Donal awakened to a pounding on his back.

  “Maeve told me to wake the two of you,” Brigid said. “She sees land.”

  Donal raised his elbows from his thighs and rubbed his face. “She what?”

  “Wake him.”

  Donal squinted at the horizon. The sea bounced light from the late-afternoon sun directly into his face. “There’s nothing there,” he said.

  “It’s possible you didn’t hear me say who noticed it,” Brigid said.

  “Right,” Donal said with a sigh. He tapped Niall on the back.

  “Donal!” he yelled. “Get that duck out of my house unless you want it cooked!”

  “Sorry?” Donal asked with a surprised laugh.

  “What?” Niall asked. He snorted and straightened his spine. “Nothing. Nevermind all that. What’s happened? Are we here?”

  “Maeve says so,” Donal said.

  “Then we’re here,” Niall said.

  Finn stretched his arms and leaned in Niall’s direction. “Niall! Where do we go now?”

  “Use the oars to tighten up our form,” Niall said. “We’ll let the boats answer your question. Heimaey is the largest of this island chain.”

  “How will we know where to go?” Siobhan said, tilting her oar in such a manner that her boat sidled within ten yards of Niall’s port side.

  “I’m relying on Brendan, Finn or Ciara to answer that,” Niall said. The tales say the place we’re looking for is in a cave on the largest of the ‘Westman Islands.’”

  “That’s what they call this place?” Fergal asked as Maeve’s boat approached from the right.

  “The locals call it something else,” Niall said. “But I think someone smudged the writing. I couldn’t read the actual name.”

  Heimaey's entire eastern coast emerged from the haze of distance. A swath of rocky ground connected the island to the shallow, grassy plateau that comprised its southern tip.

  The turf that covered the island was green, but it didn’t resemble any grass Donal had seen. From this distance it appeared stubby, uniform and unbent by the breeze. It seemed more likely someone had covered the plateau with a wide green linen blanket.

  Ciara pointed to the shoreline. “A cave like that?” she asked.

  In truth there was no shore on that section of the island, just a wall of jagged stone which climbed straight out of the sea. A small cape extended in their direction, and in its shadow near the ocean surface hid the darkened entrance of a cave.

  Niall leaned forward and rested his hands on the sides of the bow. “Slow to a stop,” he said. Siobhan and Maeve followed his lead. The wakes trailing the group diminished as the boats decelerated. After two minutes the currachs were adrift.

  “Oars out,” Niall said. “Let’s take a closer look.”

  The group paddled their way within a hundred yards of the cave entrance.

  “Can you see inside?” Niall asked Maeve.

  “Too dark,” she said.

  They pushed closer until they were within a hundred yards of the entrance.

  “Nothing,” Maeve said.

  “Brendan? Finn?” Niall asked. “Ciara?”

  “If Brendan can’t sense it, there’s no magic there,” Ciara said.

  “And?” Niall asked.

  Brendan muttered something as he rotated his hands. After a few turns he dropped his hands and shook his head. “There’s something in the area,” Brendan said. “It’s not here, though. We’re too close for such a faint notion.”

  “Let’s try the other side of the island,” Siobhan said.

  “Lead on, lass,” Niall said.

  Siobhan rested her hands on her boat. “Take me to the north side of this island,” she said.

  Niall and Maeve formed a line behind her and the party traveled north for three miles. The high stone faces prevented them from seeing the interior of the island and signs of life. A cape three times as long and twice as high as the last greeted them as they rounded Heimaey’s easternmost point.

  Siobhan slowed her currach. “This forms an inlet,” she said, tracing the line of towering bluffs to the left. “Brendan says we’re close to something.”

  “Grand,” Niall said. “Fall in behind me.”

  They followed the base of the giant sea cliffs on their right. A cluster of houses appeared on their left after half a mile.

  “Norsemen,” Niall said. “We need to be on our way before we draw too much attention. We can’t answer their questions to their liking, even if they understand us.”

  Donal spotted the inlet’s end more than a mile from its entrance. A gap formed in the bluffs on their right.

  “We’re here,” said Brendan.

  “Please tell me it’s not in the village,” Brigid said.

  “It is not,” Brendan said. “It’s somewhere in these hills to our north.”

  Finn’s hands dove into his mantle and pulled something from his belt. “Murrough gave me this before we left,” he said to Maeve. “He told me you’d want to hear this when we arrived.”

  “Did he, now?”

  Finn muttered to himself as he read the parchment. “‘North side of island’… ‘across from village’… ‘point to’… grand, here we are.” He waved hand at the bluff immediately to their right. “This is Duffy’s Hill.”

  “Did you say, ‘Duffy?’” Maeve asked. “Peculiar name for a Norseman.”

  “He wasn’t,” Finn said. “He was one of two slaves taken from Ireland. They’re the namesake of the island chain. Murrough says the two rose up against their master and laid him low. Some important fella came and made our man Duffy jump from the top as punishment.”

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “What am I meant to do with that information?” asked Maeve.

  Finn threw up his hands. “I’m thinkin’ he wanted to set me up for a giving out.”

  Maeve shook her head. “Too easy,” she said. “Though it would be wild if that’s where the portal—“

  Something whistled through the air and struck Niall’s boat a foot in front of Donal’s seat.

  “Oi!” Donal yelled. “Someone’s loosing arrows at us!”

  Ciara pointed at a low area between the bluffs on the right. “There!”

  Half a dozen archers held positions behind twelve warriors brandishing polearms and shields. The archers nocked their arrows and aimed between their comrades’ shoulders.

  “Donal! Brigid!” Niall shouted. “Your shields!”

  Donal’s head dropped into the boat. He banged the buckler on his knee as he brought it above the hull.

  “Maeve, Siobhan, get behind us until we can muster a counterattack,” Niall said.

  “Take me south of Niall MacRannell’s boat—and no further!” Siobhan said, hands on the bow. “Finn, Brendan, Ciara, look high for volleys.” She pulled her staff back and swung it forward. “Lía?rit teine!”

  A ball of fire rocketed from the head of her staff. The opposing force was too far for her attack to be effective. The warriors in front joined shields and the fire broke against the makeshift wall.

  Maeve gathered three arrows in her right hand. She nocked one to her string and gripped the other two with her bow hand. She established her base and pointed her bow to the sky. Several of the attackers raised their shields in response. With a grin she dropped her aim and planted an arrow in the thigh of one man. She quickly nocked and loosed the two other arrows held by her bow hand in quick succession. With one feint she had created a gap in her foes’ defense.

  When the other two currachs had tucked in behind him, Niall nudged his way to the rear of the ship.

  “You two!” he said to Donal and Brigid. “Grab your spears and get your shields up front.” He pointed to Siobhan. “You two turn as we do and have someone on each boat paddle. Those archers are going to range us before long.”

  Donal and Brigid stepped to the left and right sides of the bow, respectively, struggling all the while not to trip over the sacks at their feet. Niall turned the boat perpendicular to the shore.

  “Would have been nice if one of us was left-handed,” Brigid said.

  “I’ll work on that for next time,” Donal said.

  Brigid wrinkled her brow and let out a single compressed breath. “You do that, lad. For now let’s focus on the crush that’s coming to your side when we hit rock.”

  The blood from Donal's fingers drained as Donal squeezed his spear. He inhaled deeper than he exhaled. For the first time, he noted his opponents’ shouts. Their cries of battle were louder than he imagined when his people first approached.

  “Finn!” Siobhan yelled. “Go right!”

  Two splashes sounded behind Donal. Finn landed in the shallow water along the right side of their ships, Siobhan jumped into the water behind him.

  “Lía?rit teine!” Finn yelled, and from behind Brigid another fireball hurtled toward the three people approaching Brigid’s side of the bow. The man in front was too close to react, and the burst of energy upon impact knocked him backwards. He bowled over the women behind him mere feet from Niall’s boat.

  Two men approached on Donal’s side. “An tala? a a?rú ina láib!” Siobhan yelled, swinging her staff forward. The rocky shore under the attackers softened and then liquefied. The men sank down to their knees. They shoved the handles of their spears into the muck in order to leverage themselves out of it.

  “Láib a a?rú go clo?!” Siobhan said. The mud hardened to stone, trapping the men and their weapons for the time being.

  “Ah, here, Maeve,” Brendan called out as he dropped into the water, “wasn’t that a useful trick?”

  Maeve groaned. “Don’t you start, O’Cahan, or I’ll have her do that you since you like it so much.”

  “What was that about?” Donal asked his shieldmate.

  Brigid shook her head. “It’s not worth the time to explain it, lad. Just know that my brother’s talent for divination includes a sense for all the best places to poke at Maeve. Time to hop out and push forward. Slowly, now.”

  “That’s not good,” Donal said.

  “What’s wrong?” Brigid asked.

  “We already have one Finn,” Donal said. “We don’t need another.”

  “Who? Brendan?” Brigid asked as one of Maeve’s arrows whistled past them. “From what I’ve seen, your brother’s a header compared to mine.”

  “What I’m hearing is that you’re offering a trade.”

  “Careful what you wish for, lad. Focus, please.”

  Siobhan and Finn followed Donal and Brigid farther ashore. Brigid caught two arrows with her buckler. Siobhan swung her club at the two men anchored in stone and knocked them unconscious.

  “Shiv, would you do the honors?” Finn asked.

  Siobhan muddied the ground under the three warriors on the right. “Frém forása,” she said, raising her hands to the sky. Vines extended from the muck. Bark covered the vines and expanded into thick branches that restrained all three.

  “Fergal!” Niall said. “Help me get these boats onshore.”

  Fergal set down his oars and pushed the boat toward Niall.

  A voice called out from their opponents’ ranks. A fireball flew over Donal’s head.

  “Ciara?” Brigid yelled over her shoulder. “Care to do your part?”

  “I am,” she said, her voice at ease. “I was told to watch for volleys.”

  “Perhaps you could show a bit more initiative,” Brendan said.

  “I could,” she said with all the urgency of a lady sitting down for a picnic on the green.

  Brigid jammed her spear into the ground, picked up a rock from the shore and hurled it at Ciara. It sailed close enough to jostle her raven hair.

  Ciara closed her eyes and sighed. “Fine, fine,” she said. “I assumed you could handle things without me.” She hopped out of the boat and groaned in disgust as she waded onshore.

  One archer took notice of the distracted sorceress and let an arrow fly. Ciara flicked her hand without looking up from her wet breeches. “Doingaib?.” The arrow struck a purple translucent barrier and fell to the ground.

  The archer’s jaw and bow hand dipped in surprise. Ciara met his eyes and grinned. “Pléasca? guirid!” she yelled. A faint blue glow spread from her eyes as a streak of intense heat flew at the archer. It struck his sternum, the force of the impact sending him airborne and several yards backward.

  “Forward,” Siobhan said with a pat on Donal’s back. “Together.”

  Two of the remaining warriors stood in front of the wizard thirty yards away, as if his safety was their primary goal. “Sai?et gealáin,” called the man in back. His hand extended beyond the shields and a jagged arc of blue light struck Donal’s shield.

  The shield held. The nerves in Donal’s left arm flooded his brain with conflicting messages of pain and fatigue, but Gavin’s enchantment had worked.

  “I can split ‘em,” Donal said. “Leave the big fella defenseless for you.” He leaned forward to charge, but someone else’s hand jerked him back.

  “And you’d be defenseless against him,” Brendan said. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “He’s right, Donal,” Siobhan said. “Right now we need your shield more than your spear.”

  The burst of adrenaline in response to the lightning strike kept Donal’s mind off-balance. Another argument surfaced in the confusion.

  They don’t understand, Shadow told him from the back of his mind. It would be over so quickly. Are you certain your shield can take another blast like that? Do it. Show them.”

  Donal shrugged free from Brendan’s hand, threw down his shield and sprinted toward the pair of men in front of the wizard. He drew in a long breath as he closed the distance and chopped his steps in order to time his footwork.

  He planted his right foot in front of the guard on the left and drove his spear low into the man’s shield. He swung his spear to the left in an upward arc and spun away from his foes. The motion snatched the shield from its master. With a twist of his feet he brought his spearhead high. The other man’s shield, still firmly attached to Donal’s weapon, struck the guard on the right, knocking him unconscious and onto his comrade. Donal cued his spear handle into the forehead of the first guard.

  He looked up to see the sorcerer’s hands drawn back, an arc of lightning flickering between the fingers of the man’s right hand.

  “Sai?et ge—”

  An arrow pierced the wizard’s left shoulder. The man dropped to the knees and clutched the wound. Fast, heavy footsteps approached from behind. A large man entered Donal’s periphery and held an oddly-shaped axe in front of the wizard’s face.

  “Careful, sir,” Fergal said in between gasps. “I’ve only had this yoke a day or two. I might slice you by accident.”

  “Thanks, Fergal,” Siobhan said. “Stay right there, if you please. Brendan, go help the other group.”

  Donal glanced to his right. Brigid and Niall stood side-by-side with their shields high. Finn and Ciara stepped from behind them only long enough to lob magic at the handful of warriors and archers who remained.

  The heat of the moment had cooled. The timeline of the past few minutes settled into Donal’s memory. He hung his head and turned to apologize. “Siobhan, I’m—”

  “Save it,” she said. A faint wrinkle under each eye was the only hint she had narrowed them. She held her jaw tight and kept her mouth flat. Her shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths. In all the aggravations Donal and Finn had put upon her over the years he’d never seen a look like this from her, and yet it fit perfectly onto her face.

  Shite, Donal thought. That’s Mrs. MacSweeney.

  not root for her. Even when she stumbles, especially when she succeeds. She goes through a lot here, though, mostly at the hands of the Empress and nobility like Johannes. Honestly, I love how much I hate them. To evoke that kind of feeling without turning characters into caricatures is a fine line to walk, and Guo walks it so well. She keeps the plot moving, deftly navigating layers of intrigue, romance and personal growth. The twists are set up--never broadcast--and earned, and will keep you guessing.