Chapter Nineteen #2
He cut off suddenly as a commotion sounded from outside the room. Arran’s hand went to his sword hilt as the door burst open and one of Arran’s clansmen came tumbling in. He was disheveled and wind-swept and brought the smell of the sea and open skies into the room with him. His chest was heaving.
“Tam?” Mal said, his brow furrowing with concern. “I thought ye were out with the eastern patrol? What are ye doing here?”
“Was… out… with… the… patrol,” Tam gasped. He leaned over, hands on his knees. When he’d caught his breath, he straightened. “Was… sent… to warn ye. Raiders. A huge force. Bigger than any we’ve seen.”
Arran’s face paled. “Where?”
“We spotted them from the top of Kerrig’s Fell. A fleet of them heading southeast. They were still some miles off and will take some hours before they reach us. I rode here as fast as I could. The rest of my unit are tracking them along the coast.”
That cold that had been building inside Jenna suddenly intensified.
She felt as though she’d been pierced through the middle with a dagger of ice.
She could feel things shifting around her, the strands of fate tightening, and she knew, absolutely knew, that this force would destroy Skye if it landed. They had to stop it.
“They’re going for the shrine,” she murmured, looking up at Arran.
He nodded tightly, jaw clenched. “Aye, but they willnae reach it.” His voice was low and dangerous, like the growl of a wolf.
He turned to Mal and Edrick. “Send out the call to arms. Every man able to wield a weapon. Tell them to muster here.” He tapped a spot on the map close to where Merrick had said Njord’s shrine lay.
“And mobilize whatever is left of our fleet.”
Mal scratched his chin as he examined the map. “If we do that, we’ll leave the other areas of the island vulnerable. This might be a ruse, designed to draw us out while they attack elsewhere.”
“I know that,” Arran replied. “But it’s a risk we must take. If we dinna fend off this attack, they will take Skye and there willnae be any of us left to worry about it. Do as I say. Send out the call to muster.”
Mal looked troubled but he inclined his head all the same. “Aye, my laird.”
The men left. Jenna found herself alone with Arran. His shoulders were hunched, his jaw tight, and a vein was throbbing in his temple.
“Arran, I—”
“Ye will stay here.”
Jenna sat back. “I’m sorry?”
Arran raised his head and looked at her. His expression was ravaged, his eyes full of shadow. “My men and I will ride out to meet this force, but ye will remain here.”
“What are you talking about? I have to go! This is my chance to do what I came here to do! If I can destroy whatever power is in that shrine, I’ll be able to fix the magic!”
He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. We dinna know that this shrine has aught to do with the magic at all. It could all be coincidence.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“It doesnae matter what I believe!” he snapped. “I willnae put ye in harm’s way! I willnae risk it! Ye will stay here with Rosaline!”
Jenna said nothing. Then softly, she said, “Arran, this is my chance. This is our chance. If I’m right, I will be able to restore Skye’s magic, and those raiders won’t even be able to reach the shore. Nobody will get hurt.”
“And if ye are wrong?” he asked, just as softly. His blue eyes found and held hers. The expression in them almost stopped her heart. “I canna risk it. I canna lose ye, Jenna.” These last words were spoken so quietly they were barely above a whisper.
That icy dagger sliced through her middle again. She felt the bands of fate tighten around her—around them—and she felt the future slide into place. She suddenly knew that if she stayed behind, if she didn’t go with him to face this threat, then Arran would not return.
And that thought filled her with a horror so dark she could barely breathe.
“I’m coming,” she said, her voice shaking a little. “I have to. And you can’t stop me. Even if you lock me up, I’ll only use my magic to escape and follow you. You can’t win this argument, my laird. I’m sorry.”
His lip curled in a snarl, and she heard a growl in his chest like the low rumble of an avalanche. His hands clenched into fists. Then suddenly, he let out his breath in a whoosh.
“Has anyone ever told ye that ye are the most vexing woman on God’s clean earth?”
Jenna smiled wryly. “On occasion.”
“Dear God, woman. Ye will be the death of me.”
No, I won’t, Jenna thought. I will be the saving of you. No matter what it takes.
She gestured to the door. “Shall we? It looks like it’s going to be a long ride.”
Arran hesitated then gestured for her to precede him through the door. As she did so, Jenna felt fate snap tight around her and knew she’d taken a step from which there was no going back.
*
Arran rode with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He couldn’t quite tell if it was fear or dread or apprehension or a mix of all three.
He was used to all of these sensations—they had been his constant companions for most of his life—but now those feelings seemed more insidious, reaching dark, twisting roots right through him until he could barely think straight.
He realized he was pushing his horse harder than necessary and forced himself to rein the beast back. He was caught between wanting to get there as quickly as possible and not wanting to get there at all.
He glanced over his shoulder. His warriors were spread out behind him in a phalanx that would drive fear into the hearts of anyone who saw them. They wore grim, determined expressions as they rode, every one of them willing to die for Skye. For him.
He hoped it would not come to that. He’d already lost too many, and each death dragged around his neck like a weight that would drown him if it got much heavier. If Jenna was right, if she could somehow destroy the shrine and restore Skye’s magic, this would all be over.
Was it even possible?
He closed his eyes for a second, trying to picture a future where his people were protected, where his lands were not under constant threat from the sea, where they could plan and dream rather than living day by day. But he couldn’t. He struggled to see beyond today.
As they rode steadily southeast, more warriors swelled his ranks. The call to muster had gone out, and his people were answering. If the raiders thought to catch them unawares, they would be disappointed and if they tried to come ashore, Arran would make sure the waters ran red with their blood.
Bran snorted, and Arran forced himself to relax his grip on the reins, taking steady breaths to calm the rage and trepidation that warred for dominance inside him.
It was another fine day. It seemed that whenever the raiders came, the sea was as calm as glass and the sun blazed in the sky overhead.
Coincidence? Or the dark power of their god?
Lir, he prayed. If ever we needed your help, we need it now. Protect my people. He glanced at Jenna who was riding beside him, clinging to her mare like a limpet, face creased in determination as she concentrated on not falling off. Protect her, Lir. Please.
If anything should happen to her…
The sun was nearing its midday zenith by the time they reached the isolated bay that Brother Merrick had marked on the map.
As they looked down on the horseshoe bay, Arran pulled up his horse and gazed out.
The bay was unremarkable. Enclosed on either side by rocky cliffs, it boasted a small beach and strands of kelp that waved in the water like tentacles.
Down on the beach a group of men were gathered—his eastern patrol that had been tracking the raiders along the coast.
Of the raiders, there was no sign.
Arran allowed himself a small nod of satisfaction. They had made it here before them. So far, so good.
He ordered his men to dismount and, leaving the horses picketed on the trail, led the way down onto the beach, Jenna walking at his side. The captain of the eastern patrol strode to meet them, looking over how many men Arran had brought with him.
“My laird,” he said, inclining his head. “I’m mighty glad to see ye, I can tell ye.”
“Alec,” Arran said, taking the man’s arm wrist to wrist in the warrior’s grip. “What news?”
“They’re coming this way all right. They’ve been keeping out to sea, trying to sneak up on us without us noticing.
The daft bastards seem to think we are eejits.
We’ve been using the higher ground to keep track of them.
I’ve posted relays up and down the coast. If the force splits or changes direction, we’ll soon know about it.
They’ve not shown any signs of doing that so far though. ”
“Nor will they,” Arran said. “Because what they want is right here.” He looked around the bay. “Somewhere.”
He turned to Mal and issued instructions for his men to take up position on the cliffs overlooking the bay and on the sand dunes behind.
“We have to stop them from landing if we can. Have everyone keep out of sight and have fire-arrows at the ready. Fire as soon as they’re in range.
I want as many of their boats sunk as possible before they can land.
We need to give Jenna as much time as we can. ”
Mal nodded then turned and began bellowing orders.
His warriors hurried to obey. As he watched his people move into position, not a grumble, nor a question, nor a hesitation among them, pride swelled in his chest. This was Clan MacLeod, and they would not allow Skye to fall.
Not while any of them had breath left in their bodies.
He turned to Jenna. “Well, lass? Should we get started?”