Chapter 37
Outrun the Beacons
Flora
S
leep is elusive. The presence of the Riders charges the air, and I miss the comforting sound of Chyr’s heartbeat against my ear and the warmth of his arms around me.
Yesterday, sleeping across the cavern from him and the others was easier.
Here, he is close enough for me to sense him a couple of feet behind me. Close enough to feel his absence.
I’m relieved when Niall wakes him for his turn at watch. Chyr pauses to look at me before he leaves, as if he knows that I’m awake. But instead of speaking to me, he whispers, “Watch her,” to Ronan and snakes through the narrow opening of the shelter.
I wait until he’s gone, half-afraid Ronan will shift closer and take Chyr’s empty spot. When he doesn’t, I whisper without turning, “Is there so much danger you need to watch me?”
“No—yes. I don’t know,” Ronan whispers back. “We don’t know. Chyr’s right, though. You need to be careful.”
“Does it bother you not to trust your brothers?” I ask. “I imagine trust is the most important thing between you.”
Ronan is silent for so long, I’m convinced he’s going to ignore me. “They could just as well wonder why they can’t trust us.”
“I don’t want to come between you.”
“You haven’t. None of us is responsible for the roles we’re born to. Now try to get some rest.”
Despite my arguments to the contrary, we start saddling the horses as soon as the sun is gone.
The ride to Castle Tchirum is three to four hours at most—along Loch Seil to its end, then following the river overland to Loch Moadar, the large sea inlet that surrounds the island castle and flows to the Sea of Islands.
There’s no sense in hurrying. I will need time to hire the boats once we get there, and I can’t do that before dawn. Or with a slew of impatient Riders at my back.
“What’s the point of waiting to speak to anyone?
” Cathal asks. “It’s far too risky, and we can simply take the boats.
We’ll need every moment we can scrape together to cross Muilean and reach the doorway on time.
If you’re squeamish about it, we can leave a bit of gold for whoever owns the boats.
But we don’t want anyone coming with us. ”
“We’ll need at least one pilot who knows the coast, tides, and shoals,” I say, biting off a sigh.
Cathal draws himself up, his expression smug. “We all know how to sail. It isn’t difficult.”
“Is that so?” I place the saddle on Eira’s back and make sure it’s set smooth so it doesn’t pinch.
“Can you navigate out of Loch Moadar in the dark, in swells that will lift us sideways? Can you time the ebb beyond the point, read the riptides, and navigate the shallows close to shore to avoid Vheara’s patrols?
Do you know the hidden landings on Muilean? ”
“Why not cross directly over the Sound? It’s shorter,” Chyr says.
“Vheara would be stupid not to have ships waiting at both ends, ready to pounce on any vessel they spot. Even if they’re not looking for you, there will be others trying to get to Eireen to escape the queen’s reprisals.”
I know Chyr can’t be surprised by what I’m saying, but he isn’t asking for himself. He’s giving me the chance to explain my logic to the others. They don’t know me, and I haven’t earned their trust.
No one argues, though they don’t look convinced. I’m not sure they understand how hard the crossing will be at night.
We start the ride towards Castle Tchirum in wary silence, weaving carefully through the willow scrub to circle around a camp of soldiers not far beyond our own.
Two other camps slow us as the salt tang of the sea begins to replace the wet pine and peat of the wood and the river.
The moon is still high when grit and damp sand begin to whisper underfoot, muffling the dull thud of the horses’ hooves.
Shade and Shadow leave footprints like wisps of mist that vanish almost as soon as they pass.
At our backs, a cold wind blows down the river, carrying smoke from the watchfires that glow orange in the distance.
Ahead of us, kelp drifts tangle along the flats that line the great sea loch of Moadar that empties into the Sea of Islands, and the ruined walls of the old Domhnall castle rise from the small island at the centre of the loch like a broken fist.
I don’t sense anyone inside, which means I was right to hope Castle Tchirum would be a safe place for us to shelter.
But as I look at the ruins now, they’re a reminder of how long our clan has been fighting against the Everfolk, struggling to save what should be ours by right.
Four centuries ago, my people destroyed the greatest Domhnall stronghold before it could fall to the Sun King to be used against us.
Yet memory is fickle. I remember playing among the castle ruins with my brothers when we were children.
I’ve never forgotten how Dughall of Ceapaich damn near drowned me here in the salty water while my younger brothers watched and laughed.
Rory, my older brother, rescued me from Dughall and lifted me to his shoulders as he splashed along the causeway back to the mainland.
What I’ve failed to recall until this moment is that the causeway is submerged except when the tide is low, which, by the look of it, won’t be for several hours.
Dark tongues of current slither over the wet sand ribbon that’s barely visible beneath the water. A curlew gives its lonely, fluting call as I rein Eira in and stand to watch the tide.
My fingers clench on the reins, and my cheeks flare hot as I feel the Riders looking at me.
“Brilliant,” Lorcan says, reining his horse hard enough that the red gelding throws his head up. “Shall we set a watchfire of our own here on the beach? Maybe put up a war banner, too. Just in case we’re not visible enough as we twiddle our thumbs and wait to cross.”
Sean, who has been glaring at my back for the second straight night, snorts at that. “I told you the woman was trying to kill us, didn’t I?”
“Daire can make sure we won’t be seen,” Chyr says, sending a scathing look at both Sean and Lorcan.
Fortunately, that shuts them both up.
Chyr shifts his attention to me, his eyes softening. “How deep is the water, Flora? Can your magic do anything?”
“Can I split and hold back the tide?” I gape at him, thinking he’s lost his mind.
“Can’t you?” He raises his brows and gives me that slightly crooked smile I’ve come to know.
Then he shakes his head. “You wouldn’t need to do it alone.
Sean is skilled with windshear and vortices.
My own air magic is better with cords and short bursts—and Niall’s is more about precision than force.
Daire and Lorcan have water magic. And all of us can lend you strength. ”
“Nothing that can hold back the ocean,” Daire says. “And why would we trust her magic?”
“I’ll settle for someone holding back your mouth long enough for Flora to concentrate,” Ronan says, and Rua gives a big yawn where she’s curled across his shoulders.
“Father of Curses,” Sean growls. “Do you all hear yourselves? We’re not here to save this woman from her own stupidity.
” He jabs a finger in Chyr’s direction and sweeps a look around at each of the other Riders.
“We don’t know what will be waiting for us before we reach the doorway.
Not to mention what is waiting for us in Tirnaeve.
We can’t afford to waste any magic. Not on her. ”
“I’m sorry.” Heat floods my cheeks, and my breath comes too fast and shallow to fill my lungs with air.
Fergal stares at me, sets his jaw, and kicks his horse forward, sending it splashing out onto the causeway.
“Fergal, stop,” Chyr orders.
Before Fergal can rein in, though, a wave washes his mare off her feet.
She tries to swim, nose high, and her eyes are panicked as the tide sweeps her farther from the causeway. Fergal dives from the saddle and paddles towards her head, but he’s not a strong swimmer either. Another wave pulls him under.
I don’t stop to consider whether holding the sea is possible—I focus on what’s least impossible.
Instead of trying to force the water back, I steal the motion from it, stilling a section before it reaches the causeway above Fergal and his horse.
It only holds a few moments before it breaks, but I try it again, and it feels firmer, as though my grip on it is stronger.
Between the causeway and Fergal and the mare, the level drops, and the rush of current slows. Water streams around the barrier, doing its best to fill the empty space, but both the Ever and the horse find their feet. Fergal crouches on the sand, a few inches of water still eddying around him.
Racking coughs shake his body. Then he shakes himself and reaches the trembling mare. He pats her on the neck, pulls himself into the saddle, and rides her back in the direction of the causeway.
And now that I’m holding the water, I can’t help thinking about it.
Holy Goddess—I am holding back the tide.
The reflection of the pale moon ripples on the water, nearly full, and the air is heavy with magic and brine and smoke. I shiver, and cold sweat beads across my skin. I can practically feel Sean’s gaze boring into my back, sharp as an executioner’s axe.
The magic doesn’t feel wrong. It doesn’t feel forced, not in the way that magic used to be painful. It’s as though I’m asking and it answers.
I don’t know how much I have inside me, or how much I am spending. Whether I’ll have enough to get everyone to the other side. All I can do is test it.
“Stay here,” I say.
Kicking Eira into a run, I charge out onto the causeway, pushing the barrier forward as I ride.
“Go! Everyone!” Chyr orders behind me. “Now!”
Water splashes as the Riders send their horses forward at once, a trained unit charging. That’s not what I wanted, and my hands tremble.
Instead of the narrow space needed to calm the water for a single horse, now I have to hold back enough water for all of them.