No Stone Unturned

by Frank Morin

  "What?"

  "Ask him if he really killed Dougal's wife and Spit-nail Camonica's husband."

  "How know this?" Anika asked.

  "I hear things. Is it true?"

  She shrugged. "Many die in battle."

  "They weren't in battle. I heard they were studying the deep magic, and he killed them."

  "Why care? No is important."

  "It could be. I need to know."

  "No is important," Anika repeated. "If stay, if win, cannot escape evil plan. Breed for blood gift."

  "I'll leave before that," he promised.

  "Is dangerous game."

  "Tell me about it." Who was she to talk? She was standing in the heart of enemy territory and would be tortured or killed if caught.

  "No good thing take woman without even wrestle."

  "We do things a little different here."

  She frowned. "Yes, you bad ways."

  "Our country isn't all bad," he insisted.

  "Kill head of snake, can eat body."

  "I prefer to think I'm trying to start a change."

  "Revolution many good," she agreed, clenching her fist. "When decide come, we help. You die. Shona no your family hurt if you dead."

  Connor tensed. Hadn't she gotten enough fun beating him with that tree?

  Anika noted his response and flashed a white-toothed smile. "No we wrestle. I no kill. Not yet. You die on battle."

  "Dying on the battlefield won't help me escape."

  She gave him a mischievous wink. "Die but no die. Is fake. You leave. No you family hurt."

  That was probably the best plan for escape. He'd managed to die once before, and for a time it had allowed him precious freedom. It would take a lot to convince Shona he was really gone, but since the lie of patronage no longer held him to her will, it might be time to try escape by death.

  He'd have to die spectacularly to make it work.

  "I'll work on it," he promised. "Let me know if you have ideas."

  A knock on door interrupted her response. Connor rose to answer it, but Anika motioned him back down. "I pretend servant."

  "Don't hurt anyone."

  She made no promises as she moved to the door. If nothing else, her masked figure would definitely surprise any self-important high lord representative who might have talked their way past Tomas and Cameron.

  Anika opened the door and Connor's good mood vanished. No high lord stood there.

  It was Captain Rory.

  Chapter 50

  Anika's disguise didn't fool Rory for more than a single surprised heartbeat.

  She punched him in the face.

  Even as he rocked back under the blow, both of their bodies shifted with granite power. Rory's muscles swelled and the creaking of the leather plates of his battle armor sounded like the opening of Tallan's own fury to Connor. While the captain's skin faded to gray, Anika's faded to more like pearl. Her body shifted into the perfect lines of the granite goddess that had terrified Connor since the first time he subdued her in the dark wood beside the Lower Wick.

  Rory lunged, and Anika slipped inside his fist and tried to throw him. He was ready for the move and wrapped his arms around her waist. The two of them staggered into the room, grappling close together, straining to gain advantage.

  Connor absorbed granite, but as his curse skittered through his torso like a thousand itching insects, he hesitated. He didn't dare interfere. Either of the two could tear him apart in a head-on bash fight. What really gave him pause though was their expressions.

  Rory was openly grinning as he wrestled with Anika, and she started to laugh. Not an evil or triumphant laugh, but just a laugh of simple joy as she pitted her strength against his and they staggered together into the center of the sitting room.

  Rory grunted. "Give up, lass. No one to save you this time."

  Anika head-butted him.

  The impact tore off her mask and let her bright red hair spill down over her shoulders in an unrestrained wave. The sound of their rock-hard faces smacking together was like the sharp crack of a granite block splitting under the chisels of workers in the blocking yard. Although Rory looked unharmed by the blow, it must have shifted his grip a little because Anika twisted and, with a roll of her hips, tossed Rory over one shoulder.

  He sprang back to his feet, but she picked up a couch and clobbered him with it. Rory fell back over a padded chair, which splintered under his weight, and came up spitting couch padding.

  Anika blew him a kiss. "Come now, mine capitain, no fight so gentle. Prove me strong hands."

  "You asked for it," he said with a grin as he picked up an intricately carved cast-iron lamp and threw it like a javelin.

  She batted it aside, but the distraction cost her just enough for Rory to tackle her right through the mortared stone wall and into Connor's bedroom. Anika stumbled to the floor and Rory ripped off one of the thick oak bedposts and beat her with it until it splintered.

  Then he tossed her into the air like a child. In a move similar to one Tomas had once used on Ivor, he yanked her around by one arm like a weight on the end of a rope and drove her head-first into the stone floor so hard she shattered it, face sinking several inches.

  She lay quiet, and Connor approached, fearing Rory had actually injured her. Rory must have thought the same thing because he gently lifted her by the back of her leathers and brushed back her hair.

  Anika grabbed his face and pulled him into a fierce kiss.

  Rory's body stiffened with surprise and his grip loosened. She dropped to the floor and punched him in the mouth with every ounce of strength. The blow toppled him over backward and Anika grabbed his feet, spun, and launched him into the outer wall. He slammed into the solid stone with a resounding crash and slid down, head first.

  Anika stood in the center of the wrecked bedroom, grinning like a maid during the Sogail. "You good wrestle."

  Rory climbed back to his feet, wiping dust from his face. "You're a pretty good challenge too, but what did you do to your hair?"

  She frowned and lifted a lock to inspect. "We try brown but Erich no make good soup."

  He grimaced. "I hope it washes out."

  "Yes, wash soon but first break you heart."

  The two launched themselves at each other again, but Connor was ready. Their unique form of flirting might be great for them, but they were wrecking his rooms. While they talked, he had downed a vial of soapstone and drew upon the pulsing current of its elemental power to pull a thick stream of water right out of one of the giant tubs in his nearby training hall.

  Just as the two collided and began grappling in moves that Connor swore looked more like awkward embraces, he wrapped them both with the water and hardened it to ice. They ended up locked together, faces scant inches apart, unable to move. Neither of them looked too upset.

  "Connor, let us go," Rory ordered, eyes locked on Anika's.

  "I'm sorry sir, but you need to let her leave."

  "I can't do that."

  "You good wrestle," Anika said softly, then bit the end of his nose. "But I kill you before you make prison."

  Rory tried to bite her back, but couldn't quite reach. "Let me go, Connor," he snapped.

  Connor softened the ice around Anika until she could slip out, but didn't let Rory go. The captain started staining against the ice and it began to crack. Connor reinforced it with the extra water that had been holding Anika.

  Anika leaned close to Rory and kissed his cheek. "Erich must make duty of brother to defend mine honor. Will try kill you."

  "He's welcome to try," Rory said.

  She nodded. "I tell him. Try no kill and we wrestle again."

  "Go," Connor told her. Rory looked calm, but within the ice he began redoubling his efforts. When determined, he was a force to be reckoned with, and not even all that ice would hold him much longer.

  "Good bye, Connor boy," she said, then blew Rory a final kiss. "Goodbye, mine capitain."

  "I will catch you," he promised.<
br />
  She flashed him a happy smile and trotted out of the suite.

  Only after another full minute did Connor release Rory. The captain rubbed his numbed arms as he returned to normal size.

  "I'm sorry, sir but they'll be leaving soon and--"

  "Enough, lad," Rory said. "We both know they won't leave without taking you with them, or killing you. When she returns, I must stop her."

  "I think she wants you to try."

  Rory grinned and slapped Connor on the back. "Aye, lad. No doubt."

  His smile faded into a scowl. "Makes my job downright complicated."

  Chapter 51

  The next week passed in a blur for Connor, filled with personal training, army training, and meeting with his captains. Winning in the next battle would generate enormous momentum, but should he attempt to do that, or pursue Ivor's plan to upset the Tir-raon instead?

  He, Ivor, and Padraigin had tried to meet again to discuss more details, but Redmund had burst in on their conference almost immediately. His spies were getting better.

  Connor had downplayed their secret meeting, telling Redmund, "We were testing the effectiveness of your spy channels. Not bad, except Padraigin beat your time by almost two minutes."

  Redmund hadn't seemed convinced, but Ivor and Connor launched into a Sentry-speak contest that Redmund couldn't resist entering. He did end up winning, but Connor came in a close second when he declared, "The full measure of the wind is tested only when the mountain tempts the heights, but the treasure of a whisper is most precious over the scent of a fresh-baked cookie."

  Connor kept the thoughts of intentionally finishing in second place secret. He trained his army to win, and they made him proud with their progress. Could he really consider letting them down?

  He discussed the conundrum with Ailsa, but she only helped him see more of the potential benefits and the risks of both possible choices. Finally, she shrugged and said, "You alone must decide this course, Son. Think deep before you do. Are the risks of potential victory overshadowed by the dangers of intentional defeat?"

  While he mulled that over, his schedule grew busier than ever. Thankfully, Ailsa assigned her depressed student, Edan, to take over the daily rounds. So focused were the students on their preparations for the next battle, few seemed to even notice.

  Connor felt a bit offended by that. Did his work all season with the rounds, with sacrificing so much blood to Catriona's wrath, with betting at the Rhidorroch and training Striders to shoot account for so little?

  Through it all, he watched for signs of the broader struggle Evander had suggested they were waging. Searching for something before he knew what it was proved difficult, and added to his sense of growing frustration. The more he learned, the less he seemed to know.

  To lighten his darkening mood, Connor announced an impromptu Strider shooting day during the next army training. He loved firing arrows at Lorcc and the other fast movers of his army, and it warmed his heart to see how eager they were for him to shoot at them.

  He actually hit one young Strider. Everyone gathered around the sobbing student while Aifric tended to the arrow in his posterior. Connor felt bad, but the boy took so much grief from the other students for not dodging the arrow that he apologized to Connor for failing.

  "It's all right," Connor assured him. "I'll shoot you again some other time, I promise."

  The porphyry concealed in his suite was another constant distraction. He felt a surprisingly powerful urge to absorb some again, even though he knew that would be disastrous without Ilse around. Each day the urge grew a little stronger. He hadn't figured out yet how to reveal the secret without getting instantly buried by Evander. Nor had he figured out how to fake his death well enough to fool Shona and escape to Granadure.

  He spent a lot of time imagining different ways to die and how to pull them off, though. One time Aifric noticed his faraway look during one of the captain meetings while Shona and Catriona were arguing.

  When she asked him what he was thinking about he muttered, "Nothing. Just planning a fitting eulogy."

  "We're not dead yet," she whispered, and the intensity of her gaze surprised him. She was more complex than she pretended, and he was glad she was on his team.

  He drew confidence from the progress of his army. He'd pit his troops against any other army in a heartbeat, if only those troops didn't have so many Sentries. That was one of the strongest arguments for allying with Ivor and Padraigin.

  He was proud of Declan. The pudgy little Sentry had improved dramatically. He could already raise a tower as strong as any other student, and he was walking the earth with so much confidence, he almost spoke with Sentry-worthy roundabout obscurity. It looked like all he'd needed was a taste of success.

  As much as Declan was progressing, he could never hope to stand alone against the Sentries of the other armies. Maybe Connor could dress Ilse in a mask and battle leathers and sneak her into his army?

  He nearly laughed at that idea. No doubt she'd find a way to usurp control from him and send the entire army pillaging through the school.

  Of all his forces, Shona worried him the most. She treated him well, almost too well, during their meetings, and she followed orders without question when he posed as General Anxiety. She never mentioned Anika's visit to his suite, although Rory must have informed her of it.

  Either she finally believed he was fully committed to her, or she felt the threat posed by Ilse and her little company was contained. So he lay awake late into the night considering plan after useless plan. He couldn't wait. He had to come up with some solution, or Shona would own him.

  It was in that state that he stood at the head of his assembled army on a sunny but cool morning just over a week later, awaiting the details of the mock battle to be fought that day. Despite his best efforts, he had failed to ferret out any advance information about the upcoming conflict from Rory or Tomas or Cameron. They'd just smiled and said it wouldn't be fair to give him such an advantage.

  When did they start worrying about being fair? Their timing was terrible.

  When he'd tried asking Aonghus, the Firetongue had laughed and spat a ball of fire in his face. Camonica just looked furious.

  Donald, the leader of Rory's Striders, skidded to a stop in front of Connor and handed over the official declaration of battle. Connor thanked him and unrolled the parchment with his captains hovering eagerly over his shoulders. His heart fell through his boots and for the first time he was grateful for the concealing shield of his leather mask.

  Fearghas grunted. "Sounds pretty straight forward."

  "Agreed," said Lorcc who bounced in place beside the Blade. "I've run that plateau. Can't hardly call those ruins a fort. Ruined outer walls, barely a building standing."

  "The trick'll be getting in and out before the others," Heber said. "Even if they don't work together against us, this type of operation leaves us at a forty-three percent disadvantage." At the others' disapproving frowns he added, "Well, it would if we didn't have General Anxiety."

  The only thing abundantly clear to Connor was that the battle would be anything but straight forward. The battle plan sounded like the entire school was being mobilized to assault the very hideout where Ilse had told him she was using.

  How had Rory found out? Tomas and Cameron had never come to investigate his fight with Anika in Connor's suite, despite how much racket they made. Had they been tasked with tracking Anika instead?

  If Ilse hadn't abandoned that location, they were in for a very bad day. He studied the rules of engagement, and a plan began to take shape in his mind. Perhaps he could leverage his conspiracy with Ivor and Padraigin in a way to give Ilse and her team a chance to escape.

  "What's your plan?" Fearghas asked as they prepared to follow Padraigin's army east across the rolling plain toward a distant sally port.

  "I'll let you know before we arrive."

  The rules were fairly simple. They needed to race the other armies to the ruined fort in the ce
nter of the plateau and capture the standard flying there. They must subdue any defenders and turn them over to Rory's army, then retreat to their original starting position with the captured standard. Points would be awarded for completing each of the objectives.

  More important than how Rory knew Ilse was camped on that plateau was why would Rory risk the lives of the students by sending them to take that fort? Ilse and her tiny band would fight to the death before allowing themselves to be taken. The students' ignorance could very easily kill them.

  He learned the answer to that question when he reached the plateau and began leading his army toward the far northern edge. Rory's army already stood in battle formation on the plateau, barely a quarter mile from the dilapidated fortress on its low hill. At the first signs of resistance, they would swarm the hill and take Ilse.

  Why hadn't they done it yet?

  He glanced at Shona, and she smiled warmly. Did she have anything to do with the battle plan? Would she really risk his position in the Tir-raon to help arrange a test of his loyalties? He couldn't betray Ilse, but he couldn't afford to openly oppose Rory. He was grouted on both sides.

  Connor arranged his army at the northern edge of the plateau, closest to the towering bulk of Mount Murdo, but farthest from the broken-down fort a full half mile away. Directly across from his position, Ivor held the southern edge where it fell away into near-vertical cliffs. His army was positioned closest to the fort at just over a quarter mile. Redmund held the eastern side above more steep terrain, while Padraigin held the west, closest to the school.

  By the time Connor's army arrived at the fort, the standard would already be captured and Ilse's band would be discovered and subdued.

  "It's hopeless," Heber said nearby. "I can't make the numbers work in our favor."

  "What can we do, General?" Fearghas asked.

  Connor grinned, embracing the one insane idea forming in his mind.

  "We cheat, of course."

  Chapter 52

  It took only a moment for his disciplined troops to assemble as he commanded. He arranged the Boulders in a tight formation of four close-packed columns, with the Solas and his captains in front. The Striders waited in pairs twenty feet out from the Boulders. Declan stood at the rear, looking nervous but determined.