Set in Stone (59 page)

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."

"Your nephew?" Connor's anger withered, replaced by deeper confusion.

He looked from Kilian to Wolfram. "I thought you said Nicklaus was related to the king?"

"He is."

Kilian said, "And he's my nephew too. So now you know the truth. Now you see you've been helping men who kidnap little children for political gain. Now you understand a tiny part of my rage."

"Killing people doesn't help," Connor shouted back.

"I know what I'm fighting for. Boy, you don't even know who you are."

"I'm a Guardian!"

"You're a willing slave, nothing more."

"And you're a liar."

Kilian snarled, and water burst from a barrel in the corner of the tent. Before Connor could react, it shot across the tent and splashed at his feet. Even as Connor tried to retreat, the water rippled up his torso to the shoulders and hardened to ice.

Connor gasped as searing cold encased him, stabbing into his muscles. He struggled, but lacked the strength to shatter the ice. He hadn't dared absorb any granite.

Kilian advanced and said in a dangerous voice, "Perhaps we'll see what value Carbrey places on his messenger monkey. What do you think, Connor, will he trade Verena or Nicklaus for you?"

"I doubt it, General Wolfram said. "Kilian, let the boy go."

Kilian drew closer until he stood scant inches away. "How do you like having your freedom robbed, boy?"

"You're worse than you claim Carbrey is."

"If I'm that bad, maybe I should raise that ice just a little higher and cover your face. How would you like that?"

"I have a better idea."

Connor tapped the burning marble fire in his mouth and blew a gout of roaring flames straight into Kilian's face.

The Water Moccasin howled and tumbled back, clutching at his face with both hands. Connor twisted his head, spraying fire at both Wolfram and Ilse and forcing them to dive out of the way.

Cold was burning at his limbs, so Connor fought against it with the raging fire. Flames poured out his open mouth and flowed down his torso like a river. The ice prison shattered under the onslaught, and Connor staggered free.

Ilse's body hardened into the perfect lines of granite power, while Wolfram shouted for help.

Kilian rolled to his feet, his face livid. He popped something into his mouth, and instantly flames ignited in his eyes.

"I'm not done with you yet." He stalked forward, murder in his blazing eyes.

Connor retreated and sprayed flames in every direction. Papers on the table incinerated, and fragments whipped into the air. The inside of the tent became an inferno.

Then the flames condensed into a tight ball that floated above one of Kilian's hands, while a second ball of water floated above the other. The fire spewing from Connor's mouth winked out.

He couldn't imagine how Kilian managed it, but the sight of the angry Water Moccasin somehow also controlling fire terrified him.

"Do you really want to play with fire?" Kilian laughed, and for a second sounded as crazy as Captain Aonghus.

Connor spun and slashed his dagger through the outer wall of the tent. He stumbled through, tapped basalt right to the Fracking point, and shot away.

He passed half a dozen soldiers, but scores of men blocked the way south. He leaned so far over and almost lost his feet as his legs blurred and shot loose earth and rocks in a wide arc as he banked hard and zipped past the burned-out shell of the manor house. Even as cries of alarm grew throughout the camp, he headed for Alasdair.

As he reached the northern edge of the plateau, he glanced back.

A shadowy form blurred out of the darkness behind him. A Wingrunner, legs Fracked, closed with terrifying speed, his meteor hammer raised to deliver the killing blow.

Connor dug his legs in hard, and slid across the hard-packed ground. His legs shuddered, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. He cut hard over, then he poured on the speed, straight toward the edge of the plateau.

The Wingrunner was moving too fast to match Connor's abrupt course change, and his deadly hammer whistled inches past Connor's head. He leaned hard over and started a tight turn to come after Connor.

Connor tapped basalt as deep as he dared, to the point where his hips and thighs started throbbing with a deep ache. He didn't dare tap any more. He'd never gone Fracked, and didn't think he could handle it.

So he raced for the edge of the plateau with the Wingrunner closing rapidly. He didn't dare turn, or the man would cut the distance even faster. So he seized upon the one desperate option open to him, and ran straight ahead.

The Wingrunner closed fast and shouted, "Stop or I'll kill you, boy."

Connor didn't turn as the edge of the plateau neared with dizzying speed.

"So be it," the Wingrunner called. "It's your . . . look out!"

Connor risked a glance back. The Wingrunner had apparently just realized their position, and leaned far over, legs whirling in their altered circles as he fought to avoid the edge.

Connor didn't. He launched off the edge of the plateau.

This time no Heatstone oven drove him into the air. Instead, he soared like an eagle out over the dark valley. River Road flashed beneath him, while to his right the light of Alasdair winked, as if in surprise. Air whistled past, its roaring drowning out all other sound, and its cool embrace relieving the burning of his lips. The stench of smoke and battle and fear washed away, replaced by clear familiar scents of river and forest.

In that moment he experienced freedom like he'd never dreamed possible. Connor shouted aloud at the wonder of it as he began a long, graceful arc toward the Lower Wick that glowed like a silver ribbon in the darkness.

He extended clenched fists above his head, and struck the river at a steep dive angle. The impact jarred him from knuckles to toes as he drove deep into the chill waters. He'd dived several times from the cliffs above Loch Sholto, so he knew how to set himself to handle the shock, but even so it rattled him to the core. He'd never struck with such speed.

Some parts of the Wick were shallow, so Connor angled his body, and even though his speed bled away fast, the change shot him back toward the surface in a graceful arc. He breached into the air like a heavy trout on a line.

Connor splashed back down and floated on his back. He stared up at the stars visible through the clouds and laughed. High above, torches moved along the top of the plateau, and Connor whistled in wonder.

Had he really just done that?

Then his smile faded. Yes, he'd really just learned the truth. The situation really was more twisted than he'd imagined. Wolfram really had just promised to murder everyone Connor knew.

What could he possibly do about it?

Hamish stared toward the plateau and wondered what might have happened. He'd seen the bright billowing flames for a moment from where he sat atop a shattered building in the outskirts of Alasdair.

He hadn't returned home yet. How could he? He couldn't pretend things were going to be all right, and that would only frighten his family. Had it been only earlier this evening that he'd felt so confident? He'd thought he knew Jean, believed that everyone would work together for their freedom?

He wondered if it might be better if the Grandurians just destroyed the town. He felt so heartsick from the betrayals, particularly Jean's, that he doubted the town would recover.

Maybe they deserved the pain and suffering.

Jean did, for sure. Cinaed deserved to be flayed alive for her wickedness, but the rest of the town didn't.

Hamish sat up straighter and looked again toward the darkened plateau. Despite the evil of a few, he would still fight. For his family, he had to.

There had to be something he could do.

Chapter 66

Atop the plateau, Wolfram stood near the big barn and watched the clean-up efforts of the command tent and allowed himself a little smile. The boy was proving far more resourceful than he'd hoped.

Ilse joined him, followed by Kilian. "Sir, do you think that maybe that went a little too far?"

Wolfram shook his head. "He needed the push."

Kilian stared southwest toward the river. "That was a great dive." He looked up into the night sky and his voice became distant. "That boy bears the stamp of history." His voice trailed off, and for a moment he looked far older.

Then he straightened and the years seemed to trickle off. "Poor kid. He thinks he's afraid now. He'd be useless to us if he knew everything."

Wolfram said, "He now understands enough. Our success may hinge on what he does now that he does."

"And if he doesn't?" Ilse asked.

"Then many people will die tomorrow."

Chapter 67

"You burned his tent?" General Carbrey laughed and clapped Connor on the back. "I wish I'd been there to see that."

"They were pretty mad about it. I had to run off the cliff and dive into the river to escape."

Carbrey laughed again. The assembled captains joined in, and Aonghus shook Connor's hand. His eyes glowed with just a hint of fire, and flickering crimson stained his teeth. "There's nothing like running with the flames, eh lad?"

"It sure was something," Connor agreed uneasily. Captain Aonghus' breath smelled like brimstone, and his hand felt hot as if he burned with fever. Despite having unlocked marble fire, Connor didn't like standing so close. The captain looked like he might explode at any moment.

"You're lucky you escaped Kilian," Captain Rory said.

"I caught him by surprise. Next time might not be so easy."