high lord lounging at home.

  “Hello, Connor. Come on in,” Ivor called with a friendly wave.

  Connor approached slowly, feeling confused. He’d expected storms of rage like he’d experienced, but the entire scene was serene. Where was the queen? Where was the mind bomb?

  Had Ivor’s mind broken?

  No, Connor refused to accept that. Ivor was one of the strongest people he knew. He would never succumb so fast.

  When he climbed the steps to the deck, Ivor grinned and said, “I was hoping you’d come. We need your help to destroy all the Builders.”