Set in Stone (36 page)

Chapter 37

Connor's head fell forward against his chest, and the movement dragged him awake. He groaned and blinked eyes that felt coated in sand. Every muscle ached so deep, he wondered if they'd been ripped from the bones.

"What happened?" he whispered.

Two soldiers had lifted Connor and draped his arms over their shoulders to carry him downslope. One of them said, "Easy, lad. We'll get you out of here. Don't worry. Cavalry is charging. The battle is almost won."

He doubted it.

Connor didn't voice his fears, but he had too much grudging faith in Captain Ilse to expect an easy victory at this point. Too bad she wasn't an Obrioner. The country could use such a brilliant leader.

The thunder of a hundred galloping destriers shook the ground as the cavalry charged up the slope. Connor looked across slope and noticed the two soldiers who had been trying to help Shona before he interfered were leading her toward the Healers. She argued with them every step of the way.

I should be a cavalry knight
, he decided. That wouldn't hurt so much, and they looked amazing.

With cloaks and pennants streaming behind them and lances held high at identical angles, the knights galloped up the hill in perfect formation. At the top of the plateau, Ilse's force had gathered into a single body that looked pitifully inadequate to stand against so many mighty chargers.

Maybe Ilse really had run out of surprises.

"What's that?" A soldier cried.

The two men dragging Connor pulled him around with them. His legs still weren't working, and he could barely feel his deadened body, but his eyes worked, and the sight helped him forget about the rising fear he'd somehow permanently injured himself.

About a dozen large, gray birds descended out of the clear morning sky and speared into the ranks of charging horses. They flitted nimbly between the riders and steeds, tearing at faces and digging at horses' eyes.

At first, it looked like the cavalry would ride right through the distraction, but then one horse in the lead reared, with a bird clawing at its eyes. It stumbled as it came back to the ground and its rider almost fell from the saddle. They careened right into the paths of several other riders.

As the formation wobbled, more horses reared or bucked, and the charge collapsed into a wild melee. Men tried to strike the gray birds, but they moved with startling speed, and the close-packed knights ended up hitting each other.

One of the soldiers holding Connor by the arm said, "Hey, those are bats."

"I've never seen bats that big," said his companion.

Connor realized then the truth. These bats were conjured, like the stone pedra. Kilian was at work again.

A group of knights broke free of the tangled mess of men and horses and resumed the charge. A bat flew past them and dropped something from its claws.

An earthen wall shot up from the ground in front of the lead riders. They yanked hard on their reins, but could not stop. Horses and riders alike plowed into the wall and sank deep into it. Most fell back to the ground, but a couple remained stuck in the wall like flies to honey paper.

A second bat dropped another stone behind the massed knights, and another wall shot out of the ground. As it reached its apex, a brilliant light exploded to life in the middle of the pack of riders. Its blinding light added to the mayhem, so bright it had to be the same thing Ilse had used last night to blind them at the manor house.

General Carbrey's voice carried over the battlefield. "Gregor!"

At the same time, another tree shot off the catapult atop the big barn and careened down the slope, directly at a densely packed company of soldiers. The men scattered, but many could not escape the wildly tumbling missile. Their screams filled the air, and the tree left dozens of their broken bodies strewn across the battlefield.

"Let's finish with this one," one of the soldiers holding Connor by the arms said. "Looks like we'll be needed again." The soldiers dragged Connor downhill, and soon the lower wall blocked his view of the struggling cavalry.

General Carbrey's voice rang out again. "Infantry, retreat. Gregor!"

Companies of foot soldiers began retreating down the hill after Connor, bearing with them the wounded and the dead. Shouts and screams still rang from beyond the wall where the cavalry still apparently fought to free themselves.

At the foot of the slope, the Healers, led by old Marcas, had set up field cots for the wounded, and waged their own battle against death and pain.

Marcas took one look at Connor and ordered him dropped on a blanket near the tree line until someone could check on him. Marcas turned to Shona, clutched his little sandstone pendant, and placed a hand on Shona's cracked cheek.

The earthen walls blocking Connor's view of the cavalry collapsed, and the blinding light sank into the ground. Only then did Connor locate Gregor. The Sentry stood near Carbrey, one hand buried in the ground.

Even as Connor watched, Gregor huddled with Captain Peader and Captain Rory. The air nearby burst into rainbow light that flashed blindingly for a second.

When the light disappeared, two miniature nuall cats stood beside the captains. Instantly, the nualls sprang toward the cavalry.

The nualls leaped impossibly high and each caught a granite bat in their jaws. The bats exploded into muddy water, and the nualls leaped again, catching more bats, allowing the cavalry to re-group.

A loud crack echoed across the valley from up on the plateau beyond Connor's sight. Carbrey's voice rang out over the battlefield. "Catapult is down. Cavalry, charge! Infantry, charge!"

The army reversed course and every man not wounded, and not bearing the dead and dying, broke into a run. The cavalry launched into a gallop, more a mob of angry horsemen than a disciplined formation of glorious knights.

They'd kill Ilse just as dead.

Nearby, a soldier pointed. "Look, the bats crashed and shattered!"

Connor frowned. Why would Kilian surrender his one good weapon?

At the lip of the plateau, Ilse's tiny force, looking like miniature dolls in the distance, shouted war cries, and charged onto the slope, directly toward the onrushing cavalry.

This was it. They recognized defeat and ran to meet it, hoping for the glory of death in battle. The sight sickened Connor. What a waste. He wanted to look away from the imminent carnage, but could not.

How could they throw their lives away after fighting so bravely? There had to be some dignity in surrender.

Then a geyser of water shot up from the ground, halfway between the two converging forces, and spread over the slope. The cavalry charged right through it. Knights raised swords to strike down the hated Grandurians, or lowered lances to skewer them.

The water covering the slope turned to ice.

It changed so fast, in less than a heartbeat, that most of the knights probably never realized what happened. Their destriers' delicate ankles snapped by the hundreds as hooves failed to break free of the thick ice, and the incredible weight of horse and rider drove the hapless animals forward against the restraint.

Horses screamed in agony and the entire company collapsed. Knights crashed to the ground into jumbled heaps of armor around and beneath the thrashing, screaming horses.

As one, the entire army cried out in dismay at the sight of the cavalry felled by one evil deed. Men shouted in rage and discipline fled as the army sprinted up the slope, seeking vengeance.

The Grandurians reached the fallen knights first. While Carbrey's army was still half a minute's run away, the small force of Grandurians descended on the stunned and helpless knights. They struck without mercy, clubbing knights with heavy maces or hammers. Anika and Erich grabbed knights like toys and tossed them from the melee into a pile, or finished off injured horses with mighty blows of their granite-hard fists. Soldiers surrounded the mass of injured soldiers.

As Carbrey's army closed, Ilse's voice rang out over the battlefield.

"Stand down, men of Obrion, or every knight dies!"

The army kept charging, with Carbrey in the lead.

Ilse shouted again, "And Lord Gavin and his family, and every Cutter dies with them!"

She pointed up the hill where several of her men stood behind Lord Gavin, Lady Isobel, the Cutters, and even Moira. Right beside Lord Gavin stood Hendry, Connor's father, easily recognizable to Connor, despite the distance.

He and the other prisoners stood in a row, bound together, helpless as babes under the Grandurians' knives. Seeing his father, who had always seemed so powerful, so unbreakable, standing helpless tore at Connor's heart.

With barely ten strides between the armies, Carbrey lifted his hand and shouted, "Halt!"

The army slowed to a halt almost close enough to touch their fallen companions and the Grandurians who stood above them, sharp blades at the knights' throats.

Connor could barely breathe through his rage. He tried to stand, but his body still refused to move.

He was such a Tallan-cursed fool! How could he be so stupid? He wasn't a Guardian yet, and had done something wrong, although he couldn't fathom what. He should have been able to use his granite strength.

Carbrey and his battered army that still outnumbered Ilse's tiny force many times over seemed to lean uphill, as if barely restraining the urge to leap forward and destroy the Grandurians. Ilse appeared calm, flanked by the big, blond Petralist siblings.

Deep silence settled over the battlefield, and voices carried clearly all the way down to Connor and the other wounded.

"You must be Ilse," Carbrey said.

"I am."

"I am impressed by your bravery and by the ingenuity used to prepare the battlefield."

"Thank you, General. I regret we meet under these circumstances, and it grieves me to see such loss of life. Had you heeded the warning I delivered to Captain Rory, your men and horses could have been spared."

"Do you really expect us to do nothing while you invade our lands?"

"I expect you only to return that which was stolen so we can withdraw."

Connor yearned to join the army, to understand what they talked about. What could have possibly been stolen that would drive Ilse's company to such feats of desperate bravery?

"I applaud your dedication, young lady. Surrender now and I'll kill your men quickly."

"At the moment, you do not hold the advantage, General. I recommend you withdraw or people will die who should be allowed to live."

"Your life is forfeit," Carbrey said. "You must understand that."

"We shall see." Ilse looked unafraid.

"Name your terms."

"They are three. First, as I stated before, that which was stolen must be delivered. Second, you hold two of my men, taken prisoner last night in Alasdair. They must be returned. Third, we must be allowed safe passage back to Granadure."

"You demand much, Captain."

"In return, Lord Gavin and his family live. The Cutters remain undamaged, and peace can be restored between our nations."

Carbrey nodded, as if reaching a decision. "Enjoy this victory, Captain, while it lasts. I agree to the prisoner exchange. Release your prisoners and I will return your men to you."

Ilse smiled but shook her head. "I will give you all of these brave knights, plus the so-called Curse Finders and their attendants for my men. Lord Gavin, his family, and the Cutters remain here until my other terms are met. You will order your forces to withdraw from Alasdair."

"Very well."

The army reluctantly withdrew to a safe distance while the two Grandurian sentries captured the previous night were fetched. Connor kept expecting to see some kind of bold, unexpected attack sweep Ilse and her men off the mountain, but nothing came.

They completed the exchange within minutes. Ilse and her small force returned to the plateau while Carbrey's army began the arduous task of carrying the injured knights down to the already-overwhelmed Healers. Very few of the knights walked down the hill unassisted, and none of them rode.

Connor couldn't stand the sight of all those slaughtered horses. How could Carbrey just walk away from the battlefield after taking such losses?

It was the right move as far as the prisoners were concerned, but part of him yearned for the chance to join the next assault, which must surely come.

As he watched Captain Ilse's men lead his father and the other prisoners back from the lip of the plateau, he raged against his helplessness. He had to stand, had to help.

He couldn't move. He watched the Healers, hoping to catch an eye and somehow coax one of them over, but they ignored him. Long lines of wounded with far worse injuries waited for the Healers' limited attention.

As Connor watched old Marcas work, the sandstone figurine the Healer clutched in his hand crumbled to dust. Marcas did not seem surprised, and his burly assistant handed him another. He turned back to the wounded man he was treating, gripped the new sandstone pendant, and placed his other hand over the man's injured torso.