Chapter Three
Cailean heard a scream in the distance and his head snapped in that direction. He spotted a figure in the distance out on the rock spur—a woman?—for an instant before it went tumbling into the sea.
Adrenaline shot through him and he was off and running before he had time to think. He ripped off his plaid and his shirt as he pelted down the sand and shingle to the water’s edge and finally kicked off his boots as he launched himself into the waves.
Cold and darkness hit him like a slap but he didn’t let that slow him. He knew these waters as well as anyone alive and if he didn’t reach that woman soon, the current here would dash her against the rocks like a piece of flotsam. He would be damned if he would lose anyone else.
He moved with sure, powerful strokes against the current, and as he neared the rock spur, he dived, eyes open and searching the dark, thrashing waves. Long strands of kelp waved about, obscuring his vision, and the sea seemed angry today, determined to push him back towards shore.
There!
He saw the flash of a pale arm in the darkness. He kicked downwards, powering towards it. A woman was hanging in the water, eyes closed, dark hair waving like the kelp forest around them.
He got one arm around her waist and kicked upwards with everything he had.
She was a dead weight pulling him down, but he clung on grimly, determined that the sea would not have her.
Little dots began to dance in front of his eyes and his chest felt like it might burst as he powered up, up, up, until finally, he broke the surface in an explosion of water.
He heaved in a great breath, filling his lungs with sweet, sweet air, and then rolled onto his back, trying to keep the woman’s head above water.
Her eyes were still closed and she didn’t appear to be breathing.
But a moment later, her eyes flew open, a great gout of water exploded from her mouth, and she sucked in huge ragged breaths.
She began struggling, her arms flapping around and her legs kicking, threatening to send them both under again.
“Be still!” Cailean growled. “Dinna fight me or ye’ll drown us both!”
Her eyes swiveled towards him and widened. “W-what?” she managed to gasp.
“Try to relax,” he told her. “I’ve got ye. I’ll get us both to shore.”
She seemed to understand. She stopped struggling and he was able to get a better grip around her waist. Swimming on his back, he pulled her behind him, keeping her head on his chest to keep it out of the water, and they began to make progress against the choppy waves.
The woman began kicking her legs to aid him and it was not long before Cailean felt the seabed under his feet and was able to drag them both up onto the beach.
He released the woman and collapsed onto his back, chest heaving and muscles screaming. The woman rolled onto her side and began retching, bringing up seawater and fighting to regain her breath.
“Are ye hurt?” he asked her.
She retched a bit more before rolling onto her hands and knees.
Her hair, dark as a moonless night, fell forward to curtain her face.
Her sodden clothes—an odd pair of trews and a shirt like a man’s—clung to her slim frame.
She said nothing for several moments as she got a hold of herself but finally turned to face him, brushing the hair out of her eyes.
Cailean blinked. He didn’t recognize her and he would definitely have remembered this woman. Around his own age, she had high cheek bones, smooth skin, and bright blue eyes that looked as big as saucers.
“I… I… I’m okay,” she gasped, her voice hoarse from swallowing seawater. “Thanks… for pulling… me out.”
“Ye are welcome, lass.”
He didn’t recognize her accent. Not Scots or Irish. She wasn’t a local then. No wonder he didn’t recognize her.
She looked around as if searching for something. “Where is she?”
“Where is who?”
The woman braced her hands on the sand and pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, turning her head this way and that. “Where did she go?”
Cailean clambered up, water dripping from his hair and down his chest. He looked around. There was nobody else in sight. “Who are ye looking for?”
“Lir, of course!” the woman cried as if this should be obvious.
“She was here literally a moment ago. She’s the one who brought me here and I’ll be damned if I’ll let her just disappear on me without a so much as a by-your-leave!
” She cupped her hands around her mouth and bellowed, “Lir! Where are you! Come back here this instant!”
Cailean took a step closer. “Lass, there is nobody else here. Ye were alone when ye went into the water.”
She whirled to face him. “No, I wasn’t! I was with Lir! She can’t have just vanished!”
Cailean was struggling to keep up. “Lass, who are ye? And who is this Lir?”
“The one who brought me here. She said she was going to being me to Barra but never mentioned anything about bringing me through time. Oh, Elise will never let me live this one down!”
Her words made no sense at all. Had she hit her head on a rock when she fell into the water?
He tried a different approach. “I’m Cailean MacNeil, laird of this island. What is yer name?”
This seemed to calm her a little. She blinked at him. “I’m Rose. Rose MacFinnan.”
He started in surprise. MacFinnan. He’d not heard that name in a long time. There had been no MacFinnans in the Kingdom of the Isles in centuries, but the name had taken on something of a legendary status. The magic that was said to protect the Isles had been created by MacFinnan spellweavers.
And then something else registered. Lir. Where had he heard that name before?
“How did ye get here?” he said, looking around warily. “I canna see any ship.”
“I didn’t come by ship. Or by air. Lir brought me. From the twenty-first century. She said you needed my help.”
Cailean stepped back. He felt suddenly as if the sand he was standing on was shifting beneath his feet. Lir. Now he recognized the name. She was said to be a goddess of the sea and once the patron goddess of the Isles. And she’d brought this woman from the future?
Rose MacFinnan. The goddess Lir. Everything slotted into place.
“You’re a MacFinnan spellweaver,” he breathed.
“That’s right,” she said, smiling wryly as she looked down at herself. “And what I want right now is to weave a spell that will dry my clothes. Unfortunately, I don’t know any clothes-drying spells. Not high on my ancestors’ lists of priorities, no doubt.”
Cailean did not reply. His thoughts were spinning.
A MacFinnan spellweaver.
Had Lir heard his plea? Had She brought this woman here to help them?
He hardened his heart. No. He had not asked Lir for help, nor did he want it.
He and his people would find a way through this without the intervention of gods or spellweavers.
He didn’t trust any of them. Where had the MacFinnan spellweavers been when the sickness started?
Where had they been when children and oldsters fell ill?
Where were they when Mary died?
Back then he had prayed, given offerings, done everything he could think of to get someone, anyone, to intercede and save his wife.
They had not. So why should he accept their help now?
He knew all too well that those with power always wanted something in return for their aid.
What did this spellweaver expect from him?
A sudden shout rang out from the dunes above. “My laird! Was that really who I think it was?”
The voice was laced with excitement and as Cailean turned, he saw Maggie hurrying towards them. She was sprightly for her age and held up her skirts on one side like a girl as she skidded down the dunes and puffed right up to them.
“I felt it!” she said, her eyes alight with excitement as they fixed first on Rose and then on him. “A surge of… something. Then when I looked out of the window, I saw Her standing on the beach. Was it really Her? Was it Lir? Has she come to save us?”
Cailean scowled. “No. But she brought us a visitor.”
“Hi,” Rose said, holding out her hand. “I’m Rose MacFinnan. A pleasure to meet you.”
Maggie’s eyes widened as she took Rose’s hand in both of hers. “MacFinnan? Did ye say MacFinnan? As in MacFinnan spellweaver?”
“That’s the one.”
“And Lir brought ye here?”
“She did.” Rose smiled wryly. “And then promptly disappeared on me. Cailean here saved me. I would have drowned without him coming to rescue me. Not exactly how I planned my arrival.”
Maggie’s mouth formed a surprised little O. “Lir be praised!” she cried. “And ye too, my laird! Ye have brought a MacFinnan spellweaver to save us!”
“I have done no such thing,” Cailean snapped. “And she isnae staying. She’s going right back where she—”
Ignoring him completely, Maggie linked her arm through Rose’s and led her along the dunes and onto the path to the keep, keeping up a steady stream of dialog as she went.
Cailean glared after them. Why did he feel like those sands were shifting beneath his feet again? With an annoyed grunt, he strode after the two women, catching them up in a few strides.
“Wait,” he snapped. “I didnae give permission—”
“Maggie!” somebody shouted. “Is it true? Was it her?”
A crowd had gathered at the base of the hill, clearly alerted by Maggie on her way down to the beach, and now they swarmed around the three of them, all eager to get a glimpse of Rose.
“Aye!” Maggie replied. “It was Lir! She and the laird have brought a MacFinnan spellweaver to save us!”
“Bless ye, laird!” someone shouted.
“We never doubted ye!” shouted another.
Cailean ground his teeth. He wanted to tell them all that this was nothing to do with him, that they should not be putting their faith in something so nebulous. But they wouldn’t listen. And could he blame them? Suddenly, they had hope. Suddenly, they had something to believe in.
It was more than he’d been able to give them over these last few months.