The big man rubbed his chin as he peered over the cliff. “Aye, there’s a trail of sorts that leads down to the cove. This area was used by smugglers back in the day. But it’s steep and treacherous and I wouldnae recommend—”
“Let’s go.”
“It’s not a climb for the faint-hearted, lass. Perhaps—”
“The second anchor stone is down there, and I need to find it. If smugglers can get down there, I’m sure I can.”
Mal studied her dubiously. She could tell he wanted to refuse but had sense enough not to voice his doubts aloud. He sighed. “Fine. But I must insist ye are roped. Arran would flay me alive if aught should happen to ye.”
“That makes two of us. I’ll be careful, I promise.”
In short order she had a rope tied around her middle which was anchored to a rock at the top of the cliff. Mal insisted on going down first, and she was to follow closely behind. This didn’t seem like a good idea to Jenna seeing as if she fell, she’d likely take Mal with her, and he wasn’t wearing a rope. Still, she didn’t argue. She’d learned that these fifteenth century Highlanders would put bravery before common sense any day of the week.
To her immense relief, the trail didn’t turn out to be as steep as she expected. Once she and Mal began their descent, she found that although it had been out of sight from the top, the trail that zigzagged down the face of the cliff was wider than her outstretched arms. The footing was sometimes treacherous, but there were thorny bushes she could grab to steady herself if needed.
Even so, she was mightily glad when they reached the rocky shore at the bottom and Mal untied the rope around her waist. Looking up, she felt a little giddy to realize how far they’d descended, and the cliff above seemed to blot out the sky. Down here, the roar of the surf was so loud she would have to shout if she wanted Mal to hear and they would be lucky if they didn’t return to Dun Tabor spray-drenched and freezing.
She took a deep breath and tried to steady her breathing. The pull of the anchor stone was so strong she could feel it in her chest like a second heartbeat. It lay straight ahead somewhere, along the base of the cliff.
Signaling for Mal to follow, she began picking her way along the base of the cliff, over and around the huge boulders that littered the shoreline. She heard Mal curse in Gaelic as he followed.
More than once she cursed the ridiculous dress she was wearing. It kept snagging on sharp rocks and billowing out in the wind, threatening to tear her from her precarious perch. Give her a good old pair of jeans and some stout boots any day.
As she battled her way along the treacherous path, the pull of the anchor stone grew stronger and stronger. Yet, when she looked ahead, she could see no sign of it, just the rocky shore and the cliffs looming up on her right. But as she rounded a corner, she stopped dead, so quickly in fact, that Mal walked into the back of her.
To her right, the cliff rose up even higher than before, a craggy black monolith that seemed to suck in all the light. But in the base of that soaring monster, Jenna spotted a cave. It was no wondersmugglers had once used this place. The cave was completely invisible from above.
“What is it, lass?” Mal rumbled from behind her. “Why have ye stopped?”
“There,” she said, lifting a finger and pointing at the cave. “That’s where we need to go.”
Mal frowned at the dark maw of the cave. Jenna had to admit, it did not look very inviting. Mal drew his claymore with a rasp of steel loud enough to be heard over the crash of the waves.
“Then I’ll go first. Stay behind me.”
Jenna didn’t argue and stood back to allow Mal to stride past. A trail of sorts led up to the mouth of the cave, a path where the rocks had been worn down by the tramp of many feet.
“Hello?” Mal called as they reached the cave mouth. “Anyone here?”
There was no answer but the crashing of the waves and the call of gulls. Slowly, Mal stepped over the lip of the cave and went inside. Jenna followed him cautiously. Inside, the cave was large and surprisingly dry, with a floor of pulverized rock dust and walls of smooth granite. The shape of the cave amplified sound and the roar of the waves was so loud it seemed as if they had somehow fallen into the sea, even though it was a good way behind and below them.
Mal sheathed his claymore in the scabbard across his back. “Are ye sure the stone ye are looking for is here? I dinna see aught.”
“It’s here,” Jenna said. “I can feel it.”
She walked past him, towards the back of the cave, where the light barely reached. And there she found it. The second anchor stone rose from the cave floor like an accusing finger. It was different from the first. This wasn’t a stone that had been raised by human hands but rather was a stalagmite of yellow calcium deposits that had grown up over countless millennia. A stalactite grew from the ceiling right above it, so long that the two almost touched. Almost, but not quite. Whatwould happen when they did?
The stalagmite was easily as tall as she was and carved with the same glyphs and runes as the first anchor stone. She could feel its power pulsing against her senses like a summer storm.
“Could you wait outside?” she asked Mal. “I need some space.”
Mal looked about to argue, but then thought better of it. “Aye. Yell if ye need aught.”
As he left, Jenna approached the stalagmite and placed her hands on its surface. It was smooth and strangely warm to the touch, as though it was alive.
“I hope you’re more helpful than your brethren,” she muttered as if the rock could hear her.
She sat cross-legged in front of it and closed her eyes. As she sent her magic into the rock, the golden net of Skye’s magic immediately sprang into focus in her mind’s eye. Just as before, she saw the twisted lines of golden power that stretched from this anchor stone across the land. And, just as before, she saw the dark holes where that golden power had failed.
