Set in Stone (78 page)

Verena smiled, although her eyes glittered as if with unshed tears. "We call them Windriders."

"How is it possible?"

Verena patted the rail, "They're so new, we barely invented them in time for this excursion. Now that Builder powers are re-discovered, there's so much we're learning, but there's still so much we don't know yet."

"What else have you built?"

Verena tugged on another lever and the wagon banked to the right and floated down the street, over the wall gate, and out over Loch Wick. She adjusted their course and they began following the Upper Wick around the mountain to the north. The other wagons followed, shadowy figures only dimly visible in the concealing fog.

Verena squeezed his hand and, after a final look back, said, "This is just the beginning."

Hendry stepped off the lift platform with half a dozen men armed with picks and long-handled hammers. Stuart met them at the bottom.

"What did you find?" Hendry asked as the lift began the ascent for the last load of Cutters.

"Grandurians are all gone. I found sign of our families on the far side of the Wick."

Hendry breathed a sigh of relief. "They escaped."

"It appears so."

Stuart gestured toward the wall gate. "Sir, the village is smashed to pieces."

"Our families are safe. We can rebuild." Hendry fought down a wave of grief. They were safe because of Connor, because he'd been willing to do what no one else could.

He said, "Any idea where the Grandurians went?"

"No, sir. They're gone, with Hamish."

"They won't be returning."

"How do you know?"

"There is no need."

"What do we do now?"

"Post guards at both gates and up on the plateau, and let's see what can be salvaged. Our families will want dinner tonight. I expect Carbrey's army will arrive soon."

Stuart relayed the orders and moved off on his assigned duties. Hendry watched him for a moment before sighing and moving toward the shattered village.

He had to be strong for Lilias, for their family, and for the village. Hard times loomed ahead, but they'd see it through.

They had no choice.

Chapter 98

"Come," High Lord Dougal called. He sat in a comfortable padded chair in the simple sitting room in the Ashlar’s home. The solid man had insisted on offering his home for Dougal’s use almost as soon as he arrived in Alasdair with his army that afternoon.

Although battered by recent events, the house still stood, one of the few buildings not swept away or destroyed. Despite the Ashlar’s obvious grief at the recent loss of a son, he seemed a remarkably capable man.

It was a shame so many townsfolk died or suffered injuries, although reports credited the Ashlar and his wife with saving the bulk of the town. Their efforts, from everything he'd learned so far, were nothing short of heroic.

Then there was the young man, Connor. Dougal knew little about him beyond his name and accounts of his powers. It was enough. The lad was the right age, and from what Dougal had learned so far, he'd possessed the rare gift Dougal had been searching for these long years.

Carbrey and Shona entered the room, and Dougal kept his face impassive, despite a flash of anger. He would learn all the facts before judging, but initial reports suggested they both failed spectacularly.

Carbrey still wore his muddy uniform although he’d washed his face. Shona had changed out of her battle leathers and wore a green linen skirt and blue silk blouse. She’d washed, and wore a wide-brimmed silk hat to cover her shaved head.

"Any sign of Wolfram?" High Lord Dougal asked without preamble.

"None," Carbrey reported with a salute. He still looked angry, as if Wolfram’s escape was a personal insult.

He should look ashamed.

"How did he do it?"

"I don’t know," Carbrey said. He paced back and forth across the room. "I should have had him this time."

"But you didn’t."

Carbrey turned, "No, my lord. I did not."

"You’ve bungled a singular opportunity here, Carbrey."

"My lord," Carbrey said, coming to attention. "With all due respect, there was no way I could have foreseen the new weapons he used against us, and no one could have foreseen that wave. I still can’t fathom how Wolfram brought down the mountain."

"Perhaps not," Dougal said.

"I don’t know how he escaped," Carbrey continued, "but I cannot believe the fog carried them off like these superstitious villagers suggested."

"It does seem unlikely," Dougal said, "But we have no better idea, have we?"

"No, sir."

"And you have found no further information on how he weakened our Boulders?"

"No, sir."

"I must know this secret. We cannot meet them in battle with this threat unresolved. We are vulnerable, general."

"We know it is a stone," Shona offered.

"And how do you know that?" Dougal asked, turning to her. "Only through that boy, Connor."

"That boy," Carbrey growled, his fists clenching at his sides.

"At least the quarry is safe," Shona offered weakly.

"But we don’t know why."

"Of course we do," Shona said. "Wolfram flooded the valley to have time to get away."

"Perhaps."

"He threatened to flood the quarry."

"The quarry is not flooded."

Carbrey interjected, "Wolfram blew the mountain. There can be no other explanation. Just like the other tricks he played on us. I can't explain any of them."

"Neither can I," Dougal said. "That worries me." He rose and paced across the room. "If only I could get my hands on that boy."

"I've been wishing the same thing all day," Carbrey growled. Beside him, Shona sighed and touched her burned scalp.

"Not to execute him, you fool."

"You'd try to use his gift, even now?" Carbrey asked.

"Of course," Shona snapped before Dougal could respond. "That's what we should have done."

"He burned the secret, burned you, Lady Shona."

"It doesn't matter. Don't you see we made the wrong choice?"

"Yes, you did," Dougal said. "You had the Blood of the Tallan in your hands, and you threw it away."

"If only he hadn't made me so angry," Shona said, and her eyes glinted with the hint of tears.

"Only now you see what I've been trying to teach you all your life," Dougal said. "When you're angry you need to exercise double caution. You had the chance, my daughter, to stand among the great ones of history, but instead you proved unworthy."

Shona opened her mouth to protest, but he added, "You must learn to think like a leader, and not like a little girl, if you hope to take your place at my side. Leave me."

The two slipped from the room and he dropped into the chair, sighed, and clenched his fists, "so close."

Another knock at the door drew his angry glare and he snapped, "Report."

A soldier entered, "Lord Gavin’s servant, my lord."

Dougal sighed. So much to do. "Show him in."

A big man with a square face, short-cropped brown hair, and bright blue eyes stepped inside and bowed. At Dougal's gesture, the soldier left and closed the door behind him.

Dougal leaned back in his chair, "Tell me what really happened here, Bruce."

"I've never seen such a screwed-up operation in my life, sir, and that's a fact."

"And yet you failed to identify the boy Connor's potential, despite the years you knew him."

Bruce shrugged. "He hid the curse surprisingly well. I orchestrated his escape from Isobel, knowing he'd run downriver, but then the Tallan's fury broke loose here."

"Tell me what you know."

As Bruce talked, Dougal's frustration grew. For that gift to have been within his grasp, only to slip away again made him want to howl. So many years of work wasted.

When Bruce finished, Dougal said, "And you're sure about the other one?"

"Aye, m'lord. He was a Builder, sure as living."

He hadn't thought the news could be worse. Such assets could not be wasted! The board was set, all the other pieces positioned.

With those boys, everything would have been ready.

He hid his frustration from the spy, "You've done well. Return to your lord."

Bruce bowed and retreated, leaving Dougal alone with his thoughts as he considered his options.

Chapter 99

As night covered Alasdair with its concealing blanket, Connor slipped through the kitchen door of Jean's house. It stood virtually undamaged by the flood, one of the few, although Cliff Street had fared the best. The flood had removed the center of town, and much of Wall Street, leaving most of the rest of town heavily damaged.

It was a wonder anything survived. On the long trek upriver, Connor had been staggered by the utter devastation. Entire acres of trees were just gone, while the plateau and much of the long southern slope that had seen so much blood in recent days lay stripped to bare rock.

Torches lined the soldiers' barracks and the bare place that had been the town center. In the darkness, he could almost imagine the town still existed. Most of the villagers were already gathering in the center of town for the feast in honor of High Lord Dougal, although the fare would be simple.

Jean sat at the round kitchen table, slumped over her folded arms. At the sound of the opening door, she looked up and stared at him for a moment in uncomprehending wonder. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and her eyes puffy from crying.

He probably didn't look much better. He'd barely survived the flood, and he'd drained much of the remaining healing power from his pendant before feeling nearly human again. His clothes were ragged and torn, he'd lost one boot somewhere again, and he was caked in mud.

He smiled. "Miss me?"

Jean leaped across the room into his arms. They held each other for long moments, and Connor drank in the feel of her. She smelled of mud and river and Mhairi's tonic, but he didn't care.