Set in Stone (75 page)

Chapter 94

A heavy rumbling rolled across the valley like distant thunder. Verena glanced over the cliff at Anika and the soldiers of her company, who paused to look around.

A solid wave of water burst from the small cave on the steep slope. It ripped bushes free by the roots and flung them out into space before arcing out from the cliff face in a majestic waterfall that splashed down onto the center of the road right at Anika's feet.

Mud and earth blasted in every direction, driven by the thundering waterfall, and the torrent tumbled her to the next switchback fifty feet below. She landed on her back and lay unmoving, while the rest of the company retreated from the sudden deluge.

Verena cringed at the sight. She really liked Anika, and didn't want to see the woman hurt, but her concern was swallowed up with a thrill of excitement.

"He did it!"

Beside her, Stuart pumped a fist in victory as the others joined them. As they all stared at the continuous torrent of water gushing out of the face of the mountain, Verena marveled at Connor's tenacity.

The water struck with such force that it had already gouged through the hard-packed surface of the road and was attacking the decomposed granite beneath. No one could cross that deluge, and soon the road would be washed out and impassable.

Hendry returned to the loch. "Let’s pull him up."

All of them, even Nicklaus, grabbed up the slack and tugged, but the rope did not move. They shared a look and, adjusting their holds, hauled on the rope. Still nothing.

"He’s stuck," Nicklaus said.

"Oh no," Verena groaned and peered into the depths of the loch, where the flames flickered, far dimmer than before. Fear for Connor's safety threatened to break forth into panic, and she couldn't think of what to do.

She knew why he risked his life. He'd never leave Alasdair without doing everything in his power to help his people. That tenacity, that integrity, attracted her deeply.

He was so special, in ways he didn't comprehend yet. She understood only a shadow of the truth, and that was enough.

"By the Tallan's grace," she whispered, "let him survive this."

Hendry dropped the rope and yanked the precious diorite hammer from his belt. He thrust it into Hamish's hands.

"Unleash its power, all of it."

Hamish paled. "I don't . . ."

"Do it! It's the only tool I can send him."

Understanding filled Verena with a glimmer of hope and she reached for the hammer, but Hamish took it. "I'll do it."

She barely restrained the urge to touch it, to make sure he did it right as Hamish concentrated over the hammer.

After a few seconds, his entire body shook, and his eyes bulged. Verena snatched the hammer from his hands as his knees buckled and he plopped to the ground.

"What is it?" Hendry asked.

Hamish stammered and pointed a shaking hand at the hammer. "We should turn that off."

Verena concentrated on the hammer, and lightning-like energy rippled through her from it, shaking her to the core. She'd touched diorite before, but never felt its power so strong. This hammer contained a concentrated supply of explosive power far greater than its mass suggested it should.

Hendry took the hammer from her, and she said, "I think maybe Hamish is right."

She wanted to help Connor, not kill him.

Hendry hefted the hammer and slid one hand across the unbroken end.

Then he sighed, and tossed it into the loch.

Stuart shouted, "What did you do that for?"

"It's the fastest way to send him help."

Verena scurried over to the edge and peered into the deep blue waters.

Did Hendry just help Connor, or seal his fate?

Connor tried to think through rising panic. With the quartzite gone, he'd soon run out of breath and drown, pinned against the huge gate.

He struggled to pull his legs out, but the current drove him too hard, overwhelming his nearly-spent granite strength. In desperation, he even tried to push the gate higher, but with so little granite remaining, he lacked the power or the leverage, and the gate remained stuck fast.

At that moment, his marble power ran out and the flames flickering along his body disappeared. Immediately the numbing cold of the deep loch attacked his limbs. It was so cold it burned, as if mocking him.

He wanted to scream. He hadn’t come so far to drown like a trapped rat. He doggedly struggled against the gate despite lacking the strength to move it. His hands became clumsy and his movements sluggish.

The rope tied around his torso went taut as his father and friends tried to haul him to safety, but their efforts were laughable against the tremendous current.

Connor leaned his head against the cold iron of the gate and considered his meager options, but only triggered a fresh wave of panic. He didn't have any options.

He beat against the unyielding gate in desperation, but he might as well try to take down the mountain with his fists. He felt for the sandstone pendant pressed against his chest and gentle healing warmth flowed into him. It didn’t help much. The healing power reminded him of his mother’s embrace. If only he could see her again, hug her, and tell her he was sorry. The cold water was making thought difficult and he had to fight to stay focused.

Something banged into Connor’s hip. He felt around in the darkness and found the heavy boulder he’d used to drag him to his death had slid across the stone platform and was now wedged against his hip as the water strove to drive it under the gate.

Connor’s lungs shuddered and he barely suppressed the urge to take an involuntary breath. He couldn’t hold out much longer.

If only he could apologize to his father for never being the son his parents wanted, for never being able to take up the diorite hammer after his father and become the next Ashlar.

Something struck Connor in the hip hard enough to draw his attention. He felt around in the darkness and found something jammed between his hip and the boulder. At first he thought it was just a rock that had been swept toward the opening by the current. Then his hand slipped further around it and he felt a jagged edge, and then a handle.

Connor clutched the diorite hammer to him, stunned by the magnitude of his father's gift. He glanced up toward the distant surface, filled with heartfelt gratitude and a spark of renewed hope.

The icy cold water slipped into his nose, nearly choking him, and he had to fight not to cough out the last remnants of air. His body tensed against the need to breath, to cough, and started to shake with the numbing cold.

He was nearly out of time.

At the edge of the loch, the group paused in their vain struggle to haul up the rope. Verena stepped to the edge of the cliff to check on Anika, and to relieve some of the overwhelming tension knotting her innards. Anika, apparently healthy, led her group back toward the plateau.

The torrent of water still ripped out of the cave and thundered onto the road. It had already cut several feet into the hard-packed earth, and a gap spanning a dozen feet yawned in the road. The waters cascaded down the cliff in a mighty waterfall that flowed across the road connecting the plateau with Alasdair before plunging off the western edge of the plateau above River Road.

The soldiers that had been moving toward town paused at the new river. Far to the south, Carbrey’s forces were advancing again.

Despite Connor's heroic efforts, the armies would still clash, Carbrey's forces would still reach Alasdair.

How could he die in vain?

Hamish shouted, "Connor is going to die down there!" He continued yanking despairingly against the rope.

Hendry placed a steady hand on his shoulder. "He'll make it. Pray he gets the hammer."

Verena did, with all her heart.

Chapter 95

Connor focused, and his numbed fingers closed around the handle of the hammer with agonizing slowness. Despite his awkward position against the gate, he raised it over his head and leaned as far away from the gate as he could against the powerful current.

He focused every ounce of remaining granite power into his hands, and the itch of the Curse intensified until he nearly screamed from the madness of it. His hands and arms deadened completely under its power, and swelled further with deadly strength.

With every ounce of it, Connor slammed the diorite hammer against the gate.

The rope whipped down, right through Hamish and Stuart and Verena's hands. All three cried out as it burned their hands.

Hendry did not let go. The rope yanked him off his feet and into the loch. As they dropped to their knees to help, he surfaced, spitting water, and grabbed handholds on the bank.

The water of the loch boiled around him and dropped twenty feet in an instant, leaving him dangling from his precarious handholds, his legs scrambling to find purchase against the slick granite walls.

Hamish grabbed one of his wrists while Stuart grabbed the other, and Verena pulled against his shirt. By the time he rolled up over the edge, the ground beneath them had begun to shake.

Only then did Verena become aware of the loud rumbling from the far edge of the cliff.