Chapter 27
A loud sea eagle's screech overhead drew Brodie's attention, but glancing skyward, he couldn't find it.
A man he hadn't noticed before, who had remained on one of the galleys, shouted, "Retreat!"
Was that Talnaroch? He'd only seen him once before, but aye, 'twas him.
Wanting to slay the bastard, he sprinted forward. "Coward!"
"Wait!" Gavin stopped Brodie as the enemies raced toward the galleys. They carried weapons but no females. Their own clansmen gave chase, but their foes shoved the galleys out and leapt aboard.
One galley remained. Had they killed that many? Several enemies lay sprawled on the bloody sand. They would load their bodies onto the galley and shove it out, being well rid of them.
The selkies and clansmen gave yells of victory for driving off the raiders before they could capture any females. A few had sustained sword cuts and other wounds. None were dead, thank the saints. The male selkie healer urged the wounded into the cave.
Some of the males called telepathically to the females to return from the sea.
"They're nay responding," Harcus said, his eyes troubled.
"Where are they?" Ronin asked, concentrating as if mentally searching for them. "They usually stay close to shore."
Scarth frowned. "They went out too far."
All was silent. Brodie did not detect any female telepathy either.
"A far away cry for help!" Daavar yelled, squeezing his eyes closed.
"From where?" Scarth demanded.
Daavar pointed toward the southeast. "From the sky?" he asked, face contorted. "Nay! Surely, they cannot be...."
Remembering the sea eagle's cry from earlier, Brodie said, "The witch took them! All aboard the galleys!"
Though everyone looked confused, they all ran toward the back side of the island and boarded the MacCain galleys.
Most of the male selkies shifted and followed in the water. Brodie's three galleys weren't large enough for everyone, and they would not borrow the earl's galley. A few males remained with the injured in the event the females returned somehow.
The clansmen on board hoisted the sails, and the wind carried them south in a diagonal line along the firth toward the mainland.
"I ken she captured them, but how?" Brodie asked.
"In the great hall at Raeglen castle a few months ago, Wilona turned Alpin into a mouse, and herself into a raven," Gavin said. "She picked him up by the tail and flew out the window. I suspect she has done the same thing with the females."
"Aye," Torr agreed. "She and Alpin were often in bird form. He had no magic of his own, so she had to be the one forcing a shift on him."
Though 'twas approaching dark, Brodie used his spyglass to see a lantern they'd lit on one of the enemy galleys in the distance.
"They must be heading to Glenhaish," Torr said.
"Aye." Brodie had traveled to Loch Long once before, as a youth, and remembered where it was.
Fleeting moonlight slipped through the swift clouds, illuminating the white sails ahead of them.
"We're gaining on them," Brodie said.
The night wind grew colder, whipping his hair about, and small flakes of snow stung his eyes. He sensed the male selkies swimming all around them.
They had pikes earlier. Are they still wielding them? Brodie asked the selkies ahead of them.
Nay, they've put them down to row because they lost so many men.
Overturn their galleys if you can catch them. The fewer enemies we have to fight, the better. But have a care. They could pick up the pikes at any time.
"This is Loch Long," Brodie said a half hour later. Thankfully, 'twas high tide, which would help them navigate.
Keeping the sails aloft because the icy, stiff wind favored them, the men rowed into the outflowing current from the freshwater loch.
Once the loch widened out, the wind continued to carry them rapidly, this time in a northeasterly direction.
Through the spyglass, the lantern and white sails ahead glowed.
"We'll be there soon. Be ready to fight," he told the clansmen.
Shouts echoed from the distance, and the white sails disappeared into the water.
"The selkies took out one of their galleys!" Brodie grinned.
"Grand news," Gavin said.
The wind was growing colder, using the loch as a funnel, and it sped their progress. Soon they were bypassing the overturned galley and the men who'd climbed onto the hull, yelling curses at them.
If they could swim at all, they would reach the loch shore in only a few minutes. But he kenned a lot of men couldn't swim.
They lowered the glowing white sails of the remaining two galleys, but the lantern remained.
"The castle is just ahead. They've docked. Lower the sails and row," he told the men, hoping they could slip in on the blackguards.
Some of the females are here in the loch! Harcus communicated to Brodie.
What do you mean?
The ones who were captured first! They are alright and in human form. They say Lady Elsea released them from the dungeon.
When? Brodie asked, frozen with shock. How? Lady Elsea is at Farspag.
All were silent.
Harcus!
But Brodie received communication from a few of the females, repeating Elsea's name. A short while ago, she unlocked the cell doors and led us out. She told us you are her friend.
"Damnation!" Brodie roared.
"What's wrong?" Torr asked, eyeing him as if he were mad.
"Elsea is here! Or she has been. She released the earliest captured females from the dungeon a short while ago."
"Saints!" Torr said. "How did she travel here so quickly?"
Where is she now? Brodie sent the question out to the females.
But they didn't know. They had focused on their own escape when they'd jumped into the loch.
"They have nay inkling if she escaped safely or not," Brodie growled.
Hell, he was going to give her a piece of his mind if he found her alive and well. How dare she take such a massive risk again? He knew she wished to help the selkie females, but this was ridiculous.
Through the increasing snowfall, they rowed in beside Talnaroch's galleys. Since two of the knave's galleys were missing, they had room. The men at the dock raised the alarm, and more soldiers charged in, shouting and brandishing weapons.
Swords, dirks, and targes at the ready, Brodie and all the men disembarked.
Where the hell was Elsea? Was she still alive?
Brodie slashed, parried, stabbed, and thrust. His bloodied foes fell before him as he battled his way inside the crumbled curtain wall.
He glanced aside, glad to see Torr and Gavin fighting on either side of him.
Kenneth and two bodyguards had his back.
A couple of torches lit the bailey, and sleet hissed through the air.
Yells and war cries echoed from the keep's exit.
More men emerged, all heavily armed, and charged into the fray.
Moving faster than his opponents, Brodie ran one through and cut the throat of another before either could block.
He sliced the sword arm of another foe and shoved him down with his targe, the central boss spike stabbing.
Where was Talnaroch? Brodie wanted to dispatch the bastard soonest, for the selkie kidnappings and especially for Elsea.
Making his way across the bailey, he defeated two more enemies, then noticed some steps leading down to a door. Was that the dungeon? Were Elsea or the latest abducted selkies down there?
Shouts and a loud commotion erupted at the keep's entrance. Even in the dimness, Brodie recognized Talnaroch standing at the top of the steps.
"That bastard must die," Brodie growled. His grip tightening on the sword hilt, he surged forward, but Talnaroch lifted a pistol.
With a blinding flash, a shot rang out, knocking Brodie to the ground.
***
ELSEA JOLTED AWAKE in the darkness, lying on hard-packed earth.
Where am I? She squeezed her eyes closed against the ache in her back and her head.
Through clenched teeth, she forced in a deep breath.
Her lungs burned. The dank, mildewed air smelled like a dungeon or cellar.
In the distance, sword clashes and men's yells echoed.
Startled, she recalled the events of the past few hours.
"Bollocks!" Had the bastards brought her back to the dungeon she'd released the selkies from?
At least she was breathing again, more or less normally, but the ache in her back made it hard to move.
Trying to ignore the pain and dizziness, she pushed herself up to a sitting position, then onto her knees.
Crawling forward, then lifting her hands, she touched a cold iron bar.
Clasping a hand around it, she pulled herself to her feet.
Only a tiny slit high on the wall allowed in a hint of moonlight.
How long had she been knocked out? She pushed at the cell door, but it was locked as expected.
Rough male shouts and metal clangs still echoed outside. Who were the earl's men fighting?
She placed her hands over her sheaths, searching for weapons.
Her sword and dirk were gone, of course.
But they hadn't found her sgian achlais under her armpit.
Trying to keep her jittery hands steady, she withdrew it and pushed her hand through the bars.
'Twas awkward to insert the thin blade into the lock from this angle.
The sharp, explode of gunfire startled her, making her hands jerk. Saints! Would it be safe for her to cross the bailey? Maybe she could use the battle as cover for her escape.
After a few moments, she managed to pick the lock and open the door.
She replaced the blade in its sheath and chose a larger one from her calf sheath for defense, though it was still tiny compared to a sword.
Her hip ached as she climbed the stairs toward the exterior door and opened it.
She slipped out into the torch-lit gloom, snow still swirling in the shifting wind. The battle sounded farther away now.
Needing to stay hidden from the knaves, she knelt and peered out cautiously. A dark-haired man wearing a white shirt and plaid lay near the steps. Was he dead? Seeing no one else, she crept forward.
The man looked like Brodie. "Saints!" she hissed, shock riveting her. How could it be?