by Frank Morin
"They covered it up," he exclaimed after another moment's study.
"What?" Verena asked.
He pointed at the plateau. "They covered up the basements with a screen of rock."
"Why would they do that?"
"I have no idea."
Verena banked the Swift closer to Hamish so they could ask Jean about it, but Connor noticed a pair of figures standing on a ledge on the flank of Alasdair Mountain, which rose above the plateau. Half of the steep, front face of that slope was simply gone, destroyed by Connor's flood. A new switchback road had been built up the remaining steep section to connect to Quarry Road, which led around to the back side of Wick Torr to the quarry on the opposite side of that peak. Two boys from town were standing at the summit of that switchback road, waving a lighted torch.
"Even more interesting, why do they have scouts posted on the mountain?" He pointed.
"We could go ask them what they're doing," Hamish suggested.
"They're warning the town of our approach," Verena said.
"How do you know?" Hamish asked.
"It's the only thing that makes sense."
"I wanted to surprise them," Hamish grumbled.
He accelerated into a long, shallow dive toward the town, which was just coming into view. The north edge of the plateau connected with the towering cliff of Wick Torr, and a road descended from there toward the town, which was built right beneath the massive cliff.
As Verena accelerated after Hamish, Connor drank in the sight of the town. Where Lord Gavin's plateau was a scarred ruin, Alasdair looked intact and full of life. The light of the morning sun, just cresting the distant eastern mountains, illuminated the town in full morning glory.
The last time Connor had seen Alasdair, it had been a gutted ruin, swept clean by the flood. Now the township, enclosed within the solid granite outer walls of the original quarry, was packed with buildings and people.
Alasdair stretched for just over a quarter mile, with Market Street splitting it down the middle between East Gate and the distant Wall Gate. Three other streets paralleled Market Street, with avenues linking them together and breaking the town into regular blocks.
Thankfully he saw no signs of damage from the recent earthquake. People were moving about, but not in their usual early morning patterns. It took him a moment to realize what they were doing.
They were preparing for battle.
The truth shocked him. Men were rushing toward both gates. Women and children were massing in several groups along Wall Street, preparing ladders to scramble over the long river-facing wall to escape the town.
"They think we're coming to attack," Connor exclaimed.
Verena repeated his words to Hamish through her speakstone.
Hamish slowed to a hover to let them catch up. "Jean, why didn't you warn us about their new signal lookout? They're going to be in a panic. They don't know it's us."
"I didn't know. None of this was in place when I left."
Connor said, "Well, let's get down there and calm them down."
As they resumed their dive, Connor decided it was good the townsfolk were ready to act. It looked like armed conflict had indeed created change in Alasdair. He hoped that meant they'd be willing to see reason and recognize the danger that might already be moving against them.
"Where do you want to land?" Verena asked as they swooped toward the town and the men massed at East Gate.
"Just outside the gate."
His father, Hendry, stood in the center of the assembled men, the Ashlar hammer held comfortably in his hand. The sight of his dad filled Connor with joy. His father looked the same. Perhaps with a few more worry lines, but just as calmly capable as ever.
To either side, the strong men of Alasdair stood ready to meet the threat, hefting axes, hammers, and even a few spears. Half a dozen others, carrying bows and quivers laden with arrows, were scrambling onto roofs with the best field of fire.
They landed together about fifty feet from East Gate. Connor didn't wait for the Swift to touch down, but leaped off and rushed toward the waiting villagers. Jean slid off of Hamish's back and outran him, her long blond hair streaming out behind.
They recognized her immediately and Hendry called, "Jean? Is that really you?"
Connor waved, drawing his father's attention. "Dad!"
"Connor!" His father shouted and broke into a run.
Chapter Six
"A brick may build or destroy, but the hand that throws it chooses to make it a missile."
~Evander
As Connor ran to meet his father, Hamish launched back into the air and soared overhead, shouting, "Hey, dad!"
He waved so hard with his helmet that he nearly knocked himself out of the air. He collided with his father as he landed and the two of them nearly went down together. They hugged and laughed, breaking the grim mood at the gate.
Connor met his father in a fierce hug about twenty feet from the gate, and for a moment, all was right with the world. When his father finally eased his hold, he pushed Connor back and gripped his shoulders with powerful hands. He looked close to tears. The two of them began laughing and talking at the same time.
"Connor! It's so good to see you, Son. Your mother will be so excited to see you."
"Where is she?"
"She's leading one of the run groups. That reminds me. We need to send the all clear signal."
Hendry waved at one of the old timers, a wizened fellow named Clifden, who stood atop the wall beside the gate. The man acknowledged with a smart salute and a gap-toothed smile. Then he raised his bladder pipe to his lips and blew a piercing, descending scale.
"What is that thing?" Verena asked as she joined them, wincing at the sound. "What a strange instrument."
She was right. The bladder pipe was a long, straight, wooden instrument, with the reed at the top enclosed by a pig bladder. When Clifden blew into the bladder it inflated, creating a sort of air reserve that provided a constant flow down through the instrument. The bladder pipe made a loud, distinctive sound, kind of a screeching younger cousin to the big bag pipes used by the hillmen south of Merkland.
"Clifden hasn't gotten to play so much in years," Hendry said with a smile. "Assigning him the task of town signaler was your mother's idea."
"Dad, you might remember Verena," Connor said, suddenly nervous as he made the introduction.
His father gave her a smile and extended a hand in welcome. "How could I forget?"
Verena ignored his extended hand and hugged him instead. "It's good to see you again, Ashlar."
Jean joined them, and Hendry hugged her in turn. "It warms my heart to see you again, lass."
Jean beamed. "It's good to be home, even if only for a little while."
Hendry's smile faded. "Let's not talk of leaving till later."
Connor asked, "Is everyone all right? We felt the earthquake downriver."
Hendry nodded. "Fine. All fine. The earthquakes are strange. Started not long after you left, but most have been small. This morning's quake was the strongest yet." He gestured toward the nearby towering cliff. "Even dislodged a few rocks from the torr, but nothing serious."
Connor shuddered to think what might happen if the cliff broke free. It could flatten the town and kill everyone in one tragic moment. He'd grown up in the shadow of the torr and had always felt its looming presence a comforting shield against the fierce storms that raged down from Mount Ingram. Now the huge cliff held a sense of new menace.
"I'm glad everyone's all right," he said.
"The town is secure," his father assured him. "The only tangible result of the earthquakes is a strange cracking that began in the floor of the quarry after the last one."
Connor asked, "How can the quarry floor crack? It's solid granite."
His father shrugged and turned, draping his arms across Connor's and Verena's shoulders. "It's nothing to worry about, Son. With the war looming and rebuilding costs to help defray, quotas are higher than ever. We have
n't bothered to cut out the weakened areas yet."
They didn't have time to discuss the quarry, quotas, or anything else. A crowd of eager villagers swarmed around them, and Connor spent the next several minutes greeting everyone and fielding dozens of questions. His parents had maintained the lie that he had died in the flood, even though Dougal knew the truth.
Some villagers stared at him with awe, and he heard several whisper, "Guardians" or "curse". He gave vague answers to their many questions as the happy crowd moved into the town proper, down Market Street, and poured into the central square.
Word of their arrival had already spread across the town, and villagers flooded into the square from every side in a joyous wave. It felt great to be home, and Connor was thrilled to see how much of the town had already been rebuilt. New shops lined Market Street, and he glimpsed rows of new homes beyond. Alasdair had risen from the dead even more dramatically than he had.
Everywhere he looked, Connor saw faces he'd known his whole life, and he felt a deep sense of contentment as he exchanged enthusiastic greetings with friends and old neighbors. Hamish's laugh rang above the crowd, and at one point he rose into the air, thrusters lifting him and four of his younger siblings, who shrieked with delight as they clung to his shoulders and back. The youngest was already pulling a breadstick out of one of Hamish's waist pouches.
"Tallan's hoary toes, how is he doing that?" Clifden exclaimed, making a warding gesture with his bladder pipe.
"It's powered by Builder magic," Connor explained.
Clifden huffed and sidled farther from Hamish.
Jean was nearly overrun by enthusiastic villagers. Her only family was her grandmother, Mhairi, but everyone loved her.
"Connor!" His mother's voice cut through the din and Connor turned to see Lilias barreling through the crowd, followed by his younger siblings.
He rushed to her, grinning so wide it felt like his jaw might split, but at the same time, he found it hard to speak. His mother gave the best hugs in the world, and she had been saving up. Connor could have enjoyed that embrace for a lot longer, but his younger siblings tackled him, shrieking with excitement, and clamoring for attention.
Blair had grown a lot and looked more like their dad than ever. He already stood as tall as Connor, and his voice had deepened to a rich baritone. He slapped Connor on the back. "Welcome home, Connor. I hope you're not going to wreck everything again."
"Not this time."
Eight year-old Roderick, the only blonde of the family, didn't say anything, but just clung to Connor like he was afraid he was about to disappear. The baby, Fiona, who looked big enough now to be walking and talking, clutched at their mother, not trusting Connor yet. He doubted she even remembered him.
Four year-old Wallace, who looked like a miniature copy of Blair, bounced on his toes enthusiastically. "Connor! Do something with your curse for me."
A few of the nearby villagers shuffled back, their grins fading. Everyone knew Connor was cursed, but that didn't mean they wanted to admit it out loud.
Connor dropped to one knee beside Wallace. "What would you like me to do?"
"Make me a pedra!" Wallace exclaimed.
"I'm not very good at pedras," Connor said, thinking of the great stone pedra that Kilian and Ilse had conjured during the battles of Alasdair. "But I might be able to do a squirrel a little later."
Wallace thought about that for a moment. "As long as it breathes fire."
"I like this boy," Verena laughed.
Connor's father began to speak, but he was interrupted by Stuart. Connor blinked in surprise when he saw how big Stuart had grown. He celebrated the same age day as Connor, Hamish, and Jean, but he had always been the biggest of them. In the months since they'd left, he'd grown even more, packing on muscle and several inches of height.
Connor grinned at him, but Stuart barely glanced in his direction. He made a sharp salute and gestured toward Wall Gate. "Ashlar, I've got another scout report. We've got Grandurians coming upriver fast."
"Dad, they're with us," Connor interrupted.
Stuart did look at him then, and his expression was not friendly. "You dare bring enemies here, Connor?"
"They're not here to fight," Connor insisted.
"I saw them myself," Stuart said, and he pulled out of his pocket a squat, circular device made of bright, shining brass. "I've got the new spyglass, and I recognized them. It's Kilian and that Captain Ilse."
That sparked cries of alarm from nearby villagers, but Connor shouted above them. "It's all right. They're here with me."
"Why would you bring them here?" his mother demanded.
"Several reasons. We have a lot to talk about. But for now, know they're friends."
Stuart growled, "They weren't friends last time, or did you forget all about that while you've been away on holiday?"
"Hardly a holiday," Connor said, forcing down a growing irritation at Stuart's hostility. "We made it back here alive only because of them."
Hamish joined him, two siblings still riding on his shoulders. "And I've been living with them. They've trained me to become a Builder."
"Against the law," Stuart growled. When Jean joined Hamish and took his hand in hers, Stuart's scowl deepened.
Hamish grinned and clapped Stuart on the shoulder. "Missed you too, blockhead."
Stuart raised a fist, but Jean placed a hand on his arm. "They are our friends." His anger fizzled and he stared at Jean with a look of unabashed adoration.
Connor felt sorry for him. He didn't have a chance.
The villagers still seemed nervous, and it took all of the persuasive powers of Connor, Hamish, and Jean combined to convince them that the Grandurians were not a threat. Finally Hendry agreed to allow them into the village as Connor's guests.
"But no fighting," Lilias warned.
"I promise they're not here to fight," Connor said.
Many of the villagers still looked doubtful, but they calmed down when Hendry told them it would be all right. Connor was impressed. As Ashlar, Hendry had always had a lot of influence in town, but now people treated him more like the lord of Alasdair than they ever had Lord Gavin. He was the one who had led them through their difficult times.
The women's circle and town council still decided to assemble at Wall Gate to formally greet the newcomers, with most of the other villagers crowded around behind. Connor, Hamish, and Jean waited at the front of the group with their parents. Verena headed to the quay to escort Kilian and the others to the town.
"I still have half a mind to send the children to the bolt hole," Lilias said nervously as Kilian drew the glittering Slide to the quay.
"What is that?" Connor asked.
"Not something you can talk about with your Grandurian girl," Hamish's father, Amhain, cautioned.
"Verena is not an enemy," Connor said.
"On your word," Amhain said, but didn't sound convinced.
He was tall, although Hamish was now taller. Amhain lacked the bulk of Hendry and the cutters. His was a lanky strength, honed from years of working the lift crank at the quarry. He carried a spear that looked like it had been made out of a pitchfork.
Hendry said, "Your girl is not from Alasdair, Son. You need to trust us and keep what we're going to share with you private. Can you do that?"
Connor hated the thought of keeping secrets from Verena, but he could see they were determined, so he nodded. "You have my word."
"And mine," Hamish said. "So what is the bolt hole?"
"Lord Gavin's old manor house," Hendry explained.
"I saw that someone had covered over the basements," Connor said.
His father gave him a sharp look. "No one's supposed to notice that. The secret is no good if people know it's there."
"I doubt anyone else would. I saw it from the air, and I was using quartzite."
At his father's puzzled look, Connor explained. "Quartzite enhances my vision like a Pathfinder. Even with enhanced eyes, I had to study the rock face. If I
hadn't known there was supposed to be a hole there, I never would have figured it out."
"That's good to know. We don't want anyone to have any reason to go up there. It's just a barren pile of rock now."
"So you're using the basements?" Jean asked.
"Aye," Amhain said proudly. "We've rebuilt them. We've got bedrooms, water and food storage, and a cooking and eating hall."
"All underground and unknown by anyone outside of Alasdair," Hendry said.
Connor said, "That's amazing. When did you have time to do all that?"
His father said, "We've had a couple men in shifts working on it for months. With the war brewing, we've increased the effort. We're even working on a tunnel to connect it to town. Never know when we might have to escape another hostile force."
Connor nodded. "I think the time is coming."
"We'll be ready," his father insisted.
"Lord Gavin and Lady Isobel have no idea," Amhain added, his tone derisive. "Barely ever leave that fancy new manor house. Just bemoan their hard life and write letters to Dougal every day asking for more help, even though he paid for nearly the entire rebuilding."
"Dougal may not be so generous in the future," Connor warned. He suspected Dougal's generosity had been motivated more to bolster Shona's claim on his allegiance than out of simple interest in getting the quarry back up to production as quickly as possible.
The bolt hole might be the perfect first step in securing the village if Dougal sent hostile forces against the town. It wouldn't offer a final solution, but it was a good start.
Kilian brought the Slide to a halt at the edge of the nearest stone quay that jutted out into the loch. The village sat about thirty feet above the river and a couple hundred feet to the east of the loch. The road descended from Wall Gate in a gentle slope, past the blocking yard where granite blocks were lowered down the towering cliff of Wick Torr from the quarry for processing. It skirted the edge of the loch, then rose slightly again to the steep-roofed Powder House. There Hendry finished processing the precious white granite into powder for shipping down to Merkland.
On the far side of the Powder House, a small wooden foot bridge had been added across the bubbling Upper Wick as it emptied into the loch. Jean had mentioned once that Lord Gavin's new manor house was across the river, so that made sense. Lady Isobel would never be expected to hop across the stepping stones that had served the villagers for generations.