by Frank Morin
The rumbling of the earth intensified, and Connor caught sight of a fast-running form cresting the top of the steep, switchback road that led up to Quarry Road. He found a piece of quartzite in his belt pouch and wedged it into his cheek. Applying its power to his eyes, he easily recognized the girl racing down the slope at breakneck speed.
"It's Aifric!" Hopefully she knew what was happening up at the quarry on the other side of the mountain.
"Sounds like the fighting might not be going well," Dierk muttered. "I had to leave before that crazy Aonghus burned me out of the air. Might be time to head back up there and scout."
He pointed toward the windrider, which he had landed near the base of the switchbacks, about a hundred yards away. The shaking continued, and even though the plateau was basically one solid rock, it began to vibrate. With an ear-splitting crack, the face of the cliff above the plateau broke free and tons of rock thundered down.
"Go!" Connor urged Aifric uselessly.
She leaped the last fifty feet of slope, landed right beside the parked windrider, and outran the rocks, fracking and speeding away. The avalanche crashed down right behind her, shattering the windrider and burying in in tons of stone.
Dierk muttered a curse.
Connor said, "At least you weren't on it. I think we're past 'what if'. Everyone, get back from the cliff! Head for the river."
He thrust a finger into the pouch of stones at his belt and absorbed a hefty portion of granite. His lifelong curse skittered up his arm like a thousand insects, comforting him with its familiar maddening itch. Tapping a little to his tired muscles, he scooped Verena gently into his arms.
Aifric rushed up, looking terrified. When he started asking her to check on Verena, she waved away the question.
"We don't have time, Connor. There's a couple elfonnel dueling on the other side of the Torr! They've shattered the quarry and destabilized the entire mountain."
"What about Dougal? Did Kilian kill him?"
Aifric's expression turned grave. "Worse. The elfonnel he raised is a monster, Connor. She's Kilian's mother. She took Dougal and triggered that earthquake."
"What?" Connor and Hamish exclaimed together.
"I don't have time to explain, but she makes Dougal seem like an old friend." Aifric gripped Connor's hand. "Connor, you don't understand. She's shaken everything. I've never heard sounds like this, coming all the way up from the depths. This entire valley is going to shake itself apart. We have to get out of here."
"How? We can't fly," Hamish said, picking at the remnants of his suit.
"We do have the Storm," Jean said, pointing toward the south end of the plateau.
"Wish I'd parked on that side," Dierk muttered.
"Go get it, quick!" Connor said.
Jean and Hamish took off in that direction. The Storm could carry only a few to safety. Hamish or Dierk could take Verena and the other injured north. They could reach the army with all those Healers in a matter of hours.
What to do with everyone else, though?
"Come on. We need to get farther from the mountains," Connor said. "We need to get across the Wick and out into the valley."
As the villagers and soldiers gathered the wounded and followed him toward the river, the shaking of the ground grew worse and it became hard to stand.
Lilias suddenly gasped, one hand going to her mouth as she pointed northwest, toward Alasdair. "The torr's coming down!"
With a groan like the death-knell of the heart of the mountain, the face of the cliff of Wick Torr broke free. Almost in slow motion, it fell with ponderous majesty through the bright moonlight. It crushed the town and buried Lock Wick in a thundering avalanche of stone.
As one, the villagers cried out in anguish at the sight of their destroyed home. Connor shouted with them, his heart breaking at the sight. They'd fought so hard to stop this disaster, but they'd failed.
His parents clung to each other, tears in their eyes, expressions grief-stricken.
"Must move faster," Aifric urged, but running was impossible on the shaking ground.
"Where's Kilian?" Connor asked.
"Raised one of those elfonnel."
"He'll deal with the other one, and I'm sure he'll be fine, but we have to get out of here."
All of the mountain was shaking, with stones cascading in sheets down the slopes. Standing on the plateau, with Mount Alasdair and several smaller mountains flanking it, including the Torr, they were still far too close. Any second, they could get swallowed up in a major avalanche.
Most of the villagers weren't ready to move. They were pointing at the devastation, shouting with anguish. Connor wanted to take a minute to just hug everyone he knew, to try comforting them in that moment of ultimate disaster, but they didn't have time. At least the people were safe, but if they didn't move, they wouldn't be.
Connor tapped soapstone and seized the waters of the Wick, which were churning from the earthquake and responded to his call like a skittish horse. Connor tried shouting directions, but couldn't be heard above the grinding of stones and thunder of rocks.
Clouds of debris and dust were billowing into the air, obscuring the valley in a sinister, black cloud. The dim illumination of the stars and moon winked out, and Mattias's brightly glowing face became a blur in the thick dust.
A deep rumble of sound began building up on Alasdair peak. It sounded like the mountain was coming down.
It would sweep them all away.
Connor yanked on the waters, drawing them around and under his terrified, screaming people and lifted them off the rocks. Many flailed with fear, but he didn't have time to explain or be as gentle as he wanted.
Trying not to hurt anyone, he massed everyone together and drove the entire group off the edge of the plateau. Instead of following the path of the Wick, which ran close to the danger of the mountains, he yanked waters from the river and drove the group out into the valley.
Seconds later, the plateau was buried in a landslide a hundred yards deep as the mountain collapsed. The shaking grew worse and the sound of snapping rock and thundering landslides threatened to overwhelm Connor. He caught only glimpses of the disaster through the billowing darkness, but felt it through the waters as the avalanche consumed the Wick.
He breathed a sigh of relief as the Storm emerged from the billowing cloud that obscured the stars and plunged the valley into pitch black night. Hamish had activated several pieces of limestone, and the craft blazed like a miniature sun. Mattias called forth another huge light in the air over their company, bright enough that it illuminated the clouds of dust.
Once they were out of immediate danger, Connor slowed their movement and solidified the waters under them. He shifted Ilse and Lukas closer to him so they could confer. Hamish settled the Storm to the waters nearby, and Connor placed Verena gently into the back. Aifric climbed in to check on her, and Jean oversaw the loading of the other wounded. Soon they packed the Storm.
Connor called the leaders of the group to him. The Crushers helped keep the press of frightened villagers at bay.
"We're not safe here," Ilse said. "The earth is reeling like a drunkard. I've never felt anything like it. Walking this earth right now is perilous."
"Where can we go?" Aifric asked. "There are mountains on both sides of the valley."
"North would be best, but I don't think we can cross Mount Ingram with everything shaking like this." Connor decided.
Ilse said, "I agree. We need slate to move fast enough to escape the disaster, but the mountains to the north are completely destabilized."
As if to punctuate her words, the night rang with the heart-stopping rumbling of falling stone. It sounded like Wick Torr, or even Mount Ingram itself had just collapsed. New clouds of dust billowed across the valley, growing so thick it became hard to breathe. Mattias's blazing light looked wan and weak twenty feet in the air.
Connor accelerated their watery ride deeper into the valley, but that wouldn't save them for long.
; "The mountain came down," Ilse said, her expression more afraid than he'd ever seen. "But the shaking is still building. This entire valley will be buried soon. We have to tempt slate. There's no other way to get out of here fast enough."
"We can take groups in the Storm," Hamish said.
Jean nodded. "We can find Wolfram and return with some windriders."
"That'll take too long," Connor said. "I do need you two to get out of here in the Storm. Take Verena and the wounded to Wolfram. Dierk should go too. Get some windriders and try to find us. In the meantime, the rest of us will head over the lowest peak of the western rim of Alasdair Valley. We might make it to Drumwhindle plain."
"You mean to go through Badurach?" Ilse exclaimed. "Are you cracked? The entire Obrioner army is massed there."
"Do you have a better idea?"
Lukas blew out a breath. "When you put it that way, I vote for glorious death in battle against a force a thousand times larger than ours over getting buried alive here."
"I appreciate your optimism," Connor said.
Ilse asked, "How do you mean to get there? Even if the mountains weren't tearing themselves apart, carrying this many people over those peaks would strain the mightiest Sapper. Neither you nor I can do it."
Connor smiled and reached into the special pocket of his battle jacket where he kept the sculpted stones Ailsa had gifted to him. He extracted the exquisite slate tower. Just touching it connected him with earth, and he gasped as his senses radiated into the ground.
Ilse was right. The valley was shaking as if in death throes, and he could feel the very roots of the nearest mountains quivering as those peaks shook themselves apart.
He handed the sculpted stone to Ilse. "Actually, I think you can."
She reached for it with reverence, her hand actually shaking, but snatched her fingers back. "You're Blood of the Tallan, boy. This was gifted to you, so you should use it."
Connor shook his head and pressed the stone into her hand. "I'll support you and help in every way I can, but I need you to do this. I'm exhausted, and you're more experienced walking the earth. It has to be you."
She took it and grinned. "If you think I'm going to turn this treasure down twice, you're more cracked than that Builder friend of yours."
Connor pulled a little piece of slate out of his pouch. He lacked boots to slip it into, so he crouched and pressed a hand to the earth. "I'm going to see if there's anyone else in the valley we need to pick up on our way out."
"Lord Gavin and Lady Isobel," Hamish said, then frowned. "If their manor house isn't buried yet. It seems wrong to save them, though."
Jean said, "We should save Moira. So that means her parents too."
"If that shrew tries scolding me, I can't promise I won't leave her perched on top of a mountain somewhere," Ilse warned.
"Fair enough. Let's do it."
Chapter Eighty-Eight
"That which was sundered may yet be repaired, and those lost may return to the fold. Morning breaks only after the darkest of the night, and rejoicing may indeed replace mourning."
~Evander
"Badurach Pass," Ilse said with a tired smile.
"On this side, it's called Drumwhindle," Connor reminded her.
She grimaced. "I can't say that word with a straight face.”
"Fine, call it Badurach. You've earned the right."
They'd escaped Alasdair with nearly every living soul, including Lord Gavin, his family, and all of Dougal's Boulders Connor had knocked over the wick. It seemed weeks ago, not just a single, long night.
Connor had carried the group across the shaking valley on a sliding sheet of ice, with destruction chasing them the entire way. The ominous thunder of falling rocks as the mountains tore themselves apart was made worse by the darkness.
Ilse had taken over when they reached the western slopes, but even with the sculpted stone, moving several hundred people over that rugged terrain had been harrowing. When the western hills had begun to collapse, Ilse had nearly lost control.
With Connor's help, and by consuming nearly all of the sculpted stone's incredible power, she held on. They finally made it across one crumbling saddle between two peaks shortly before those mountains collapsed back into the valley they had just escaped.
Now they stood atop a wide shelf of stone near the summit of a mountain along the eastern edge of the high plain that ran north up to the jagged stump of the once-mighty Drumwhindle Pass. It had survived the battle, the assault by Redmund-turned-elfonnel, and even the enormous Last Word explosions. Some time in the previous night, it had succumbed to the widespread earthquake.
The cold air cut right through Connor's battle jacket and reminded him that his pants were still little better than rags. At least someone had found a pair of shoes that fit him in one of the farmhouses they paused at to pick up more refugees. Everyone else huddled far back from the edge, resting and sharing a meal of meager provisions some of the villagers had brought along from the bolt hole.
"Something's coming!" Stuart shouted from where he stood guard at the northern edge of their little safe haven.
That couldn't be good. The only people who could scale that mountain would be Petralists.
"What does it look like?" Connor asked as he and Ilse jogged over to Stuart. Lukas followed, and the Crushers rose and reached for weapons.
Stuart pointed northeast, up toward the ultimate peak of the mountain. A dim form, back-lit by the morning light, was flying over the peak, wreathed in flames.
"Is it an elfonnel?" Stuart asked nervously.
Connor already had a piece of quartzite in his cheek and focused on the distant figure. He breathed a sigh of relief.
"No. It's Kilian."
"Tallan be praised," Ilse said with a relieved sigh.
Stuart gave her an incredulous look. "Leave the Tallan and Kilian both well away from here."
"It'll be all right," Connor reassured him.
He shared Ilse's relief. He had told himself many times through the long, terrifying night that Kilian would be fine. He knew how to raise an elfonnel and how to return. He'd done it before.
But when the shaking continued hour after hour, and entire mountains fell behind them, he had started to worry. Even the mighty Kilian might be consumed by such a catastrophe.
Kilian landed nearby, his face haggard, dark circles under his eyes. His flames winked out immediately. He took one staggering step toward them and muttered, "I feel terrible."
Lukas caught him as he collapsed. He gently lowered Kilian to the cold stones as Connor and the others gathered around.
"Is he all right?" Ilse asked.
Connor tapped healing power from his sandstone pendant. It was looking decidedly worn from its recent heavy usage. He poured healing power into Kilian and scanned for injuries.
Kilian seemed whole, but every muscle quivered with exhaustion so deep, it was a marvel he hadn't collapsed hours ago. Connor eased his aches, and Kilian breathed easier.
After a moment, Connor sat back and said, "He'll be fine. He's just exhausted. Let him sleep."
Lukas went to fetch him a blanket and Ilse gestured toward the Obrioner army massed along the northern edge of the distant plateau, blocking the pass. "Do you have a plan for getting through that?"
Connor said, "Even though the pass is partially collapsed, it still looks like there's a path through. Unless you want to risk trying to bridge the chasm."
Ilse shook her head and considered the tiny remnant of the once-beautiful slate tower. "This stone is all but spent. It'll barely last long enough to get us down there. This far out, the ground's no longer shaking, but spanning that chasm will challenge my remaining strength."
"And as soon as we try, we'll have Petralists from both armies coming to stop us," Connor agreed.
He suppressed his frustration. They had made it through the mountains, but now had to escape Obrion. Connor had kept a constant eye toward the northern sky, but had not seen the hoped-for windriders comi
ng to rescue them. Even if the windriders came, would they know to look for them so close to the Obrioner positions? Connor didn't want to fight through the army. Could he talk his way through?
Then he got an idea and checked Kilian's pockets.
He found a speakstone.
Connor hefted it triumphantly and held it close to his mouth. "Hamish? Dierk? Can anyone hear me?"
Nothing.
Ilse drew close, her gaze locked on the stone. "Tallan's blessed memory, we could use a spot of luck right now."
Connor tried every thirty seconds for the next several minutes, wishing Hamish was there with some extra quartzite blocks to strengthen the signal. They were high enough on the mountain that the signal should be reaching into Granadure, but he had no idea where Hamish or Dierk might be.
As much as he hoped to hear them respond, he really longed to hear Verena's voice. Worry for her had eaten at him ever since he'd watched the Storm disappear into the night sky hours ago. Would she be all right? Had she awakened?
Would she ever?
The thought of never seeing her bright blue eyes or hear her silvery laughter again made him want to curl up and cry. He'd sent Mattias along with Aifric in the Storm to watch over her.
Wolfram would surely see to Verena's safety, but Mattias would no doubt leverage all of his connections to help heal her. Connor hated having to rely on his cursed rival, but he'd do anything to save Verena.
If she had awakened, would Mattias's glowing smile be the first thing she saw? Would Connor's absence give Mattias the chance to solidify his hold on her heart?
A voice issued from the speakstone, snapping Connor out of his worried reverie. "Connor?"
"Hamish? Is that you?" Connor cried, holding the stone close and shouting into it.
"Me and Dierk both, with a whole squadron of windriders in support. Where are you?"
Ilse clapped Connor on the shoulder and raised her fist in victory. He mimicked the move, then shared their position with Hamish.
"We'll be there in a few minutes." Hamish's happy tone turned grave. "Connor, we just flew over Alasdair Valley. It's gone. Wick Torr, Mount Ingram, Mount Alasdair, they're all flattened. The river's gone, and the valley is filled with rubble. It's like Alasdair never existed."
