No Stone Unturned Read online

  "Stop," Shona insisted, looking frustrated. "Those weren't even good Sentry-speak anyway."

  "They weren't that bad," Connor insisted.

  She rolled her eyes. "You're deluded."

  It didn't take long for the truth of the victory to spread. Even though Declan had played a critical role in helping Connor win his champion nomination, and even though he had once even managed to raise an earthen tower three entire feet before it collapsed, people still underestimated Declan.

  Made it easier to leverage the little guy.

  Shona and Jok had thrown the young Sentry right over the battlefield. No one had noticed the kid sail by. They were all so intent on watching Connor's desperate last stand, eager to see the cocky General Kilian finally lose. Even Redmund and Ivor had been so engrossed, they hadn't noticed Declan until he smashed Redmund in the face with his hammer.

  Ivor and Redmund pushed through the crowd to confront Connor.

  "Team Kilagain accepts your surrender," Connor said.

  Ivor rolled his eyes. "That's such a dumb name."

  "You're just jealous you still refer to your army as Team Two."

  "I'll admit that was some pretty clever work there," Ivor said. "But you should have retreated to fight another day."

  "Why? We won."

  "There was no way you could know that was going to work."

  Connor shrugged. "There's no way to know anything is going to work for sure. But if you trust your people and give them a chance to shine, they might surprise you."

  Padraigin pushed through the crowd, grinning. "Kilian, that was such a good idea. Well done."

  Redmund decided to do more than scowl. "Padraigin, what did you do the whole time? Hiding in the background, blowing your useless, invisible trumpets while Kilian did all the work?"

  "I stomped your feet when you tried walking the earth." For a foreigner, she had almost no accent, and the hulking Redmund didn't intimidate her.

  "If not for Kilian, you would've lost almost before the battle started."

  She gave him a disgusted look. "Declan hit you harder than I thought. You're not even trying to whine in Sentry-speak."

  That elicited a round of laughter, only angering Redmund further. Connor caught several comments from students about how the tiniest person in their army had toppled the mighty champion.

  "I speak plainly so that even you can understand," Redmund retorted. "Kilian saved the day, just as he saved you in the nomination. Without him, you wouldn't even be here."

  Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd, and Padraigin noticed. If she lost the confidence of her army, she wouldn't have a chance to win the upcoming group battles.

  "Redmund has a point," Ivor said. "We have yet to see you take a bold stand or win a victory all by yourself. I wonder if maybe you should surrender now and offer to serve as one of Kilian's captains instead."

  That generated some laughter, but Padraigin's face reddened.

  "They're just trying to goad you into doing something as stupid as they just did," Connor said.

  "Be quiet," she snapped. "You keep interrupting and stealing the show. You need to give me a chance to shine."

  "It does not work that way," Redmund said. "No one gives a champion a chance. They must take it."

  "You know what I mean," she growled.

  He raised one eyebrow, looking more composed as she grew more flustered. "One cannot force the young pedra to fly and to hunt. It alone must choose to take wing and leap off the cliff."

  "Your Sentry speak is getting worse," Connor noted.

  "Fine," Padraigin cried. "Right now. You and me, Kilian. I'll show you what I can do."

  "Okay, I challenge you to a steak eating contest."

  "What?" she exclaimed.

  "Well, it's lunch time and we've got that celebration feast to deal with."

  "No. We duel."

  He shrugged. "All right, let's grab some of those long loaves--"

  "Don't," she interrupted. "We duel, or you prove you're a coward."

  Hadn't they just won a huge victory together?

  "I don't think that's necessary. You did a great job today, Padraigin."

  "Are you scared, Kilian?" she taunted.

  The students started chanting their names, although most shouted his. Many of the students preferred Ivor or Redmund for ultimate Tir-raon champion, but they would all take Kilian over Padraigin. She was a foreigner competing in the game that defined Obrion and the nobility of the nation, so her very presence was an insult to them.

  That's usually why he loved helping her.

  The lopsided chanting only made Padraigin more determined. She faced universal hatred on a daily basis with remarkable grace, but even she could be pushed too far.

  Captain Rory approached, rubbing his hands. "The feast can wait. Let's set some rules and have a little fun."

  Connor suppressed a groan. Captain Rory's idea of fun included storming fortified positions and wrestling with the curvaceous and deadly Grandurian Rumbler, Anika.

  Chapter 2

  As the rules for the duel were quickly ironed out, Connor wondered how he'd missed seeing that trap coming. The past week of intense training had given him a welcome chance to get to know the other champions. Since armies were not yet defined, Rory had shifted assignments at least twice daily, rotating the pairings of the champions every time, forcing them to meet first as opponents, then as partners over and over again.

  It had been a brilliant move. Captain Rory's craggy face, deep, rumbling voice, and no-nonsense demeanor made it easy for students to assume he was little more than a brawny soldier, but he also possessed a crafty mind and a sophisticated mastery over battlefield management. He'd forced them to learn to work together, to understand each other better.

  Connor liked the crafty Ivor and deeply respected the elegant Padraigin. He recognized the demands of Redmund's duty, but the burly champion held himself much more aloof than the others. He seemed intent on making sure he considered them all enemies. It was a very limiting world view.

  As the masses of cheering students urged the competition to begin, Connor pulled Padraigin aside. "You could have picked a better time."

  "I really did enjoy working with you today, but I cannot allow the rumor that I'm unfit to lead to take root."

  "Don't worry so much about it," Connor said. "Pretty soon, Ivor and Redmund will face the same problem. I like you guys, but there can only be one winner."

  Padraigin laughed. "That's not helping your cause, you know."

  He shrugged. "Reality can be hard sometimes. I'm just trying to prepare you for it."

  "The stones are cast, Kilian. None of us can back down, but know it's nothing personal when I destroy you."

  He liked her grit. She needed it. The nation of Althing had never fielded a Dawnus before. They had few Petralists, and the fact that she had the audacity to stand as a champion infuriated most of the noble-born Petralists at the school.

  He extended a hand. "Good luck. I honestly hope you come in a close second."

  She laughed. "Geall on."

  As they both thumbed their noses to accept the challenge, Connor considered how best to face her. He could not let her win, but she couldn't afford to lose. Could be defeat her without damaging her standing?

  "Prepare," Rory cried, calling them to the starting line to immense cheering.

  The contest seemed simple, as simple as racing Hamish to the dinner table, but the duel would challenge their mastery over their various affinities, their creativity, and their tap-rate management.

  Padraigin was Agor, one of the rare Petralists who managed to establish affinities with two igneous stones. All of the champions were, which was unusual. In his persona as Kilian, Connor was limited in the same way and had chosen basalt and granite, the same two igneous stones they all used. The duel called for a race across the plain, so granite was out.

  As they raced, they'd be challenged to employ their tertiary affinities, but under strict
limitations. Few Petralists managed to establish a coveted tertiary affinity with a metamorphic stone, granting them the amazing ability to walk with one of the elements. All of the champions were also Dawnus, able to establish affinity with a second tertiary stone, the polar opposite of their original element. It was considered the rarest of gifts.

  Well, almost. As Blood of the Tallan, Connor could theoretically establish affinities with all of the power stones, although as Kilian, he was limited to using only a Dawnus gift.

  "Ready!" Rory's voice boomed across the plain, enhanced by his Pathfinder.

  Connor crouched, ready to leap into a fracked sprint. Beside him, Padraigin looked determined.

  "Begin!" Rory cried.

  Connor drew deep from the boundless energy of basalt and flashed across the field, his legs fracking in seconds.

  He was ready for the sharp stab of pain. Somehow basalt made the physical transformation possible and allowed him to reach otherwise impossible speeds. Connor grinned with the thrill of basalt. Racing across the plain on fracked legs was a unique wonder. He could outrun the flight of arrows, chase down a hunting pedra, or fly off the tops of low hills.

  Padraigin was faster.

  Despite his deep affinity for basalt, Connor could not match Padraigin's practiced flair and tap-rate mastery. She fracked a second sooner, accelerated more smoothly, and held a narrow lead as they passed the end of the flat field where the group battle had taken place.

  Connor poured on the speed, but barely managed to keep from falling farther behind as they tore between a series of low hills in a gentle arc that would lead them wide around the eastern plain, then back toward the Sculpture House.

  The competition was more than just a simple foot race, though. As the two of them sped for the small, round lake nestled in the hills, Padraigin glanced back. She grinned, projecting confidence, but she had to be worried. The second phase of the contest was about to begin.

  When they reached the shores of the lake, Padraigin shot out onto the water without slowing, her fracked feet moving so fast she raced across the surface without sinking. Her feet threw up a cascade of spray, aimed at Connor's face.

  He blasted through the spray, laughing as he skipped across the water. At the same time, he tapped the gateway of soapstone pulsing inside of him in time with his heartbeat. The lake glowed in his mind, his elemental senses like an invisible third eye. He could have crossed the lake with his eyes closed and never missed a step.

  Even Padraigin glowed softly to his soapstone senses. Non-water liquid could be manipulated by Spitters, but it was increasingly difficult to affect the less pure it became. Most Spitters couldn't manipulate blood in the living and students were strictly forbidden from trying. Even if they could, there was something about living flesh that insulated and protected against those ethereal senses.

  Soapstone had been his first tertiary affinity, and connecting with it was still far easier than using any other elemental power. It was a sure foundation upon which his most important affinities anchored.

  With a tug on his ethereal elemental senses, Connor surrounded Padraigin with a dense spray of water, then opened a sloping hole in the waters just in front of her. With a squawk of surprise, she recognized the trap and tried to call upon air to give her wings. She possessed the strongest affinity to quartzite that Connor had ever seen, but air was a fickle thing, even for her. The water he'd sprayed all around her dissipated her connection, and the air chose not to respond.

  Lacking time to stop or swerve, Padraigin skidded down the sloping ramp and crashed into the waters on the far side. The rules of the contest prevented Connor from simply imprisoning her in water, just as she couldn't swallow him in the earth and leave him entombed until she won the race. So Connor snapped his fingers as he banked around the spot where she struggled just under the surface. The water erupted, spitting Padraigin high into the air, back toward the field where they had started.

  As Connor reached the far shore and accelerated on dry ground, he glanced back.

  "Tallan take it," he muttered.

  Padraigin hadn't tumbled nearly as far as he had hoped. She'd tapped quartzite, using the air to turn herself and glide back to the ground on the north shore of the lake. He had gained the lead, but not by enough.

  Connor max-tapped basalt and increased speed. He needed to escape the range of her effective earth powers. Maintaining a connection with earth at fracked speed would be as hard for her as stealing a kiss from Verena without getting punched in the throat was for him.

  Unfortunately, he was dealing with Padraigin. If anyone could do it, she could. So Connor drew streamers of water out of the lake, letting them flow behind him as he ran, hoping to dampen her connection with the ground beneath him.

  He soon entered a deep slot between two slightly higher hills. Most of the students were already positioned atop the hill to his right. The circuitous path of their race granted time for the rest of the school to witness parts of it. When they saw Connor reach the checkpoint first, the students raised a great cheer. He was by far the favorite.

  So of course, that's when Padraigin decided to make her move.

  The ground bubbled under Connor's feet, but he shot over the softened earth without slowing. The laugh bubbling in his throat died when sinewy fingers of earth shot out of the ground all around, trying to trip him.

  Connor drew water into a sphere around himself, similar to the one he'd used earlier in the battle. His fast-spinning legs whipped the sphere into a blur, and the hardened water tore through the grasping tendrils of earth. This time Connor did laugh as he plowed through Padraigin's attempt to slow him. Students on the hills cheered him on, and several of the girls, led by Catriona, shouted, "We love you, Kilian!"

  That's when Padraigin raised two heavy pillars of earth just in front of Connor and to either side. That was such a dumb idea. He easily sped between them.

  Earth shot out of each pillar, piercing the front of his sphere of water and forming a bar at shoulder height. It only stayed in place for a second before his water severed the ends.

  One second was too long.

  Connor struck the cross-bar at full speed. The brutal impact knocked him off his feet and rattled him so much that he lost control of the water. The sphere exploded and he tumbled wildly in the midst of a formless wave.

  Somehow Padraigin snared Connor's legs out of the waters and yanked him down into the ground, but allowed the frothing waters to continue past, separating him from his precious defense. For a second he was trapped, entombed in the earth, with no air, completely immobile. He felt a flicker of panic. He didn't have any slate, couldn't fight her. He was helpless.

  Then the ground spat him out, just as he had thrown her out of the waters. Connor tumbled into the air, spinning so fast his stomach lurched and he wasn't sure he wanted to laugh from the amazing sensation or instead focus on where he wanted to vomit. Invisible trumpets blared around him as Padraigin raced past. He caught glimpses of her waving to the glaring crowds as she again took the lead.

  That helped him finally make up his mind.

  She was too far to throw up on, so he had to beat her.

  Limited to his declared Dawnus abilities, Connor couldn't tap quartzite like she had to redirect his flight, and he couldn't afford to wait until he finally crashed back to the earth near the lake. So Connor sucked deep on the piece of marble tucked under his tongue and called upon the crazed intensity of fire.

  The first moment of connecting with marble was a beautiful, spicy experience. Then it just started to hurt. There were no flames in the vicinity, but marble allowed him to create fire. He needed to tap more of it, which burned through the little stone in his mouth faster, and intensified the pain. He wasn't a believer in victory at any cost, but he embraced the growing burn and formed an image of what he wanted in his mind.

  Fiery wings sprouted from his back, white-hot and dense enough to give him purchase against the air. Connor whooped, a crazed edge creepin
g into the sound as he embraced the destructive element, which always drove him to cast aside hesitation and restraint.

  As soon as the fiery wings appeared, they snapped taught and caught the air. Connor stabilized his flight and banked hard over. The air rushed past, tearing at his face. He squinted, focusing on the tricky act of controlling his flight path.

  He was not a very good flier.

  He'd attempted flight a couple of times, from his disastrous ride on the out-of-control heatstone oven, to his even more out-of-control attempt to fly on a block of quartzite. He fell better than he flew, so he told himself gliding was just falling sideways. Plus, he had mastered enough control with fire that he could alter the shape of his wings to help keep him stable.

  Loving the thrill of it, and not caring that flames were trickling out his nose, Connor swooped low over the hilltop where the students cheered him on. He focused on the fleeing form of Padraigin, who was racing off the plain toward the Sculpture House and the towering mass of the mighty ice dome rearing above the Rhidorroch that Connor had constructed as part of his nomination challenge.

  Connor increased the angle of his dive, racing for the ground and picking up speed. He was moving even faster than Padraigin, catching up on the unsuspecting Dawnus.

  The air in front of Connor hardened into an invisible wall.

  He crashed like a custard-filled tart thrown at a window, and his fiery wings splattered flames everywhere. He fell thirty feet to the ground and barely retained enough presence of mind to draw the flames under him like a hot trampoline.

  He bounced back into the air and the rush of wind helped clear his head. As he glared at Padraigin's back, she glanced in his direction and gave him a cocky salute.

  Then the air swatted him like a giant hand smacking a fly.

  Invisible drums beat a staccato salute as Connor again crashed into the earth, this time hitting so hard he shattered the fires he tried to form into a new cushion.

  He should have thought better than to try flying around Padraigin. She was the mistress of the air. Connor, like most of the students, had always considered quartzite the least important battle stone. Most Pathfinders struggled to walk with the fickle element of air and focused almost entirely on directing quartzite inward where it enhanced their senses. Padraigin was proving that there might be a vast, untapped potential in quartzite.