The Stone of Destiny Read online

  First published in 2019 by Gob Stopper

  Gob Stopper is an imprint of Cranachan Publishing Limited

  Copyright © Caroline Logan 2019

  The moral right of Caroline Logan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-1-911279-50-1

  eISBN: 978-1-911279-51-8

  Cover & Interior Illustrations:

  © Seasquint / Jay Madison © Lana Elanor

  © Red Ink / Irina Trigubova © shutterstock.com / Katerina Branchukova

  Map Illustration © Caroline Logan

  www.cranachanpublishing.co.uk

  @cranachanbooks

  To Vince

  “You made the brightest days from the darkest nights.”

  Chapter 1

  Ailsa tilted her head towards the sky and let the rain wash away the blood from her face and arms. The sun still had an hour before it would sink below the horizon. It had been a fortuitous day. Not only had she managed to get a fire started in the damp cave-mouth in less than two minutes, she had also stumbled upon a deer that had fallen to its doom over the cliff edge; its neck twisted. She had immediately set to work butchering it and stuffing the cut-offs into a clay pot. As she had worked, she couldn’t resist cutting a few strands off the still steaming meat and eating them raw. Now all she needed was some fresh water and her tasks for the day would be done.

  She sighed, inspecting the pieces of gore still stuck to the arms of her shirt. Maybe a wash would be useful too. Deciding to complete two jobs in one, she stepped back into the rock cave and tucked the pot of meat away into a natural alcove. Ailsa picked up an empty canteen and made her way to the beach, where a stream trickled into a waterfall just large enough to bathe in.

  The steep cliffs led to creamy sand peppered with wicked looking boulders. The sea was as fickle as love; sometimes an azure blue, more often a choppy, cold grey. Across the water lay the islands of Jay and Crait, which were clearly visible on a sunny day. Ailsa’s favourite view came when the sun shone above the jagged peaks of Jay while the beach was darkened by clouds.

  Ailsa had been living here long enough to know how to use the land to her advantage. She had wandered from place to place for five years after she had left her village, chased away each time, before finding her home here: a little bay far enough away from the rest of humanity for them not to bother her. No one wanted a changeling anywhere near them anyway.

  She had sat watching the sleek seabirds dive into the water and named the little cove Buthaid Beach—using the ancient Eilanmòrian word for ‘puffin’ and over the past couple of years, she had made it home. She trudged down the worn, grass path to the beach, trailing her hand through her small garden. She was not a gifted gardener, but the rain fell constantly, turning her stolen seeds into monster plants.

  As she walked away from the headland, the rain died down and the wind picked up, tugging at her dark hair, sending it whipping over her face like seaweed in a wave. She sighed and pulled her cloak over her head; stopping the strands from misbehaving. With her hood up, she looked just like everyone else in Eilanmòr with her ash brown hair, pale skin and silver-blue eyes—save for the mark. A mark from the faeries to show she was not human. Her fingers flew to the reddened, painful-looking flesh below her eye. It was her skin—her birthmark—that set her apart from others. Her skin that told her neighbours she was not to be trusted or tolerated. Changeling they had shouted after her. Her mother had always shielded her, kept her away from prying eyes, but that protection ended when her mother died. Ailsa grimaced and continued down the path.

  She reached the running fountain of water, holding the canteen under the stream. Maybe I’ll heat some and have a wash back at the cave, she thought absently. It was better to get most of the blood off first though. Bending to wash her hands in the ice-cold water, she rubbed them as quickly as possible. She was thinking of the tiny tin of lavender and pine soap back in her pack, stolen and saved for special occasions, when she heard the screaming.

  The scream started as a gurgling, then broke into a wail, as a wave crashed on the large rocks further round the beach. For a moment, Ailsa was still; crouching over the narrow stream. If she stayed here and waited, she would not be seen by whatever it was that was making the noise. But the wailing turned to shouts. The words were foreign, but Ailsa knew they were a cry for help. Standing up, she shook her freezing fingers and licked her lip, tasting the salt in the wind. She took a hesitant step forward and felt for the axe she always kept at her side. Peering round a boulder, she surveyed the beach for the source of the shouting.

  There, around twenty feet away from Ailsa’s hiding place, was a young woman. Her scarlet hair was swept upwards by the wind, transformed into a crown of flames. Her eyes were wide with panic as she scanned the beach then back towards the ocean. She screamed again and it was unlike anything that Ailsa had heard before. Loud and piercing, it made her ears ache.

  Ailsa scrambled up the rock to get a better view. Now she could see a little more of the scene, her breath caught in her throat. In the woman’s arms, there was the body of a seal, a red rip marring its side. Blood covered the woman’s legs and upper body. She choked back a sob, looking wildly around the beach again. This time, though, she raised her head higher and found Ailsa’s eyes. She stared right at her, pleading and shouting, now in the common tongue.

  “Help! Please help me!”

  Ailsa’s stomach rolled but she leapt from the boulder and sprinted over the rocks towards the woman, her boots flicking sand out behind her as she ran. The closer she got, the more gruesome the scene became. The seal looked close to death; the blood from its wound covering most of its body.

  “Help him!” she cried when Ailsa got close enough. The woman’s emerald eyes darted from Ailsa’s face to the sea and back again like an animal expecting a predator to appear at any moment. Her breaths were coming in hiccupping gasps as she stroked the head of the seal, the only part of it that wasn’t covered in blood.

  Unsure, but willing to do anything to stop the woman crying, Ailsa slid her fingers around the seal’s body. The woman resisted for a heartbeat before releasing the animal. It was still breathing and when she scooped it into her arms, it looked at her with glassy obsidian eyes.

  “We have to get away from here,” said the redhead, panicking even more now. “Hide!”

  Ailsa was about to ask why when she saw them. Rounding the bend of the headland, a group of wooden longships sailed into view. The nearest was close enough to make out colourful carvings on the boat’s side—and the men who were rowing fast towards them.

  Her blood froze. Raiders.

  “Run!” Ailsa shouted and, with the seal still in her arms, bolted back up the boulders. Its body weighed a ton, sending her off balance as she ran, slipping and sliding over the sand. She didn’t need to turn back to know the woman was following closely, her pace hindered by her bare feet.

  It was beginning to rain again as Ailsa reached a cluster of large rocks that marked the boundary between the beach and headland. She ducked behind the boulders, yanking the other woman down as quickly as she could. The heavy drops washed the seal’s wound; it wasn’t as bad as it had first appeared. Thankfully, the woman had finished with her damn screaming.

  Their breathing came in thick pants as they stared at each other. From the beach, the sound of a boat landing hard on the sand reached their ears, accompanied by dr
ums and urgent shouting. From what Ailsa could see, the group of boats had continued on, leaving only one vessel behind to inspect the beach.

  Motioning to the other woman to stay quiet, Ailsa sank a little deeper into the hiding place.

  Through the stones, they could see the boat and its inhabitants: three tall figures all wearing thick, oil-coated cloaks and carrying spears. One turned and looked in their direction. Ailsa’s hair stood on end. Where she expected to see a face, there was just a skull: snow white against the tanned skin of the man’s throat.

  “What—” she whispered.

  Her companion didn’t seem surprised. Still staring at the raiders, Ailsa was shocked to see they each had a skull for a face.

  “Masks,” breathed the redhead beside her.

  Avalognians, Ailsa realised.

  The rain became heavier until it was thundering down from the skies. The warriors fanned out, sweeping the beach. It was clear they thought the woman had continued on somewhere else, because they sauntered around, swinging their spears at their sides. Two moved away heading for the other side of the beach but one stalked towards them. Ailsa gripped her axe in her hands and crouched down further, flexing the muscles in her shoulders.

  She had heard stories about what Avalognian raiders did to their enemies. Not only did they travel from village to village, up and down the coast of Eilanmòr, burning houses, but if anyone survived the fire, they were either taken as slaves or slaughtered where they stood. Stories told of half-burned people, clawing their way out of their homes to freedom, only to be shoved back into the embers. More frightening still, sometimes they would be killed when they emerged, so their bodies could feed the hoard. Avalognians were cannibals, everyone knew.

  A figure drew closer, stumbling over the shifting sand. He stopped, cocking his head and hesitating before pulling out a wicked-looking dart from a bag around his body. It was tipped on one side with a red feather, and poison, Ailsa guessed, on the other. Suddenly, he turned to look straight at their hiding place and Ailsa felt a chill as the skull’s eye-holes seemed to settle on her. But behind the mask, she could faintly see two eyes.

  Just a man.

  With this realisation she blinked once. Twice.

  Don’t think. Act.

  Then she stood and threw her axe straight at him. It spun, handle over blade, through the air before it embedded itself in his cranium.

  From the moment the weapon left her hand, it moved in slow motion, as if in water. Ailsa watched, mesmerised as the body was thrown backwards, arching through the air. The handle of the axe shuddered from the impact, sticking out of his head like a horn. He didn’t even have time to scream before he died.

  Chapter 2

  Dead. Dead. Dead. The word echoed through her mind, but she swatted it away like a fly before it could find purchase. She would need to wait until they were out of danger before she could pick apart what she’d done.

  Ailsa moved from her hiding place to the body. The axe had cracked the mask, revealing a heavy brow beneath the blood. Black eyes looked blankly back up at her. She bent down and extracted the axe from his head, pulling it out of the wound with a sickening pop.

  “Look out!” the woman from behind her suddenly shouted. Ailsa wrenched her gaze from the corpse to look back. She was pointing to the other end of the beach where the dead man’s comrades were now racing towards them.

  Dead. Dead. Dead. The word swirled round in her brain again, like a warning.

  Ailsa steeled herself and strode forward, her weapon heavy in her right hand. A swift throw of the axe brought another Avalognian down with a glancing blow to his neck. It hadn’t been a clean shot like the last one, but it was enough to send him tumbling to his knees, clutching at the wound as his lifeblood gushed down his body.

  The third man was running for her with his spear Ailsa dodged his throw, but landed hard on her backside when he launched himself at her, taking her down.

  Dark eyes stared out from the mask’s sockets; he was so close that she could see his teeth were sharpened into points. A fist connected with her jaw.

  For a moment there was silence as the force of the impact vibrated around her head. Stars burst in her vision, colliding together, before she was picked up and tossed to the side, the crash of the ground enough to clear her senses. She landed face first in the sand, the shingle scraping a path along her chin. Her assailant marched over to her, his body heaving with the effort of the fight.

  Get up. Get up. Get up.

  Desperation wound a hand around her neck and she wheezed as she pushed herself up. Scrambling, she found a rock at her side. With a roar, she rose and swung the rock round. It connected with the side of the man’s head, with a sickening crunch. He whimpered before he crumpled to the ground, unmoving.

  Ailsa exhaled and rubbed a hand over her face, willing her heart to slow again.

  “Is that one dead too?” asked the woman, once again holding the seal to her chest, her voice wavering as she spoke.

  “No. Just unconscious,” gulped Ailsa. She used the toe of her boot to tilt the man’s face and flick the mask away. To her surprise, it wasn’t a man, but a woman. She rubbed her jaw while watching the warrior’s chest rise and fall.

  With a groan, she moved around the body to the feet and dragged the woman towards the boat. When she passed the man with the neck wound, she dropped the woman’s feet and pulled out a knife, intending to deliver a cleaner death—but he was already gone. She sheathed the weapon in her boot and picked up her axe lying at his side. She hung it on her belt before continuing to the longboat, heaving the Avalognian behind her.

  The woman she had saved followed her at a safe distance. When she saw Ailsa’s intention, she carefully placed the seal down on the sand. It made a little bark of protest. Together, they lifted the raider and dropped her into the boat. Then, pushing the hull, they managed to cast it off into the sea. The strong waves rocked it violently before sucking it out into the surf like a thirsty beast.

  Ailsa and the other woman both stood in the rain watching the craft bob on the open water for a few moments before turning away.

  “Were they looking for you?” Ailsa asked. If she was going to have more Avalognians on her doorstep, it would be better to find out now.

  The woman nodded. Ailsa thought she saw a hint of apology in her eyes.

  For a second, she considered leaving the strange woman here on the beach. Why should she have anything more to do with her?

  Because it’s the right thing to do.

  Ailsa groaned. It seemed like, for now, she would have to play hero.

  “We had better go,” she said, “Follow me.”

  Ailsa headed up the beach towards her cave. The woman picked up the seal with care and trailed after her. Ailsa fought to force the grimace from her face as she walked. When she reached the grass, she wiped both sides of the axe blade on the ground, cleaning off most of the mess. She did the same with her hands, watching as the dewy grass became coated with blood. Her heart gave an uncomfortable twitch in her chest, but Ailsa shoved the feeling down, focussing instead on the other woman. Ailsa led her up the path and into the shelter.

  The fire was lower than before, but it still churned out a welcome bit of heat. The red-headed woman cradled the seal and sank down onto the cave floor, making a grateful sound in her throat. Ailsa gestured for the woman to move closer to the heat before throwing her a rag, the unease threatening to creep back up again as the stranger wiped her hands and forearms. Without taking her eyes away, Ailsa plonked herself on the floor in front of the embers. For a brief moment, her hands had moved to throw her axe to the side like she always did when arriving home, but something told her to keep her weapon close.

  Danger was still nearby, whether from this woman or from raiders returning to find their murdered comrades.

  They sat in silence, for which Ailsa was grateful. The persistent voice drummed louder in her head in the quiet of the cave.

  Dead. Dead. Dead. />
  It never got easier, killing people. Ailsa had only done so twice before now, once when she had first moved to the area and a man had forced himself on her. He had stunk of sour alcohol and his eyes were glazed as if he wasn’t entirely present. When his intentions became clear, Ailsa had pulled the small knife from her boot and thrust it into his gut.

  The second time was when she had come across an older woman lying at the bottom of the cliffs further up the coast. Her body was broken and she was in so much pain that she begged Ailsa to put her out of her misery. Ailsa had hoped, as she thrust her knife into the woman’s temple, that someone would do the same for her, if she ever found herself in similar circumstances.

  She was pulled from her reverie when the woman placed a hand on her elbow. “Thank you. I was sure they were going to catch us,” she said.

  Anger bubbled up inside her. She had just killed people for this person. What on earth was she doing on her deserted patch of land to begin with?

  Stranger still was the presence of the seal in her arms. Was it a pet or had the girl been trying to rescue wild animals? There was something about the way the woman stared at it, holding it almost like a child. What was her story?

  “Your thanks aren’t necessary,” Ailsa ground out, backing up to the opposite wall. “But what is necessary is that you explain why I just risked my life to save a seal?”

  Sad eyes met her own. The stranger cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter. Was she a lady? Ailsa had never really been around many females, but by the way she held herself, Ailsa guessed that the redhead came from a good family. Her clothes were all wrong though. She was wearing a loose, grey dress, more suited to a commoner. Although her red hair was wild, and her eyes were wide with youth, she had a certain poise that made Ailsa think she was older than she looked. Aside from the woman’s curls, her most striking feature was the numerous freckles that speckled her face, neck and hands.