Page 72 of The Speed of Lightning
Her village burned because of her. Jura would fall because of her. Mariota was dead because of her. She had failed Týr. She had failed Calum. She was a curse.
The world began to blacken at the edges as she fought uselessly for breath, legs kicking, chest convulsing. Darkness beckoned, almost merciful.
Dear God, forgive me.
“MacDuff! Keep her alive.”
The order cut through the haze. Lowland Scots—soft, unfamiliar vowels. The hand on her throat slackened, air seared her lungs, and her vision cleared just enough to see the man called MacDuff hauling her upright.
“This the one then?”
Another voice hissed in the dark, and a torch dropped low, searing her eyes.
“Aye. The Storyteller. Looks just like he said she would. Those witch eyes give her away.”
Freya sucked in a breath—and screamed.
Chapter 20
INVERLUSSA, JURA - NOVEMBER 15, 1386
Asea of the Wolf’s raiders swarmed the shore of Inverlussa, burning, fighting, pillaging, looting. It was total and utter chaos. Appalled, Lightning watched from the deck of Sea’s bìrlinn as it sailed into the bay. The scene playing out was worse than he ever could have fathomed. Jurans ran about utterly disorganized, bodies unpainted, caught completely unaware, cut down in seconds by the well-honed battle machine of the Stewarts.
Lion took Birdy in his hands, his face stern. “Don’t move in until we’ve cleared the shore. Then head northeast, and only in the treetops. Sea can drop you off at the beach in Ardlussa. Work your way to Lealt.”
Birdy nodded, her eyes filled with fear as she pointed to the men being cut down by sword and poleaxe, unarmed and untrained for this kind of sudden attack.They’re being slaughtered.
Beithir shook his head, catching arrows on his shield as the bìrlinn weaved around the Stewart fleet. “Not for long. They’ve not made it far. Lightning, what direction is your wife?”
Lightning braced on the edge of the bìrlinn, ready to jump. In stunned horror he caught sight of his childhood home. “She was with my father—just there, the largest inferno at the top of the hill. I thought…I thought she would be safer with him.”
Rock steadied himself on the other side of the bìrlinn, ready to leap with him, his two-handed sword wielded easily in one hand. “We’ll find her.”
Thunder angled, releasing shots into the surrounding boats, clearing the enemy decks as the bìrlinn darted closer to shore. “All archers down. The entry path is cleared!”
Sea slowed the boat. “That’s as close as I can get!”
Beithir nodded. “After you take Birdy to the trees, head out to the sound. When Birdy signals, sail to Lealt for survivors—women and children first.”
The bìrlinn skittered to a halt, brushing gravel, and Lightning jumped into the bay, not bothering to wait for instructions or the rest of the MacLean guard. Horror filled him as he waded up the shoreline past the bodies of men he’d known his whole life floating in the sea. Every blade of grass, every tree, every building burned with the unmistakable mark of the Wolf’s razing.
He did not hesitate when an invader rushed him. Rage gathered in him, heavy and black, before crashing down like a hammer. This battle was different. It was personal. Brought to his home, his doorstep, by a man wholly consumed with revenge. Sword raised, he met the challenge—blow after ringing blow until he saw an opening, cutting the man down and pressing inland. Beside him, Beithir, Lion, and Rock fought forward, inching toward the blazing ruin of his childhood home.
Through the mêlée he spotted his father, carving down caterans one after another, his face and abdomen slick with blood. Bog fought at his side, snarling, tearing into any who came near. But where was Freya? Where was Maw?
His eyes swept the battlefield, but there was no sign of her among the clash of combatants, and he prayed she had managed to flee toward safety.
Da staggered, clutching his middle, his sword-hand trembling as he struggled to hold the line. Lightning pushed forward, cutting men down one by one, relentless in his mission to reach him. An unnatural pallor drained his father’s face, and he swayed with every blow, his strength faltering. Panic clenched Lightning’s gut—Da was weakening, something was terribly wrong.
The Shield surged together, side by side, each man instinctively moving in rhythm with the others. Years of hard fighting bound them, their weapons cleaving through the Stewart advance with ruthless efficiency. Step by step they forced their way across the blood-soaked field, forming a tight perimeter around his father.
From the burning woods, a massive herd of stag broke free, their panicked thunder creating a sudden lull in the fighting, the battlefield frozen for a breath.
Da staggered into him, exhausted and broken, but his face softened with relief. “You made it. I didnae know if I could… continue… the clan. The clan needs you.”
“Where are you hurt?”
Da fumbled at his cuirass, blood seeping through a jagged cut across his chest, a broken arrow jutting from his shoulder. “My shoulder. My chest. That one there.” He pointed weakly to a light-haired man gasping at their feet. “He got me… with the sword.”
