Set in Stone (73 page)

Hamish gripped his shoulder. "From this angle, I can't see if they've left."

Hendry pointed to the base of the switchback road leading up to their position, and a smaller group of soldiers heading for the road. "Someone's coming this way too."

"I have to stop it."

"It's not possible," Verena said. "You'll die if you try."

"Didn't you say that was the only way?" He tried to keep his voice light, but she wasn't fooled.

Stuart reached them finally and dropped the heavy granite block. He leaned on it and gasped for breath.

Connor clapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks, Stuart. This will be key."

Stuart looked out over the edge of the ridge, "Not a bad idea to throw rocks down on them, but we should've brought more."

"Throwing rocks won't be enough. Come on."

Connor headed out along the narrow shore of Loch Sholto where the solid stone shelf, barely ten feet wide, held back the waters of the loch. The ancient quarry had been dug right into this outer edge of the ridge before it flooded generations ago.

"What's your plan, son?" Hendry asked.

Hamish muttered, "I don't see how rope and a block of stone are going to stop anything."

Connor didn't speak until he reached the midpoint of the loch. Several hundred feet directly below where he stood, the brush-choked cave clung to the steep slope. Lower still, the stream that bubbled from the cave cut across the switchback road.

Connor turned to the others, "I'm going to flood the valley."

Hendry shook his head slowly. "I don't think it's possible, son.

"I have to try."

Stuart frowned. "I don’t get it."

"Do you know what that cave down there really is?"

Hamish spit out a rock he’d been sucking, "It’s supposed to be some kind of chute that cuts back up into the mountain. They used to slide cut stones down it from the quarry before it flooded."

"So?" Stuart asked.

"It’s blocked off," Connor said. "There’s a solid iron gate on the inside."

"That’s right," Hamish nodded. "You found it that time you climbed up in there."

Connor nodded. "I think it must be starting to rust. That’s why there’s a stream. Some of the water from the loch is leaking through."

"So?" Stuart asked again.

"I’m going to move the gate."

"You can't," Verena protested, her face pale as she looked down the long cliff face to the cave mouth.

"Of course," Hamish said. "If the gate’s moved, that little stream will turn into a flood and wash out the road."

"I’m hoping it’ll do more than that." Connor leaned close and whispered, "That chute’s close to three hundred feet down. There’s a lot of pressure down there. The water should come out pretty fast."

"Why are you whispering?" Hamish asked.

"Wolfram has Longseers. I don’t want them to hear."

"I don’t get it," Stuart said in a whisper, frowning. "How can you climb through that chute when we’re stuck up here. We can’t get down there fast enough."

"I can’t move it from the outside." Connor turned toward the cold, still waters of Loch Sholto.

Stuart stared from him to the loch and back again. His eyes widened with comprehension and he gaped. "You can’t be serious."

"It’s the only way."

"You’ll never swim down that far."

Connor pointed at the heavy rock Stuart had carried for him. "I won’t have to swim."

"You can't," Verena whispered again. "Please."

"I'm the only one who can."

"You'll die."

Connor cupped her face in one hand. "With your help, maybe not."

He reached into his nearly empty satchel and pulled out the quartzite block he'd used to run up the mountain and handed it to his father. "Dad, can you break off a long, thin chunk of this for me?"

"Of course." He took the block over to Stuart's big granite stone, and pulled his diorite hammer from his belt.

While his father broke the quartzite block, Connor absorbed the granite powder Hamish had collected from the block Stuart had blown up. The familiar itch of the Curse skittered up his arm and filled him with strength.

Verena dipped a hand into the loch and pulled it back immediately. "Connor, this water's freezing."

He grimaced. "I know. Wish I had some marble."

Hamish said, "Wait, I have a piece." He extracted a small stone from his belt pouch. "I've been practicing with marble ever since you shattered the Heatstone oven."

Connor took the stone, "Have you been sucking on this? No, wait. Never mind. I really don't want to know."

"Be careful, Connor," Verena said.

She kissed him hard and clung to him. Connor kissed her back, held her close and tried to memorize the moment. Her warmth, her minty lips, the salty tears on her face, even her sweaty scent. He held the memory in his mind as a shield against the fear that threatened to break his will.

This had to work. He'd studied the way water worked under pressure. With so much weight driving it, the water should cut the plateau and block access to Alasdair until the villagers could escape. If the loch emptied, it should flood the entire valley, making the ground all but impassable for Carbrey's army. Hopefully that would provide the excuse Wolfram needed to withdraw. Maybe then Carbrey's wrath could be sated.

Hendry returned with a thin piece of quartzite about six inches long. Connor handed it to Verena.

"Touch this, please. Just a gentle stream, enough to breathe."

She nodded in understanding, pressed the quartzite to her lips and closed her eyes in concentration.

Stuart said, "Somehow I don't mind when she does that." He punched Hamish lightly on the shoulder. "Not like when you lick things."

Hendry caught Connor in a fierce hug, and he returned it as hard as he could. Voice thick with emotion, he said, "Tell mom I love her."

"You tell her when you return."

Connor popped the marble into his mouth and wiggled it under his tongue, careful not to think about where it might have been in the past, and sucked deep. The spicy burn of fire radiated through his mouth, and he drove it down through the rest of his body where it poured warmth into his muscles.

Then he tapped granite, and the itch of the Curse intensified, skittering all through him, just under the skin. His muscles hardened and his skin deadened under granite's power.

Stuart gasped as he swelled, and even Hendry looked amazed. Hamish just grinned, and Verena kissed him again.

Nicklaus, who had stood silently watching the entire preparation, said, "Good luck, Connor. I like you. Don't die."

Stuart tied the rope to him with the same knots they used to haul heavy blocks of granite. Then Connor easily hefted the large stone Stuart had carried from the quarry, and faced the loch.

"When you see the water pouring out of the cave, pull me up."

Hendry and the others took up the end of the long rope. "Don't worry, son. We've got you."

Verena pressed the quartzite stone to his lips, and he clenched it in his teeth and took an experimental breath. The steady stream of air provided enough, although he had to breathe slowly.

Time to jump.

Chapter 92

The shock of the icy waters made him gasp involuntarily as he plunged through the surface into the eternal blue of the loch. The quartzite air tasted minty, like a lingering kiss from Verena, and the thought comforted him as he sank like a stone.

He shot down, quickly passing into colder layers of water until their freezing embrace felt like he was sliding down a column of ice. The outer cold fought to seep through the protection of his granite-hard skin, so he released a wave of marble heat through his body to hold it at bay.

Despite the bright morning sunshine above, he quickly passed into pitch darkness in the depths of the loch. He’d thought the Lower Wick had been dark when he’d hidden under the surface with Shona, but this darkness pressed upon him, magnifying the fast-increasing pressure. It shrouded even the quarry wall sliding past barely an arms-length away.

He wouldn't hit anything until he reached the bottom. He’d stared down into the pure, clean waters of the loch with the sun directly overhead many times. Some days, he could see all the way to the bottom. The wall of the loch descended nearly three hundred feet in a straight vertical cliff, marred only by chisel marks from their ancestors.

The pressure grew steadily against his ears. That was his biggest concern. He’d swum many times in the loch with Stuart, Hamish and Jean over the years and many times they dove deep into the waters. Connor was a good diver and had managed to reach almost thirty feet once. He’d almost run out of breath, but it was the terrible pressure that finally forced him to turn back. As he plunged through the darkness, dragged ever-downward by the weight of the boulder, he'd be plummeting ten times as deep.

What would the pressure do to him? Was even granite strength enough to protect against it?

Connor focused on breathing. The pressure mounted in his ears until it became painful. He'd never make it, not like this.

Then he swallowed a mouthful of saliva triggered by the marble in his mouth, and something in his head popped, and the pressure eased.

Connor tried again, and again the popping deep in his ears helped relieve the rapidly building pressure. He wasn't sure why, but as he sank fast in the stygian waters, he focused on swallowing between every breath, and it held the pain at bay.

It didn't help with the cold, though, that fought to breach the shield of his granite-hard skin and douse the marble fire coursing through his limbs.

Despite sucking more marble heat and driving it through his limbs, his hands succumbed first, falling numb in addition to feeling granite-dead, which was a uniquely disturbing feeling. If he lost his grip on the rock, he’d never make it to the bottom.

He couldn't vomit fire with the quartzite in his mouth, but as he sucked harder on the marble and increased the tap rate to force more of the burning power through his fast-chilling limbs, the fire seemed to burn inside him. He grimaced against the pain and willed it out toward his hardened skin.

Blistering waves of heat burned through his muscles. It felt like he was cooking from the inside out. He gritted his teeth against it, but did not relent. It hurt, but was better than the numbing cold.

He was not prepared to see living fire seep through his skin that burned as if he’d placed his hand on the cook stove. Flames flickered to life all along his torso, only to succumb to the icy waters.

In that second, the flames illuminated the grim, gray walls of the quarry slipping past. The sight unnerved him, but when the waters extinguished the flames and darkness again ruled, Connor desperately yearned to see that wall again.

Frowning with concentration, he willed the fire out through his skin a second time. Flames burst into life around his torso, ringing him in living fire. Again it illuminated the wall that he dropped past with startling speed.

Before the implacable waters of the loch could extinguish the flames anew, he replenished them, providing enough fuel to keep the flames alive underwater.

He had no idea how long he could keep it up before the marble extinguished. He only needed a few minutes.

Connor breathed slowly, deeply, but even though the stream of air continued unchanged, it seemed inadequate to fill his lungs.

How much air did this little piece of stone contain?

He decided not to think about that.

After sinking for almost a minute, Connor looked down, vainly trying to penetrate the blackness beneath his feet. The flames licking along his body illuminated little. He had to be close.

He had to know.

Doubling the tap rate, Connor willed the rush of piercing heat out his feet. His skin burned and he had to fight to keep from jerking his legs up in response. Flames blasted down below him in twin streams that bored a dozen feet down before succumbing to the icy embrace of the waters.