Jenna nodded, and they hurried towards the hole in the cliff. It was a cave much like the one in which she’d encountered Lir. This one though had none of the reflected light of the waves or the smell of salt.Instead, it was as dark as a tomb and smelled of stale air that hadn’t been disturbed for centuries.
Jenna halted on the threshold. The sense of wrongness thrummed on her senses like a note played out of key, a wrong chord in a vast orchestra. The back of her neck tingled.
“I’ll go first,” Arran said, holding his claymore in a double-handed grip.
“Wait.” Jenna grabbed his wrist to halt him. She reached inside herself, grasped her magic, and used it to craft a small sphere of light, no bigger than an apple, that formed on the palm of her hand. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to light their way and stop them tripping over and breaking their necks. “We’ll go together.”
Arran nodded. “Aye. Together then.”
Side by side, they stepped forward. Jenna found herself holding her breath as they moved into the cave, half-expecting something horrible to jump out and grab them. But nothing moved, and as they crossed the threshold, her light finally chased away the shadows and revealed the interior. It wasn’t large, more of a depression in the rock rather than a true cave, but the floor had been smoothed by the passage of many feet and the walls curved above them, giving the space the impression of a bowl.
And in the center of that bowl stood the thing they’d come to seek.
Rising out of the floor was another anchor stone. Only this one wasn’t like the others. Instead of bearing the whorls and glyphs of Skye’s ancient magic, this one was marked with spiky runes that looked like slashes carved into the stone’s skin. The stone itself was not smooth but cut into sharp angles and sloping planes and as black as coal. It looked wrong, like one of those impossible objects where the lines and angles didn’t quite add up. It hurt Jenna’s eyes to look at it.
Behind it, farther back Jenna saw a single standing stone no higher than her knee. This one was marked with the familiar symbols of Skye’s magic—the original anchor stone that had been superseded bythe one placed here by Njord’s followers. She could feel no power coming from this at all.
“That’s what they’re coming for?” Arran asked, nodding at the black, angular stone.
“Yes.”
Arran’s eyes narrowed. He glanced around the cave, stance and expression wary, as if expecting an attack.
“It’s just a stone.”
Jenna shook her head. “It’s an anchor stone. Can’t you feel it?” His blank expression was answer enough to that. “But it’s not an anchor stone for Skye’s magic. It’s Njord’s. It holds his magic. From here they could resurrect his power and his dominion over Skye. This is what they’ve been looking for.”
She knelt by the stone and hovered her hand an inch above its surface. Something like electricity brushed against her skin. Closing her eyes, she sent her senses questing outwards. The golden web of energy that covered Skye flared to life in her mind’s eye immediately, shimmering like a net of woven corn. The dark spots where the magic had failed were still there and she realized suddenly that the decay began here, in this cave. With the anchor stone before her.
An alien magic was emanating from Njord’s stone. Instead of gold, the color of this magic was blood red. She could see it pulsing from the stone and spreading out along the golden web, weaving its way among the strands so insidiously that it was almost undetectable unless you knew what to look for. It was leaching poison into Skye’s magic, weakening it, burning holes in its essence.
Jenna had no idea how long it had been here. Decades, probably. It had sat here undiscovered, eroding Skye’s magic so slowly that nobody noticed until it was too late.
And now, Njord’s followers were coming to finish the job. If they succeeded, it would be over. Skye’s magic would be destroyed, gone forever, and there would be nothing she nor anyone else could do about it.
She opened her eyes and looked at Arran. “We don’t have much time. We have to destroy this.”
Arran nodded. “Then stand back.”
He pulled Jenna to her feet and pushed her behind him. Then, grasping his claymore with both hands, he swung it with all his might at the stone. Jenna flinched as it struck, an almighty clang echoing through the cave and sparks flying from the stone. But it remained undamaged. Not even a scratch marred its angular surface.
Arran growled under his breath. Picking up a rock the size of his head, he raised it high above his head and brought it slamming down on the anchor stone with all his might. The rock shattered into pieces on impact, but the anchor stone remained undamaged.
“I’ll have the men bring chisels and hammers,” Arran said, turning towards the entrance.
Jenna caught his arm. “That won’t make any difference. Magic made this thing, and magic is the only thing that can destroy it.”
He let out a slow breath. “All right. What do ye need me to do?”
“Stay with me.”
He placed his hand over hers. “Always.”
Jenna stared at him, a hundred things she wanted to say crowding her tongue. But she only nodded.
She risked a glance outside. The raider ships were entering the bay, inching ever closer. She saw faces lining the railings, warriors wearing leather armor and carrying weapons. So many. Too many.
“Dinna look at them,” Arran said, putting his finger under her chin and turning her face towards him. “They willnae enter this cave nor touch a hair on yer head. I swear it.”
