Finally, the sea became visible on the horizon and what she saw made her choke. Squatting in the water were huge ships, five of them: this was how the raiders had arrived in Eilanmòr—and this was how they would leave.
She watched with unease as those ships sailed closer and closer. If only she could move the sea, like Iona, and send them flying into the ocean without their crew.
A few hours later, they reached the beaches, the wagons finally coming to a halt on the sand. The door of hers was thrown open and two Avalognians began to pull out the inhabitants, throwing them down on the wet sand.
“Now you,” one grunted and dragged her out by her ankles. She managed to land a kick to his stomach before he deposited her on the ground in a heap. The man cursed.
“You’ll regret that,” he grunted, but before he could land a blow, a shout had him reaching into the wagon again to pull another person out. Still, she could feel him hovering close, waiting for his revenge.
Raising her head, Ailsa could see the other captives were getting the same treatment. There must have been at least sixty people. She scanned their faces for the faerie from last night, but found only terrified humans.
A hush broke like a wave over the crowd and she had to crane her neck to see why. From the other end of the group of captives, a tall man came strolling across the sand. His black hair fell in a curtain around his shoulders, dusting the cape harnessed there. He was mask-less but a jewelled headdress sat on his brow, increasing his height and marking him as someone important. He surveyed the captured Eilanmòrians as he went, a cruel sneer on his lips. The Avalognians watched him with a mixture of tension and reverence.
“My,” he boomed. “What a plunder. So many strong slaves to bring back home.” He smiled. “Brenna, you have done well.”
The female raider stepped forward and placed a fist on her chest. “Thank you, Ivar. The Gods have smiled upon us.”
“It is indeed a gift. One we will have to thank them for.” He stopped in front of the captives. “Before we head back home, we will need to make a sacrifice.” His eyes gleamed as they raked over a woman clutching a child at the front of the group. Ailsa shivered as she beheld his bloodlust.
“We must sacrifice one of the prisoners to please the Gods,” he continued, seeming to relish the sharp intakes of breath his words drew. “But whom to choose?” Ailsa sneaked a look at the man from beneath her lashes as he sauntered along the line of people. “Who will make a good offering to see us off back to Avalogne with our bounty?” He raised his eyes to the raiders standing strong and tall amongst the prisoners, and then they fell on the man to the side of Ailsa, the one she had kicked.
“Ollin, you have served me well during this journey.” He smiled. “You choose.”
Ailsa didn’t need to look to feel the man’s gaze fall on her like a brand.
“This one.”
Chapter 67
The hairs on Ailsa’s scalp were pulled painfully as she was yanked upright. The huge man forced her to the front of the crowd, where terrified eyes met hers.
“Behold, our offering to our mighty Gods, who have led us across the ocean to take what we need.” Ailsa was pushed down onto her knees, her hands bound behind her back. “We ask you to bless us again with safe passage back to your kingdom.” From the corner of her eye, she saw another raider walking towards them, carrying a heavy-looking wooden club. She started to struggle in earnest as a meaty hand pushed her head down into the sand.
“We spill this blood for you to drink, to quench your thirst so you need not drink from us,” said Ivar, arms stretched as he addressed the heavens.
Her breaths came out in gasps which disturbed the clumps of sand beside her face. She struggled to rise but couldn’t move an inch under the weight of the person on top of her. He moved his hand from her head to her shoulders as the raider with the club lined himself up beside her.
“Now swing true,” ordered Ivar “and bring us a safe journey.”
Ailsa closed her eyes and felt a single tear escape down her face and onto the beach below. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
Too late, she thought.
“Not that one.” Ailsa’s eyes flew open to find Brenna standing in front of the crowd. She had her arms crossed over the furs on her chest. The hands holding Ailsa relaxed their grip ever so slightly.
“But we must have a sacrifice.” Yet the priest’s voice held slight hesitation.
Brenna just tsked. “Pick another.”
The holy man regarded her for a long moment, but she didn’t tear her gaze away. They seemed to fight a silent battle.
“I will trust your judgment in this, Brenna,” he relented finally. He grabbed the club from beside him and Ailsa sucked in a breath, before he swung it down, not on her head, but on the skull of man beside her. She let out a squeak before backing away as she was released. The man fell forward from the force of the blow and tried to speak before the club was brought down upon him again and again. Finally, all that was left of the man was a body and a pile of oozing flesh where his head had been. Ailsa willed herself not to throw up where she sat.
“Up now,” Brenna pulled her by the arm and threw her towards the boats. “Time to go.”
“Why did you save me?” Ailsa felt the bite of frigid sea water as she was forced to wade through the waves. Strong arms lifted her up and into one of the smaller boats that would take them out to the ships.
“My property is not to be damaged.” Brenna hopped over the side and kicked Ailsa so that she fell into the bed of the raft. “Don’t worry, little girl, you’ll soon be wishing that you had been sacrificed back there. Better to die free than to wish for death as a slave.” She sat at the helm of the boat, fixing her mask back onto her face. “You should watch the coast as we sail away. You’ll never see it again, I guarantee.”
The light rain did nothing to deter the raiders as they pushed the boat out into the breaking waves. No one paid her any heed as she gripped the side of the boat and closed her eyes. She braced herself as they rowed away from the beach while the same thunder rumbled off in the distance.
She opened her eyes to a flash of lightning and counted. One… Two… Three… Four… The thunder boomed again, too far away. The waves around the boat tossed them about but they ploughed on.
Eventually the craft bumped up against the hull of the first ship. Ailsa was pushed up the rope ladder. When she reached the deck, her legs gave out, but no one seemed to care, not even Brenna who marched off shouting orders as soon as she boarded.
Ailsa dragged herself up to see over the edge. The other ships were also being loaded and readied. Her only hope was to go with the Avalognians and try to get hold of a weapon when they arrived in Avalogne. Then she would have to escape the village, or wherever they were taking her. She could steal a boat. Avalogne and Eilanmòr weren’t that far apart.
She watched as the crew set began to unfurl the massive sails. This will be the last time I see Eilanmòr. If only someone knew where she was. For all she knew, Harris was dead and her trail would be cold by the time Angus and Iona found out what had happened. Her ears pricked again and she kicked the side of the boat in frustration.
Warriors nearby were making the last checks and shouting to each other in their thick dialect. Rain began to fall from the sky, and Ailsa turned her face so that each drop was a kiss on her skin. Now that she understood, it was as if she could hear the intentions of the wide space above her. The wind blew through her hair in a gentle caress.
You will be alright, it whispered. Soothing. Motherly. If only she knew how to speak back. More than moving a few clouds, she wished she could tell the sky what she wanted. Then maybe she could save herself.
I could just jump in, she realised. She glanced around but everyone seemed to be preoccupied with the approaching storm. Before she could second-guess herself, she swung a leg over the side and got ready to pull her body over.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
&
nbsp; Brenna appeared beside her and pulled her violently back onto the deck. Her forehead hit the wood as she went down and her vision swam. Above her, Brenna stood with three other warriors, all holding spears.
“Looks like you were about to abandon us.” One of the men beside Brenna pressed his boot to Ailsa’s shoulder so that she couldn’t move. “I thought you could behave yourself for the journey, but it seems I was wrong. I’ll just have to keep you in chains until we reach Avalogne.”
The lightning flashed closer as Ailsa met her eyes. Maybe it would help. She spat in Brenna’s direction. One of the other men beside her stomped on her stomach, knocking the wind out of her.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ailsa wheezed.
“And why not? I would get used to it if I were you, slave.” Brenna had to shout the last few words as the thunder threatened to drown her out. Gusts of wind were pulling at their clothes and Ailsa was distantly aware that the rowers were struggling to keep the craft under control.
“Because this,” her eyes flicked to the storm, “is my doing. And if you don’t let me and the other prisoners go, I will sink every one of these boats.” It was a bold threat—one Ailsa hoped she could actually carry out.
“I don’t believe you. And I am getting tired of your bullshit.” Brenna pulled out one of her knives and weighed it in her hand, as if contemplating whether to end Ailsa there and then.
Suddenly, Ailsa knew. Knew that she was the only person who could save her now. Knew that she had to gain control.
From deep within herself, she whispered: now, now, now.
She closed her eyes, focussing on the thundering beat of her heart. Distantly, she heard the female raider asking her what she was doing. Still, Ailsa pressed her eyes tightly shut and searched for that hammering inside her chest. With every clench of her heart, she chanted: now.
Chapter 68
Now. Now. Now.
She felt it then, the electricity under her skin. She sensed the power as it coursed out of her and when her eyes flew open, she watched as the lightning nearby was pulled from the sky, over and down—right onto the head of the man standing next to Brenna.
The bolt hit him with a deafening crack, from his skull, right through his left boot. He fell where he stood; the pungent smell of roasted flesh emanating from his shocked corpse.
The world paused. The people around her blinked down at the man, then slowly their gazes turned to Ailsa where she lay, incredulous at what she had just done.
“Well…” said Brenna slowly, “I believe you now.” Then she turned to the two other men. “Get her up!”
She was hauled to her feet as everyone on the ship crowded round the dead man. The rain still pounded down on them, drowning out their murmuring.
Brenna fixed her with a steely grin, clearly unfazed by what Ailsa had just done. Instead, she seemed excited, her expression possessive and calculating. The plan to keep her as a house slave was obviously no longer relevant. Now, those eyes told her the truth. Brenna would carve that power out of her and then, if Ailsa were still alive, she would be sold to the highest bidder.
“Rope. Now,” she shouted, but her orders fell on deaf ears and she turned, wrathful.
“You are not giving orders this time, Brenna,” the priest interrupted, stepping out from between two warriors. He lifted his skull mask to sit on top of his face as he addressed her. “This girl is no longer your possession. We cannot have her on this ship. It’s too dangerous.”
Finally, Ailsa thought as the hands on her arms loosened ever so slightly. Now they’ll let me go. She turned her face back towards the beach, which was still within swimming distance. Something was moving over the headland that she couldn’t quite make out. The rain was letting up around her and a thin ray of sun shone on the sand.
The priest looked at Ailsa gravely as one of the men picked up the club that had been used to make the sacrifice earlier. Brenna launched herself towards Ailsa but was pulled back by two, heavy-set raiders. They held her as she snarled at the priest to stop. Ailsa was hauled to the side of the ship, her body bent over the side of the wooden vessel.
“Once we kill you, our journey will go smoothly.” The priest’s voice floated to her ears as her stomach dropped. “Goodbye, storm girl.”
The heavy footsteps of the executioner sounded behind her as Ailsa raised her head towards the dying beam of light.
Harris was standing on the beach.
Barely audible over the crashing waves, his shout nevertheless grabbed the attention of the raiders around her. Lifting their heads in confusion at the noise, they took their attention off Ailsa.
Now, she thought again, swinging her head back so it collided with one of the men that held her. He released his grip, and she managed to pull his sword from his belt, swinging it up through the air, just like Angus had taught her. The blade connected with the soft side of the other man, and he let out a shriek before falling over the side of the ship.
Brenna snarled in fury but didn’t come any closer. The priest nodded to the executioner who lifted his club again.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Ailsa raised the sword out in front of her, despite the pain in her side. “See that storm? One thought from me and you’ll be electrocuted.”
“She’s bluffing. She wouldn’t risk setting the ship on fire.”
“I can swim. Try me.” From the corner of her eye, she scanned the beach, but Harris had disappeared. She had to get off this boat.
“Enough of this nonsense. Kill her.”
The time for thinking, for wondering, was over. Ailsa looked up at the sky and simply willed it. Here, now, she commanded, as if the sky was no more than a disobedient dog. It built slowly. She could feel the energy behind her, then inside her.
Then a voice whispered in her ear, ancient and knowing.
Take it, the voice encouraged, it belongs to you.
The executioner stopped in his tracks, mouth falling open.
Brenna backed away, her need for self-preservation winning out over her greed.
The priest just gaped at her, words eluding him.
Ailsa fixed her eyes upon him, still concentrating on the force behind her, and grinned. She knew that her white teeth were the only spot of lightness against the impending tempest.
Fire, lightning hot, coursed through her veins, while ice formed over her skin, turning it hard and unyielding like crystal. She raised a hand, marvelling at the change, though she felt no pain.
She was the storm. She could command it because it was part of her in the same way she could wave her hand or wiggle a toe.
Yes, murmured the voice.
“Turn the boat around or I’ll kill you all.”
“You’ll kill everyone? Even the slaves?” shouted Ivar.
They don’t believe you, thought the voice. Time to show them what you can do.
Ailsa unclenched her first and swirled it in circles at her side. She felt the air stirring around her, whipping her hair and sending goosebumps down her arms. From the look on the Avalognian’s faces, she could tell that the storm was building behind her. She didn’t dare turn to look.
Yes, said the voice. That’s it.
With an upwards sweep of her hand, the air rose like a wave. She felt the boat momentarily levitate above the water, before she twisted her hand to the side and the boat landed back in the sea with a splash. Raiders were thrown from their feet, landing in sprawling masses across the deck.
The priest and his soldiers gaped at her as she stood firm upon the wood, her body perfectly still even as they were battered by the high winds.
“Kill her now.” The priest shouted, spittle flying from his mouth as terror overtook his composure.
One of the soldiers sprang towards her, but a lift of her hand tore him from the boat with a gust of wind, depositing his body overboard.
The remaining Avalognians hugged the timber of the boat as it rocked up and down precariously. No others dared to follow the pries
t’s orders.
Show them more, the voice urged.
Ailsa swept her hand up again, but this time at the boat next to them; the vessel was pulled from the sea and then thrown back into the waves. From across the water, she could hear screaming.
Icy clarity ripped into her mind. The other prisoners. I need to stop, before I kill them too.
But as she fought to pull away from the power, the ancient voice hushed her. No, don’t let go. You are the storm. Destroy.
Her other arm raised involuntarily above her head. She watched in horror as her hand clenched and a bolt of lightning struck the mast of the nearby ship.
It immediately caught fire and the smell of burning wood drifted over the air whipping between the crafts.
“No,” she whispered, her voice feeling raw in her throat. She had to stop this before she killed all the other prisoners.
Her ears rang with phantom laughter as she felt the power erupting from her body, charging the air around her. The nearest Avalognian, a barrel-chested warrior, threw himself forward to grab her legs. One touch of her skin sent him flying backwards, zapped by the electricity. Her hair stood on end as she the smell of burning flesh mingled with the sea-salt-tinged wind.
The ship that had been struck was slowly being engulfed by flames. Despair tugged at her, threatening to pull her under. She knew that if she lost herself to the storm there would be no coming back.
As she fought to control the movements of her arms, she caught a glimpse of something silver swimming beside the burning ship.
Her heart paused.
The seal raised its head from beneath the waves and fixed her with his shiny black eyes. Even from a distance, she could understand their message.
Save them, it said. I believe in you.
With monumental effort, Ailsa turned her body so that it was angled towards the flames. Her breath was laboured as she concentrated on the storm, on the power she held so tenuously.
The Stone of Destiny Page 27