He chose the boats.
Conall raced towards the harbor, his stomach dropping as he saw that it wasn’t just one boat that was on fire but all of them. The flames were spreading quickly, licking at hulls, masts, sails, devouring everything in their path.
He heard shouting and curses, the sounds of people running and the clanging of metal. The acrid smell of smoke filled his nostrils, making his eyes water.
People were pouring out of their homes now, drawn by the alarm bell. Children were crying, women were screaming, and men were forming up, rushing to their pre-arranged defensive positions.
Up ahead, he spotted a group of men fighting desperately to put out the flames with buckets of water, but they were being hampered by armed men swarming over the docks and pushing them back. Conall’s blood went cold. He recognized that style of clothing.
They were the raiders that had attacked his boat.
Conall felt a hand clutch his arm, pulling him back from the flames. He turned, ready to fight, but it was just Gerald.
“Get out of here!” Gerald croaked, his voice ragged with smoke. “It’s too dangerous!”
“We have to save the boats!” he yelled back.I have to save Molly, he thought.
“We have to save the village!” Gerald shouted. “They’re coming at us from both sides! The boats are gone!”
He didn’t need to say that any chance of escape went with them.
Fury pounded through Conall’s veins, hot and biting. Blast it all! Was this his fault? Had he brought this doom down upon Lanwick?
His eyes flicked to the bay, searching for that lone little boat out on the water, but the flames obscured his night vision and he could see nothing.
Molly. What was her part in this? It seemed too much of a coincidence that she had stolen theMermaidright before the raiders attacked. Had this been part of her plan from the start? Along with that story about losing her memory?
The realization that Molly had betrayed him was like a punch to the stomach. She’d played him for a fool all along.
Fiona had tried to warn him but in his folly, he’d refused to listen. A snarl pulled his lips away from his teeth. He should have known better. Curse him, hadn’t he learned his lesson by now? He couldn’t afford to trust anyone.
“Come on!” Gerald cried, tugging at his arm. “We canna stay here!”
No, they couldn’t. Already the raiders along the harbor were moving inland, towards the village, and those coming from the cliffs would be doing the same, hoping to catch the villagers in a pincer grip.
Not while I breathe,he thought.
“Where is Fiona?”
Gerald waved a hand. “Back there. Organizing the defense.”
Conall nodded. “Then let’s go join her.”
They moved quickly, dashing through the streets of Lanwick. Conall’s mind raced as he tried to piece together what had happened. How had the raiders managed to get past the village’s defenses? Who was leading them?
As they rounded a corner, a group of raiders appeared out of nowhere. They had swords drawn and were heading straight for them. Conall drew his sword as he slid into a fighting stance, his eyes darting from one enemy to another.
The raiders were well-trained, but so was Conall. As they ran at him, he moved gracefully, using his opponents’ weight against them, slipping past them and striking with quick, deadly precision. He felt the satisfying crunch as his blade found its mark. Gerald was at his back, swinging a heavy wooden club and bellowing insults. In only moments, all of their attackers were down.
They ran on. As they neared the center of the village, Conall heard the clamor of battle—the clang of swords, the thud of axes sinking into flesh, the screams of the injured. He spotted Fiona up ahead, standing on the porch of the Trading House, shouting instructions to the men around her.
“Conall! Gerald!” she yelled when she saw them.
They ran towards her, dodging past raiders that tried to stop them. When they reached her, Fiona’s face was grim. “They’ve breached the barricades on the east side. We’re trying to hold them off, but they keep coming.”
“How many?” Conall asked.
“Too many.”
