When Highland Lightning Strikes

by Willa Blair

  Chapter Five

  Brodric lounged at the small table in Angus’s croft, cup of ale in hand. “Ye dinna need to reward Colin’s men,” he said, continuing the discussion started over an hour before.

  Angus paced. He’d wanted to think through his plans for dealing with the malcontents in the clan. Brodric was the best man he knew for talking an idea to death, which was exactly what he needed, to be ready for when the Council announced his election later today.

  “They’ve done little of the work up to now,” Brodric continued. “Why make them a hunting party? They’ll just keep doing what they’ve no’ been doing, only out of yer sight. If I were ye, I’d put them to work for the stone mason. Let them make up for lost time.”

  “Thomas wouldna appreciate the kind of help he’d get from that lot.”

  “So ye’ll arm them with arrows they can shoot at ye from the trees…”

  Angus paused and shook his head. “They’re no’ going to do that.”

  “Why no’?”

  “Because I didna drop that tree on Colin. They may no’ like the Council’s decision, but one of their own agreed to it, so they canna complain.”

  “Och, aye, they can and they will.”

  “Hence my wish to get them away from the rest of the clan. Let them hunt. If they come back empty-handed, then I’ll put them to work for the stone mason.”

  Brodric laughed and lifted his cup in silent agreement. “Now that’s settled, there’s something else bothering ye, aye?”

  Angus frowned. “What do ye mean?”

  “If I didna ken ye so well, I might no’ have noticed how ye watch the lass, Shona. I’d say ye want her, but there’s something holding ye back. Is it her uncle, Seamus?”

  Angus gave a mirthless chuckle and settled across the table from Brodric. “Nay. ’Tis a notion Colin planted in my head before he died—or in Shona’s actually, and she related it to me—about the chief needing to marry to ally with another clan.”

  Brodric scoffed. “We’ve got the Lathans and Iain MacIntosh. And Toran’s treaty. How many more allies do ye think we need?” He set his cup aside and leaned forward. “Now, if there were a lass who’d caught yer eye…but nay, ye’ve been carrying the weight of MacAnalen on yer back for months and havena been out of the glen, except to hunt.” He leaned back and picked up his cup again, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Come to think of it, neither have I…”

  “There’s more on my mind than that,” Angus continued, suddenly needing to unburden himself of his suspicious, “and this may sound daft…”

  “’Twould no’ be the first time…”

  “I’m no’…”

  “Spit it out, lad.”

  “I think Shona may be like Aileana. No’ a healer. Something else. I canna be sure, and I dinna like the idea, but…”

  “Ah, I hear our own healer, Craig, coming out of yer mouth,” Brodric grumbled and stood, then paced to the fire.

  Angus watched him with some trepidation. He’d spent months nursing this sense of having been wronged, and he knew Brodric was of a very different mind where the healer was concerned.

  “Ye ken I have first-hand knowledge what the Lathan lass can do. Craig is a fool, and I canna believe ye have let him sway yer thinking.”

  “I dinna doubt ye wanted Aileana to have cured yer injury…”

  “And she did.”

  “But she didna save the MacAnalen.”

  Brodric turned to face him. “Is that what’s been chewing at ye all these months? Ye ken how we found him. Where he lay, near drowned in the loch. Craig couldna save him. ’Tis why ye made that dangerous ride to the Aerie, and why the Lathans risked the lass—for ye. For us. For, I’ve nay doubt, the damned Lathan treaty. ’Tis no’ the healer’s fault she couldna save yer brother. He was more dead than alive and had been for days.”

  Angus lifted his hands, palm up. “If she could heal ye…”

  “I wasna near to done for. And as for our lass, if there’s something Shona can do, well, she’s a different person. Ye must let her be herself, no’ judge her by what someone else did or didna do.”

  Angus drummed his fingers on the tabletop, then made a fist. Could he?

  Brodric grinned. “Ye do care for her.”

  Angus nodded. “Aye.”

  “Then let me give ye a word of advice, my friend.” Brodric’s expression turned serious. “Dinna hurt the lass, or ye’ll deal with me. Make up yer daft mind. But most of all, do what yer heart tells ye to do.”

  ****

  With her heart in her throat, Shona went to help the other women put away the remains of the midday meal. The council elder had just announced to the gathered clan Angus had been named chief of MacAnalen, by proclamation of the council. She knew that meant he’d have to find a bride outside the clan. That’s what lairds did. He had no siblings to offer up in his place.

  He could never marry her.

  The thought made her chest hollow out. She, who did not wish to marry, was grieving over losing Angus to his clan. That made no sense, yet she felt it in her bones. She was happy for him, happy he’d gotten the position and recognition he’d clearly earned. But she couldn’t help being sad for herself. Miserable, actually. The hollow space where her heart should be started to ache, and tears burned behind her eyes. She fought them back, swallowed, and reminded herself what marriage to Angus would mean now he was laird. She’d be under constant scrutiny, which she could not risk or bear to endure. She clenched her teeth and focused on the job she was supposed to be doing, not borrowing trouble, nor pining over the new Laird MacAnalen.

  Another storm was coming fast, judging by the way clouds piled up on the horizon and the wind kicked up. Shona could see the dark haze of a rain shower moving up the glen. When they finished putting away the remains of the meal, she and Christina collected anything the wind could carry off and stored it away in a nearby finished croft. The others had scattered to their own homes, or returned to the chores they’d been doing before the meal. While she worked, Shona kept an eye on Angus and some of the men frantically tying down the latest beams they’d hauled up.

  She paused, heart in her throat, watching them, fearful a sudden gust would unbalance and send them tumbling to the ground. But then Angus stood and nodded.

  They’d finished before the storm hit.

  He motioned for the other men to climb down from their perch, and Shona breathed a sigh of relief. Watching them move toward safety on the ground, Angus waited until the other men were all climbing down the scaffolding before he, too, started working his way across the beam he stood on to the scaffolding.

  Suddenly, the sky filled with light. Shona’s gasped breath tasted metallic. Then a deafening crack made her jump. The hair on the back of her neck lifted. Another loud crack broke the stillness as everyone froze in place, then a rustle of leaves gave warning. Over the new hall, a heavy branch split from the oak tree just hit by lightning and dropped onto the nearest wall. Then the oak’s trunk split in two along the line of fire visible from crown to ground. Slowly, ponderously, half fell toward the new structure.

  Shona pushed as she ran toward the hall, trying to hold back the disaster she saw unfolding. But too much happened too fast, in too many directions, and she couldn’t stop any of it. She saw Angus fall and tried to catch him as the tree crashed onto the hall, collapsing the scaffolding, walls, and roof.

  Nay! Angus!

  Shona worked her way toward the center of the wreckage, calling Angus’s name. Part of the wall and some roof timbers had held together and, propped on other rubble, formed a loose cover. Most of the tree’s leafy crown had landed beyond the hall’s structure, but the scorched trunk, still burning and smoking, lay across piles of debris.

  She prayed no one was underneath. People called out, swearing and screaming in pain. Others ran to try to shift stones and timbers to get to them. The wind howled, a nerve-rattling dissonance against their cries.

  Another branch fell, shaking the remainin
g structure, and Shona froze in between two broken sections of stone wall. Would the other half of the tree come down as well? Toward the hall or away from it? What could she do? What should she do? She turned a full circle, horrified by the scene around her. Most of the clan had to be in or on the wreckage, trapped or trying to free those who were trapped. Shona shuddered. She couldn’t help them all, not all at once, no matter how much she wanted to.

  A new gust of wind and a sudden roar announced a heavy downpour. Rain collected and poured in streams off every surface. With the next loud crack, she heard more things falling and more screams. She whirled in time to see the other half of the oak topple, taking a smaller birch tree with it. Then something hit the back of her head. Everything went dark, and she heard nothing more.

  ****

  Angus fought to get out from under the roof timber and rubble around and over him, but lying on his belly with both arms underneath his body, he couldn’t move enough to push any debris off. He was trapped. The last thing he’d seen before the rain started coming down in sheets, blinding him, was movement, and he hoped it had been someone coming to free him. Somewhere nearby, the sound of a crying bairn got swallowed up by the downpour. The storm had brought early darkness with it, so he depended on his hearing to understand what was going on around him. He was certain that first flash had been lightning. It split a tree onto the hall, knocking it down. He wasn’t sure how many people had been inside the partially finished shell, but he prayed they’d all gotten out.

  Water dripped on his head and trickled down his face, sometimes running into his nose. He wished he could wipe it away. He lay in some sort of depression, one of many that would have been filled and smoothed out when the walls and roof were done. That indentation had saved him from being crushed when everything crashed down, but now rainwater started to collect in it and he feared ending up like his brother, half drowned in a shallow pool. How ironic to drown in his own hall instead of the loch.

  Lightning flashed, giving Angus a glimpse of what lay over him. Too much. More than he could hope to escape on his own. He found himself wishing Shona did have a talent like the healer’s, and could move things with a gesture. Still, he knew better than to count on her—those talents were unreliable.

  Then a rumble of thunder made everything shake, and he started praying nothing else fell. How many people were injured? How many dead? He tried to twist and worm his way out from under the debris trapping him, but he barely had room to breathe. He could lift his head far enough to see over the edge of the depression he lay in, but that was all. He hurt all over. A dull ache actually relieved his mind just a bit. No sharp pain meant no bones were broken—he hoped. A laird needed to be able to fight for his clan. So did the rest of his men, and judging by the agonized cries he heard, some would have a long recovery ahead—if they survived.

  Finally, a low, feminine chant reached his ears. Shona! What was she doing in the ruins of the hall? Timbers and chunks of rock wall surrounded them on all sides and slanted over their heads. Her voice came to him faint and slurred, but loud enough he could make out some of her words. Prayers, mostly. But her next words nearly stopped his heart.

  “Save these people, and I’ll never bother any of them again.”

  A chill skittered over Angus that had nothing to do with being wet and trapped. What did she mean? That she would leave? Or was she trapped and bargaining with God to die? Nay, he could not let that happen. He began struggling harder.

  Chapter Six

  Shona came awake to the sound of her own voice, muttering. The fierce pounding in her head stole her breath for a moment, silencing the mumbled drone of the sounds she was making. Words? What had she been saying?

  The last thing she remembered was working her way into the wreckage, searching for Angus. She felt as though the lightning had split her skull at the same time it split the tree. The slightest movement sent a streak of pain drilling through her head to just behind her eyes and made her stomach turn. Whatever knocked her out had left her woozy and disoriented.

  The darkness was absolute. Night must have fallen while she was unconscious. Wet and cold, she couldn’t tell if she was bleeding. Rain had drenched her hair and clothes and still dripped into her face. A metallic scent filled the air, but she had no way to tell if it came from lightning or from spilled blood. Occasional rumbles of thunder told her the worst of the storm was moving away. That was a blessing. But she didn’t hear Angus shouting orders and directing the search. She’d seen him fall, so he must be trapped somewhere nearby.

  Alive? Please, God, let him be alive.

  Other people were crying, calling out, shouting for friends and loved ones. Brodric shouted Angus’s name from somewhere behind her. She held her breath, waiting for his response. Surely he would answer his friend. When none came, Brodric called again, more urgently this time, his voice still coming from behind her but more to the left. He must be searching the rubble, frantic to find his friend, to know who’d survived. And who had not.

  “Damn it, laird, I ken ye’re in there somewhere. Answer me!”

  Brodric left a steady stream of oaths trailing behind him as he moved toward Shona, punctuated occasionally by his grunts of effort as he shifted debris. She could hear the dull thud of rock bouncing off rock and lumber. Brodric swore to kill Angus, if he wasn’t already dead, unless he answered soon. “Ye’d best be alive, if ye ken what’s good for ye,” she heard him swear. “We’re runnin’ out of good candidates to be laird.”

  “Here…”

  There! She heard the croak of Angus’s voice. This time, she didn’t mind the pounding in her head when her heart leapt to her throat. He was alive.

  Had Brodric heard him? Angus’s response had been so faint she couldn’t tell where he was. Before the lightning struck the tree, she’d seen him heading for the outside wall’s scaffolding, so he should be near the edge of the debris. She took a deep breath, inhaled a nose-full of rain, and coughed. Brodric called again. Nay! He had moved away. “Brodric!” Damn it, she could barely speak. He’d never hear her, either. But she tried, anyway, not wanting to count on him hearing when Angus cried out again.

  If only she had the strength to lift all this debris and fling it away from the village, but she did not. Worse, she could see nothing around her, so she could not even free herself without risking other lives. The best she could do—the only thing she could do—was help the rescuers as they dug into the wreckage of the hall. Eventually, they must reach Angus. And her.

  She forced herself to ignore her throbbing head and focused on the voices around her, listening to the rescuers shout back and forth about what to do next, how to move aside a rock or a splintered roofing beam. She lent her assistance where she could, trying to lighten their load, but the effort made her head pound more fiercely, leaving her whimpering. If she heard wrong, or guessed wrong, she could do as much damage as the storm had done. The thought of harming anyone nearly made her quit, but it was clear the rescuers were having trouble and her assistance often made the difference between freeing someone in time to save them or leaving them trapped until more help could arrive. She couldn’t give up. This clan had seen too much death.

  A chorus of oaths followed by excited voices told her they’d found someone alive, someone they’d thought dead. She listened carefully to the instructions the men gave each other. From what the men described, she knew much of the structure had tumbled and stacked on branches of the fallen tree, stones on roofing beams and beams on stones, like game cards scattered by a frustrated child, creating pockets like the one she found herself in. She hoped nothing else collapsed before help could reach them. Even the would-be rescuers could become trapped.

  ****

  Angus struggled to keep his head out of the water. The rescuers sounded closer. Would they find him before the depression he lay in filled with rain? Would they find Shona in time to save her? How many of his people lay injured and dying under the rubble? The questions running through his mind t
ormented him even more than the wet and the cold, or the cramping in his neck and shoulders from holding up his head.

  He managed to croak out “here” in answer to Brodric’s call, but he doubted he’d been heard over the rain. His throat felt choked with dust. Another irony for a man about to drown in his own hall. He’d never felt so helpless. So useless, save on the day they’d found his brother.

  The rain suddenly let up. To Angus, it seemed the storm held its breath. Voices filled the ensuing silence, and he added his to the melee, calling out uselessly, his voice too weak to be heard above the others. Then the next downpour started with a roar. Would no one reach him in time? Even though he could hear other people, Angus felt desperately alone.

  Then a glimmer of illumination revealed Shona, lying only a few feet away. She lifted her hand and tensed, as if straining, yet she didn’t touch anything. Then her hand waved to the side and she did it again.

  “Shona. What are ye doin’?” He managed a little more volume that time.

  Angus couldn’t miss how her entire body suddenly stiffened, but she completed the movement, waving her hand to the side. Then she turned her face toward him.

  “Angus?”

  “Shona! Are ye hurt?”

  “I’m well, except for a sore head. Are ye?”

  “I’m fine for now,” he lied. “They’ll get to us soon.” I hope. The water kept rising around him.

  “Brodric was near, but he’s moved away,” she announced. Her hands started moving again.

  “I ken it. I heard him. He didna hear me. Or ye. What are ye doin’ in here?” If Angus could have dropped his shoulders in resignation, he would have. When she didn’t answer, he answered for her. “Ye ran into the wreckage.” Foolish lass. “I’ll be pleased for ye to be out of this. They’ll hear us soon.” To distract himself, Angus watched Shona for a moment. “What are ye doing, lass?”

  “Helpin’ the rescuers.”

  A cold bolt of fear slid into Angus’s belly. He thought he’d just heard her say she was helping the rescuers. Surely not. She’d said her head pained her. She couldn’t be thinking clearly. She must be hurt worse than she knew.