Set in Stone (17 page)

Then suddenly he could
feel
the Water Moccasin. Like whispers across his skin, he
knew
Kilian was skating across the surface not far away. The itching of the Curse concentrated along his arm and torso closest to Kilian.

How was that possible?

He couldn't explain it but couldn't disbelieve it either.

Shona started struggling toward the surface. Connor couldn't see her face so he pulled her closer until their noses nearly touched. She pushed against him and tried to rise.

If they surfaced, Kilian could not miss seeing them. Connor held Shona down, wishing he could tell her what he felt. She had to be out of breath. He should be too, but he wasn't.

The Curse intensified and a memory flashed into his mind. He stood at the edge of the high cliff above Loch Ladhar on the bluff overlooking the manor house. The sun burned hot on his bare shoulders and nervous excitement filled him. Hamish shouted encouragement, but his eyes never left Jean, who sat on the edge of the loch far below. When he was sure she was looking, he charged forward and leaped far out over the long drop. He hung in the air, untethered to anything for an endless second, his stomach tight with breathless anticipation before plunging deep into the icy waters.

Shona struggled harder, yanking him from the memory. If he held her down much longer, she would drown. If he let her surface, they'd be caught and possibly killed.

Connor did the only thing he could think of. Pressing his lips tight against Shona's, he blew air into her mouth to try to fill her lungs. At first she tried to pull away, but he held her head firmly and blew harder. After a second, she seemed to realize what he was trying to do, and she pulled him tight, her lips pressed hard against his to draw in a deep breath.

Her lips tasted of river and salt, and the feeling of them against his triggered a warm thrill through his entire body. In that second, he became intensely aware of her arms wrapped around him, her body pressed to his.

He'd never kissed a girl on the lips before. He'd hoped to kiss Jean today at the Sogail, and he'd fantasized of kissing Moira. Despite the danger, despite the chill of the river, despite knowing he was forbidden to even touch Lady Shona, he didn't want this moment to end.

If he could have grinned, he would have. His lips tingled as he blew the life-giving breath into her. Finally Shona sealed her lips closed and eased her hold, but she didn't break free entirely and he made no move to take his hands from her face.

He'd given her a full breath of air, exhausting lungs that should have been empty like her own. Now they screamed for air and his sense of comfort fled. Had he just sacrificed his own life for hers? He fought to stay submerged against the almost overpowering urge to scramble for the surface. His lungs convulsed as his body tried to force him to take a breath.

The bubbling itch of the Curse drove deep into his torso, and suddenly the burning in his lungs eased just a little, as if he'd somehow managed to take a tiny breath. It was enough to keep him underwater a few seconds longer.

The whispers across his skin changed, and he focused on the strange sensation. Somehow he could feel Kilian turn away and begin skating back upriver. The sensation faded quickly and the bubbling itch dissipated.

Connor held them under for another ten seconds before pushing Shona toward the surface. She kicked upward and he followed. They breached the surface together and Connor filled his lungs. Breathing had never felt so good.

Beside him, Shona gasped and coughed softly. He could see her better. The approaching dawn was starting to lighten the sky above the eastern mountains.

"What do you think you were doing?" Shona demanded.

"Shhh." Connor placed a hand across her mouth and glanced upriver to see if Kilian had heard.

For the first time, Shona's control slipped and she slapped his hand away, giving him such a furious look he feared she might bite him.

"That Water Moccasin nearly found us after you coughed. We had to hide. Keep your voice down or he'll come back."

Shona regained her calm almost instantly and regarded him for a long moment as they floated close together. Finally she whispered, "You realize it is forbidden to touch me?"

"Would you rather I let them kidnap you again?"

"Of course not." After another uncomfortably long pause, she gave him a hint of a smile. "You are an interesting boy."

What was it with everyone calling him a boy?

He decided not to mention it. She had every right to be angry with him. She was high born after all. His place was only to serve and to obey.

He'd kissed High Lady Shona. Hamish, if he ever found out, would probably argue it wasn't a real kiss, but Connor didn't care. The memory of that kiss with her clinging to him for life was far too fresh, far too powerful.

Shona lay back in the water and said, "I think I'll . . ." Her voice trailed off into a little snore.

Connor stared, incredulous as she started to sink again.

How could anyone sleep so much?

He grabbed her and pulled her close to keep her head above the water. He found it more difficult than earlier, forced to swim harder to keep her from dragging him down.

She might be a noblewoman, but this was ridiculous. He prided himself on his ability to sleep, but Shona had mastered the art to a level he'd never dreamed of. How could she just drift off while floating in a river with a score of angry Grandurians hunting them?

She'd probably get angry with him again for touching her after she awoke. He was tempted to leave her there, but he'd risked too much to save her to let her drown.

As dawn broke upon the eastern mountains, he studied her pretty face in the growing light and tried not to think too much about her body pressing against his in the water. He was not very successful.

The river ran wide and steady as it carried them south. He couldn't see much beyond the low bank to the east. The land must be very flat, probably farmland. To the west, the forest still ran thick along the bank, blocking his view of anything else.

As they drifted, he wondered where he'd gotten that last breath. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before, and that memory, although unusually sharp, didn't make sense. He'd often jumped into the lochs from the high cliffs, but had never been able to stay under for exceptionally long times. He couldn't explain it. Then again, he couldn't explain most of what had happened since he left home.

It had to do with the odd feeling of his Curse. Since he'd broken it, who knew what it would do to torment him. That meant he'd used it without really meaning to.

Or maybe he hadn't broken it. Today was the Sogail, his sixteenth age-day. Maybe it was already beginning to transform into a deadly power he couldn't hope to control.

I need to reach Merkland. Today.

They drifted downriver as dawn spilled beyond the mountains and light crept across the valley. The sun would not be visible over the eastern mountains until mid-morning, but the air began to warm. As the morning passed, Connor found it increasingly difficult to keep them afloat. What had been effortless at first became a constant struggle. His sodden clothes dragged at him and the chill of the water sapped his strength.

Just as he was about to give up and head for shore, the river pulled them around a bend and there ahead of them, drawn up on the bank, rested the river barge. The sight gave Connor a burst of energy and he swam for the bank.

After staggering out of the water and dragging Shona's limp form up the muddy bank, he collapsed and lay panting. He glanced around and let out a tired laugh. So much work just to get back to where they'd started the night before.

How long before the Grandurians caught up?

Chapter 16

Connor allowed himself a delicious moment of relaxation before climbing onto wobbly legs. He'd worked too hard getting them this far to quit. He staggered to the barge, his muscles sluggish and weary, and pulled himself aboard. His soaked hunting leathers dragged against his skin and he shivered from the lingering cold.

Most of all, he was ravenous. He searched the empty barge for the food his mother had given him. He found a linen sack shoved under the bargeman's plank bench and eagerly shoved his hand inside.

Granite powder. He pulled out a handful and stared at it in disgust. He was hungry enough that he almost tasted it even though he knew better. He'd tasted enough granite chips growing up. Instead, he let the powder slip between his fingers and fall back into the sack. Then he took another handful and again let it slide away while he studied it.

It was just finely ground granite. He'd worked in and around the quarry all his life, and his father was the Ashlar who ground the blocks to powder, but even his father didn't know why they shattered the stone. Granite made excellent building material, but what else did they use it for? Connor couldn't imagine what that might be. No one ever bothered to tell the common Linn who cut it from the mountain.

After a moment spent idly running the powder through his fingers, Connor pushed the sack back under the bench and headed up to the bow. On the far side of the boat, under an empty sack, he found his hunting bow and quiver, and the food.

He wolfed down half of the provisions, swallowing chunks of meat big enough to choke a torc. When he'd sated his hunger, he leaned back against the gunwale and sighed. The situation seemed so much more promising.

Shona still slept, so he deposited the bag of food beside her. Maybe if she ate something when she woke up she'd stay awake a little longer. Or at least, it might help put her in a good mood.

Mhairi, Jean's grandmother, the healer in Alasdair, was normally a sweet lady, but she could be downright vicious when she got hungry. Everyone knew to bring food when they went to her for help, just to be safe.

Connor and Hamish made a special point of bringing her sweet bread every chance they could, in hopes she'd allow them to visit Jean without having to down the horrid universal cure. It hadn't worked yet, and Connor blamed Hamish. Half the time, the bread he produced from his pockets didn't look terribly fresh or very clean.

Back at the barge, he laid hands on the bow beam. The boat would be the best option, but it was well grounded. Erich had lifted the bow high above the waterline.

Connor dug his feet into the hard gravel of the bank and tried an experimental push. It was like trying to push over a tree. He didn't have the strength to move it, even though it now lacked the heavy granite cargo.

He looked around for anything to use as a lever. There were saplings along the bank, but he lacked an axe. If he didn't do something soon, the Grandurians would surely catch them.

Shona still slept soundly, her mouth slightly open, a trickle of drool running down her cheek. He could curse-punch one of the trees, but even Shona would probably wake up at the sound of a tree crashing to the ground.

Then again, maybe he didn't have to. The bow of the barge was heavily reinforced. With how weird the Curse had been acting, and given that today he needed patronage to avoid becoming Curse-condemned, did he dare release it again?

He could not think of any other way, so with a final glance at the sleeping Shona, Connor focused on his Curse and cautiously willed it to life. He was relieved when it rolled through his torso and down his arms with vibrant strength, setting his fingers twitching with the need to scratch at the buried itch. It no longer bubbled around under his skin, but locked onto his right hand and skittered up through his arm and shoulder like it should.

Connor cocked back his fist and the Curse pulsed as if it could sense impending violence. It deadened his hand and filled him with the need to crush something.

He punched the boat.

His curse-laden fist smashed into the heavy cross-beam with terrific force and a loud crack. The beam buckled a little, but did not snap. The entire front of the barge rocked up and back, and the boat started to slide down the muddy bank.

Connor grinned and pushed all his weight against the boat to keep it sliding. His right hand tingled and then itched like a thousand mosquito bites for a few seconds before returning to normal. The barge slid back down the bank until it floated free in the river.