The Raven's Wish (32 page)

This time Elspeth had been sitting on a rock in the middle of the sea. Mountains rose on two sides of the expanse of water. A huge wave had rushed over her, sweeping her away. Swimming in the cold water, Duncan had lost sight of her.

But he had heard her light, silvery, angel's voice calling his name. And he had tried to answer her, a desperate mumble as he awoke.

In a cold sweat, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, he sat abruptly. He wrapped and belted his plaid, brooching it with Elspeth's pin. Pulling on his boots, he stood quietly, touched Magnus's shoulder, and then turned. He walked away from the campsite toward his horse, knowing that Magnus would follow.

He knew, now, where he must go.

* * *

The water surged past her waist, soaking her shirt, floating her breasts, rocking her body. She was shivering, and the taste of salt was on her lips. She could hardly feel her arms and legs for the relentless chill.

Not long ago, as the water rose, she had turned to catch her bound wrists on a protruding angle of the rock to anchor herself against the higher waves that could sweep her off the rock.

Clinging there, striving to keep her feet steady on the shelf beneath her, she had felt angry: at Ruari MacDonald for his ignorance; that he thought her a witch, that he thought Bethoc evil as well. She was angry with herself for falling into this, and with her cousins for not finding her sooner. As for Duncan—

She was not angry, she knew then, but sad, deeply so, and terrified. As the water lapped cold around her ribs, she began to sob, the fear taking hold.

Then she raised her head and took deep breaths of the salty, damp air, until she felt the fear lessen. She had been afraid before, and had lived through to the hope on the other side of it.

There was a way to survive the incoming tide, and she would find it somehow.

She had been raised to be tough and brave, as a part of Clan Fraser's unique legend, she told herself. The only course open to her was courage. To give in to the defeat and humiliation of her predicament was weakness. Her cousins would expect more. Duncan expected more.

Elspeth had felt courage before, knew its heady swirl in her heart and her blood. Many times, with her cousins at her back, she had ridden in the night; had faced MacDonalds, too, although not in battle. But now she was alone in this struggle. The sea was her enemy, the rock her only salvation. It supported her as did her cousins, and Duncan.

Now she felt courage swell and move through her, felt something brave and fine fill her.

She thought of Duncan. When she had warned him of his impending doom, he had not been frightened. He had withstood her insistence, even her petulance, with humor and calm strength. She had never known anyone to ignore a seer's warnings. He had dismissed her predictions—he seemed without fear, perhaps because he had endured so much in his life.

Thinking of him, of his steadfastness, her own fear began to lessen like receding water. She gazed out at the rainwater gray sea, at the thin mist, at the clouds that filled the endless sky. Dawn washed the clouds with pale color. Light moved through the darkness like a sustaining hope.

Straightening, planting her feet firmly on the rock, she pulled against the sodden woolen strips that bound her wrists. She had earlier slipped her bonds over the jagged pinnacle of rock to anchor her. Now she tugged at it, wanting to be free at any cost. If she could free her hands, she could take her chances in the sea; she was a strong swimmer.

She tugged again. The sky brightened. Water washed over her chest, slopped at her throat. She pulled all of her weight on the saturated plaid strip. The cloth bit painfully into her wrists.

And stretched. She pulled, and the strip tore a little.

She watched the dawn's glow, watched the roll of the next wave come toward her, and yanked again.

Chapter 20

`O haud your tongue, my dearest dear,

Let all your follies abee;

I'll show you whare the white lilies grow

In the bottom of the sea.'

~"The Demon Lover"

Duncan stood on a cliff and gazed down at the loch. Dawn brightened the pewter-gray sky, and shed a glowing, eerie light on the misted water and stony beach below. He saw a deserted shore and a narrow loch filling with the morning tide, its rippled surface disturbed only by the jutting tips of a few black rocks. The water near the shore was carpeted with thin, spiky golden reeds. The wind was up, salty and cold.

He had come to this place because he had seen it in his dream. Upon waking, he had remembered where he had seen the strong, unique slant of those mountains, rising so close to the shoreline. He and his brothers had been to this loch, years ago.

He felt no astonishment that a dream had led him here. The same insistent gut-twist that had always told him where to ride on a raid, how far, in what direction, had told him that Elspeth was here. He had followed that instinct unquestioningly, as he had always done in his reiving days.

But to what end? He sighed, despondent. Nothing here showed him that Elspeth had been taken this way. Uncertain what he had expected to find, he felt the black, empty depth of great disappointment. He shook his head at his own folly.

Magnus stood behind him, silent, looking over the cliff at the surging water below. The wind whipped at their hair and plaids, but they stood motionless. Overhead, seagulls called and glided down to the water.

Duncan stepped away from the cliff edge.

"What is that, out there?" Magnus said. "A seal?"

Duncan turned. Magnus pointed toward a black rock far out in the water. The faint mist obscured details, but something waved and fluttered in the water. A long snag of kelp, Duncan thought, but then noticed that it was red, and patterned. Something else was there, too, a coppery smudge moving away from the rock, through the waves and the thin veiled mist.

He looked again. The snag of kelp was a plaid, floating on the waves. The copper-colored smudge was part of a moving body. A seal? Too small, too graceful.

He blinked in astonishment. A mermaid?

"
Dhia
!" he shouted, and burst into motion, running down the slope of the cliff toward the beach. He had seen a head, a face, floating red-gold hair, as someone swam toward shore.

He stripped off his belt and sword, his plaid, his boots as he ran across the stony beach. He hit the water, diving into it so fast that he had no time to feel the slam of the cold seawater. Sliding beneath the waves, he came up again, looking around, treading water with his arms.

He saw the angle of the rock jutting up. He glimpsed her pale face above the surface, her hair floating out.

"Elspeth!" he called. He struck out diagonally, long, strong strokes, pulling through the fast current of the tide, losing only a little ground as he went. He saw her disappear beneath a washing wave, saw her bob back up again, and go under.

"Elspeth!" He swam, and neared her, and was carried back again by the current. Pulling harder with his arms, driving with his legs, he swam close enough to touch her.

She reached out, her hand grasping at his arm. He found her body with his hands and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her toward him, helping her swim the distance to the shore.

A few moments more, and he stood in the shallows, holding her up. She collapsed in his arms, and he lifted her, uncertain if she were still conscious. As her cousin waded out toward them, Duncan carried her to the beach, dropping to his knees, laying her down.

Magnus knelt too, smoothing the wild tangle of hair out of her face, murmuring to her. Duncan eased his hands up her back to coax any water out of her lungs. His heart lurched with a sudden flood of gratitude when she coughed and sputtered. He held out his hand, like a command. Magnus put a dirk into it, and he sliced through the sodden cords that bound her ankles together; then he cut off a scrap of red wool around one wrist.

Lifting her gently, he turned her into his arms. She coughed again, and circled her arms around his neck wearily.

"I knew you would come," she said, her cold cheek pressed to his. He heard the smile in her voice, and heard the sob that followed. Cradling her head in one hand, he closed his eyes.

"I had to find you." He pressed his lips to her hair and fought back his own sob. He held her to him, and she clung.

Taking her face in his hands, he looked at her. He felt as if he could not take in enough of the sight of her face, her wet, red-gold hair, her gray eyes. He touched his lips to hers, tasting salt, and her arms around his neck tightened. His heart surged.

Magnus approached, having gone to fetch Duncan's discarded plaid; he laid it over Elspeth's shoulders. Shivering, she smiled at her cousin. Lifting the plaid to cover Duncan's wet, chilled back, she leaned her head against his shoulder again.

"How did you come to be in the sea loch?" Magnus asked.

Duncan glanced at her and frowned as he recalled something long forgotten. "Did Ruari strand you on a tidal rock?" he asked.

She nodded. "I broke loose." He nodded, hardly surprised; he knew how capable she was, how courageous she could be. He knew she would not have cowered on the rock waiting for the sea to swallow her, and his heart filled with pride to have her so much part of his life now.

Sliding an arm around her beneath the plaid, he felt tremors pass through her body. He pulled her closer, hardly feeling his own chill. He wanted to give Elspeth the warmth of his body; he would have given her his strength if he could have.

"Ruari will be back soon." She sat forward, as if to get up. Duncan held her back.

"Hold here," Duncan said. "We will leave soon enough."

"Why would Ruari strand her on a rock?" Magnus asked, frowning.

"It is a punishment for witchery, done in some coastal areas," Duncan said. "An accused witch is tied to a rock and left to drown in the oncoming tide. I should have thought of this earlier," he said, fisting a hand. "I should have realized that Ruari could do something like this."

"But you did know," Magnus said. "You rode straight here, as if a demon were at your heels."

Elspeth looked up at him then, her eyes questioning, curious. "How did you know to come here?" she asked.

He hesitated. "I saw it in a dream," he finally said.

They stared at him. Then Magnus glanced at his cousin. "I think he means it."

Elspeth nodded. "Tell me."

"I saw you in the sea, drowning. I tried to save you. And I recognized this place." He shrugged. "So I came here."

She frowned. "This was recently?"

"Three times I dreamed this. The last an hour ago."

Elspeth stared at him; her eyes were gray as mist.

Magnus cleared his throat. "You have the Sight," he said, with a tone of respect.

Duncan shook his head. "It was just a dream. But it gave me an idea of where to find her. I know the area. This was a logical place for Ruari to bring her, if he thought her a witch."

"But you did not know he would accuse her," Magnus said.

"It was good reasoning," Duncan said, feeling awkward.

"Duncan," Elspeth said, laying her hand on his arm, "three times you had this dream. It was a true vision. You are a seer."

"Not me," he said, shaking his head. "Not me." He did not want to hear this. The Sight could not exist; he had not yet explained Elspeth's ways, but his dream had been just a dream.

But it had led him straight to her when she needed him.

He stood abruptly and walked away, bending down to swoop up his things scattered over the stones. He yanked on his shirt and sat to pull on the boots, aware of the silence of the others watching him. Belting his shirt over his trews, he shoved the sword into place and stood.

"Come ahead, then," he said. "We have to get back home again, now that we have come all the way out here."

Magnus rose slowly. Elspeth looked pale, stunned. Warily, Duncan turned.

Several paces away, Ruari MacDonald advanced over the pebbled beach, Niall MacDonald loping beside him.

"Hold!" Ruari called, drawing his sword from its scabbard. "Hold, Macrae, while I slice you—we will feast on your bones."

Duncan began to pull his blade free, and Magnus moved.

Ruari rushed them, roaring like a wild boar, plunging at Duncan with his sword raised to strike.

* * *

Elspeth struggled to her feet, but her legs were weak and faltered beneath her. She sank to her knees on the hard, pebbled beach, raising a fist to her mouth as she watched the four men fight with dirks and broad-bladed claymores. Every thrust, every arcing clash of the steel blades made her flinch.

She had never seen true blood-lust before. But she saw it now in Ruari, who rushed at Duncan, savage power behind each swinging blow. A raging animal, Ruari's fury made him careless. His swings went too wide, fast, wild.

Duncan, balancing on the balls of his feet, sliced quick and viciously. Ruari stared at the blood welling from his upper arm, then swung. Duncan ducked and slid to the side, forcing Ruari to whirl around. Ruari struck again, furiously. Duncan leaped to the side with a powerful, easy grace, more agile than Ruari. The loud clash of their broadswords echoed across the stones.