Set in Stone, page 39
Jean drew Hamish aside, and he let his arm drop to his side. He didn't dare try to sheath it. The soldiers would just laugh at him. He fingered his belt pouch.
Should he unleash his new-found powers on them?
Jean pulled him closer and whispered, "Stop it, Hamish. Trust me."
He could not deny her, and squeezed her hand. It broke his heart to see Lilias shackled.
Cinaed gloated. "You've fallen, Lilias. You're through. I've been granted full authority here!"
Lilias looked upon her with pity. "You think tyranny leads to salvation? Your ignorance is going to kill us all."
Cinaed laughed. "Who's in chains?" She turned from Lilias and pointed at Hamish. "Boy, give me that sword!"
"No!"
Cinaed glared, but Jean spoke first. "I'll deal with it."
"You? You've betrayed me," Cinaed said to Jean. "I had such high hopes for you."
Jean took the sword from Hamish's surprised grip and moved toward Cinaed. "What choice did I have until now? I couldn't stop her. All I could do was hope you'd set things right."
"What?" Hamish exclaimed. He stared at Jean in open-mouthed astonishment. "How can you say that?"
She gave him such a look of scorn that Hamish retreated a step. "You're such a fool, Hamish. Did you really think we could escape?"
"Yes." His voice sounded weak even to him, and he hated her for it.
"That's why I couldn't confide in you." Jean turned to Cinaed. "I know all about their plans. I can help you make sure no one tries anything like this again."
Cinaed grinned, "Well done, Jean. You really are worthy."
Jean made a little curtsy and moved to stand beside Stuart. He tentatively draped a meaty arm across her shoulders and she grinned up at him.
Hamish couldn't take any more. Lilias in chains, their plan ruined, Jean and Stuart together!
Jean's betrayal burned through him like a piece of swallowed marble tapped wide open. He'd risked his life for her, swore to protect her from all harm. He'd never dreamed she'd do this.
Even as he struggled to comprehend how she could betray them, how he'd missed seeing her for what she was, Stuart said, "Better run home, Hamish, before you get hurt."
It was too much. Hamish bolted.
Stuart's laughter followed him out of the square, but Jean's words cut like daggers through his heart.
"Stuart, you're so brave. I'm glad you're here."
Chapter 64
Connor descended from the ledge, and had to help the boy over some of the bigger rocks. The lad had a strong, sure grip, and he walked unafraid, scanning the area as if trying to take in as many details as possible.
As they headed back to camp, his thoughts and emotions whirled. How could Carbrey accept so much death and pain, all to keep a little boy prisoner? Even the wonder of the flying wagon faded under the onslaught of questions.
Verena sat near a small fire in the center of the camp, her broken leg extended awkwardly, her face set in a mask of pain. Rory sat on an upturned log across the fire from her. Twenty soldiers, including two of Rory's Fast Rollers cordoned off the area, but they let Connor through.
Connor crouched next to Verena. "You were right all along."
She shook her head slowly and grimaced with pain. "Oh, Connor, I wish you'd believed me sooner."
"Hasn't the Healer looked at your leg yet?"
Verena snorted. "Not hardly."
Rory said, "Lots of good people died and were wounded tonight. The Healers are swamped. It'll be a while."
"If ever," Verena said. "I don't blame them really."
Seeing her in such obvious pain tore at Connor's heart. She was their prisoner, and he shuddered to think what would happen to her. He'd done this.
All she'd been doing was trying to save a little boy.
He could help. Connor reached for her leg with one hand, and pulled the sandstone sculpture from under his shirt with the other.
Verena cringed and grabbed his hand. "So this is how the torture starts, is it?"
He gently pushed her hand away, "You know me better than that, Verena."
"Do I?"
Her wide blue eyes seemed to glow in the firelight, and the honest question in her gaze saddened him.
"I'll show you."
He placed a gentle hand on her leg again, and this time she did not try to push him away. He gripped the pendant, closed his eyes, and drew heavily upon its warm healing power.
"Is that sandstone?"
"Shush."
Healing power rolled through Connor's arm, and buoyed by its gentle tide, he focused on her leg. His senses expanded, and he could see the jagged break and multiple cracks that spiraled through her bone. He slid his healing sight along her ripped tendon and bruised flesh.
He surrounded the wound with healing power and guided it inward. The bone began to fuse, cracks faded, and the tendons sewed themselves together.
Verena gasped and placed her hands over his. The warmth of her skin seemed to magnify the heat of the healing power, and rolled back up his arm.
He kept his hold on her leg for a full minute after the healing had completed, reluctant to break the moment. He opened his eyes and found her staring at him, her face scant inches from his own, her eyes wider than ever and somehow deeper.
She leaned across the inches that separated them, and her lips pressed softly against his, warm and gentle, and somehow incredibly intimate. Connor barely allowed himself to breathe, but when he did, he breathed deep the smell of her. She smelled of dirt and sweat and fear, and at the same time, like mint and clover.
Tomas whistled, and Rory said, "Enough of that, lad."
Connor cringed as Verena broke the kiss. Rory had seen him kiss Shona. Kissing the enemy in front of him risked a severe beating.
Still, he did not regret letting Verena kiss him. His heart sang, and his lips continued to tingle long after she broke contact.
"You're the most amazing man I've ever met." She gave him a dazzling smile, leaned back and said loudly, "You healed my leg."
"But you didn't bother healing me."
Shona stood across the fire from them, dressed in battle leathers, hands on her hips.
The memory of her in the bath robe flashed through his mind, followed by her standing in the river, skin glowing in the moonlight as she beckoned him into the water for a kiss.
The memories wilted under her angry stare.
Before Connor could move, Verena wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed him again on the cheek. She gave Shona a friendly smile, but spoke to Connor. "Thanks again."
When she released him, Connor moved to Shona's side. "Are you all right?" If he pretended the kiss never happened, maybe she'd forget about it.
She glared at him.
"You know we're going to have to torture her."
"Is that really necessary?" He tried to keep the worry from showing on his face. He didn't want Shona hurting Verena out of pure spite.
"I doubt she'll share her secrets willingly."
"Not with you," Verena said with a scornful look. Then she gave Connor a sunny smile. "But I'd give you anything you want, Connor."
He felt his cheeks grow hot under her intense stare, but fought to hide it since Shona was watching so close.
Time to change the subject.
"Shona, is there anything I can do to help you feel better?"
Her glare subsided and she slid one finger down his cheek. In a much calmer tone she said, "Oh, I can think of a couple of things you can do to help."
"Not now." General Carbrey marched into the circle. "So, this is the young Builder we've heard so much about?"
Verena rose smoothly to her feet and executed a graceful curtsy despite the dirt and the fact that she wore trousers instead of a skirt. "It's a pleasure to meet you, general."
He grunted. "Cooperate, and it may be."
Then he turned to Connor and extended his hand. "I owe you a debt for thwarting that attack, lad."
"Thank you, sir. I was just doing my duty."
Gathering his courage, he added, "Sir, may I ask who the boy is?"
"Information you don't need to know, lad. Right now I need you up that hill to Wolfram. Tell him we have his Builder. I applaud his tenacity. The attack tonight was well orchestrated, but we all know he's trapped."
Carbrey's gaze bored into Connor, "I order him to surrender by dawn tomorrow, or this young lady dies by public execution."
Verena's face paled, and Connor barely bit back a cry of protest.
"After that, I guarantee I'll wipe his force from the earth, no matter the cost. This game is over."
Chapter 65
Connor passed through the battlefield on his way up to the plateau to deliver Carbrey's demands, and stared at the devastation. The ground lay in rippled folds from Gregor's battle with Anton, while wide swatches of scorched earth marked where Aonghus had struck. Charred bits of armor and twisted weapons testified of his effectiveness.
Bodies lay stacked in piles, waiting for burial. Blood soaked the ground, and the entire area smelled of vomit and smoke. The taste of ash clung inside Connor's mouth. Deep shadows covered the area, driven back occasionally by the flickering torchlight of men still gathering the dead and hunting for survivors.
Connor tapped his basalt and raced past, onto the slope up to the plateau. There he slowed to think.
Verena had spoken the truth right from the start. The Grandurians were sincere in their desire to free the imprisoned boy, but Connor still did not understand why the boy was taken in the first place. There had to be an explanation.
Besides, no matter how they claimed to want nothing but justice, the Grandurians had caused the death and suffering of many, and brought war to Connor's peaceful town.
The more he thought, the more frustrated he became, until a towering anger churned through him. Driven by that anger, he extracted the piece of marble from his pouch and popped it into his mouth.
He sucked deep, and the explosion of spice drove away the ash taste of battle, and triggered a wave of icy fear. He welcomed the growing pain and sucked harder. The last time he'd used marble, he'd burned down the manor and failed to rescue his father. It fit his mood perfectly.
The pain rippled from his mouth into the rest of his body. He deserved it. After all, it was his fault Verena was captured, his fault so many things had happened. He mulled that over as he walked, but could not figure out how he could have responded differently. He still hadn't figured out how to explain everything to General Wolfram by the time he arrived at the plateau.
The burned-out shell of the manor huddled amid its undamaged outbuildings like a corpse surrounded by mourners. The roof had collapsed and only individual blackened timbers remained standing above crumpled stone walls. A pall of smoke hung around the building like a funeral shroud, and the stench of cinders hung heavy in the air. A large command tent almost identical to Carbrey's had risen nearby, and Connor was ushered inside immediately.
The interior of the tent almost perfectly mirrored Carbrey's. Wolfram sat in a ladder-back chair behind a round table laden with maps and parchments. The general still wore his dirt-smeared armor. His long mustache drooped around his mouth, and furrows lined his brow where none had been before.
As soon as Connor entered the tent, Wolfram rose and came around the table, his face grim. "I am deeply disappointed in you, Connor."
The rebuke cut him deep. Connor tried to stand tall, tried to meet the angry general's stare, but couldn't.
"I am sorry you feel that way, sir. Maybe if you hadn't been so busy killing people I could have been of more service."
"You shame yourself," Wolfram said, his voice angry for the first time. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"Sir, I don't understand what's going on enough to have any idea what I'm doing."
Wolfram regarded him for a moment before saying, "Perhaps you are right."
He returned to his chair and motioned Connor to take a camp stool. Connor settled hesitantly onto it. He needed to deliver Carbrey's ultimatum, but did not want to risk angering Wolfram.
Captain Ilse entered, but Wolfram motioned her to silence. "Connor, you are in a unique position. Kilian returned only moments ago and reported how you foiled the rescue attempt."
At least Kilian was all right. "I was just defending the camp, sir."
"Perhaps, but you prevented Kilian from freeing the boy."
"I know that now."
"You saw him?"
Connor nodded. "But I don't understand."
"You need to." Wolfram leaned forward, his face intent. "His name is Nicklaus. He is distantly related to the king of Granadure. Agents of your High Lord Dougal kidnapped him exactly twenty-seven days ago."
"Why? What makes him so important?"
"The reasons are complex, and delve into arcane matters even I barely understand. Nicklaus is the product of a unique bloodline and shows potential for an exceptionally rare Petralist gift. I believe your High Lord Dougal intends to use that gift to unleash terrible destruction upon my people. It is worth more to him than any other treasure."
Connor rocked back as if struck as everything snapped into clarity. Was that why Shona favored him with such attention? Did she see only his gift, the potential gain she might reap by leading him to her father?
No. She didn't need to play such games. He had been traveling to Merkland when they met. She knew his deepest desire was to obtain Patronage.
"I don't believe you." Connor tried to sound confident, but he couldn't see through the lies. What else weren't they telling him?
"Yes, you do."
"That's why we took Shona," Ilse said. "To exchange her for Nicklaus."
So many people dead, so much suffering. The Grandurians were responsible. They had to be. He fought to reconcile everything he'd seen, everything he'd learned.
One of Jean's favorite sayings came to mine. Look deep, see clear. He tried, but couldn't pierce the haze.
Ilse added, "It's true, Connor. Unfortunately, we ended up here instead of back in Granadure. Then you helped her escape before we could exchange her for Nicklaus."
"I didn't know."
"Be that as it may," Wolfram said. "This situation is entirely a result of those events. We are here to free Nicklaus. I will not allow him to remain prisoner another day, nor suffer under Dougal's hands."
Connor slumped, unable to argue that much. "I stopped you tonight."
Ilse said, "Connor, you might just be our worst enemy."
She was right. He'd spirited Shona out of their hands, blocked the attempted rescue that very night. If not for him, they might have succeeded in their plans.
The thought should have elated him as a loyal Obrioner.
Instead, it only left him feeling confused. He did love his country. He wanted only to protect his town. And yet, after seeing Nicklaus, he wanted to see the boy set free too, wanted the Grandurians to return home in peace.
He was dreaming.
"I didn't mean it. I was just trying to protect my family."
"Ask yourself why Carbrey insists on pursuing this war," Wolfram said.
"He can't let you invade our country."
"He invaded ours first."
Connor didn't know what to say. He couldn't argue with Wolfram. He was too confused, needed time to think.
He stood. "General Wolfram, I bring word from General Carbrey."
"Very well."
Connor took a steadying breath and related Carbrey's terms. The tent felt hot, and the constant smell of cinders was making him queasy. He needed to finish, to get outside and clear his head.
Wolfram shook his head. "No, Connor. We both know those terms are unacceptable."
"I am finished being reasonable. Here are my terms. Carbrey will deliver Nicklaus and Verena, and we will withdraw. Otherwise, I will no longer show restraint. My forces will raze Alasdair and kill everyone who resides there."
"You'd murder everyone?" Connor exclaimed, horrified. "Where's your mercy now?"
Wolfram continued, his voice ringing. "We will flood the quarry and fight with no quarter given. We will see who wins the day, but I swear to you, boy, that I will not allow Carbrey's aggression to go unanswered. I am in my wrath, and you have yet to see me begin to fight."
Connor quailed back from Wolfram's fury. Gone was the pleasant control the general normally projected. For the first time, Connor saw his true power, and it terrified him.
He spun to flee, but just then Kilian threw the tent flap aside and strode in. At the sight of Connor, he glared and advanced, one hand outstretched as if to throttle him.
Connor dodged to the side, but Ilse stood there, and she too looked angry.
"Boy, I'm going to flay you alive," Kilian growled.
There was nowhere to flee. Enemies surrounded him on all sides. Connor sucked deep on the marble stone under his tongue, and the flash of pain triggered his anger.
He shouted at Ilse, "It's your fault!"
"What are you talking about?"
"Why didn't you tell me about Nicklaus sooner? All you had to do was tell me the truth!"
He rounded on the angry Kilian, "Why did you let Verena fly the wagon? Now she's prisoner, and they're going to kill her!"
"Don't you try to deny what you did," Kilian snarled. "You knocked her off the wagon. You kept us from rescuing my nephew."
