Chapter Nineteen #2
They were vastly outnumbered. If they were overtaken, she had no doubt what the outcome would be.
She reached inside and grasped her power.
It bucked and fought her like a snarling beast. She tried to focus it, weave it into something, anything that might help those fleeing men.
But she couldn’t concentrate and her power slipped through her fingers like running water.
Uttering a string of curses, she scrambled down the steps and sprinted for the gate.
“Elise!” Rose shouted. “What are you doing?”
“What I’m here for!” Elise snapped, not slowing. “If I can’t protect people, then what use am I?”
“Then we’re coming with you!”
“No!” she shouted as Rose and Jenna began to follow. “Stay here and protect the castle!”
She reached the gate, the guards eyeing her warily. “Open it!”
They glanced at each other but did as she instructed.
As soon as the gap was wide enough, Elise slipped through.
Cailean’s men were racing towards her as fast as their legs would carry them but those chasing were quickly closing.
They carried bared weapons and even from this distance, Elise saw murder in their eyes.
Okay, she told herself, trying to calm the wild thumping of her heart. You can do this. You can. You have to.
She planted her feet in the dirt, closed her eyes. I don’t care what you do, she told the magic. Just protect them. That’s all. Protect those men.
She lifted her hands and the world shifted. A shimmering arc of light erupted between Cailean’s men and their pursuers, a translucent shield that curved like glass. The attackers slammed into it and were thrown back, allowing Cailean’s men to open a gap.
The men skidded to a halt by Elise’s side. They drew their weapons, moving to encircle her.
“Well, would ye look at that?” one of them drawled. “MacClelland was right. She actually fell for it.”
Elise caught a glimpse of the clothing that lay beneath the MacNeil plaids. Red and gold. The colors of King James.
As horrified realization dawned, she heard the gate opening behind her, heard Rose and Jenna desperately calling her name. Then something smacked into her head and the world went black.
*
The smell of smoke hit him before the shouts did.
Jamie braced himself against the rail as Cailean’s ship cut through the swell, the prow knifing towards the little fishing port crouched at the foot of Barra’s cliffs.
Late afternoon light slanted across the water, turning the smoke that drifted across the waves into a copper haze.
Figures moved along the shoreline—many figures.
“The village is straight ahead!” one of the sailors shouted. “Look! They’ve got barricades up!”
Jamie squinted against the drifting smoke.
A line of carts had been dragged across the mouth of the quay—fishmongers’ barrows, broken wagons, crates, even a mast that must’ve been ripped off some poor fisherman’s boat.
Behind it all, the people of the village held their ground with harpoons, fish-knives, and a handful of bows.
They stood their ground with a fierceness that made Jamie proud.
And in front of them, trying to break through the barricade, was a line of raiders.
There were dozens of leather-armored men carrying spears, short-swords, and round shields. In their mismatched armor, they looked like opportunistic pirates, but Jamie wasn’t fooled. These men moved in formation, with purpose, as though they’d been rigorously trained.
King’s men.
Jamie’s stomach tightened with anger, his grip on the railing going white with tension.
One of the villagers spotted Cailean’s ship moving into the bay, recognized the colors flying from the mast, and let out a triumphant cry.
Others took it up, a ragged chorus of relief.
A horn blared—long, wavering, determined.
Cailean stepped up beside Jamie. “At least they’re still alive,” he muttered.
“Aye,” Jamie said. “But for how long?”
As they watched, one of the raiders broke from the line and swung at the makeshift barricade. A spear jabbed out from behind it—catching the man in the shoulder.
Cailean raised an eyebrow. “A little while yet if the courage of my villagers is anything to go by. Archers to the rail!”
The ship slowed, the sails spilling wind. A moment later, the first warning arrows hissed overhead, thudding into the ground scant feet from the attackers’ lines.
The effect was immediate. The raiders looked up and saw the MacNeil warship sliding into the bay. Another horn sounded, this one deeper. A command.
The raiders retreated in unison, grabbing what wounded they could and sprinting towards a rocky path that led inland. Jamie ground his teeth, aching to give chase, aching to make them pay for their audacity. But through his fury he forced himself to think this through.
The raiders might look like they’d broken, but they weren’t panicking. They weren’t running headlong for safety or scrambling for whatever escape they could find. Their movements were orderly, disciplined.
Like they were withdrawing at a prearranged signal.
“Ready the boats!” Cailean barked. “We’ll take a party ashore, secure the village, then give chase.”
“Aye, laird!”
Jamie was already moving, boots thudding against the deck as he followed Cailean into one of the long boats. The moment their boat hit the surf that pounded against the beach, he jumped out, wading through icy shallows and up the beach.
The villagers gave a ragged cheer as he and Cailean strode forward.
Jamie took in the scene—injured men and women pulled behind the barricade, a few dead raiders left in the sand, smoke drifting from a building that must’ve been set alight earlier.
But most of the village stood. It could’ve been far, far worse.
A fisherman with a bandaged arm stepped forward. “Laird MacNeil, Laird Donald, thank the gods. They came at dawn—took us by surprise. We’ve been holding them back since.”
“Did they take anything?” Jamie asked, scanning the burned-out building, the shattered crates.
The man shook his head. “Nothing. We hid the boats, like we’re meant to.”
“So they just…what? Wanted to break some walls and leave?” Jamie pressed.
The fisherman hesitated. “They fought to keep us from sending a runner. Then they kept looking out to sea. Like they were waiting.”
Waiting. Something settled in Jamie’s gut, a dread he couldn’t quite name.
Behind him, Cailean was giving orders—some of his men to return to the ship, others to give chase.
Jamie’s gaze wandered to the path the attackers had taken. How had they known it was there? And where was the ship that had brought them here? None of this made any sense. Unless…
“They were waiting for us,” he said slowly. “They wanted us to come. Just like they want us to pursue them now. That’s why they broke so easily. That’s why they fled inland instead of taking a ship. Because they want to keep us busy. They want us away from Dun Mallach.”
Cailean’s eyes sharpened. “What are ye saying, lad?”
Jamie’s stomach dropped.
Elise.
Rose. Jenna. Everyone left in the castle.
“Cailean,” Jamie said, his voice almost a whisper. “There’s nothing here worth attacking. So why here?”
Understanding dawned on the laird’s face. He spun towards the boats, already running.
“Back to the ship!” he roared. “Now! All of ye—move!”
Startled men hurried to obey. Jamie vaulted into the waiting boat, nearly capsizing it as he landed. His pulse thundered in his ears. Every thought was the same thought: Get back. Get back. Elise—gods, please be safe.
Cailean stood in the prow of the little boat and shouted to the steersman still aboard the warship. “Bring us about! Full sails! It’s a diversion! Dun Mallach is under attack!”
The sailors lurched into motion, hauling lines, swinging the prow sharply north. The longboats reached the ship and Jamie scrambled urgently up onto the deck, turning to face north, in the direction of Dun Mallach.
How had he been so stupid? How had he fallen for such an obvious ruse?
The ship surged forward as if it understood his urgency. Jamie gripped the gunwale until his knuckles went white, breath coming hard as the wind whipped around him.
“Elise,” he whispered to the waves. “I’m coming.”
*
Jamie knew long before the ship reached Dun Mallach’s harbor that something was very wrong. It wasn’t obvious on the surface. There were no enemy ships in the bay, no smoke rising from the village or the keep, no sign of disturbance.
But Jamie knew it in the creeping sense of dread that roiled in his stomach and raised the hairs on the back of his neck.
As the ship pulled into the quay, he paced up and down near the rail, hardly able to restrain himself from diving into the water and swimming for shore. It seemed to take an age before the ship docked and the boarding plank lowered.
His feet thudded onto it before it was even properly in place and he pelted onto the quayside, grabbed a horse from the group of stable hands who were waiting for them, and had vaulted into the saddle before anyone else had even disembarked.
“Jamie!” Cailean shouted behind him. “Wait! Ye canna just go haring off! We dinna know what’s waiting for us!”
Jamie didn’t care what was waiting. There could be a horde of king’s men for all he cared. He would cut his way through them and through anyone else who got in the way of reaching her.
“Yah!” He kicked the horse into an urgent gallop, shocked stable hands scattering out of his way as he shot up the road towards the keep.
He heard hoofbeats thundering behind him and knew that Cailean and his men were hurrying to catch up but he didn’t spare a glance for them. He couldn’t. All his attention was taken by the way his heart was racing with fear and with keeping his gaze fixed on his destination.
Still there was no sign of any attack and he began to wonder—to hope—that he might have misread the situation after all, when the gates of Dun Mallach opened and Arran, Jenna, and Rose came hurrying out to meet him.
Elise was not with them.
His heart seemed to freeze in his chest. He peered beyond them to the gate, hoping to see her emerge, but she didn’t.
Jamie thundered up to the group, pulled the horse up so sharply that mud showered over the track, and leapt to the ground almost before the beast had come to a halt.
“What happened?” he demanded. “Where is she?”
All three of them looked pale and shaken but it was Arran MacLeod who stepped forward.
“It’s my fault, Jamie. Ye charged me with seeing to Dun Mallach’s defense and I failed. If I had—”
“Don’t talk nonsense!” Rose snapped, cutting him off. “You couldn’t have stopped her if you tried. Nobody can stop her when she gets something into her head!”
“Stopped who? Stopped what?” He strode forward urgently, taking hold of Rose’s forearms. “What happened? Where is Elise?” He found himself yelling without meaning to, his voice rising into a panic-filled bellow.
Rose’s eyes filled with tears. Jenna turned to Arran and buried her face in her husband’s shoulder. Dimly, Jamie was aware of Cailean and his men arriving, but he had eyes only for Elise’s sister.
“They came right after you left,” Rose said, her voice shaky. “They’d landed a boat at the base of the cliffs so they couldn’t be seen until they were on us. Cat gave us some warning but even so…” She broke off, unable to go on.
Cailean strode up to his wife. More gently than Jamie could have managed he asked, “Who were they? What did they want?”
Rose glanced at her husband then back at Jamie. “King’s men. They wanted Elise. They set a trap for her, and she fell right into it.” A sob escaped her. “They took her! We tried to stop them but there were too many. They took her back to Islay.”
For one, two, three heartbeats, Jamie stood frozen. He didn’t seem to be able to take in what Rose was saying. Elise was gone? She’d been taken from him? No. That couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t.
In the next instant, he was moving. He was barely aware that he’d begun striding back towards the harbor, barely heard the cries of alarm and warning from those gathered behind him. Urgency boiled in his blood, an instinct that overrode all conscious thought.
Elise was gone. He had to get her back. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.
Someone caught his arm, yanked him around, and Jamie lashed out without thinking. Cailean ducked the punch swinging for his head.
“Jamie, stop!”
But he couldn’t stop. Rational thought vanished, replaced by anguish and fury. Roaring, he swung at Cailean again, all his fear and anger putting vicious strength into the blow. Cailean blocked it with his arm and then hammered his fist into Jamie’s chin hard enough to snap his head to the side.
“Get a hold of yerself, man! This willnae help Elise!”
Someone grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms. Arran’s voice rasped by his ear, “The king wants her alive, Jamie. She willnae be harmed. We’ll get her back but ye need to calm down. Are ye listening? She is unharmed!”
Slowly, the words penetrated. The red mist clogging his head evaporated a little. He sagged and would have fallen to his knees if Arran hadn’t been holding him up. The anger leaked out of him, leaving behind only the fear, so cold and cloying that he could barely breathe.
He looked up. Cailean was standing in front of him, feet shoulder-width apart and arms loose, as though bracing himself for another attack. Arran’s grip on his arms hadn’t slackened.
“All right,” he breathed. “All right. Ye can let me go.”
Cailean relaxed, took a step back, and Arran released Jamie’s arms, moving to stand beside Cailean and face his liege lord.
Jamie took a deep breath. “My apologies. I didnae mean to…”
Cailean waved his apology away. “There’s no need. I understand. Dear God, if it had been Rose that had been taken, I would have lost my mind as well.” He clapped a hand to Jamie’s shoulder. “But Arran spoke truly. We will get her back, whatever it takes.”
Jamie looked first at Cailean and then at Arran. Fierce determination shone in their gazes. Determination, but no fear. They were men of the Isles and would not suffer such an injustice. Not without retribution.
With an effort, he tried to calm his thumping heart and racing thoughts. Elise would not be helped by him storming off without thinking things through first. This, no doubt, was what Phillip was counting on. So he had to be wiser. Cannier.
He let out his breath slowly. Cailean and Arran watched him carefully, as if wary of another outburst. “Call a council for the great hall,” he told them. “Anyone who can sail a ship.” He met their gazes with a stern one of his own.
“We’re going to plan the invasion of Islay.”