by Frank Morin
"I need them here. If Dougal and his soldiers start hurting people, we won't wait."
"I know it's hard, Connor, but you must. We'll have to plan carefully to deal with this. If elfonnel are raised, the area will be in deadly peril. Do you have your sculpted stones?"
"They're in the Swift. I thought using them was a bad idea," Connor said.
"Keep one handy, but make sure it's not marble."
"Because Dougal might raise a fire elfonnel?"
"No, because that's the only one that will tempt you with your second threshold, and you cannot risk ascending anywhere near Dougal."
"Another threshold?" Hamish asked, drawing closer.
Connor said, "I'll explain later. Kilian told me that trying to raise an elfonnel before ascending the second threshold guarantees a Petralist's destruction."
"These are the sorts of things we need to talk about sooner," Hamish grumbled.
Kilian said, "These are the sorts of things that kill people. We don't ever discuss them, and we never attempt to raise an elfonnel except in the most desperate of times."
"I'd say these times are pretty desperate," Jean said.
"Not enough to destroy Connor. A sculpted stone, either slate or quartzite, could tip the balance of the fighting in our favor, if it comes to that. But you cannot ascend again or raise an elfonnel. Either choice would destroy you."
"I won't," Connor promised. He had a reputation for dying for a good cause, but that didn't mean he wanted to kill himself. "But we are going to see if we can do something about the villagers."
"You can't attack until I get there," Kilian insisted.
"We won't pick a fight, but we might be able to do something," Connor said him.
"What?"
"We're still working on it. But make sure you get the biggest windrider you can."
"Why?"
"Because I think you should invite Ilse and the Crushers along for the ride."
Chapter Seventy-Eight
"The kite knows not whence the wind blows, nor wither it goes, but rises upon the currents, confident only in the string."
~Gregor
When Verena landed, Connor swept her off her feet in an enthusiastic embrace. They laughed together with the success of boosting the speakstones, but when Connor leaned in to kiss her, she pushed him back.
With that same infuriating hesitation in her eyes she said, "Not yet."
He wanted to demand, "When?"
That wouldn't help, so he released her. At least she'd hugged him instead of punching him.
Together they helped the others restore the thrusters to the Storm. While they worked, Connor considered and discarded half a dozen ideas for freeing the villagers. Every idea ended in pitched battle against Gregor, Aonghus, and the rampagers.
They returned to Lookout Rock to watch the end of the feast. Most of the villagers seemed willing to believe Dougal, and the festivities seemed far more boisterous than before. The table where their families sat, with a pair of soldiers prowling nearby, was a notable exception. Connor was just happy no one had been hurt or shackled.
"Such a waste," Hamish muttered.
"What?" Jean asked.
"They shouldn't have used up so much of the bacon."
"You're really cracked, you know that?" Verena chuckled.
"Bacon is a precious commodity, and they're wasting it on High Lord Dougal. We should've taken it when we were here last time."
"We did take the chisels," Connor reminded him.
Verena added, "Taking the bacon would have been downright barbaric."
Hamish sighed, "I suppose, but it's such a huge sacrifice."
Jean kissed Hamish on the cheek. "When this is over, I'll cook you a whole side of bacon."
"You really do love me."
Aifric spoke softly. "This is a nice town. Must have been good growing up here."
"It was," Jean said.
"Why bring that up now, when it might be destroyed soon?" Connor asked.
"I'm going to remember this place. Might even settle down here for one of my future personalities."
"First Alasdair assassin?" Hamish asked with a grin. "Sounds good."
"Don't get distracted," Connor urged them.
The problem was, watching other people enjoy a huge feast was not all that much fun. He tried to use the time to come up with a better plan, but all he managed to do was calculate that at least one ton of the bacon probably remained, even after all the feasting.
"Rampagers are starting to leave," Verena said a few minutes later, sliding one finger past Connor's cheek to point them out in a gesture that transformed into a quick, reassuring hug.
As Connor scanned the square again, his gaze was drawn to Stuart, who seemed to have grown a couple more inches in the days since they last visited. He was returning to his table with a basket of fresh rolls when one of the rampager women intercepted him and took the basket right out of his hands. When he protested, she laughed, her eyes glowing purple.
Stuart quickly retreated, and he looked like she scared the grout right out of him.
"They're so wild, even in human form," Verena whispered.
Connor nodded. "It's the porphyry."
"How are you doing?" she asked softly, pushing up her long-vision goggles to study him.
He hadn't disabled quartzite from his vision, and for a moment he couldn't speak as he drank in the sight of her. His gaze slid along the soft contours of her face and he savored the waving of her hair in the soft breeze as it caressed her cheek and throat. Then his gaze drifted to her big blue eyes, and his mind went completely blank, filled with nothing but the minute details of those beautiful orbs.
She tapped his forehead, shaking him out of his reverie. "What is wrong with you?"
"Sorry," he stammered, releasing quartzite so his eyes could return to normal. "Sometimes when I look at you with quartzite, I worry I might never look away again."
"You sure have a smooth tongue," Verena said with a soft smile. She kissed his cheek, but her expression turned troubled again, and she looked away.
"What's wrong?" he asked, hating that he wasn't sure how to reassure her, how to close the distance that he felt growing between them.
"Don't get distracted," she said softly.
"Verena. . ." The others were too close for the kind of heart-to-heart talk they probably needed, but he had to say something.
She gave him a serious look. "You never answered my question. How are you managing that hunger for porphyry?"
He admitted, "Some days it's pretty bad, although kissing you seems to help."
"Nice try," she said, but her smile looked almost sad. He'd thought that was a good one. Girls were so hard to understand.
"Have you been listening to what they're saying?" Jean asked, and Connor was happy for the interruption.
"Nothing too important. Lady Isobel and Lord Gavin keep asking for more money and new cutter tools. Captain Aonghus seems distracted by Moira, and most of the village seems to be enjoying themselves."
"Eating all the bacon," Hamish muttered.
As Connor focused again on the feast, he savored the sights of so many people he'd known his entire life. They seemed happy in their ignorance, choosing to disbelieve the Ashlar. They should trust him more than anyone.
Connor couldn't entirely blame them, though. They were powerless to change their situation, and no one challenged the high lord. For them, ignorance really was better.
High Lord Dougal retired a short while later, accepting Lord Gavin's invitation to join him across the Wick in the manor house. That might be the break they needed. Connor was even happier when Gregor and Aonghus and all the rampagers left with Dougal.
The Boulders spread through town, guarding the town gates and the long river wall. The villagers were essentially trapped. They didn't need close guarding.
Hamish said, "We should go. They put the bacon in Neasa's shop."
"We do need to warn our families and plan a way to evacu
ate everyone," Jean said.
The beginning of a plan was forming in Connor's mind. "Soon. Let everyone settle in and let the guards get comfortable."
"We have to get in there," Hamish urged.
"But we can't alert the guards," Aifric said.
Jean added, "And we can't fly. Even if you block the sounds, Aifric, I can't believe Dougal hasn't warned his men to watch the skies."
Connor said, "Gregor is across the river. The Wick will block his ability to easily monitor this side, and Alasdair is built on solid granite."
"Really?" Verena asked.
"That's where the original quarry was located, until they discovered the better quality white marble up the mountain," Hamish explained.
"So once we get into town, Gregor won't be able to easily sense us," Jean said.
"Even if he can't sense us approach, with Boulders on the wall and at the gates, it'll be tough sneaking in on foot," Hamish pointed out.
"I think there's a better way," Connor said as his ideas firmed into a plan.
"What way?" Verena asked.
"We'll use the underwater Slide."
Verena glanced toward the river. "That'll get us close, but we still have to get past the guards."
"We could use the Flood-Under," Hamish said eagerly.
Connor nodded. "That's what I'm thinking."
Jean explained to Aifric and Verena, "It's a small, caved-in section that tunnels under the river wall. It's a squeeze, but it's well concealed."
"Sounds good," Aifric said.
It took only a few minutes for Verena and Hamish to ferry them to the Wick, downriver of the scoured rock of Lord Gavin's plateau. Concealed from the town by the curve of the river, Connor tapped soapstone.
The smoothly flowing waters of the Wick felt like an old friend, and at his thought, the hull of the Slide formed by the shore. Its sleek lines would be all but impossible to distinguish more than fifty yards away in the fading twilight.
They settled the Storm and the Swift to the aft deck, then sat in the comfortable chairs that Connor formed closer to the bow.
"This is amazing," Aifric laughed as she bounced in her partially-reclined chair, splashing droplets of water but not getting wet.
"It wasn't so much fun before Connor got the hang of it," Verena said.
"Hey, I only soaked everyone once," Connor protested.
"Let's not do it again," Jean said.
"I'm sure he'll do fine," Verena said, her tone light, but her hand drifted closer to her satchel and the shieldstone in there.
"Are you sure it's a good idea to bring the flyers?" Hamish asked. He was leaning back in his chair, chewing on a smashpacked cube.
"We can't have them a mile from town if we need them," Verena pointed out.
"But they won't fit in the Flood-Under."
Connor said, "I can leave them concealed in the Wick if I have to. No one will find them there."
Silently, and with barely a ripple, the Slide began moving upriver. As soon as they reached deeper water, Connor drew them under the surface, and he exulted in the wonder of that unique form of travel. He cut the current in front of them, allowing the waters to part around them while they slid through the temporary hole.
Night was falling over the valley, so no light drifted down to the depths where they passed unseen upriver. They couldn't risk activating limestone and maybe alerting the guards of their approach. So they rode in darkness, with the softly-hissing waters passing close by on either side. The air dripped with humidity and carried the faint scent of fish, mud, and wet wood.
Verena slipped her hand into his, and he gave it a single, soft squeeze. In the darkness, it was too easy for doubts to begin forming, fears that they wouldn't get everyone out before the fighting started. Her simple touch helped bolster his confidence.
It took only moments to reach the town, and Connor slowed the Slide parallel to the river wall. He extended a protective sphere over them to keep the waters out now that they were no longer moving.
"Any sign we've been noticed?" Verena asked softly, her voice echoing in the little open space.
"I haven't sensed any Spitters," Connor said.
"How are you going to make sure no guards notice when we surface?" Hamish asked.
Connor had been planning to send up a fine mist to help him get a feel for the wall and anything on it. But then he got a better idea, something wondrous enough that it might impress the villagers into believing him again.
So he tapped slate and granite together. His earth senses felt nothing, entombed as they were in the heart of the river. He kept slate active anyway, then extended his water senses and easily mapped the nearby steep bank.
It was made of slick mud, but Connor drove slender fingers of water through. In only a moment he dug under River Road to the bedrock under the wall. There he touched the solid granite foundation of the town.
His earth senses dove into it.
Connor grinned as he explored the precious power-grade granite below the town. The original quarry had not been completely exhausted before the town began quarrying the purer granite higher up the mountain. Tapping granite along with slate allowed Sentries to walk through power-grade stone as if it was earth.
"We're not going through the Flood-Under."
"What then?" Jean asked.
Connor shifted the Slide close to the bank, but still a dozen feet below the surface. Focusing the waters into churning little scoops, he dug through the bank and scraped the mud away from a large section of the rough stone under the town. Then he parted the waters beside the Slide, forming a tunnel to the granite.
"What are you doing?" Verena asked softly. It was too dark for them to see, but they could hear the gurgling sound of moving water.
"I'll show you in just a minute.”
Connor seized the stone under the town, split it into blocks, and used them to form an archway wide enough for even Stuart to easily walk through. He tunneled under the town, pulling the excess stone out of the hole, using it to extend the tunnel out through the softer earth of the bank. He settled the extra displaced stones gently to the bottom of the Wick.
"Connor, are you going to explain those noises?" Jean asked, her voice a bit tense.
"Almost there," he reassured her.
In minutes, he excavated a tunnel deep beneath Alasdair. Then he slid their chairs off of the Slide and into the tunnel.
"Whoa, what are you doing?" Hamish hissed, and Connor could feel him gripping the arms of his chair.
Once they entered the tunnel, Connor drew some of the blocks into the opening behind them, sealing the exit so no light could escape.
"Verena, do you have any limestone handy?"
"I do, but they'll see."
"Not any more."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Jean asked.
"Why do I feel stone?" Aifric asked.
A small piece of limestone began to glow very faintly. Verena held it shielded in her hands and looked up, as if to make sure no one noticed. Then her eyes widened and she looked around in surprise.
Connor threw out his hands and declared, "Welcome back to Alasdair!"
"Where are we?" Jean asked as they all stared in surprise at the smooth, granite-lined tunnel.
"We're nearly twenty feet below Alasdair."
"Ah, Connor, you missed," Hamish said with a frown.
"How did you do this?" Jean asked, sliding one hand along the stone wall.
"It's power-grade stone," Connor said.
Hamish whistled softly. "And to think we've been living on a treasure trove all these years."
Verena increased the light from her little stone, bathing the tunnel in green-tinted light. "I'm impressed."
"How do we reach the surface?" Aifric asked.
Connor led the way through the tunnel, toward his home. With his slate and granite senses able to walk the stone, he easily mapped the surface. He stopped at the base of a stair leading upward.
"We'll come up und
er my family's living room. We can get everyone out without anyone suspecting a thing."
Hamish clapped him on the shoulder. "And since the guards are only patrolling the outskirts of town, they won't care if people go visit the Ashlar."
Jean gripped his hand excitedly. "Brilliant, Connor. Everyone will be safely away by morning, even if we take just a few at a time."
Aifric frowned at the tunnel. "Where to, though? Are you going to excavate more ground under here and hide everyone under the town?"
Connor shook his head. "Once they discover folks are gone, Gregor will search. No way I can shield everyone from him."
"So we take everyone out in the Slide?" Hamish asked.
"Sort of." Connor started climbing the stair. It ended in solid granite, but that plug was only a few inches thick. Once he pushed that away, all they'd have to do was break a hole in the floor. Hopefully his mother wouldn't mind too much.
"I'm going to make a tunnel through the Wick. Everyone can just run down to the point where we started tonight. From there, they can sneak into the bolt hole. That's solid rock, so Gregor can't find them. They'll be safe until we deal with Dougal."
"I like it," Aifric said.
"I'll need you all to help lead the groups," Connor said.
Hamish rubbed his hands together eagerly. "I wish I could see Dougal's face when he returns in the morning and finds everyone's gone, and we've taken all the bacon."
Chapter Seventy-Nine
"A murder of crows feasts only in times of blood, but the shaking of the earth cannot be restricted to a single mountain."
~Evander
Connor crouched at the top of the stairs, staring up at the floor of his family's living room. They had extinguished their light, but he felt the others through his slate senses, crowded close behind him. He had planned to just smash through the floor, but realized that was a bad idea.
How angry would that destruction make his parents? How loud would it be? If his family started screaming or shouting, would that draw the guards?
So he and Verena had arranged an alternate plan.
Connor drew a little water from the distant Wick, where the Slide was still drawn up next to the tunnel and the waters remained parted. If he released soapstone, the passage would flood and block the escape route.
