Highlander Enchanted(76)
She frowned and looked up. The ocean breeze reached her, as did light sprinkles. But the gusting wind shoving horses to the side seemed to skip over her, along with raindrops around her.
Colorful lanterns – Cade’s spark of magic – appeared in the valley, obscured by the fog and blinking faintly. Green, yellow, pink. She watched as they disappeared, dispersing into the oncoming storm forming above their heads.
A black funnel cloud swept through the far side of the valley, devouring men and horses and throwing them far from the battle. It fizzled and dissipated, leaving only death in its wake.
The stewart crossed himself, murmuring a prayer, before he spoke loudly enough for her to hear. “’Tis unseillie magic. I did not think to believe you when you spoke of the seillie.”
Another funnel cloud formed, this one closer, and tore through the middle of the battle, slaying everyone in its path without discrimination.
“This is wrong,” she said, unable to catch her breath when she saw the power of Cade’s magic. Cade would never knowingly hurt any of his warriors.
“I fear the worst is coming.”
Her eyes lifted to the heavens.
Clouds had begun to swirl above the ocean. They formed a funnel that extended halfway to the sea while wind twisted the waves and lifted them towards the heavens. The mammoth funnel began to grow and pull in more clouds and water. Sparks of Cade’s sorcery glimmered and flashed in the depths.
Two people on horseback came from the direction of the ocean, over the hill, and started into the valley. She recognized Father Adam’s white hair and stooped form. He was headed towards the center of the battle, and she frowned.
Wind pushed the stewart’s horse into hers, and she steadied her destrier with a pat.
“We need to seek shelter!” the stewart cried above the gale sweeping in from the ocean. He turned his mount and started towards lower ground.
Untouched by gale or rain, Isabel hesitated. Two more funnels tore through the valley, and the downpour grew as thick as the fog.
Cade was there somewhere, and he was hurt or mad. His sorcery was once more visible, as it had been the night she followed him into the forest. He claimed it guided her to him, despite his wishes. The tempest roaring around her, caused by his magic, did not touch her. She was protected from him, by him.
Yer touch drives him back inside me, where he belongs, he had once told her about the Black Cade side of him.
Even now, pink gems sparkled from the far side of the battlefield. She had been drawn to the seillie chieftain since they first met, connected to him by a fate neither of them had understood. Her heart yearned for her to find him, to settle the darkness ripping him apart, to feel his arms around her once more and beg him to forgive her for treating him unfairly when he had the gentlest heart and wisest mind of any she had ever met. To lose him now, after all she had learnt, was unbearable.
Only when it was possibly too late did she see her own flawed thinking. Her greatest sin was not lust or hate. It was harshly judging a man worthy of her respect and love. He was flawed, and his magic frightened her. Whether her god or his had brought her to him, she was fated to share what remained of her life at his side. If they were to die here, it would be together, as husband and wife. It was an honor, one that would take all her strength, one that was worth her eternal soul, one he deserved.
“Lady Isabel!” the stewart shouted. “Come!”
She glanced towards the tempest forming over the sea. If it were to hit the valley, all would be lost.
Loosening her horse’s reins, she kneed it hard and bent over its neck.
She galloped down the hill, into the melee of the valley. Isabel guided the destrier away from those fighting and through the mud, her senses filled with the scent of earth and blood and the sounds of battle. Lightning raked across the sky and thunder smashed the heavens, rumbling the ground.
Another funnel swept by, this one close enough for her to see its incredible width and power, and she hunkered down over the horse. At one point, she thought she saw Father Adam, likewise skirting the battle, and headed in the same direction. He was swallowed by fog, and her course altered according to the pink lanterns.
Where Cade somehow protected her from magic, he was not present to save her from battle. One moment, she was atop her horse, and the next, she was hauled off its back and thrust to the ground. Isabel landed in the mud. Three men, too covered in grime and blood for her to make out what tartan they wore, stood over her with weapons raised.
“Is that her?” one shouted.
She hurried to her feet and started to run. One of them caught her arm and yanked her back. Just as quickly, his hand fell away, and his mouth dropped open. The two of them looked down at his severed arm at the same time, and she stifled a cry. The blade of a broadsword pierced his chest, splattering her with blood.
Isabel stared as her attacker fell, to be replaced by a familiar face.
Richard’s master-at-arms stood bloodied and breathing raggedly before her. She started to inch away, prepared to run to the destrier lingering outside the battle, when he spoke.
“You should not be here!” he said.
“I belong with Cade!”
Thunder roared loudly enough to cause them both to look up. The ground quaked beneath them. The grey-black clouds forming the edge of the wild sea tempest were visible over one ridge while a dark wall of clouds formed over the opposite ridge.
Isabel lifted the skirts of her gown and whirled, seeking the pink lanterns.