“’Twill be all right, lass,” he murmured into her mind, likely mistaking her response as fear. “We havenae come this far to meet our end behind a waterfall.”
Though she knew he spoke of the defeated warlocks, she liked to think he was referring to them. What might exist if they found the sort of connection her friends had with their MacLomains. If that is, she would be allowed to in the end.
More so, if she would be strong enough.
“’Tis all right.” Graham’s words floated through their minds. “’Twas friend not foe. We are coming for you.”
“Coming how?” Bryce asked.
“Ye might be surprised,” Graham responded moments before the rock shifted behind them.
A bearded stranger stuck his head through and waved them along. “I come on behalf of King Robert the Bruce. Follow me.”
When they hesitated, Graham spoke into their minds. “You can trust him, Cousin. They’ve been expecting us.”
“He’s right,” she murmured, stemming out her magic. “He’s on our side.”
His eyes met hers. “Aye?”
“Yes.”
Their eyes held for another moment before he nodded. “All right. Come on then, lass.”
He gripped his dagger firmly as he took her hand and led the way. They ducked into a narrow torch lit tunnel that ran along the back of the ledge they were just standing on. The way was jagged and tight, and the stagnant air smelled of smoke, brine and sea salt. Fortunately, they didn’t have to walk all that far before slightly less repressive air breezed through, and it opened up.
The man they followed said nothing but waved them along through a cavern that only got bigger before they finally exited into the cool night. Wind gusted, and white-tipped waves etched the moonlit sea in the distance.
“’Tis one of the western isles,” Graham informed. “Two months before the Battle of Byland Moor.”
Jessie knew her Scottish history far better than most so she understood why they might be here. Or at least she knew how this location intertwined with the upcoming battle. Better yet how the people who lived here were involved.
“Do we know what day it is?” she asked.
When Graham told her, she nodded, curious what the warlocks might be up to that would affect this particular time in history. After all, they had arrived on the very day Angus Óg MacDomhnaill, or MacDonald, Lord of the Isles, and his firstborn son, John of Islay, had received word from King Robert the Bruce. They were to sail around the north of Scotland and stop English ships from carrying cargo to their depleted army.
Soon enough, they joined Graham, Christina and Sven then continued following several men through the forest toward the ocean. As they walked, she kept an eye out for a particular plant, not so sure she would find it in this location. Luckily she did and snatched a handful in passing before she shoved it in her pocket.
“What is that, lass?” Bryce asked, not missing a thing.
“Something that will help you,” she replied, leaving it at that as they came upon a vast torch-lit oceanside village. Plenty of Birlinns—or galley ships—were in port. Finely made, they were wooden vessels propelled by oars with square sails, their design most certainly influenced by the Norse. As it was, many in these parts still owed their allegiance to the King of Norway.
That, as it turned out, made Sven with his obvious Viking looks a little less daunting. Though some people still cast them curious glances, most kept to themselves as they traveled on.
It wasn’t long before they entered a surprisingly modest lodging considering it contained not only Angus himself but his son John. Both were rugged, bearded and sea worn but had the sort of broad-shouldered builds and daring eyes she figured drew plenty of women.
Angus greeted them first, not bothering with the formalities that befit such a powerful chieftain. Instead, he offered a hearty smile as he shook the men’s hands and kissed the back of her and Christina’s hands. Mischievousness lit his eyes as they went from his son to Jessie. She didn’t realize why until she saw the appreciative lookover he gave her. If she were to guess, he had a thing for short, petite women with darker looks.
“Nice to meet ye all,” John said, his voice an octave less booming than his father’s as his eyes lingered on Jessie. “We’ve heard tale of yer possible arrival and cannae imagine as to what we owe the pleasure.”
She didn’t miss Bryce’s possessive touch on her back as he kept a cordial enough expression and introduced them all.
“Laird of the MacLeod’s ye say?” Angus eyed him over. “A good strong lot by the looks of it.”
“Aye.” Bryce nodded, clearly impressed by their current company. “Though not as mighty a clan as yer MacDonald’s.”
“Aye.” Angus kept grinning as he urged them to sit around a fire and called out to a man at the entrance to bring drinks. “Sit. Rest yer weary bones, and we’ll figure out why after all these years Robert’s time-travelers ended up on my doorstep.” His eyes went to Sven. “And why ye’ve a Viking the likes of him along with ye.” He shrugged. “Though I’m sure he'll come in handy considering our recent orders.”
Ah, so there stood a good chance they would be sailing with them.
Jessie could tell by the flicker of surprise in Graham’s and Bryce’s eyes that they hadn’t anticipated Robert sharing that they were time-travelers.
“With all due respect,” Bryce said. “Mayhap ‘twould be best if ye told us more about King Robert’s orders, such as they are.”
“Such as they are? Ye mean how revealing, aye?” John answered for his father, grinning. It was obvious the two of them were good friends. “King Robert has eagerly awaited the return of his MacLomains for eight long years now and has sent word to every commander of every important battle that his friends might happen along.” His eyes swept over the lot of them. “And when they did, they were to be welcomed because they were there with good reason.”
Had he said all that then? Interesting that tidbit wasn’t recorded in history. But then in retrospect, once the curse lifted history would go back to the way it was supposed to be. And naturally, that did not include time-travelers.
Jessie found it amusing though that King Robert didn’t seem too worried about what his commanders might think of him claiming such a nonsensical thing. Then again, he was leading his country to freedom, and as proven time and time again, was an astounding military commander, so she supposed they took him at his word. But then just look at the MacDonald’s. They didn’t seem the least bit fazed.
“Aye, so we welcome you as our King requested,” Angus continued as they were all given mugs of ale. “And with any luck, we’ve a battle on the horizon.” One bushy eyebrow crawled upward slowly, that same glint of mischievousness in his twinkling eyes. “So I’ll be curious to see what yer part is supposed to be.” He eyed them with amusement. “Because outside of yer Viking ye dinnae strike me the sort who’s used to battling upon the sea.”
Bryce shook his head and focused on what he had said before. “So ye know we arenae from this time? That we’re from yer past?” It seemed he shared Jessie’s curiosity. “And ye believe it?”
“Aye,” John readily replied. He took a hearty swig of ale, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded, eagerness in his eyes. “’Tis not overly shocking to us as magic always abounds in these parts.” His gaze grew more zealous as he planted his fist on his knee and eyed them all. “Yet like Da said, why here? Why now?” His eyes went to his father. “And ‘twould probably be prudent of us to get some kind of proof they are who they say they are, aye?”
Sven’s and Bryce’s eyes narrowed as Angus replied, “It cannae hurt.”
Jessie tensed as Sven’s hand shifted closer to the hilt of his blade. Had they walked into a trap? Had it been that easy for their captors to take them? She had sensed nothing but curiosity and even excitement when she touched both Angus and John.
“What kind of proof are you boys lookin’ for?” Christina kicked in, a de
ceptively pleasant smile on her face. “And why wait till now to ask for it?”
Angus chuckled, his eyes less mischievous and more direct as they swept over them again. “Well, what sort of sense would it have made to do that beyond my well-defended encampment where I wasnae surrounded by my warriors?”
Silence settled as they all eyed each other. Graham’s, Bryce’s and Sven’s hands locked firmly around the hilt of their blades ready for a possible confrontation.
“But consider this,” John continued, a little less jovial though not necessarily upset. His gaze might be calm and steady, but his words made clear he knew they were braced to fight. “Had we seen ye as a true threat those weapons of yers wouldnae have made it past our village walls and certainly not into this cottage.”
“Aye,” Angus agreed, taking another swig of ale. “We arenae a threat to ye just desire a wee bit o’ proof is all.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “We’re of the isles and the sea and as such have seen our fair share of mysticism. Show us a wee bit o’ what only a MacLomain can do, and we’ll know without a shadow of a doubt ye are who ye say ye are.”
Bryce’s brows bunched in question. “And what is this MacLomain proof ye seek?”
Angus’ eyes went to Jessie’s ring. “The Bruce says the MacLomain gem has an untouchable power about it and will shine the likes I’ve never seen when its magic is ignited.”
Jessie kept her eyes dead ahead as Bryce spoke to her telepathically. “Say nothing, lass. This could be a trick. These men are known for their pirating ways.”
“Okay,” she replied but was sure to share with him what she had felt when she touched them. “My empathic abilities are rarely if ever wrong.”
“Aye, then,” he said. “’Tis good to know.”
“I got this,” Christina said into their minds. “Just hang on.”
Jessie glanced at her friend, not overly surprised they were all connecting telepathically at this point and could hear one another.
“If you want to see proof, I’ve got it.” Christina offered a charming grin as she looked from John to Angus. “You’ve gotta promise though that you won’t overreact but sit back and let things play out. Trust that my friends and I mean you no harm. Trust that we’re your allies.” Her eyes narrowed a fraction. “Can y’all do that? Can you let things play out because I promise it’ll be damn fast.” She snapped her fingers. “Blink of an eye.”
They considered her, hesitant at first but seemingly too curious to say no as they nodded.
“Well, all right then.” She held up her ring finger. “Just keep an eye on this Claddagh ring, okay?”
“Aye,” they barely got out before Graham whipped his blade at the man guarding the entrance. Fast, in the blink of an eye, Christina stood beside the guardsman and grabbed the dagger moments before it met its target.
Wide-eyed, Angus and John stood, blinking in amazement as they witnessed not just Christina’s supernatural speed, but her godly glow and most importantly the bright magical shine of the gem in her ring.
“Och!” Angus shook his head. “’Tis bloody true, then!”
“Aye,” John whispered, amazed as a slow grin curled his lips, and he nodded at his father. “We’ve got the Bruce’s lot with us through and through.”
“Be off with ye then,” Angus said to the man Graham had nearly taken out. “Let the others know we’ve truly friends not foes amongst us and see that proper lodgings are made up.”
Even more wide-eyed than his superiors, the man nodded then left as another came in with a platter of food and set it on a table beside them. Naturally, Christina dug right in without further prompting, needing to satisfy the use of her magic, or what she called her lightn’.
“’Tis bloody impressive,” Angus continued, eying Christina and Graham before his eyes went to Jessie and Bryce. “Ye two can do the same then?” His eyes dropped to her ring. “Make it shine like that and move so fast?”
“Aye,” Bryce said before Jessie had a chance to respond. He shifted his chair closer and pulled her hand onto his lap as he smiled warmly at her. “But ‘tis something we cannae do on request like Graham and Christina. Not yet.”
A shiver rippled through her at the unexpected promise in his eyes. While she knew he was doing it for show, it felt so real. “Here, lass,” Bryce said softly as he put some food on a plate for her. “You should eat.”
She nodded and offered a small smile to Angus and John as they watched her closely, waiting to see if she would elaborate on what Bryce said about their developing connection.
“Thank you for the food and drink.” She steered clear of deeper conversation. “Your hospitality is much appreciated.”
“Aye,” John responded. “’Tis our pleasure.” His eyes never strayed from her face. “Do ye mind if I ask ye one more thing then, lass?”
“Not at all,” she replied, sensing something bigger coming before he even said it.
“Good.” He cocked his head. “Would ye mind telling me why there’s a Norsewoman here named Aðísla claiming to be with ye?” His eyebrows perked. “Moreover, why she says yer arrival here might verra well mean our end?”
Chapter Six
BRYCE SHOOK HIS head and narrowed his eyes at Sven later that evening. “Why would she do this? Why would your Aunt Aðísla create havoc here before we even arrived?”
“I don’t know.” Sven frowned and shook his head. “And I’ll have no further answers until she joins us.”
“And when will that be?” he asked as his eyes drifted to Jessie. They had been given a small cottage of their own shortly after John’s question. They weren’t sent off because they couldn’t provide a sufficient answer but because rumor had it a strong storm was brewing up north. So Angus and John wanted to see that the ships were well prepared.
Fortunately, the MacDonald men had more trust in the Bruce’s faith in them versus the ominous words of a Viking woman. Yet Bryce got the feeling this wasn’t the end of it. That they would want answers eventually.
In the meantime, Jessie was listening quietly as she made a poultice out of the flowering plant she had picked earlier. Of the Figwort variety, it was known for its healing properties, and she was determined to treat Bryce’s scratch.
“I have been searching out my aunt since I first traveled to Scotland,” Sven continued, a frustrated growl in his voice as he spoke stronger words than he likely intended. “Yet she remains a hidden coward.”
“Is that right?” came a soft voice before none other than Aðísla entered, her sharp eyes going to Sven as he stood. “Sit, Nephew. Now. Then I will explain myself.”
“I will not,” he replied, irritation obvious in his eyes.
“You will,” she shot back, her eyes narrowed. “And you’ll do so out of respect not only to an elder but because you’re wise enough to know that too much emotion will never get you the answers you seek in life.” She cocked her head. “And without the answers you seek, how do you ever intend to keep your people safe?”
Though Sven frowned, Bryce didn’t miss the flash of fear in his eyes. “What has happened back home? Do you know something?”
“I know here and now is all that matters.” She urged them to join her by the fire. Though her eyes lingered on Jessie, she said nothing. Yet Bryce got the feeling she wanted to. That so much more was going on here. “I know that secrets are still kept and need to be revealed.”
“What secrets?” Sven shook his head, troubled. “Tell me...tell us.”
“A storm brews,” Aðísla said softly. “One that could very well throw history off track.” Her eyes went to Bryce. “They’re sailing into dangerous weather that will likely shipwreck the lot of them.” She scowled. “As I’m sure you all know, John is supposed to deliver news to Robert on the tenth that his father, Angus’ fleet, is in the Tay. Not only that but he has already sent scouting ships down to the Farne islands, and the Bass Rock and sent more galleys down to blockade Humber, Bridlington, Whitby, Hartlepool, and Tynemou
th.” She shook her head. “If they do not arrive safely and on time, history will very likely be changed.”
“And all because of weather that shouldn’t exist,” Jessie murmured. “A storm that never actually happened.”
“That’s right.” Aðísla’s eyes went to hers. “You know how to see them through this, yes? Because they fully intend to obey the king’s request no matter the peril.” Her approval was obvious. “We can only be thankful they are as eager to face danger on the high seas as we Vikings would be.” She shook her head. “These men are no cowards.”
Jessie clenched her jaw and held Aðísla’s eyes before she looked at the fire again and murmured, “There’s little I can do about what my...the warlock is doing right now unless I’m with the ships traveling through the weather itself.”
“So that is what you need to do,” Aðísla said. “Be with those ships.” She looked from Bryce to Jessie. “Both of you.” Her tone grew ominous. “If this does not happen, all will be lost.” Her pained eyes went to Sven. “Which means our descendants will be lost as will their country.”
Sven inhaled deeply, clearly disgruntled. “What of the burning dragon symbol that brought me here, to begin with? Does that have to do with why you’re here? What will be happening to our people? The prophecy?”
“The prophecy is here and now, Nephew,” she stated bluntly as her eyes again drifted to Jessie’s face. “As to the dragon on fire, that is not to be worried about.” Her eyes met Sven’s again. “All that matters is protecting your descendants and seeing them through this curse.” Her voice dropped an octave. “All that matters is that you are the man your father and Uncle Heidrek know you to be.”
As their eyes held and he offered no response, her voice remained low but intensified. “Two kings have sent you here and ask that you protect what matters most. Do you understand, Sven?” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you truly understand?”
Avenged by a Highland Laird Page 8
