“We dinna ken. A building of some sort. Maybe a castle?” The structure certainly seemed large enough to be a castle. Ciaran looked at his mentor as lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. The wind picked up again, pushing against them with force and whipping their hair around their faces.
Patrick held the spyglass to his eye, and his jaw was tense. He had the same assessing expression he always had when they fought their unknown enemy. After every battle, he scoured the scene, studying the clothing of the dead, looking for something he never seemed to find. Whenever Ciaran asked what he was searching for, Patrick would just shake his head.
Patrick’s brows furrowed, but he did not lower the glass when he said, “They aren’t wearing plaid.”
“Nae,” Ciaran answered. The men had on trews, which was unusual for this part of Skye. Everyone wore plaid that marked their clan. “We were discussing that when ye arrived. We think the MacLeans may be in on this, but we dinna think this is just the MacLeans. The building is progressing tae quickly.”
A loud crack of thunder shook the ground. It didn’t sound as close as it had before.
“This is not Skye technology,” Patrick answered, his voice even more clipped.
Patrick’s words echoed Ciaran’s thought. Nothing seemed overly foreign, but… well… call it a gut feeling. He was certain this had to do with the outsiders who’d been attacking them. Hearing Patrick voice the same opinion gave him goose bumps. What did that mean? Did they have another foe with more advanced technology or was it the same one? The thought was more than a little nerve-wracking. Ciaran was sick and tired of burying good men. He didn’t even know what they were fighting for. The skirmishes thus far had been unprovoked. “Who are these men?”
“I don’t know,” Patrick said with an exasperated sigh. Finally looking at them, he shook his head, then met Ciaran’s gaze. “I wish I did.” His attention drifted off behind Ciaran. “It seems too coincidental for them not to be connected to the attacks.”
“Aye, and the MacLeans refusing tae join us makes more sense now.” Angus bobbed his head as if to say I told you so.
Someone, Douglas it sounded like, grunted in agreement.
Sighing, Ciaran shook his head. “We dinna ken if the MacL—”
“What is that?” Patrick’s brow furrowed, and he lifted the spyglass, but he was turned the wrong way, looking past Ciaran to the right rather than down and in front of them.
A cloud of black smoke rose up over the mountain. It appeared in the distance, among the foothills of Blae Mountain in the area they called the Pass, or possibly farther in the valley between the highest peaks.
Ciaran frowned. Had lightning struck something? But what? There was nothing but grass, rocks, and heather over there. In order to see, they would have to backtrack toward home and skirt past Grom Peak.
A drop of water landed on Ciaran’s arm. He glanced up and was hit by another on the cheek. Skirting past Grom Peak was beginning to seem like a good idea. It would keep them at a lower altitude.
The workers grabbed their equipment and took shelter in a small cottage nearby.
“They are leaving,” Ram said.
Lightning flashed, jarring them from their observation. Everyone moved at once, heading for their horses, which waited in a grassy patch, several yards below and behind them. Once they got to their horses, they all stopped.
“What now?” Ciaran asked over the wind. “We need someone tae watch them at all times.”
“Agreed.” Patrick nodded.
“Come back tae Lochwood with us. It’s closer.” Ciaran swung up into the saddle.
Around him, Ram’s and Angus’s horses danced around as Ram and Angus mounted.
Patrick shook his head. “We need to get back and tell the laird about this, and I promised Marcus that I wouldn’t be long.” His eyes had the same haunted look he got whenever anyone asked about his past. Patrick never spoke of his former life, but from the few hints he’d dropped when Ciaran lived with him, Ciaran knew it wasn’t good. He was going home to discuss what he’d seen here with Marcus. “I’m going back to the keep to dispatch men for surveillance. Meet me here tomorrow at noon.”
Ciaran nodded and raised his voice to be heard over the weather. “I’m going tae see where that smoke is coming from.”
The rain came down, soaking into his bones and drenching him within a