Set in Stone (27 page)

Nearby, the man with the wide-brimmed hat and hunting leathers, who the captain had referred to as the Pathfinder, studied the area with his glowing eyes. He turned to Captain Rory, "No movement outside the wall."

Rory motioned Connor ahead. They rounded the loch and crossed the Upper Wick with no incident. Torches burned at the wall gate, but the Powder House stood dark and silent.

Tomas led two soldiers into the Powder House through a side door. Connor waited impatiently, excitement and nerves making him restless. The soldiers exited the Powder House a moment later and reported it empty.

"Where's the powder, lad?" Rory asked.

"I don't know. It's always kept here."

"We need to know where they've moved it," Shona said.

"We have to get into the town. I know how to find out," Connor said.

"Very well." Rory muttered a low command to one of his sergeants, and a dozen soldiers slipped into the darkness. They paralleled the base of the cliff toward the wall gate, led by the Pathfinder. The moon was not yet up, so they disappeared completely after only a few paces.

After half a minute, Rory followed, but stopped fifty yards away from the gate, well away from the pool of light cast by the torches. One mail-clad Grandurian stood guard at the entrance to the town.

Connor and the others waited in silence. A moment later, two long ropes shot out of the darkness. The noose of one settled over the Grandurian sentry. Before he could react, the rope yanked him off his feet and dragged him fast down the road and out of the light. The second rope disappeared into the darkness beyond the torchlight, went taut, and then dragged a second guard after the first.

Grunts and several low thuds echoed out of the darkness. Connor winced as he imagined the soldiers pummeling the guards, or worse. A moment later, soldiers appeared out of the darkness, bearing the bound and gagged prisoners, who they dumped at Rory's feet. The captain called for a shielded lantern and shone a single beam of light over the captives.

They both lay unmoving, beaten unconscious. Blood flowed down the scalp of one, and a bright new bruise shone on the other's face. Braided steel bands bound their hands and feet, and another length connected the bonds behind their backs and ran up to circle their throats. It took only a second for Connor to realize why. If the men awoke and began to struggle, or tried to straighten their legs, they would strangle themselves.

He shuddered at the brutal efficiency and some of the glamour faded. Rory's men were here to capture or kill the Grandurians. This was their job, and they would do whatever it took to succeed.

After shielding the lantern, Rory said softly, "Bring them. We may need the prisoners. Grahame, find the LongSeer."

The Pathfinder saluted and led a four-man squad forward.

Rory turned to the Strider. "Donald, find out if any more enemy patrol the village."

The thin fellow saluted and zipped through the gate and into the darkened town.

Rory led the rest of the company toward the gate at a brisk trot. "Where to, lad?"

Connor longed to go home, to let his mother wrap him in one of her wonderful hugs, but forced himself to go the other way, to the Healer's house. As they slipped through town like shadows, Connor couldn't shake a feeling of strangeness about the town, although he could not pinpoint why the familiar sights felt so odd.

He led Rory and Shona through the back door into Mhairi's bright kitchen that smelled like fresh-baked pie. Mhairi sat at the plain wooden table with Jean and Hamish.

Hamish saw them first, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sight of leather-clad Shona. Jean came smoothly to her feet. If the sight of Connor in leather battle armor, flanked by the huge Rory and the curvaceous Shona startled her, she didn't show it.

She made a graceful curtsy to Lady Shona and gave Connor a little kiss on the cheek. He couldn't help grinning. Mhairi didn't even try to hit him.

"We've been waiting for you," Jean said. "Is this your entire army?"

"Ah, no." He introduced Captain Rory, who bowed over Jean's hand and kissed it lightly. Jean flushed, and Hamish's face turned red. He stood, but did not dare come around the table.

When Connor introduced Shona, Jean made a second little curtsy, joined by her grandmother. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Shona. Connor's told us all about you."

Hamish came around the table, drawn to Shona despite his obvious fear of Rory. He mumbled, "He didn't tell us everything."

Shona smiled at Jean, "Did Connor tell you about our kiss in the river?"

Jean's eyes widened, Hamish's jaw dropped, and Rory rounded on Connor. "You didn't tell me about kissing the Lady Shona, lad."

Connor tried to stammer a reply, but couldn't figure out what to respond to first, the hurt in Jean's eyes, or the threat in Rory's voice.

Shona stepped up beside Connor and slipped an arm casually over his shoulder. "Relax, Captain. I nearly drowned when we were hiding from the Water Mocassin. Connor kissed me to share the breath of life."

Rory frowned, as if trying to find reason to remain angry. Jean recovered from her initial surprise and her face settled into the unreadable mask she assumed when treating injuries. Connor hated her knowing about the kiss, although he loved the fact that Hamish knew. He cherished the memory and wouldn't change it for the world, but he wondered why Shona would choose that one moment to bring up?

"Listen," Connor said to re-focus everyone. "We need to know where they put the granite powder."

"The powder?" Hamish asked. "Why?"

Jean frowned. "I'd think you'd want to know about the prisoners. They're still locked up in the manor."

"The granite's important," Connor said. Shona gave him a warning look, but after what she'd just done to Jean, Connor decided to pretend he didn't see it. "It fuels some of the Petralist powers."

"Really?" Hamish and Jean asked together.

Shona gave Connor a hard look. "These are things we don't speak of, so keep it to yourself."

"Not such a secret as you might think," said old Mhair. She inspected inspected the two of them critically. "You're both granite Petralists, aren't you?"

Connor stared. From the look on her face, Jean was just as surprised.

Hamish, who couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Shona, said softly, "She doesn't look like granite to me."

If Mhairi's guess surprised Shona, she did not show it. "You can hold a secret. That's enough for now. Yes, I am a granite Petralist. Captain Rory is a granite Guardian, and Connor will become one."

"Enough chatter," Rory said. "Where is the powder?"

Hamish started out of his reverie. "They took it all up to the plateau. Had us store it in the big barn on the south side of the manor house."

"You saw it?"

"Yes, sir. They pressed several men into service, and I volunteered so I could see what was going on."

Shona gave Hamish a warm smile, and his face flushed beet red.

"That'll be their undoing," said Rory. "They should've moved it inside."

Shona shrugged. "They have plenty. Probably didn't consider it a risk."

Before Rory could answer, the back door opened and Donald, the Strider jumped inside. "Captain, the Pathfinder reports three men on the road to the plateau. Two locals and one Grandurian soldier. Running hard."

Rory frowned. "How'd they escape town before you found them?"

"I wasn't looking for soldiers hidden inside a local's home. They must have seen me pass and left before Grahame arrived with the other scouts."

"They go to raise the alarm," Shona said.

"Without a doubt. Sir, should I intercept?"

"No, said Rory. "The Longseer will see them coming." He muttered a curse, "No time for the careful assault we planned. Order the charge."

Chapter 29

As they ran for the upper gate at the head of the army, Shona called to Rory, "Captain, do you think this is wise?"

"Nay, lass. Not wise, but necessary."

Connor ran just behind them, wishing he'd had time to say good-bye to Jean. His stomach roiled with worry. This was not the careful plan that had sounded so good when they discussed it.

Instead of circling around to the south and approaching the plateau from the long slope that fell gently down toward the river, where the Grandurian Longseer would be less likely to spy them from afar, Rory was leading them up the main road. If Ilse wanted to kill the prisoners, she would have more than enough warning. Connor's father's life hung in the balance.

"Captain," he called to Rory. "Why do you think the soldier forced locals to run with him to the manor?"

"I doubt they were forced."

It took a few pounding strides for that to sink in. As they led the army through the upper gate and onto Manor Road, Connor said, "You can't believe villagers would willingly help the Grandurians?"

"There's always some who see profit for themselves in betraying others," Rory said, his voice grave.

"But . . ."

Rory glanced back at him. "Think, lad. Who in town might want to turn the situation to their own profit?"

Connor could not bring himself to answer. In his mind, he saw the foreman, Keith, and his shrew of a wife, Cinaed. They would do it. Could one of the runners be their son, Stuart? The thought turned Connor cold.

Outside of town they met the Pathfinder and his scouts. In the darkness, Grahame's eyes glowed and looked hard, like faceted crystal. Connor could not look into those eyes for more than a second, and he wondered what stone fueled his powers.

Rory slowed, and Grahame said, "I'm sorry, Captain. They fled before we arrived. Looked back often. They know we're here."

Rory nodded. "As we feared. Any sign of the Longseer?"

He shook his head. "Still too far, but I bet he'll be up in the tower atop the manor house."

"She," Shona said. "The Longseer is a woman."

Connor remembered the woman in the long blue dress whose eyes seemed to burn with an inner fire similar to Grahame's.

"She'll see us coming at least half a mile out," Grahame said. "No way around it."

"That'll give them at least two minutes to prepare, or to run," Rory said.

"They won't run," Shona said. "They might kill the prisoners, though."

Rory shook his head. "The prisoners are their only bargaining chip. They'll fetch them, but if we hurry, we can hit them before they're set." He raised his voice, "We run hard, men. Strike them down before they murder the prisoners."

"Ilse is mine," Shona reminded him.

Rory turned to the Strider, Donald. "At first sign of alarm, run ahead and scout their position."

Then the big captain broke into a run, with the entire army instantly on his heels. Connor wished he still had some granite powder. Since Shona had offered Patronage, he wished for the strength to fight through to his father.

Again the feeling of strangeness returned as Connor ran along the familiar road to the plateau. This time he understood it. He'd climbed this road hundreds of times. The sights, the clean night smells, the soft sound of wind along the mountain or the pounding of feet on the hard-packed roads, it was all as familiar to him as his own breathing. And yet it wasn't. Tonight everything was different. Tonight he ran to battle.

Everything was familiar, and yet it was all alien. As they ran hard up the long, gentle slope, Rory outlined his new plan to the sergeants, who fell back to brief their men. Connor wished Rory would assign him an important task, but feared at the same time that the captain might call his name. Rory never did.

At every stride, Connor expected to hear shouts of alarm or hear the bell atop the tower begin to toll the warning, but it remained still. That silence made Connor even more nervous.

They topped the final rise and pounded along the road that ran straight for the main entrance to the manor. No lights shone in any windows, and a fragile silence reigned, broken only by the steady gurgling of the fountain in front of the manor house. There was no sign of the men who had run from Alasdair to raise the alarm.