Set in stone, p.10
Set in Stone, page 10
"Time will tell." Ilse dismissed her and ordered, "Take ten bags of powder. Destroy the rest."
Shona glared. "You will regret that choice, woman."
Erich and Anika vaulted from the barge, lifted the extra bags of granite powder and carried them back to the boat. They slit the tops and dumped the powder out onto the river.
Ilse frowned as the powder spread like a white stain across the dark water and shook her head. "What a waste."
Connor fell to his knees and barely kept from being physically sick. It was worse than a waste. They were destroying weeks of hard work. They might as well be spilling the lifeblood of Alasdair onto the river.
The consequences would be dire. One shipment of granite blocks was lost twenty years ago, and the town had suffered for months. Wages were withheld, food rationed, and work quotas increased. People still whispered of those dark days when the curse of the Tallan hung over the valley.
The casual barbarity of these invaders reminded him why people feared them. He yearned for Shona's prediction to prove true, for High Lord Dougal's forces to kill them all.
Then he realized, with icy dread, they'd kill him too for agreeing to help the invaders. He wanted to beat himself with a stick. How could he be so stupid as to believe a bunch of Grandurians? He'd agreed to help the nation's enemies kidnap his own High Lord's daughter. He glanced at Verena, who stood a little to one side, watching the Petralists work. She'd lied to him.
Then it all made sense. Of course they couldn't go south back down to Merkland to find the pass to Granadure. They'd just come from there, bearing Shona away prisoner with High Lord Dougal's forces in pursuit. Downriver meant death.
Soldiers hoisted the heavy bags of granite powder onto their shoulders, apparently planning to carry them the long miles to the border. That casual acceptance of such a heavy load revealed much about them. The troop resumed their march upriver with Connor plodding along with leaden feet.
How could I have messed things up so badly?
Chapter 12
They marched on through the night, pausing only briefly to rest. Connor did not speak with anyone as he wrestled with what to do. If High Lord Dougal caught them, would he kill Connor outright or just withhold Patronage, which would result in the same thing? If he didn't catch them, Shona would be taken to Granadure to suffer . . . something, and Connor would never secure Patronage.
Either way, his life was forfeit.
The unfairness of it enraged him. He would not accept that fate. He'd worked too hard, suffered too long with the Curse for everything to end this way.
He had to find a solution.
After a time, Captain Ilse stopped in an open stretch of shoreline and looked out over the river. Connor followed her gaze, and gasped.
A man was walking on the water.
The moon had nearly set so very little light remained, but even after Connor blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn't dreaming, there could be no mistake. A man rounded the last bend downriver, approaching upriver with fluid movements, as if skating on the surface of the gently flowing river.
Ilse watched the man approach with a hint of a smile. The man skated upriver to the shore and stepped onto dry land. His hair was dark and he wore loose-fitting trousers and tunic over his lanky frame. A sword and long dagger swung at his side.
He stopped before Captain Ilse with a smile and made an extravagant bow that ended in a salute. Her voice held a hint of humor in it as she said, "Report."
"No sign of pursuit, Captain. They have gained no ground."
The tiniest of frowns crossed Shona's face, but quickly disappeared.
"Very well."
The man turned to Connor, who still stared open-mouthed, and laughed. "What's the matter, kid? Never seen a Water Moccasin before?" He spoke with only a hint of an accent.
Connor shook his head, not trusting his voice. His world had been shaken too much tonight already. Bruce had shared many wondrous stories about Petralists, but none included walking on water.
"Want to try?" the man asked, holding up a small flask. He gave it an absent flick, the exact same gesture some of the old timers used on their home-made ales to ensure the chunks didn't settle to the bottom.
Connor shook his head. "Why don't you just turn into a fish? Wouldn't that be faster?"
The man laughed. "Better yet, why don't we just fly over the mountains?"
Connor nodded eagerly. "You really can do that?"
"No, son. Where did you get such ideas?" The rest of the company laughed along with him.
Connor looked around, embarrassed. Only Shona and Verena didn't laugh, although Verena was grinning. Shona regarded him with a thoughtful, almost compassionate look. To have such a great lady see everyone laughing at him was too much.
"Bruce told me all about you Petralists!"
"And who is this wise mentor of yours?" The Water Moccasin asked.
"Lord Gavin's . . . guard," Connor said, realizing even as he said it how ridiculous he sounded. A fresh wave of laughter erupted from the group.
The Water Moccasin laughed the loudest. Finally he wiped his eyes and clapped Connor on the shoulder. "I needed that. I like you, boy. It is refreshing to meet someone so unconcerned with reality."
"Stop teasing our guide, Kilian," Ilse said through her own smile. "He's had a rough night."
Kilian shrugged. "Well, I can't tease you. None of you Rumblers will go near the water."
"You'll sink as fast as the rest of us when the time comes," Ilse said.
"But not tonight."
Connor studied the man. Such an ability must be amazing, but why laugh at his suggestion? Either they were lying to protect their abilities, or Bruce's stories were wrong. The thought was disturbing. If he couldn't trust what he'd learned from Bruce, he knew even less than he'd thought.
They thought him a fool, a simpleton. What did they know? They had no idea what he'd suffered.
Before he could formulate an angry reply, Shona spoke. "You do this lad a disservice. You should be laughing at yourselves."
"Why so?" Ilse asked.
"You call him fool and yet you follow him into the mountains, trusting your lives to his word. Who then is the fool?"
"Don't be too eager for us to fail," Ilse said. "You forget that should we find ourselves trapped, your usefulness might well run out."
Shona tossed her long braid over one shoulder. "You can't kill me. I am the only shield left to you against my father's wrath."
Kilian stalked forward, his face a mask of rage. "Pray, girl, that your father remains far from us, or I will boil his heart in his own blood for his crimes."
Shona met his angry glare with calm assurance. "We shall see who does what, lord water spider."
Kilian spat a curse in Grandurian and stalked back to the water. Without slowing, he strode out onto the surface, his steps changing to long, graceful slides as if he moved on a sheet of ice. In a moment the gloom swallowed him.
"Move out," Ilse said, and a now-somber group marched upriver again.
As they walked, Connor wondered, was he a fool for leading them out of Obrion, or for trusting them to let him go afterward?
Chapter 13
Near dawn, Verena trailed Captain Ilse into a small clearing dotted with young trees, and sank gratefully onto a fallen log when the captain signaled the group to halt.
They started a small fire and set up Lady Shona's tent. As the group ate, Verena approached Connor and offered to share her rations of dried meat and biscuits.
As he chomped angrily on the food, she studied him. This boy intrigued her. He appeared earnest, if surprisingly ignorant of Petralists. In Granadure, everyone knew about Petralists, at least about the powers manifest in the lowest threshold, but it seemed here that knowledge had all but disappeared. Or perhaps it had been snuffed out?
After all, they cursed the Tallan. What else might be true of the barbarians?
Lady Shona fit the mental image of selfish, evil Obrioners Verena had carried with her across the border. Surely High Lord Dougal would be an uncultured brute, considering the crimes he'd committed.
But Connor challenged the stereotype, and the honest goodness she sensed in him drew her to speak.
"Connor, please try to understand. We don't want to hurt anyone."
Connor nearly choked, and spat out the food he'd been trying to swallow. "How can you say that?"
"It's true," she insisted, startled to feel herself growing defensive.
Connor barked a laugh. "You kidnap Lady Shona, and then me. You stole all that granite from the barge. Do you have any idea how long it's going to take us to replace it?"
She hadn't really considered the impact to the locals, but then the rest of his meaning registered. "So, the Alasdair quarry you mentioned is the source of the granite?"
"Forget about the quarry. You've done enough damage. If you didn't want to hurt anyone, why'd you come here?"
"Because High Lord Dougal hurt us first," she snarled. Just thinking about it set her fingers itching to dip into her satchel for one of her stones.
She had pushed the far limits of the possible through her Builder experiments, and several possible tortures immediately came to mind. She'd love nothing better than to try them all on the high lord.
"What did he do?"
Verena wasn't sure where to start, nor how much he would believe, nor how much she could trust him. It surprised her how much she wanted to think well of Connor, but how could an Obrioner, one of the high lord's own subjects, prove trustworthy?
Before she could formulate a response, Captain Ilse called her to the fire. She couldn't just drop the conversation, so she whispered, "We just want to make things right. I'll tell you more later."
As most of them settled to the ground to get some sleep, the captain called out, "Purge powers. We can't afford to get sloppy."
Erich and Anika groaned where they sat close together near the fire. Each of them closed their eyes as if concentrating, and cupped their hands over their hearts. After a few seconds, they opened their eyes, brushed their hands on their leather trousers, and settled back down to sleep.
Verena found the ritual fascinating. As Captain Ilse and the other Petralists completed their own purging, Verena decided when they returned to Granadure, she'd ask one of them for a sample of the lamacal, the powder they brushed away that was the result of their purging. What might it taste like?
The Longseer, with her lovely, glittering eyes spoke in Grandurian, "Shall I keep watch?"
After a moment's consideration, Ilse replied, "No. Get some sleep. We may need you tomorrow."
Connor approached the fire. "What are they doing?"
Verena smiled warmly to help put him at ease. She wanted to continue their conversation, explore what it meant to be a commoner in this barbaric country. "Purging."
"Looked to me like you were praying to the Tallan," Shona said.
Captain Ilse said, "The Tallan is not one we pray to, only one we strive to emulate."
"You admit following the devil?" Connor looked horrified.
"He’s no devil," Verena snapped, amazed to find the rumors true. These people really had altered history almost beyond recognition.
"Right, and you don't want to hurt anyone," he snapped before moving away from the fire to lay down in the soft loam.
Verena watched him. Part of her still despised this nation and all who lived here, but now pity mixed with her anger.
If the high lord hurt Nicklaus, she'd use every trick, every bit of power she could muster to destroy him and everything he held dear. Hopefully Shona would prove an effective bargaining chip and all could be resolved peacefully.
If not, if the high lord stooped to hurting children, there would be war. She shuddered to think how the high lord's subjects would suffer for his crimes. She genuinely liked Connor, but as she stared into the glowing heart of the dying fire, she faced the hard truth.
If she had to, she would destroy him.
Chapter 14
Connor rolled to his side and studied Verena's profile. Part of him wanted to return to the fire and talk with her. Even though she was an enemy, he felt a deep curiosity about her and Granadure. Of all the company, he felt most comfortable around Verena, despite the lies.
Would he ever get another chance to learn about them?
Would they tell him the truth?
He was surprised to realize he didn't hate her. He should, though. They'd snuck across the border, invaded his country, and kidnapped Lady Shona. They worshipped the Tallan.
In the end, it didn't matter what he felt for Verena or her company. They were apparently too gifted in the arts of deceit for him to see through their lies. He was an inexperienced Saor-Linn who should be celebrating the Saorsa this very day. He didn't know enough to understand this situation.
He owed Shona his allegiance, but how could he help? He had to do . . . something.
But what?
As he lay pondering the question, Shona announced loudly, "I need to wash my face."
Ilse called from where she lay near the fire, "Someone bring Shona a canteen."
"I will not wash in your spit water. I will go to the river."
Ilse groaned and gestured to Anika, who had already sat up. "Escort her to the river."
Anika moved toward Shona, and once again Connor was impressed. She towered more than a head taller than Shona, and radiated raw power in her battle leathers. One of the soldiers stationed nearby proffered a leather pouch. "Need strength?"
Shona snatched the pouch and shoved her hand inside. She shouted with triumph and threw back her head, a look of ecstasy on her face.
Anika yanked the pouch away, and when Shona glared, she leaned closer and said in a soft, mocking voice, "Try make work. Maybe strong." She grinned and flexed her broad shoulders. "We fight."
Shona hesitated, clearly wrestling with a decision. Connor watched the exchange with interest.
What were they talking about?
After a moment Shona sighed, pushed past the bigger woman, and stomped down through the trees toward the river. Anika tucked the bag into her belt and strode out of camp after Shona. The other soldiers settled back again.
Connor looked around. No one was watching him.
He rolled silently to his feet and in three quick strides reached the deep shadows of a nearby bush. His heart began to pound as he slipped through the sparse underbrush toward the river. This might be his only chance to try to help Shona. He considered several ideas for dealing with Anika, but discarded them all. The problem was, she terrified him. Still, he had to try something.
Using every bit of woodcraft he'd mastered while stalking wily mountain goats through the Maclachlan Mountains, Connor ghosted toward the river. It was nearly dawn, and a hint of gray colored the eastern sky.
His hands started to sweat and he wiped them on his hunting leathers. His heart beat so fast he wanted to pant.
Just like stalking a nuall , he told himself. Of course, he'd only tried to stalk one of the giant, ferocious mountain cats once. It hadn't gone well.
Connor eased each foot forward, feeling for rocks or sticks while straining his ears for signs of his quarry above the constant gurgle of the river. Deep shadow cloaked everything, and the area smelled of pine trees and fresh water. He rounded a large boulder, and the river came into view, a gray ribbon that flowed through the impenetrable night.
Water splashed nearby and Shona said, "Didn't you bring a light?"
Anika chuckled. "Have light, yes. Have towel. Have hair brushing."
"You mock me?" Shona hissed.
Anika chuckled again. "You mock you. Very funny."
Connor followed their voices. As he drew within ten paces and crouched down beside a large rock, their forms became distinguishable. Shona knelt by the water, splashing water on her face. Anika stood nearby, her face and long blond braid shining in the darkness as she watched.
Connor felt around by his feet and located a fist-sized rock. He hefted it, getting a feel for its balance. Yesterday his aim had been perfect. Hopefully it still was.
Shona splashed again and then coughed, drawing Anika's full attention. Connor rose up, but paused with his arm cocked to throw.
He'd never hit a woman before. Anika scared him as much as her brother Erich. Worse, Connor wasn't even sure a rock would hurt a Petralist.
It had to be done. He tried to create a mental image of Stuart's face over Anika's. It wasn't too hard in the darkness.
Connor threw the rock with all his strength. It struck Anika in the side of the head and she toppled to the ground with a groan. Shona spun from the water and crouched in some sort of fighting stance, but remained silent.
Connor raced forward and was amazed to see Anika struggling to her hands and knees. He tackled her and drove her back down to the rocky shore.
She grunted with pain and then muttered something in Grandurian and pawed weakly at him. The blow to the head had clearly stunned her, but it should have knocked her senseless. Connor tried to hold her down, but couldn't bring himself to hit her again.
Already her struggles strengthened and she clawed at him and shouted something loudly in Grandurian. Connor slammed his knees hard into her back to drive the breath out of her, and ripped off his hunting jacket. He wedged one sleeve into Anika's mouth and tied it off behind her head. It wasn't the most effective gag, but it was better than nothing.
