Down on the beach a group of men were gathered—his eastern patrol that had been tracking the raiders along the coast.
Of the raiders, there was no sign.
Arran allowed himself a small nod of satisfaction. They had made it here before them. So far, so good.
He ordered his men to dismount and, leaving the horses picketed on the trail, led the way down onto the beach, Jenna walking at his side. The captain of the eastern patrol strode to meet them, looking over how many men Arran had brought with him.
“My laird,” he said, inclining his head. “I’m mighty glad to see ye, I can tell ye.”
“Alec,” Arran said, taking the man’s arm wrist to wrist in the warrior’s grip. “What news?”
“They’re coming this way all right. They’ve been keeping out to sea, trying to sneak up on us without us noticing. The daft bastards seem to think we are eejits. We’ve been using the higher ground to keep track of them. I’ve posted relays up and down the coast. If the force splits or changes direction, we’ll soon know about it. They’ve not shown any signs of doing that so far though.”
“Nor will they,” Arran said. “Because what they want is right here.” He looked around the bay. “Somewhere.”
He turned to Mal and issued instructions for his men to take up position on the cliffs overlooking the bay and on the sand dunes behind. “We have to stop them from landing if we can. Have everyone keep out of sight and have fire-arrows at the ready. Fire as soon as they’re in range. I want as many of their boats sunk as possible before they can land. We need to give Jenna as much time as we can.”
Mal nodded then turned and began bellowing orders. His warriors hurried to obey. As he watched his people move into position, not a grumble, nor a question, nor a hesitation among them, pride swelled in his chest. This was Clan MacLeod, and they would not allow Skye to fall. Not while any of them had breath left in their bodies.
He turned to Jenna. “Well, lass? Should we get started?”
Chapter Twenty
Jenna did notlike the feel of this place. Not at all. To the naked eye, it looked peaceful. Beautiful even, with its calm waters and golden beach. But that beauty was deceptive. There was something here that felt… wrong, like the stench of rotting meat hidden by expensive perfume.
The feeling had been building the closer they rode to the place Merrick had marked for them and now she was here, it was so overwhelming she felt sick to her stomach.
“Jenna?” Arran asked. “Are ye all right?”
His big hand settled on her shoulder, and she jumped. “What? Yes, I’m fine. It’s just… just…” She swallowed down the bile that was trying to rise up her throat. “I’m fine.”
His expression suggested he wasn’t convinced. There was no sign of the raiders, thank all the gods. That meant she had time. Time to find whatever it was in this shrine that was blocking her magic, and destroy it. Time to stop the coming battle before it ever began. Time to stop Arran from getting hurt.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The sun was warm on her face, the wind a gentle caress across her skin as she reached down into her magic and sent her senses questing wide across the bay, searching, searching for that sense of corruption and wrongness.
Her eyes opened with a gasp, and she stumbled. Arran was thereimmediately, hands going around her waist to steady her.
“What is it, lass?”
She raised a shaky finger and pointed at the far cliff. “There. It’s over there.”
Arran’s expression tightened. He drew his claymore, the blade flashing in the sunlight. “Let’s go.”
They marched down the beach towards the dark cliff and with each step, the sick feeling in Jenna’s stomach intensified. By the time they reached the rock face, she was stumbling in the sand and Arran had to hold her up with one arm. A shelf of rock sloped gently out into the sea in front of them, with waves lapping at its farthest end. Arran helped Jenna up onto it and she saw that it was littered with seaweed and small pools. At high tide, it would likely be completely submerged.
Which is why the raiders are coming now, she thought.At low tide. So they can access it.
She turned, gazing behind to where the shelf of rock ran back into the cliff. At first she could see nothing out of the ordinary, but slowly, as her eyes adjusted, she spotted something. A darker shadow against the base of the cliff, a patch so black it seemed like a void. It was from there that the sense of corruption came, wafting on the breeze like the scent of carrion.
She clutched Arran’s arm tighter and pointed. “There.”
Together, they made their way towards it. Then suddenly a call went up from the cliff top above.
“Raiders!”
Jenna’s heart jumped as she spun to face the horizon. There, still far out to sea, but coming this way, Jenna saw sails. Many, many sails.
Arran growled a string of curses in Gaelic. “We have to hurry.”
