Set in Stone (56 page)

He risked occasional glances into the sky to confirm the wagon maintained its course. It leveled out about fifty feet above the slope, just barely higher than his position, and he closed further. Within seconds, the fires of Carbrey's camp glowed from his right.

If the wagon banked in that direction, they'd reach the mostly deserted camp in seconds. Why would they go there?

Shona.

She and the Guardians who had tapped their granite power would still be lying helpless on the ground. Connor's blood ran cold as he realized that must be their purpose. If they murdered the granite Guardians, they'd shift the balance of power firmly to Wolfram's advantage.

The wagon began to slow, but instead of turning toward the camp, it banked to follow the curve of the mountain farther east around a rocky outcrop. As it did so, it tipped toward the slope where Connor ran, giving him another glimpse of those who rode inside.

Verena sat at the very front, while Kilian sat in the back with Anika and Erich and a handful of soldiers.

He should have known. Somehow Verena had given the big blocky wagon wings and flown it down the mountain.

What else could the very cute, very dangerous girl do?

Another group of torches beckoned from the slope of the mountain ahead. It had to be the destination.

The lights illuminated the cliff where lay the hidden cave Connor and Hamish had played pirates in. The cave that held the prisoner.

The cliff rose out of a clearing at the western edge of the forest, reached by a tight ravine where two towering Boulders stood guard. The ravine, little more than a narrow cut in the cliff, led up to a small ledge about twenty-five feet above the ground. The narrow cave mouth marred the cliff face like a black scar, flanked by two more hulking Boulders. One of them was the youthful-faced Captain Peader.

As the wagon entered the torchlight, the two Boulders stationed at the base of the ravine stared in shock for just a heartbeat. It was enough.

Even as they raised weapons, a thin trickle of water spilled over the edge of the wagon to the earth, glistening in the torchlight like a stream of silver. Half a heartbeat later, geysers erupted under the feet of the Boulders. Water rolled up their torsos and encased them to their necks.

The water hardened to ice, and the soldiers' shouts of challenge changed to cries of alarm. The mighty Guardians strained against the ice encasing them, and cracks started to form. They would break free in seconds.

More water fused to the columns until the Guardians stood imprisoned within a wall of ice a dozen feet thick.

Archers seated in the rear of the wagon loosed a volley at Captain Peader and the other boulder stationed upon the ledge as the wagon floated closer. The Guardians ignored the arrows that bounced off armor and skin, dropped their swords, and reached for stones to throw.

The wagon swept closer, and the sibling Petralists leaped off and tackled Captain Peadar and his companion. The four collided like an avalanche and commenced beating on each other.

Connor tapped his basalt again and raced past the entrapped Boulders, whose lips were already turning blue from the cold. He wished he had granite so he could shatter their prison, but couldn't think of a way to free them fast enough to help with the fighting.

So he scampered up the narrow ravine and peeked over the edge just as Captain Peader's companion staggered from a particularly heavy blow and slipped off the ledge.

The mighty siblings tackled Captain Peader and, although he struggled valiantly, they inched him steadily toward the edge.

Connor ground his teeth and had to resist the urge to raise his bow. The arrows would not hurt the Rumblers. He could shoot Kilian or the archers in the wagon, but that wouldn't help.

He had to do something!

Then Connor remembered the quartzite. He still had a little. He wasn't sure how it would help, the only other stone he carried was marble, and he didn't dare use that again so soon after the fiasco at the manor house. Quartzite was metamorphic, so he should be safe from double-tap sickness.

He popped the quartzite into his mouth, and within seconds the pool of warmth bled into his cheek from the tiny stone and gathered in the center of his head.

Connor tapped it a little, and the warmth flowed into his eyes and ears. After a brief flash of pain in his temples, and a wave of disorientation, his vision sharpened and a tumult of sounds crashed into his mind.

Connor focused, but instead of zooming in on the struggling Peadar, his gaze centered on Verena. She sat on the front seat of the wagon, hands flickering across a series of crystal-like levers.

His gaze flowed over her face and he couldn't help but drink in the details of her eyes narrowed in concentration, of her cute button nose, and the curve of her cheek.

She bit her lower lip, and he grinned at the innocence of the gesture. Then she spoke, and her sweet voice sounded loud in his enhanced ears, even though she talked in a normal conversational tone.

"Wolfram, ten seconds out."

How could she speak with Wolfram? Connor had seen him in the battle facing Carbrey? What new power was she using?

The attackers shouted in victory and heaved the struggling Peadar off the ledge.

He shouted, "Tallan take you all!"

Then he disappeared over the edge.

Connor caught a glimpse of the captain's furious expression before he fell from view, and for a split second, he
felt
the captain slipping through the air.

At the base of the ravine, a sharp crack of shattering ice, followed by running feet rang loud in his ears. The other Boulders were coming, but would be too late.

The wagon floated right up against the ledge, and Kilian rose to join the two Rumblers on the ledge even as they moved toward the mouth of the small cave.

They were about to free the prisoner.

"No!"

Connor jumped to his feet and lifted his bow to shoot Kilian, but in that second, as rage burned through him like marble fire, he
felt
everything. The wagon, the Rumblers, Kilian, everyone. It was like the air all around became an extension of his senses, and he could feel everything around him as if with fingers of thought.

Connor did not understand how it was possible, but if he could touch them, he could push them.

In the wagon, everyone turned at his cry. Kilian looked surprised, and Verena started to smile.

Connor pushed against them all as hard as he could. He threw out his hands and shouted, "I can't let you do this!"

Violent wind roared up through the ravine and knocked Connor to the ledge. It rippled past him and drove the Rumblers back to the edge of the ledge. They teetered and grabbed for the wagon for support.

The wind tumbled Kilian back into the wagon, knocked the four archers on top of him, and tumbled Verena right off her seat.

She cried out in surprise and grabbed for any handhold to catch herself. She yanked a couple of the crystal-like levers, lost her grip, and fell from sight.

The wagon lurched away, dragging Erich and Anika with it. They clung to the side as the wagon accelerated to the right and started to descend.

The wind died, and Connor climbed to his knees just as the wagon crashed through the tops of several trees before disappearing from his enhanced vision. A few seconds later, a loud splash echoed from the direction of the river.

Angry voices muttered from that direction, but Connor didn't bother to listen. Instead he scurried to the edge of the ledge.

Verena lay on the ground not far from the shattered ice, with Captain Peader moving toward her. Verena looked up and their eyes met. Her glare could have melted ice.

"Are you all right?" he called down to her.

"How did you do that?"

He had no idea, but she didn't need to know that. "I wanted to make sure no one got hurt."

"I think you broke my leg," she snapped.

"I wanted to make sure no one got seriously hurt."

She opened her mouth to shout an angry retort, paused, and glared again. "You are the most annoying boy I've ever known."

Just then, Captain Rory and a score of battered soldiers ran into the torchlight.

"Captain, you're all right!" Rory was the last person Connor expected to see.

Captain Rory grinned up at Connor. "Must've taken a mighty small dose of whatever that weakening agent is because it wore off pretty fast."

He joined Captain Peader who stood above Verena. "You've caused a lot of hurt, lass."

Verena flashed him a charming smile. "It was my pleasure, Captain."

Rory grunted and motioned one of the soldiers to lift her.

Connor half expected her to punch the man, "Careful. She's more dangerous than she looks."

"I'm not speaking to you, Connor."

"You just did."

"Well, not any more."

"Are you sure?"

Silence.

Rory motioned a couple of soldiers up the ravine. "Connor, you'll need to report what happened here."

"Of course. The other attackers are in the river."

"We'll see to it." He made a gesture, and a soldier rushed off toward camp.

"What about the battle?" Connor asked.

"Grandurians withdrew. Impressive maneuver, that. We might've pursued, but Donald brought word of the surprise attack down here."

Two soldiers reached the top of the ravine and joined Connor on the ledge. They pushed aside a black curtain blocking the mouth of the cave, and stepped into the lighted interior. Connor followed, eager to see the truth of the prisoner Wolfram risked so much in the failed attempt to free.

The soldiers re-appeared a moment later, leading a small boy. He looked to be about six, with classic Grandurian blond hair and blue eyes. He looked frightened, a little dirty, and terribly vulnerable walking between the two soldiers.

Connor dropped to his knees, unable to stand on suddenly shaky legs. His stomach lurched as the truth struck him like a physical blow.

Wolfram had been telling the truth.

"Are you all right?" one soldier asked.

"No." Connor clutched his head as he fought to reconcile the truth with everything he'd experienced over the past few days.

A small hand touched his shoulder, and he looked into the boy's eyes. Only then did he notice the unnerving intensity to the boy's gaze. He regarded Connor with far more maturity than a six year-old should have.

"You'll be all right," the boy said with a little smile.

The soldiers pulled the boy along, and Connor rose to follow, filled with a granite-hard resolve.

He would learn the truth, no matter what.

Chapter 63

Hamish burst into Mhairi's kitchen where Lilias and Jean waited at the round table. "There's definitely a battle going on south of town."

"What did you see?" Lilias asked, her face calm although she clutched Jean's hand.

"I made it half a mile down River Road." He gripped the pommel of his sheathed sword where it hung at his waist. The unfamiliar weight had slowed him some, but he'd vowed never to face another soldier unarmed. "No guards anywhere. Looks like they took everyone to the fight."

"Did you see Connor?" Jean asked, her face worried.

Hamish shook his head. "I didn't get close enough to see anyone clearly."

He paused as images of the battle played through his mind. If only he'd stayed farther away. He'd seen too clearly the burning bodies, heard the screams of the dying. He shivered at the brutality of it.

"It was even worse than when they were fighting in the streets. They . . ." His voice trailed off, and he stared unseeing at his feet. The hard bread stick he'd been chewing on tasted like ash in his mouth.

He spit it out and breathed deep the clean scent of herbs that always hung in Mhairi's kitchen. He wondered how Connor could handle it. Despite having a sword, Hamish didn't want to go to battle.