“Get away from her,” he growled.
Phillip laughed, scrambling to regain his balance. “Ah! Jamie! So glad ye could join us. Ye are a little late but at least ye are here for the finale, eh?”
He muttered some arcane words, wove a symbol with one hand, and hurled a spell, a jagged, vicious spear of energy.
“Jamie!” Elise screamed in warning.
Jamie ducked, rolled, and the sizzling energy smashed into the ship’s rail, making it smolder and hiss. Jamie’s roll brought him within reach of Phillip and with a hate-filled cry, he swung his sword at his old advisor with enough strength to cleave him in half.
But Phillip threw up a hand and Jamie’s blade crashed against an unseen barrier—and stuck there. With a snarl, Jamie released his sword—leaving it hanging in the air where the spell had trapped it—and drew a dagger from his boot instead.
But now the king’s warriors were recovering from their initial shock at Jamie’s appearance aboard their flagship. Sir Ewan Bruce began bellowing orders and warriors advanced on Jamie, swords drawn.
Then suddenly two figures came running along the deck, skidding to a halt between Jamie and the oncoming warriors. Martin and Bryn. Both had gotten swords from somewhere and they gripped them fiercely, dropping into fighting crouches as they faced down the heavily armed king’s men. Both lads looked terrified, eyes wide, skin pale, but they looked determined too.
“Get back!” Martin shouted, swinging his sword to keep them at bay.
“Ye’ll not take our chief!” Bryn cried, his bravado belied by the quaver in his voice.
For a second, the line of king’s men faltered. But only for a second. Realizing there were only two lads opposing them, they grinned and began advancing once more.
“Give it up,” one of the men growled. “And we’ll let ye live. King’s honor.”
The stable hands were outnumbered and outmatched, but they didn’t back down. They stood their ground as their death inched towards them across the smooth deck.
No, Elise thought.No.
Then louder. “No,” she whispered. “No.” Then louder still. Summoning every reserve of strength she had left, she shouted one deafening cry.
“No!”
She thumped her fist into the planks and a shockwave went racing across the deck, slamming into Sir Ewan Bruce and the king’s men. They were picked up like sticks and tossed across the deck where they landed hard, knocked unconscious.
Martin and Bryn looked around, stunned. Then they ran to Elise, skidding onto their knees at her side.
“Are ye all right?” Martin demanded. “Are ye hurt?”
She shook her head, struggling to speak. “J…J…Jamie…”
He and Phillip were still battling amidships, Jamie driving Phillip across the deck with a series of lightning lunges. But Phillip was already beginning to utter another spell.
She had to help Jamie. She tried to rise but her limbs were as shaky as a newborn colt’s and even with Martin and Bryn’s aid, she was only able to rise to her knees.
Heart pounding, she watched as Phillip and Jamie fought. Phillip spat words that sizzled in the air and raised his hand, a cold blue glow enveloping his fist. But Jamie head-butted him hard enough to send him staggering backwards before he could finish the spell, slamming into the rail, a line of bloody drool hanging from his lips.
Jamie followed him, his face a mask of rage and pain. “I trusted ye!” he bellowed. “I thought ye were my friend!”
“Iamyer friend!” Phillip countered. “Everything I’ve done I’ve done for ye and the Isles!”
“This is what ye call friendship?” Jamie replied incredulously. “Betraying every man, woman, and child of the Isles?”
“Ye dinna understand,” Phillip said, leaning heavily against the railing and wiping bloody drool from his chin. “Ye havenaeseen what I’ve seen. Ye have no idea the perils that lie out there, waiting to devour us.” His expression softened, sorrow shining in his eyes. “If ye believe nothing else, at least believe that what I did I did out of love for my homeland.” He raised his eyes, met Jamie’s gaze. “And for love of ye, my boy.”
Jamie faltered. His shoulders dropped and Elise knew that he wasn’t seeing Phillip MacClelland, betrayer of the Isles anymore, but Phillip MacClelland, his old friend and mentor, a man he’d known his entire life. Jamie’s arm dropped to his side, his grip on his dagger going slack.
And in that instant, Phillip struck.
His arm whipped around and a razor-sharp dagger of energy flashed out—straight at Jamie’s heart.
