29 THE GHOST RAIDERS
CURSING, ALEC TOSSED away the cup of caudle and drew his dirk. “Rory! Mac! Gilroy!” he shouted. “With me!”
An instant later, his men broke off from the swirling crowd and rushed toward him, the Bealtunn revelry forgotten. He led the way over to where Liza had just scooped Craeg into her arms, Nettie by her side. Rae and Kylie also approached.
“Ye need to get back to the castle, Lady Maclean,” Alec greeted her. “Come with us.”
“Makenna and Rae will see to that,” she shot back, shaking her head. “Ye deal with whoever’s attacking the village.”
Alec stilled, heat flushing across his chest at her refusal to heed him. “Ye can’t—”
“Don’t question me, Rankin.” Their gazes fused, and the stubborn glint in her eye was unmistakable. “Go!”
Swallowing down the urge to insist, Alec nodded stiffly. He then turned to where both Rae and Makenna had drawn weapons. “Don’t take the shore path back to the castle,” he instructed tersely. “The one that takes ye up the hill is safer.”
Fortunately, neither of them argued with him.
“Aye,” Rae replied, his gaze sweeping the fog and smoke wreathing around them. The shouts from the village were growing louder. “Mind how ye go … I’d wager the Ghost Raiders have paid Lochbuie a visit … it’s their way to sail in when there’s fog, although they’ve never attacked during Bealtunn before.”
Alec’s gaze narrowed at this warning. Of course, Dounarwyse’s location on the eastern coast of Mull, facing out onto the channel between the isle and the mainland, left its nearby villages exposed to raiding parties. He’d heed Rae’s words.
They all departed then, Liza, Craeg, Nettie, and Kylie hurrying up the hill flanked by Makenna and Rae, while Alec and his men skirted the edge of the fire and headed toward the ever-brightening glow in the direction of the village.
A few moments earlier, there had been a crowd of revelers around the bonfire, but they’d all disappeared. Some of the men had raced into the village to confront the attackers, whereas most of the other villagers had wisely slipped away into the mist like wraiths.
More of Alec’s men joined him now, and they strode into Lochbuie village, weapons at the ready.
As soon as they made their way down the single street that bisected the village, the acrid tang of smoke caught in Alec’s throat. It wasn’t the smell of the bonfire behind them though, but the heavier, oiler smell of burning cottages.
Flames licked the mist, and up ahead, Alec made out dark shapes struggling together. Men fighting.
Alec broke into a run, and his men followed.
The attackers were a fearsome sight. Tall, broad-shouldered figures swathed in black hooded cloaks, surrounded by smoke and snaking mist, they looked as if they’d clawed their way straight up from hell. They wore mailed gloves that glinted in the firelight and fought with heavy claidheamh-mòrs—great broadswords. But the most disquieting thing about them was the horned sheep skulls that covered their faces.
Alec could see why folk thought them demons, for they all fought as if possessed, fending off the plucky villagers—armed with hoes, pitchforks, and rakes—who tried to defend their homes from them.
The warriors of the Moy Guard descended upon the Ghost Raiders like howling wolves. The counterattack took them by surprise. However, they rallied swiftly, and the ring of steel blades echoed through the night. Alec dived under the guard of his first opponent and drove his dirk-blade up, through his black cloak, and under the raider’s ribs.
His blade met flesh and bone.
Aye, this was no demon.
The raider grunted, twisting away as Alec yanked his blade free.
The Moy Guard all fought with dirks rather than broadswords. As such, they employed the same tactics as their leader, moving in aggressively to avoid the lethal reach of the claidheamh-mòrs. In close quarters, a dirk-blade was far more effective.
Unfortunately, the thick smoke and mist, and the searing heat from the burning bothies, hampered them.
The raiders, realizing they were now under attack from more than just angry villagers, withdrew, taking with them the spoils they’d already hauled from the homes, cloth bags slung across their shoulders. The Guard had injured a few, yet they staggered off, disappearing like shades into the mist.
A lass screamed piteously as one of the attackers hauled her away.
Alec dove after them, cutting his dirk into the back of the raider’s knees. The warrior crumpled, and the lass rolled to the ground. She scrambled to her feet and ran off. Meanwhile, the raider whipped around, his dirk slashing up. But Alec was faster, his blade slicing open his opponent’s throat. Pushing himself off the ground, he shouted to his men, “After them!”
“Bar the gates behind us!” Rae shouted as he strode into the barmkin at Liza’s side.
The guards eyed the chieftain of Dounarwyse dubiously, not moving to do his bidding immediately.
“The village is under attack,” Liza panted, out of breath from her sprint up the hill, while carrying Craeg on her hip. “Do as he bids!”
The men leaped into action, and moments later, the gates rumbled closed, a heavy iron bar sliding into place.
“What about those still out there?” Makenna asked.
“Let our men in,” Liza instructed the guards, “and any villagers who need help … but be wary.” She paused then, surveying the night watch, who’d been left behind this evening to guard the walls. “It’s difficult to tell the difference between friend and foe in the dark.”
“Shall I put Craeg to bed, Lady Liza?” Nettie asked then. The lass was pale and trembling, yet her gaze was steady.
“Aye, thank ye,” Liza replied with a tight smile. She then placed a kiss on her son’s forehead and lowered him to the ground. “Ye go with Nettie … there’s a good lad.”
She’d expected Craeg to cling to her or start weeping, but he surprised her by stoically taking hold of Nettie’s hand and letting her lead him away.
“Nettie will get ye some warm milk and honey,” she called after them before turning her attention to the situation at hand. Climbing up to the walls, she looked west, hoping to see the village of Lochbuie.
On clear evenings, its home fires glowed. There was a full moon out, and the light would usually frost the world and gleam off the waters of the loch. But not tonight. On this Bealtunn, a thick blanket of fog obscured everything. She couldn’t even see the bonfire they’d left or the burning bothies in the village. However, the tang of smoke hung heavily in the air, and as she waited, the faint sounds of shouting reached her. “What’s happening down there,” she muttered.
“Hopefully, Rankin and his warriors have dealt with the raiders,” Rae replied.
Liza glanced sideways to see that he, Makenna, and Kylie had all followed her up onto the walls. Their faces were tense, their gazes shadowed in the light of the brazier that burned nearby.
“How can ye be sure it is the Ghost Raiders?” Liza asked. Indeed, hadn’t she seen Ross Macbeth up to something earlier in the day?
“I can’t,” he answered with a shake of his head. “But the villages around Dounarwyse have suffered a couple of raids over the past two years … and they always sail in on a foggy night.”
Liza swallowed, her gaze traveling south.
And as she looked on, the wreathing mist shifted, revealing the gleaming loch beyond. And there, its single mast piercing the fog, was the distinctive outline of a ship. “Look,” she breathed.
“There she is,” Rae murmured. “ The Night Plunderer .”
“An apt choice of name,” Kylie replied, her tone dry.
“Indeed,” Rae answered with a snort.
“It looks like a pirate’s cog,” Liza said then, her gaze never leaving the ghostly silhouette.
Rae snorted. “Aye, well, that’s what the Ghost Raiders really are … pirates in disguise.”
She glanced his way once more. “So, ye don’t believe they’re demons then?”
“No.”
The mist closed in then, shrouding The Night Plunderer from their gazes.
“If they’re pirates, then why bother to use such a guise?” Makenna asked. She’d moved close to the edge of the wall, her brow furrowed as she glared down at the fog. Judging from the look on her sister’s face, Liza sensed Makenna wanted to be down there, fighting with Alec and his men.
Liza was relieved she wasn’t.
“To weave a cloak of fear and awe about them,” Kylie spoke up after a pause. “Many folk will run screaming from their homes if they believe a horde of demons has sailed in on a ghost ship and attacked their village.”
“Aye, men or wraiths, they’re still dangerous,” Rae agreed.
Liza’s belly clenched then. She’d sent Alec off to deal with the raiders. The man knew how to handle himself, yet she suddenly feared for him—and his warriors. Some of them were seasoned fighters like their captain, while others were worryingly inexperienced.
A sickly sensation washed over her; she hoped she hadn’t sent them off to their deaths.
They stayed up on the walls a while, listening and waiting, and eventually, shadowy figures emerged from the mist and headed toward the gates.
“Who goes there!” Liza shouted down.
“Yer Guard, Lady Maclean.”
A relieved breath gusted out of her at the sound of Alec’s voice. Her knees wobbled slightly then, and she caught hold of the wall to steady herself. Recovering, she cleared her throat and turned from the wall, calling to the guards standing in the barmkin below. “Open the gates!”
She then picked up her skirts and led the way down to meet the returning warriors.
Some of them limped into the barmkin, while others had cuts to their arms and scratches upon their faces. Alec appeared unharmed. Nonetheless, his face was the grimmest she’d ever seen it.
“What happened?” she asked, halting before him.
“It was the Ghost Raiders, all right,” he confirmed. “We fought the bastards, injured some of them … and I killed one … but the rest of them got away.” His eyes glinted then. “They sacked the village while everyone was at the Bealtunn fire … before torching homes.”
“Did they kill anyone?” Liza asked, her pulse hammering in her ears now. Homes could be replaced, but lives couldn’t.
“Two farmers died defending their bothies.”
“Did ye track them to their cog?” Rae demanded. He’d followed Liza down from the walls and now stepped up to her side.
A muscle flexed in Alec’s jaw, and he shook his head. “The smoke and fog are as thick as porridge down there, and the raiders took full advantage of it. They disappeared before we reached the water’s edge.”
Liza took all this in with a frown. The anger in her captain’s voice was clear, although she’d not damn him for failing to apprehend the attackers. They’d been at a disadvantage from the start. “Ye did all ye could,” she said after a pause. “Send some of yer men down to the village overnight though … just in case the raiders decide to return before dawn.”
He nodded, his expression still thunderous. “I shall see it done.”
“I’ll go down too,” Makenna offered, stepping forward.
Liza cut her sister a censorious look, but the bullish expression on Makenna’s face warned her from arguing.
“I brought four seasoned warriors with me, and shall return to the village with them,” Rae said then, meeting Rankin’s eye. “If ye’d welcome our assistance?”
The captain favored him with a brusque nod. “I would.”