“She’s here? On Torkholm?” Magnus grinned like a schoolboy. “Magnificent. I have many questions.”
A twinge of jealousy wiggled through Geneva at Magnus’s near reverence of her friend. Her younger, prettier friend. She pushed it aside. Her friendship with Magnus was only that of doctor and patient, despite the utterly inappropriate kiss on the ramparts.
“The outsiders have to go.” Catriona had caught up with them and grabbed Magnus’s sleeve. “You must see, my laird, that bringing all these strangers will only anger the gods. They’ll send more abominations, to purge our soil of the taint of steam and iron.”
Magnus paused. “We’ve been through this before, Cat. There’s no disrespect to the gods in bringing modern science to the island. Not as long as we honor the soil and the beliefs of our ancestors. My pardon, Sir Connor, Dr. MacKay. We’re an isolated place and superstition is rife.”
“’Tisn’t superstition if ’tis true.” Catriona stomped her foot on the grass. “You’ll see, my laird. I only pray you come to your senses before ’tis too late.” With that dark pronouncement, she stormed off.
* * *
When they reached the grassy parkland behind the castle, the airship had already landed, and been tied down with long wires attached to steel pegs, which were steam-hammered deep into the soil. That would not have been good in the stone circle. Magnus had to admit Edda was right in this case. Still, this was his first chance to study an airship up close, and he didn’t want to miss the opportunity.
The other young man, about the same age as Geneva’s brother, waited beside the ship, flanked by two pretty lasses, both in the trousers and goggles of airship crewmen. One, a tall, green-eyed, flame-haired beauty, must be the sister, while the other was shorter and fragile-boned, with brown eyes and walnut-colored hair. “Miss Hadrian?” Magnus held out his hand to the dark-eyed lass. “’Tis truly an honor to meet you.”
All three laughed, as did Geneva and her brother. “A common mistake,” Geneva said. “This is my sister…” she indicated the smaller, darker lass, “…Melody MacKay. She gets her daintiness and coloring from our mother, who’s Irish.”
“This…” the lad, Sir Connor, said with a proprietary air toward the female Magnus had mistaken for Geneva’s sister, “…is our good friend Miss Winifred Hadrian and her foster brother, Sir Thomas Devere.”
Magnus lifted one eyebrow as he greeted them both. He was a bit shocked to realize how young the wind-power advocate was, but genius often began early. There seemed to be an awful lot of Sirs about. Geneva had said both her father and grandfather also held that honorific. Magnus filed that information in the back of his mind to be puzzled over later. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Welcome to Torkholm.”
“And this is George.” Miss Hadrian patted the head of an enormous brass clockwork mastiff who sat beside her. “He doesn’t eat much or chase cats, I promise.”
Gravely, Magnus bowed to the mechanical dog. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Master George.”
The canine automaton tipped its head and gave a soft huff, so much like a real dog that Magnus stepped back in amazement. Genius indeed.
Rannulf and Alice caught up and were introduced, along with Quentin, the airship crewmen and a few of Magnus’s principal tenants. Magnus’s stomach growled, reminding him that the arrival had interrupted supper. Likely everyone else was as famished as he was. “Come along,” he said. “Cook will have kept the meal warm. Setting a few more places is never a problem.”
Of course, every single person on the island who wasn’t urgently required elsewhere followed them into the great hall. While the castle welcomed all islanders for the evening meal, a tradition held over from the Middle Ages, this was a bit bigger crowd than they usually attracted.
While the newcomers washed, the castle staff hurriedly rearranged the head table. The ladies didn’t bother to change, but came to the table in their trousers, which didn’t bother Magnus at all, but raised a few eyebrows among the villagers, particularly Edda and her daughter, who glared at them from a place farther down the table, beside Quentin. As healers, they carried a high status on the island, and Edda looked none too pleased about being supplanted by guests.
Magnus kept Geneva in her place beside him, but she spent most of the meal in animated conversation with her sister and brother, on her left. That left Magnus to chat with Sir Tom, and Miss Hadrian, who were friendly, but wary. These two had the look of people who’d seen far more than their years and exalted status could account for. Another puzzle to whittle away at.
“How often have the attacks occurred?” Tom was tall and fair, though not as blond as Magnus, and with a much more fashionable style. “Are they striking only at the docks, or at other locations around the island?”
“I was thinking we could set up some kind of detection net,” Miss Hadrian said. “If there’s only one point of attack, it might help. I don’t think ringing the entire island with netting would work.”
Magnus had considered that solution days earlier. “’Tis a grand idea, but no. The attacks are mostly at the docks, but not always. Anywhere along the shoreline is at risk.” He looked at Tom. “They’re often at night, but sometimes in the day. Some days there will be one, others two or three, others none at all. I’ve not been able to discern a pattern.”
“The main question is why.” Geneva leaned toward Magnus, ignoring her siblings. Her bosom pressed against his shoulder, an intimate gesture he suspected she didn’t even realize she was making. “What’s causing a deep-water animal to surface, only here on Torkholm, to behave this aggressively, and in such great numbers? If we can determine why, we’ll likely come up with a way to stop it.”
The others nodded as if this was indeed the logical solution. Unfortunately, Magnus had no idea how to go about discovering why his island was under attack. “All I know is the last time it happened was a hundred years ago, and after my great-grandsire’s death, the monsters didn’t come back.”
“The reason why is all the blasted coal and gas polluting the isle.” Quentin, from his spot on the other side of the younger Miss MacKay, glowered and thumped his glass. “The magick will abandon us if we give up the old ways.”
Geneva shook her head. “That’s possible, of course, but it seems unlikely, unless there was a major change just before the attacks began.”
Magnus shook his head. “The windmills went up last year. The next new thing would have been the teletext cable, unless you count the toast rack. I’ve already scoured my library. I’ve books telling about the giant squid, but none that give a hint as to why it’s attacking here and now.”
“Of course you’ve scoured the library.” She patted his hand, another unconscious movement, he was sure. “It’s a fabulous collection, by the way. Melody and Wink, you’ll love it. Magnus is enormously interested in technology, especially if it’s not damaging to the land and air.”
“Magnus, is it?” Her brother frowned, but was elbowed by Melody. Finally he shrugged. “True enough, if we’re to work together on this, there’s no need for formality. I’m Connor.” The others all nodded and offered their given names, including Rannulf and Alice, and finally, grudgingly, Quentin.
Out of the corner of his eye, Magnus watched as Cat and Edda pushed aside their plates and left the hall. He envied Quentin his luck at finding a bride, but pitied his cousin having Edda as a mother-in-law.
“Did you know Alice here was once engaged to Papa?” Geneva’s eyes danced as she dropped that onto her siblings’ ears. “She foresaw him meeting Mum and cut him loose. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here today.”
The kraken problem was forgotten as Alice, blushing furiously, explained, while Rannulf looked on fondly. There was a serious romance brewing there, or Magnus would eat his kilt. He hoped his uncle asked Alice to stay, but if Rannulf followed her to Mull, Magnus would understand. At least it would be near enough for them to visit often.
“I didn’t know airships came as small as yours
,” Magnus said to Melody, to take the spotlight off Alice, who didn’t look comfortable. “I wonder what it takes to maintain one. That way, we could fly over the monsters when we need to visit Mull or Tiree, or even the mainland.” Quick as an airship was, Magnus would even be able to make short visits to nearby islands and be home before his strength began to wane. What a gift that would be.
The two engineers and their crewmen dove into a discussion on how a private dirigible could be maintained on Torkholm. Magnus would need to import a pilot and crew, or send some of his men off to be trained, but that was easy enough to do. They’d sent a man to learn about windmills, and now Callum Findlay was one of the best windmill mechanics in the Highlands. The conversation—mostly revolving around what features Magnus would need and how much he should be prepared to spend continued as the group from the head table retired to the library after the meal, the men forgoing the ritual of port in order to continue talking with the ladies.
Magnus felt Geneva’s gaze assessing his motions as he lowered himself into an easy chair. He was mostly healed, thanks to his homeland’s magick, but there were still residual aches that an active evening had aggravated. He smiled, hoping to reassure her that he was—or would be, at least—fine, and settled into a game of chess with Tom Devere, while several of the others split into groups over the card table or backgammon board. One exception was Geneva, who searched the bookshelves before settling onto a settee with a thick scientific tome. The lass was serious about researching the kraken. For some reason, that pleased him.
Perhaps half an hour into the game, the chapel bells began to toll, and the cry, “Kraken!” echoed through the castle.
Everyone in the room dropped what they were doing and leapt to their feet.
“Blast it,” Wink said. “We haven’t set up the electric harpoons yet.”
“No, but we can fetch the shredders,” said one of the crew, a middle-aged Londoner named Stephen.
“Let’s.” Wink gestured to Stephen and Jock, the other crewman. “Magnus, where’s the best vantage point to shoot a long-range explosive?” Melody leapt up to go with them, likely one of the experts on the weapons. If they could shoot from a distance, the young women should be safe. Good.
“Depends on where the attack is, and how long your range. Rannulf, go with them. Alice, could you and the doctor set up your infirmary, please? The night attacks have been the worst for casualties.” Magnus gave Geneva a beseeching look, and expelled a breath of relief when she nodded. They all ran from the room in various directions, Quentin and the two young Knights at Magnus’s side.
When he reached the armory off the great hall, Magnus learned the whereabouts of the attack. Not at the docks this time, the kraken had attacked a shepherd and his flock grazing close to the water’s edge. Then it had moved on to a small cluster of cottages, which it was still ransacking.
Magnus armed himself and ran alongside his men. Thus far, his sword had been the best weapon against the monsters, but he was getting a bit tired of being battered. Still, better him than his men, as at least he’d heal as long as he wasn’t killed instantly—or washed away, again.
His eyes adapted readily to the faint glow of the moonlit night. The beach cottages had been almost completely destroyed in the few minutes it took the men to get there. Rannulf and the airship crew had found or brought a ladder and were scurrying to the roof of the tallest building—a barn, set farther in from the shore than the houses. Meanwhile, Magnus led the charge and started slicing at tentacles as they crashed to the ground, smashing whatever got in their way to flinders. As usual, their rifles and swords did little but enrage the beast further.
“We’re ready,” Wink called from the roof of the barn. “Magnus, get your men out of the way.”
“Everyone fall back,” Tom shouted. “Connor, a repulsion spell.”
“Aye.” Connor and Tom stood together and chanted while Magnus pulled his people back. A soft glow surrounded the two men and the squid began to coil its tentacles in toward itself, as if reaching out toward the men on the shore had become uncomfortable.
“Fire one.” Wink’s voice was immediately drowned out by the sound of a cannon—or something like it—from overhead.
“Fire two.” That voice was Melody’s. Another shot thundered through the night.
The first ball hit the squid with a soft, wet sound. On impact, the shot flashed light and boomed as an explosion occurred inside the squid’s enormous head, like fireworks lighting the sky. A second explosion followed rapidly on the heels of the first as the second shot struck. Shards of metal and gouts of blood erupted from the slimy skin.
The squid screamed.
Magnus hadn’t known they could do that—perhaps it was his ears ringing from the explosions.
The kraken thrashed and flailed in its death throes, doing more damage to an already ruined cottage. Magnus leapt forward and pierced the eye with his sword, speeding along the end.
“Everyone get out of these cottages in time?”
As expected, Quentin stood right beside him. “All but one. I’ve already sent them up to the castle for the night. In the morning, we’ll send men to see what can be saved and look into building new homes, farther inland.”
“Good.” Magnus held the base of the ladder while Rannulf and the others descended. Each of the crewmen held a shoulder-mounted tube, perhaps the size of a pineapple in diameter. The two girls each had a canvas sack slung over their shoulders, presumably the ammunition.
“I don’t know what the hell those are, but thank you for bringing them,” he said. “I’ve never seen the like.”
“We call them shredders.” Wink pulled one of the balls from her bag and handed it to him. She jiggled it, letting him know it was full of small bits of metal, bouncing around loose. “We add a two-part explosive right before we fire. Firing breaks the wall between the two chemicals, and the impact ignites the mixture. Basically, it sends sharp fragments of steel throughout the target, often from the inside out. We’ve never tested them on anything this large before and I’m gratified to see how well they worked.”
“I don’t suppose I can buy those from you?” Magnus held out his hand for her bag, while Rannulf did the same for her friend. Even though these women were the inventors, it didn’t mean he had to forego the basic manners of a gentleman and let them carry their own weaponry.
“I doubt the Or—that is, the Home Office—would be too pleased. On the other hand, if we can’t halt the attacks once and for all, I’m sure something can be arranged.”
“That would be appreciated, lass.” What was the grand secret shared by all these bright youngsters? How were they able to cast such powerful spells? It was a mystery almost as murky as the influx of giant squid, if far more benign. They walked back to the castle, where Magnus made straight for the infirmary. He’d seen a couple men being carried away before the kraken was killed.
* * *
With somber hearts, Geneva and Alice cleaned the body of the first fatality of the evening, a crofter who had been killed outright when his front room was smashed by a tentacle. Geneva stitched up the worst of his wounds and wiped away most of the blood so she could at least give the grieving widow a less horrific final view of her husband. Undoubtedly the woman would want to wash him again, as part of the mourning ritual. They’d patched up a few others and sent them on their way, but cleaning his corpse was all they could do for this poor man.
A knock sounded on the door and Flora opened it, determined to do her part as maid to Geneva and Alice. She stepped aside to admit Magnus, and Geneva’s heart skipped a beat as she studied him, coated in the squid’s blood, before she determined he had no new injuries. He also wasn’t looking grim enough for her brother or Tom to have been seriously hurt. Alice peered behind Magnus, only looking away when Rannulf, also in one piece, appeared behind him.
“The kraken’s dead?” Stupid question. He wouldn’t be here otherwise.
“Aye.” He walked over and looked dow
n at the man on the table. “I’m sorry, my friend. Go in peace.”
“He was gone by the time they brought him here.” Geneva rested her hand on Magnus’s arm. “I’m sorry.”
“I know, lass. You’d save them all if you could, same as me.” He looked up, as if noting Alice’s and Rannulf’s sharp regard, and stepped away. “I’ll bring the widow in, if you’re through in here. Let her spend some time with him before I have the lads carry him to the icehouse for the night.”
“Of course. Are there any more injured?” She moved to put away the last of the blood-coated cloths, only to discover Alice and Flora had already done it.
“No more. Thanks to those exploding cannonballs your friends brought.”
They all trooped out of the room. Alice sent Flora up to bed, and the rest of them joined the others in the library while Magnus saw to his people. Geneva briefly hugged Melody, Geneva, Connor and Tom, relieved to see not as much as a scratch on any of them.
“We had to cast a spell to move the kraken back a few yards,” Connor murmured to her, out of earshot of anyone else. “We didn’t dare fire the shredders while it was too close to anyone.”
Geneva nodded. “This village knows about magick and believes in it. I believe they can be trusted. Magnus and Rannulf, at any rate already know I have some abilities, and most of the people are loyal to the laird. Furthermore, few of them ever leave and talk to anyone on the mainland. Be careful of the healers, though. There’s something about those two that gives me goose flesh.”
Connor chuckled. “Are you sure you’re not jealous? Miss Catriona is quite a beauty.”
“What’s that to me? I’m only here until their pressing need for a surgeon is over. Then it’s back to Edinburgh, where I belong.” Since surgeon was a significantly lower rank than physician, it rankled to realize that was what she was acting as here, for the most part. It was good to feel needed, and the people left waiting by Catriona and Edda had certainly provided that, but she’d prefer not to spend her whole life setting bones and stitches.
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