Chapter 20
Asea of the Wolf’s raiders swarmed the shore of Inverlussa, burning, fighting, pillaging, looting.
It was total and utter chaos. Appalled, Lightning watched from the deck of Sea’s bìrlinn as it sailed into the bay.
The scene playing out was worse than he ever could have fathomed.
Jurans ran about utterly disorganized, bodies unpainted, caught completely unaware, cut down in seconds by the well-honed battle machine of the Stewarts.
Lion took Birdy in his hands, his face stern. “Don’t move in until we’ve cleared the shore. Then head northeast, and only in the treetops. Sea can drop you off at the beach in Ardlussa. Work your way to Lealt.”
Birdy nodded, her eyes filled with fear as she pointed to the men being cut down by sword and poleaxe, unarmed and untrained for this kind of sudden attack. They’re being slaughtered.
Beithir shook his head, catching arrows on his shield as the bìrlinn weaved around the Stewart fleet. “Not for long. They’ve not made it far. Lightning, what direction is your wife?”
Lightning braced on the edge of the bìrlinn, ready to jump. In stunned horror he caught sight of his childhood home. “She was with my father—just there, the largest inferno at the top of the hill. I thought…I thought she would be safer with him.”
Rock steadied himself on the other side of the bìrlinn, ready to leap with him, his two-handed sword wielded easily in one hand. “We’ll find her.”
Thunder angled, releasing shots into the surrounding boats, clearing the enemy decks as the bìrlinn darted closer to shore. “All archers down. The entry path is cleared!”
Sea slowed the boat. “That’s as close as I can get!”
Beithir nodded. “After you take Birdy to the trees, head out to the sound. When Birdy signals, sail to Lealt for survivors—women and children first.”
The bìrlinn skittered to a halt, brushing gravel, and Lightning jumped into the bay, not bothering to wait for instructions or the rest of the MacLean guard.
Horror filled him as he waded up the shoreline past the bodies of men he’d known his whole life floating in the sea.
Every blade of grass, every tree, every building burned with the unmistakable mark of the Wolf’s razing.
He did not hesitate when an invader rushed him.
Rage gathered in him, heavy and black, before crashing down like a hammer.
This battle was different. It was personal.
Brought to his home, his doorstep, by a man wholly consumed with revenge.
Sword raised, he met the challenge—blow after ringing blow until he saw an opening, cutting the man down and pressing inland.
Beside him, Beithir, Lion, and Rock fought forward, inching toward the blazing ruin of his childhood home.
Through the mêlée he spotted his father, carving down caterans one after another, his face and abdomen slick with blood. Bog fought at his side, snarling, tearing into any who came near. But where was Freya? Where was Maw?
His eyes swept the battlefield, but there was no sign of her among the clash of combatants, and he prayed she had managed to flee toward safety.
Da staggered, clutching his middle, his sword-hand trembling as he struggled to hold the line.
Lightning pushed forward, cutting men down one by one, relentless in his mission to reach him.
An unnatural pallor drained his father’s face, and he swayed with every blow, his strength faltering.
Panic clenched Lightning’s gut—Da was weakening, something was terribly wrong.
The Shield surged together, side by side, each man instinctively moving in rhythm with the others.
Years of hard fighting bound them, their weapons cleaving through the Stewart advance with ruthless efficiency.
Step by step they forced their way across the blood-soaked field, forming a tight perimeter around his father.
From the burning woods, a massive herd of stag broke free, their panicked thunder creating a sudden lull in the fighting, the battlefield frozen for a breath.
Da staggered into him, exhausted and broken, but his face softened with relief. “You made it. I didnae know if I could… continue… the clan. The clan needs you.”
“Where are you hurt?”
Da fumbled at his cuirass, blood seeping through a jagged cut across his chest, a broken arrow jutting from his shoulder. “My shoulder. My chest. That one there.” He pointed weakly to a light-haired man gasping at their feet. “He got me… with the sword.”
“Freya—Maw? Where are they?”
Pain carved through his father’s face. “Your mother. S’over there…” He lifted a shaking hand toward a headless body sprawled in the grass.
A cry tore in Lightning’s throat as he recognized the familiar shape of her hands, still open and gentle, reaching toward the sky. He hauled his father tighter against him, desperate to go to her—but Beithir stepped in, massive and immovable, blocking his path.
“Dinnae go over there, Lightning. No.” With one enormous hand he seized Lightning’s shoulder and forced him down. “It’s too late.”
On the shore, the MacLean guard surged from their boats, advancing in disciplined waves into the burning wood. Around them, the last of the Wolf’s caterans began to break, retreating toward the Tarbert road.
On the verge of hysteria, Lightning clutched his father, feeling his strength drain with every labored breath. “Da—Freya? Where is Freya?”
Da shuddered in his arms, his chin trembling, a soft, wet crackle rattling from his chest. His hand lifted weakly, reaching toward the smoke-choked sky, eyes already losing their focus.
Thunder swept into the village, bow singing as he loosed arrow after arrow, holding off the last of the Wolf’s stragglers. “Where do we search for your wife, Lightning?”
Lion slid an arm under Da, bracing him. “I’ve got him, mon pote. Go—find her.”
Lightning’s voice cracked, raw and unrecognizable. “Da, hang on. You need a healer! Where’s Birdy? Get Birdy!”
Lion crouched beside him, hands moving quickly. “She’s still on the bìrlinn. We’ll get him there. Shadow—help me lift.”
But as they tried to move him, Da’s scream ripped the air, primal and final. They froze, lowering him back to the blood-soaked earth. “It’s my time, Cal. Leave me. I willnae leave your mother.”
Bog padded over as if summoned by grief itself, and with a heavy sigh, flopped beside him. The dog laid his head across Da’s thigh, panting hard. Da’s trembling hand found the thick black fur and smoothed it once, twice. “G-good boy. Good dog. Good fighter.”
They struggled with his father’s armor, cutting the ties and easing it over his head.
A gush of blood released from his chest, and with it the remnants of his strength.
A groan escaped Lightning as he gripped his father’s hand realizing that he would not survive.
The color of his face was now as pale as snow, the clouds of breath releasing from his lips in the cold night air becoming smaller and more shallow. He was losing the fight against death.
Shadow laid down his bloodied dirk, stripping off his armor and yanking his tunic over his head. Bare-chested in the freezing night, he pressed the cloth hard against Da’s wound. “We’ve got to control the bleeding.”
Lightning shook his head, refusing to believe what his eyes saw. His father’s blood slipped fast through Shadow’s fingers, carrying his life away. “Da, just hang on. Stay with me. I need you, Da.”
Da’s translucent gray eyes found his, brimming with tears. “I was wrong. I should have stood beside you in that moment. I was a coward.”
A single tear slid down his soot-streaked cheek, the first weakness Lightning had ever seen in the man he most wanted to make proud. Clutching him close, desperate to understand, Lightning wiped it away. “What d’ye mean? You’re the strongest man I know. You are no coward, Cù Ceartas.”
Da’s head bobbed as he fought for breath. “The c-ceremony.”
Tears burned Lightning’s eyes as his father’s trembling hand found his cheek. “Och, Da. That was so long ago. None of it matters now.”
Da shook his head, his gaze beginning to fix. “Ten years gone. I never should have… should… have cast you out.”
Without thinking, Lightning pressed a kiss to his soot-stained cheek. “All is forgiven, Da. All of it.”
His father’s arm flopped heavily around him, weak but still reaching. “I know you’re ready.”
A sob tore loose. “I’ve only just gotten you back. I’m no’ ready, Da. I told you.”
Rock strode up, broadsword raised, and inclined his head toward the hill. “Lightning, some of the villagers said they saw Freya go that way.”
Da’s breathing jerked. Lightning clutched him tighter, the weight of ten lost years pressing down, desperate to hold on. “I’m sorry, Da. I should have come back sooner. I’ve failed you. I failed the promise.”
A weak chuckle escaped Da. “No. Proud. So proud.”
Another moan of grief tore from Lightning as his father went limp in his arms. He eased him to the ground. “Da?”
Da’s eyes flickered with a final, fragile blink. “Freya. Lealt. Freya. Lealt. Fort. Freya…Leal—”
Appalled, Lightning watched as the last breath left him.
They were gone. Both of his parents. In the blink of an eye, in the span of minutes. Shaking with the shock, he stared at his father’s still form. His ears rang, distant voices shouting orders muffled and far away. His mind was muddled, his heart split wide open.
Rock rushed forward, hooking an arm around him and hauling him upright. “Focus! Do you hear me?”
Lightning shook his head, trying to break free of the fog.
Rock shook him hard, his thunderous voice ringing in his ear. “Lightning. FREYA. LEALT!”
Rock’s words finally penetrated and he got to his feet, ferocious, relentless rage pounding in his heart. Freya. Lealt.