Set in Stone (49 page)

How could this be happening? Why would they fight in Alasdair instead of attacking the enemy atop the plateau?

All along, he'd been comforted by the fact that the town would be spared the worst of the fighting.

All along, he'd been wrong.

Shona drew him close and whispered, "Connor, the quartzite."

He had forgotten about the little pebble she'd given him. He fumbled in his belt pouch, but pulled out a small wafer of marble that the flame-haired Captain Aonghus had handed him before they left for their respective assignments.

"Catch," the captain had called without warning. "Pop that in your mouth if you can handle the burn."

"I've tasted marble. Tastes like any other rock."

Aonghus shook his head. "I heard what you did with soapstone. Let's see if you're the Dawnus Shona claims. Slip it under your tongue and give it a moment. Suck through the pain, and that's when life really gets hot."

He hadn't dared try yet. The wild look in Captain Aonghus' eye when he talked about it made him wonder at the wisdom of ingesting marble.

After he fished out the pebble of quartzite, Shona said, "Grahame said wedge it into your cheek and suck on it."

"Whoa! What are you doing?" Rory snatched the quartzite away from Connor.

"We need to see," Shona said, defensive.

"Are you mad? We can't risk quartzite now."

"Why not?" The burly Captain's open concern surprised Connor.

What was Shona trying to do to him?

"It's dangerous and reckless."

"I need to know!" Shona hissed.

"Not like this, lass. You could sunder his other affinities and waste his talent."

"What do you mean?" Connor asked. That sounded really bad.

"He can do it, I know it," Shona insisted.

"Why risk all his potential so recklessly?" Rory asked.

"That's none of your business, Captain," Shona declared, and assumed the angry, regal look like when she spoke with Ilse.

Despite her imperious glare, Rory shook his head. "No, lass. I cannot allow this folly."

"Cannot allow?" Shona's eyes bulged with indignation. "How dare you presume such authority?"

Unfazed by her growing wrath, Rory said, "Please, lass, wait until we have time to ensure the proper safety –"

"I don't have time," Shona hissed. "I'm to be included in the pairings this year, and . . ." her voice fell to a whisper and her anger evaporated. "Without a secondary affinity, I cannot guarantee . . . "

For a second, Rory looked embarrassed. "I am sorry, Lady Shona. I didn't think –"

She waved aside his apology and met his gaze with a fierce look. "With my Patronage of Connor, if I can confirm him at least Dawnus, then I regain control."

"Still, you risk much, for both of you."

"What are you talking about?" Connor interrupted.

Shona flushed and said quickly, "Nothing we have time to discuss."

"If you are determined," Rory said, "at least try marble first."

"Before we try anything, I need to know what you're talking about," Connor said, irritated. "And what's Dawnus? Gregor mentioned it yesterday when he taught me slate, but wouldn't elaborate."

Shona gasped, and Rory cried, "You established affinity with slate?" They both looked at him with such awe that he wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

"Gregor said I did good for a first attempt."

"I can't believe it," Shona whispered.

Rory balled his hands into fists and exclaimed, "I told you not to experiment with any more stones without talking with me first. You have no idea how dangerous that was!"

"Well if you hadn't been so cryptic, maybe I would have," Connor shot back. He was tired of being the only one who didn't understand anything. "What's wrong with me using slate? I already proved a tertiary affinity with soapstone."

"The important thing is you did it," Shona said, pulling Connor around to face her. She beamed at him and touched his face, a wondrous look on her face. "You really did it."

"So, does that mean I'm this Dawnus thing you were talking about?"

"Oh no, Connor, you're something far greater." She smiled so wide, her face nearly split.

Rory rejoined the conversation. "Few Guardians manage a tertiary affinity, even after years of work. Of those, perhaps a handful in an entire generation demonstrate gifts powerful enough to become Dawnus."

"They possess the rare gift of establishing affinity with a second tertiary stone," Shona added.

"But that second affinity with metamorphic stones must be with the opposite elemental power of their first," Rory added.

"I don’t understand." The rapid explanation had lost Connor.

"You connected with soapstone first," Shona said. "Water. So to be Dawnus, you should have next tried marble."

"Fire," Connor said in understanding.

"Trying anything else could have set you back years, if not burned out your existing affinities altogether," Rory said.

Connor gaped, but Shona laughed, "But it didn't. You're more than Dawnus, Connor. You're something we haven't seen since the Tallan Wars over three hundred years ago."

He tried to ask what that was, but Shona pressed a finger to his lips. "Before I tell you, prove me right. Try quartzite."

Rory said, "It's too late to show caution now, lad, might as well. But hurry up, the assault on Alasdair has begun."

A quick glance back over the edge of the cliff showed the attacking Obrioner soldiers had somehow crossed the Lower Wick and were converging on the town.

Quartzite was supposed to enhance senses. He yearned to see the distant impending battle, to confirm his family and friends remained safe, so he popped the ugly little pebble into his mouth.

He sucked on it for a few seconds while Shona and Rory watched him expectantly. At first, all he tasted was rock, and that made him think of Hamish and wonder what his friend would taste in the stone.

All of a sudden a river of warmth flowed up through the flesh of his jaw and pooled in the center of his head. A low humming began vibrating in his skull. It wasn't uncomfortable, but more than a little distracting.

Then the liquid warmth flowed into his eyes. His vision clouded and his eyes burned, as if he'd gotten pepper in them. He flinched and rubbed one eye.

What in the name of the Ashlar's Hammer?

His eye had changed. Through his eyelid, it felt hard, faceted, like a gemstone.

He opened his eyes and gasped at the riot of color screaming for attention. He'd never seen such brilliant depth, and he stared out over the valley of Alasdair in startled wonder.

Whatever he looked at snapped into focus with a clarity he'd never dreamed possible. A fish jumped in the Lower Wick, and the movement drew his gaze. As he focused on the distant river, his vision swooped down as if he was a diving pedra, and he braced himself against the solid rock upon which he lay.

After that initial gut-twisting shift, he marveled at the exquisite detail of the fish as it slipped back into the clear waters of the river. Every scale reflected the sunlight with dazzling intensity, a riot of rainbow colors that took his breath away.

Shona tipped his face toward her, and his vision snapped back into close focus with another wrenching shift. He blinked, and then stared at her, transfixed.

He had always thought Shona lovely, but now he could barely breathe as he drank in every detail of her smooth skin, and looked so deep into her hazel eyes, he felt he could see into her soul.

She laughed, and the rich sound triggered another shift in the liquid warmth of quartzite pooling in his head. Some of it touched his ears, and something popped.

Sharp pain stabbed deep through his ears and he flinched and grabbed his head. Then he frowned and felt around. The lobes of his ears were longer and stuck out farther from his head.

He wiggled them.

He'd never been able to do that before, but it was as easy as snapping his fingers. He twisted them impossibly far out, and then up and down.

Shona laughed along with him and touched one elongated lobe. The rich sound of her laughter reverberated through his enhanced ears with unbelievable richness.

How was it possible? Would they change back when he ran out of quartzite? Would Shona care? What about Jean?

Surprisingly, he wondered what Verena would think too.

Other sounds crashed in on his mind and for a second all thought fled under the onslaught. A flood of indecipherable noises clamored for attention, scattered his thoughts, and sparked a massive headache.

Then Shona's voice filtered through the jumble.

"Connor, you are Blood of the Tallan."

He gasped. He'd never heard of such a terrible curse, but it stunned him by its potential for evil. "I thought you were happy."

"Oh Connor, but I am."

"How could you say such a thing then?"

"Sometimes I forget how much you have to learn."

"What's there to learn? You just called me a devil."

"You don't understand. There hasn't been such a gift since the Tallan himself." She cupped his face in her hands and said with triumphant joy. "Together, we'll make history."

He wanted to protest.

She kissed him first.

Connor forgot to breathe as her lips pressed hard against his and overloaded every one of his enhanced senses. So close, he could count the minute ripples in her skin, map the curve of her cheek, see himself reflected in her half-closed eyes.

The rosewater scent she wore filled him with thoughts of springtime and Sogail laughter. The slide of her fingers against his skin sounded loud as trumpets blaring to the world the wonder of this High Lady's affection.

He could feel her skin heat with passion that echoed through him and drove aside fear of the curse she'd just pronounced over him. He dared clutch her head and draw her lips tighter against his.

After what seemed an eternity, she released him and leaned back, a look of triumph on her angelic face.

He started to grin in reply, but a flash of crimson light behind her drew his gaze. With another stomach-wrenching flip, his vision swept in on the town until he could see every detail, as if he were standing right in front of the wall, right down to individual cracks in the stone. It was amazing. He could see everything, including . . .

. . . men burning.

He looked away from the grisly sight of soldiers stumbling back from the wall gate that was engulfed in flame. Movement drew his gaze to two figures flowing down the steep slope from the plateau toward the southern wall of Alasdair.

Anton and Kilian were moving to succor their forces.

Anton rode half-reclined on an odd-shaped chair of earth that sported branches to hold his feet just off the ground, with hands extended. The entire seat smoothly descended the slope, sliding right along the surface of the ground.

Kilian stood with feet planted wide, legs bent, hands extended for balance. He slid down the steep slope on a cascading sheet of ice that formed just in front of his fast-sliding feet and then faded away behind him. His hair blew in the wind of his passage, and several times he bounced high into the air, but always landed on sure feet.

For a second, Connor forgot the horror of the pitched battle raging up the streets of Alasdair as he watched the two powerful Petralists rushing toward Alasdair. He'd slid down every conceivable slope within walking distance of town in the winter, but the rough planks they used seemed laughable compared to the Petralists' elegant descent.

He couldn't wait to try it.

More Grandurians were descending the road from the plateau, while another force of Obrioners raced up River Rod toward the town. It looked like they'd arrive at about the same time

Would Alasdair survive the approaching storm?

Chapter 55

Hamish shoved the last quarter-loaf of honey-laced oat bread into his mouth as he and Blair reached the opening to the flood-under passage near a small shed up against the outer wall. Moments ago, all the Grandurian soldiers had rushed for the wall gate, giving them the perfect opportunity to scout the area for a potential break to freedom.