Set in Stone (60 page)

Rory cracked a smile. "Hope there's no next time, lad."

Shona, who wore her silk skirt and blouse instead of the battle leathers, walked around Connor and slid a hand along his shoulder. She smiled, and her face shone with excitement. Her eyes seemed to smolder, and the look triggered the memory of her standing in the river.

Was it just earlier that evening?

"I told you, General. He's more than Agor. Dawnus at least."

"Aye, he has a rare gift," Carbrey said. "Just as well we won't need to send any more messages."

"Why not?" Connor asked, shaken out of his rapture. They couldn't find a peaceful solution without more messages.

"There's nothing left to say. Wolfram is clearly growing desperate. He is not one to threaten innocents lightly. We are beyond talking. At dawn, we strike."

"What of the threat against the Cutters?" Captain Rory asked.

"The Longseer reported seeing them yesterday, but no word on where they are currently being held."

Connor had been deeply relieved to hear that his father and the other Cutters survived the manor house fire, but yearned to know where they were. They would probably be the first ones killed before Wolfram destroyed the town.

Carbrey shifted to the large table and stared down at the map laid out there. "The threat to the kingdom is too grave to ignore." He stood tall, "Our duty is clear. We must root this enemy out of our lands, learn the secret of this weakening agent they've used against us, and remove the threat posed by General Wolfram once and for all."

The captains all nodded agreement, but the flicker of patriotic fire that stirred in Connor's heart at the general's words wilted under fear for what Wolfram would do.

He couldn't help blurt out, "Can't we just give them the boy so they'll leave everyone alone?"

"It's not that simple, lad."

"Why not? They promised to leave if we sent that one little boy to them."

"Connor, you can't believe they'll keep their word," Shona said.

He shrugged. "Maybe they will. Even if they don't, we're no worse off. Isn't it worth the risk? Isn't one little boy's life worth the lives of everyone in Alasdair? Isn't it worth preserving the quarry?"

As Carbrey considered the question, Shona said, "Maybe Connor's right. I'm sure my father would agree the situation demands some compromise."

Connor tried to share his deep appreciation with a look. With Shona on his side, maybe the general would listen.

General Carbrey shook his head slowly, dashing his hope. "Your father is not here, Lady Shona, and his orders are clear. We must destroy this enemy incursion.

"We attack at dawn."

Connor wanted to howl with frustration. The answer seemed so simple, why couldn't General Carbrey see it? Or maybe he did, and just didn't want to accept it?

Maybe Wolfram was right about him.

"How did the boy come to be your prisoner?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Carbrey frowned. "That is information you do not need to know, lad."

"I think I do," he protested, despite a cautionary shake of the head from Captain Rory. "It's my family and friends that are going to die because of him."

"Don't press me on this," Carbrey said, his voice hardening. "You've given valuable service, but don't test my patience."

"But, sir --" he began.

Shona stepped in front of him. "Connor, I think you've said enough." She took his arm and tried to push him toward the tent flap.

"No, I haven't."

Why didn't she stand with him? If she insisted, Carbrey might relent.

"Yes, you have," Carbrey said. "You are dismissed."

Even as Connor tried to protest again, Shona and Rory dragged him from the tent. He wanted to strike out at them, but they already looked sad, as if they agreed with him but didn't dare argue.

Why should they? Their families weren't about to die.

Rory said, "Cool off, lad. Level heads win in the end."

After the captain disappeared back into the tent, Connor caught Shona's arm before she could follow. "Come find me later. I need to speak with you."

She squeezed his hand, then followed Rory back into the tent.

Connor paced through the crowded camp. Soldiers lay sleeping in long rows, or clustered around cheery fires swapping stories, gambling, or drinking.

He needed space, so he headed to the riverbank to watch the Lower Wick flowing slowly past. The quiet gurgle of the river could not drown out his thoughts, and they rose in a great tide in his mind.

One crazy possibility floated to the surface and no matter how he tried, he could not shake it. The audacity of it, the pure risk, sent a chill creeping down his spine. He looked out over the river again. This same river had borne him to safety just an hour ago.

Could he risk returning? If he didn't, would anyone he loved live out the next day?

Connor went to find Donald.

Chapter 68

After procuring more basalt to replenish his diminished reserve, Connor headed north. As soon as he passed the second row of sentries posted on the road, he tapped basalt and surged into a triple-fast sprint. Most of the clouds had drifted away, leaving the night sky clear. Glittering stars, along with a sliver of moon, barely illuminated the way, but the road lay empty ahead, and Connor knew the land.

He increased the tap rate, and as his legs began to ache, he gritted his teeth, and max-tapped. Sharp pain spiked through his hips and thighs, and he clutched at his legs.

He shouldn't have.

Under his hands, between steps, his legs buckled and shifted. His upper thighs snapped outward and the bone about eight inches down fractured into a new joint.

Connor howled and stumbled forward, but did not fall. His lower leg rotated down faster than he'd ever imagined possible, and caught him.

The pain faded quickly, and he reached down to touch his legs again. The place where his thighs had fractured rotated like a second hip socket, whipping his lower legs around in tight circles.

It felt bizarre. In his mind, he was running normally, but his legs were working so different than he imagined, that he second-guessed the movement and stumbled. He fell hard and bounced along the hard-packed road. He hadn't realized how fast he'd been running.

Connor climbed to his feet, but could not stand still even to catch his breath. Basalt energy coursed through his legs, setting them quivering uncontrollably.

He decided not to think about it, leaned forward and started to run. His newly Fracked legs whipped him forward far faster than he'd anticipated, and he fell again.

"Stones take it," he muttered as he climbed back to his feet. It wasn't supposed to be this hard.

It took four more tries before he finally managed to run without falling. He forgot the pain of new bruises as he flew up the road faster than one of his arrows.

Connor laughed with the pure wonder of it, and then he tried to outrun his own laughter.

He poured on the speed and stopped trying to see individual trees and bushes on either side of the road. They passed too quickly. He focused straight ahead and prayed no one's goat or pig wandered into the road tonight. He'd never stop in time.

In seconds, the open lands to his right sloped up steeply to the plateau, and he rounded a slow bend and came into view of the lights of Alasdair.

Connor slowed and reduced his tap rate. His legs snapped back to normal, and the fresh wave of pain rippling through his legs and hips tumbled him back to the ground.

With legs still throbbing from the abuse, he jogged the rest of the way to Alasdair. Two guards patrolled the wall, so he slipped in through the flood-under tunnel.

He ghosted through town, but headed for Hamish's house instead of Jean's. He yearned to see her, but there was too little time, and he needed Hamish's help.

Hamish gaped when he opened the door to find Connor on the step, then waved him in quickly and, after a furtive glance out the door, closed it tight.

"What's got you so jittery?"

"It's a long story. Why are you walking so funny?"

"Longer story."

Hamish's siblings were asleep, and his parents greeted Connor with far less than their normal enthusiasm. After a moment, they disappeared into their room.

"Are they mad that I came so late?"

"No. They're afraid."

"Of who?"

"Cinaed." Hamish explained about the attempted flight from Alasdair, Cinaed's betrayal, and the threat to execute entire families if anyone tried to escape.

"Connor, they took your mother away in chains."

Connor dropped into a wooden chair. He felt like he might be sick, and his head pounded so hard he groaned.

He'd been worrying so much about his father, he hadn't ever considered something might happen to his mother. He looked up sharply. "What about my brothers and sister?"

"They're all right. Neasa's with them. In fact," Hamish added with a grin. "With how well they're probably eating, they may not want you to come home for a while."

Connor managed a smile, but his heart wasn't in it. He doubted he could eat any of Neasa's sweetbreads even if Hamish had managed to steal some.

His red-headed friend dropped into another chair and his humor drained away. He said softly, "Connor, Jean betrayed us."

"How?" Connor struggled to process the revelation. He'd always hated Cinaed, but Jean . . . Jean couldn't turn against them.

"I almost don't believe it myself." He met Connor's gaze with a look of profound hurt, then rose and paced away. "I would've died for her, Connor. I was prepared to."

His hands clenched into fists so tight, his fingers drained of color. His eyes burned with fury like nothing Connor had seen in him. "She took my sword, Connor, and called me a fool. She betrayed us, and people are probably going to die because of it. If that happens, when this is over, I'll kill her."

Connor didn't know what to say. He still could scarce believe Jean had done it. She was the smartest of them all. There had to be a reason.

"I'm trying to make sure no one else dies, and I need your help."

Hamish forced his anger down with an obvious effort. "What can I do? If anyone is caught out, they'll be arrested."

"I have to risk it. I'm going up to the manor."

"Might not be a good time," Hamish said. "I saw something blow up a while ago."

"Yeah, they're probably still mad about that."

"You did that?"

Connor related his disastrous last visit with Wolfram to Hamish. When he finished, Hamish said, "You can't go back there. They'll kill you."

"They might, but if I don't try, everyone could get killed tomorrow."

"What can you accomplish?"

"I have an idea how to end the fighting. I have to try."

Hamish regarded him for a moment, and it struck Connor that his friend had changed as much as he had in the past few days. The thought saddened him. He'd hoped to spare Hamish and the rest of the townsfolk.

"All right, Connor. I'll do what I can to help."

"Come on, and I'll explain on the way."