Chapter Fourteen #2
Rubbing her backside, she climbed gingerly to her feet and looked around.
The thirty men that had accompanied her had spread out in a broad circle around her and Mal, and none of them had dismounted.
They watched the landscape in every direction, their expressions hard, their gazes intense.
She had no doubt that Arran had given them strict instructions to ensure her safety, and they were taking that duty very seriously.
Jenna pushed thoughts of Arran out of her mind and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes. Almost immediately, she felt the presence of the anchor stone somewhere nearby. Like the first one, it brushed against her senses like an electric current, pulling her towards the shoreline.
She opened her eyes and began walking. Mal strode by her side although he didn’t speak.
On this part of the island the coast was comprised not of pebbles or driftwood or even rock pools.
Instead, a craggy, pockmarked cliff descended almost straight down into the booming waves below.
Hesitantly, Jenna edged her way to the cliff edge and looked down.
A dizzying distance below her, waves pounded against a thin strip of blackened rocks that looked as if they had fallen from the cliff some time in the distant past. Froth and spray went shooting into the air every time the waves broke over the rocks, and the air was filled with the boom and thump of their impact.
It was not an inviting place.
“Is there any way down there?” she asked Mal.
The big man rubbed his chin as he peered over the cliff. “Aye, there’s a trail of sorts that leads down to the cove. This area was used by smugglers back in the day. But it’s steep and treacherous and I wouldnae recommend—”
“Let’s go.”
“It’s not a climb for the faint-hearted, lass. Perhaps—”
“The second anchor stone is down there, and I need to find it. If smugglers can get down there, I’m sure I can.”
Mal studied her dubiously. She could tell he wanted to refuse but had sense enough not to voice his doubts aloud. He sighed. “Fine. But I must insist ye are roped. Arran would flay me alive if aught should happen to ye.”
“That makes two of us. I’ll be careful, I promise.”
In short order she had a rope tied around her middle which was anchored to a rock at the top of the cliff.
Mal insisted on going down first, and she was to follow closely behind.
This didn’t seem like a good idea to Jenna seeing as if she fell, she’d likely take Mal with her, and he wasn’t wearing a rope.
Still, she didn’t argue. She’d learned that these fifteenth century Highlanders would put bravery before common sense any day of the week.
To her immense relief, the trail didn’t turn out to be as steep as she expected.
Once she and Mal began their descent, she found that although it had been out of sight from the top, the trail that zigzagged down the face of the cliff was wider than her outstretched arms. The footing was sometimes treacherous, but there were thorny bushes she could grab to steady herself if needed.
Even so, she was mightily glad when they reached the rocky shore at the bottom and Mal untied the rope around her waist. Looking up, she felt a little giddy to realize how far they’d descended, and the cliff above seemed to blot out the sky.
Down here, the roar of the surf was so loud she would have to shout if she wanted Mal to hear and they would be lucky if they didn’t return to Dun Tabor spray-drenched and freezing.
She took a deep breath and tried to steady her breathing. The pull of the anchor stone was so strong she could feel it in her chest like a second heartbeat. It lay straight ahead somewhere, along the base of the cliff.
Signaling for Mal to follow, she began picking her way along the base of the cliff, over and around the huge boulders that littered the shoreline. She heard Mal curse in Gaelic as he followed.
More than once she cursed the ridiculous dress she was wearing. It kept snagging on sharp rocks and billowing out in the wind, threatening to tear her from her precarious perch. Give her a good old pair of jeans and some stout boots any day.
As she battled her way along the treacherous path, the pull of the anchor stone grew stronger and stronger.
Yet, when she looked ahead, she could see no sign of it, just the rocky shore and the cliffs looming up on her right.
But as she rounded a corner, she stopped dead, so quickly in fact, that Mal walked into the back of her.
To her right, the cliff rose up even higher than before, a craggy black monolith that seemed to suck in all the light. But in the base of that soaring monster, Jenna spotted a cave. It was no wonder smugglers had once used this place. The cave was completely invisible from above.
“What is it, lass?” Mal rumbled from behind her. “Why have ye stopped?”
“There,” she said, lifting a finger and pointing at the cave. “That’s where we need to go.”
Mal frowned at the dark maw of the cave. Jenna had to admit, it did not look very inviting. Mal drew his claymore with a rasp of steel loud enough to be heard over the crash of the waves.
“Then I’ll go first. Stay behind me.”
Jenna didn’t argue and stood back to allow Mal to stride past. A trail of sorts led up to the mouth of the cave, a path where the rocks had been worn down by the tramp of many feet.
“Hello?” Mal called as they reached the cave mouth. “Anyone here?”
There was no answer but the crashing of the waves and the call of gulls.
Slowly, Mal stepped over the lip of the cave and went inside.
Jenna followed him cautiously. Inside, the cave was large and surprisingly dry, with a floor of pulverized rock dust and walls of smooth granite.
The shape of the cave amplified sound and the roar of the waves was so loud it seemed as if they had somehow fallen into the sea, even though it was a good way behind and below them.
Mal sheathed his claymore in the scabbard across his back. “Are ye sure the stone ye are looking for is here? I dinna see aught.”
“It’s here,” Jenna said. “I can feel it.”
She walked past him, towards the back of the cave, where the light barely reached.
And there she found it. The second anchor stone rose from the cave floor like an accusing finger.
It was different from the first. This wasn’t a stone that had been raised by human hands but rather was a stalagmite of yellow calcium deposits that had grown up over countless millennia.
A stalactite grew from the ceiling right above it, so long that the two almost touched.
Almost, but not quite. What would happen when they did?
The stalagmite was easily as tall as she was and carved with the same glyphs and runes as the first anchor stone. She could feel its power pulsing against her senses like a summer storm.
“Could you wait outside?” she asked Mal. “I need some space.”
Mal looked about to argue, but then thought better of it. “Aye. Yell if ye need aught.”
As he left, Jenna approached the stalagmite and placed her hands on its surface. It was smooth and strangely warm to the touch, as though it was alive.
“I hope you’re more helpful than your brethren,” she muttered as if the rock could hear her.
She sat cross-legged in front of it and closed her eyes.
As she sent her magic into the rock, the golden net of Skye’s magic immediately sprang into focus in her mind’s eye.
Just as before, she saw the twisted lines of golden power that stretched from this anchor stone across the land.
And, just as before, she saw the dark holes where that golden power had failed.
Centering herself and slowing her breathing, Jenna exerted her will.
The glowing ball of energy that swirled inside her expanded, sending out tendrils that fused with the magic of the anchor stone, strengthening it and making it glow in her mind’s eye like a fallen star.
Slowly, oh so slowly, she pushed her magic out along the net, towards a dark hole that lay nearby.
She wove a patch from her own energy and placed it over the gap, weaving it in place with tendrils of magic. The repair grew bright, brighter than the rest of the web, and Jenna felt a rush of exhilaration rush through her. She’d done it!
But the exhilaration lasted only an instant. The next moment, the tendrils of magic snapped with a silent concussion and the hole once again went dark. With a yelp, Jenna withdrew her consciousness before the magic could recoil and blast her across the cave like it had done the day before.
She opened her eyes. The stone and the cave looked exactly as it had before, with only Jenna’s rapid breathing and racing pulse to indicate that anything had happened.
Jenna pounded her fist into the ground. “Damn it!” she yelled. “Why won’t it work? Why can’t I do this?”
She felt tears of frustration gathering in her eyes and wiped them away with her sleeve.
That horrible sense of despair was creeping up on her again, that feeling like she was falling into an oubliette she couldn’t escape from.
It had been kept at bay by Arran’s confidence in her, but now it came rising up to the surface.
She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t strong enough or skilled enough.
Arran had chosen the wrong MacFinnan spellweaver.
She was going to let all these people down.
She was going to let Arran down. The thought was unbearable.
“What am I doing wrong?” she whispered to the impassive face of the stalagmite. “What am I missing?”
“Ah! Now ye ask the right questions,” said a voice.
Jenna spun with a yelp to find a woman standing behind her. Jenna scrambled to her feet in sudden fright.
“Who… who are you?”
The woman was willowy, with long hair that seemed to move of its own accord. But it was her eyes that caught Jenna’s attention. They were completely silver. The woman smiled. “My name is Lir. And ye are Jenna MacFinnan.”
Lir? Wasn’t she the one who’d sent Arran through time to find her? But that meant…
“You’re a goddess!” Jenna gasped.
Lir cocked her head, her silver eyes alight with warmth and amusement. “Aye, I suppose I am, although right now I’m just a concerned friend. I can feel yer sorrow and frustration, lass. It reverberates across the land. What is it that ails ye?”
Jenna opened her mouth and closed it again. She could feel the power that emanated from Lir even more strongly than what came from the anchor stone. It was like standing too close to a bonfire.
“I… I… can’t fix the magic,” Jenna blurted. “You brought me all the way here, and I can’t do it. It won’t work.”
Lir studied her. Her face was ageless but her eyes were ancient, full of knowledge and wisdom. “That’s because ye are missing a key ingredient.”
“What?” Jenna stepping forward eagerly. “What key ingredient? Tell me so I can find it!”
Lir smiled. “Love, lass. That is the ingredient ye are missing.”
Jenna blinked. “Love? What has that got to do with magic?”
“Everything, that’s what.” Lir raised her hands to indicate the cave around them.
“The original spellweavers who wove the magic that protects Skye loved this land. They loved the mountains, the valleys, the streams, and the lochs. They loved the people. Skye was a part of them and they were a part of it, and it was from this love that the magic was born. Without it, there is nothing.”
Jenna stared at the goddess. Love? She needed to weave the magic with love?
Then no wonder she had failed. There was nothing here she loved.
Her presence here was a simple business transaction, cold and clinical.
With a sinking sense of despair, she realized there was no way she would be able to restore Skye’s magic.
“Can’t you do it?” she asked Lir in desperation. “Can’t you fix the magic? You’re a goddess! You could do it with a wave of your hand!”
Lir shook her head. “I am of the sea. Skye’s magic is of the land. I cannae touch it.”
“But… but what am I supposed to do? I’m going to let all these people down!”
A soft smile curled Lir’s lips. “Do ye think I would have brought ye through time if ye couldnae do this? What ye need is already inside ye. Ye just have to find the courage to recognize it.” She took a step forward and placed a hand on Jenna’s shoulder.
Her touch sent prickles of electricity across Jenna’s skin.
“Ye hurt, child. Ye are full of pain and loss and confusion. But that is yer past. It need not be yer future. Look inside. Find yer truth, and ye will find yer strength as well.” Her fingers squeezed Jenna’s shoulder until it was almost painful. “Trust yerself, Jenna.”
Jenna’s eyelids suddenly felt heavy. Her eyes closed for an instant and when they opened again, Lir was gone.
Jenna sat down heavily on a rock, despair washing through her. She could think of no way to do what Lir suggested. No matter what angle she thought about it from, she came to the same conclusion.
She was going to fail.