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landed with a crunch on the pebbles beside the man. A wave washed up to his knees, drenching the hem of my gown, then retreated. Manannán’s curse, this tide was coming in with unnatural speed. As I crouched beside the fallen seafarer, a small gathering of gulls squawked derisive comments from the rocks nearby. I eased the man’s head to the side, pushing his hair away so I could put my fingers to his neck, feeling for signs of life. Gods, he was cold! Under my fingers, a weak pulse beat. He was chalk white, save for dark bruising around the fast-closed eyes.
    “Up!” I slapped his cheek hard. “Help me!”
    Another wave; in no time at all, the sea would reach the foot of this cliff and be up over the rocks.
    “Wake up! You must help me!” I slapped him again. No response. Gritting my teeth, I tried to lift his upper body so I could get a grip around his chest, under the arms, and drag him up. Foolish. Some women might have done it, but I was of slight build. You are a druid, Sibeal. Use your wits. Find a solution.
    I scanned the rock face above us, searching for markers. There was the high tide point. Get the man onto the ledge just above it, and all I need do was keep him warm and wait for someone to come looking for me. As a plan it was somewhat lacking, but a definite improvement on waiting down here until we both drowned. I looked around the tiny strip of pebbles, seeking other answers, and my gaze fell on the length of wood I had noticed before. It had surely been part of the Norse ship, for carven along its elegant curve were runic signs, no doubt placed there to keep vessel and crew safe from harm. Today’s storm had been too strong for any protective talisman.
    Runes. Divination. Hidden meanings. From one wave to the next, I fixed my eyes on the carven symbols. “Manannán, send me wisdom,” I prayed. “You’ve brought him this far. You must mean him to survive. Show me how to do my part.”
    The next wave washed in. It moved the man forward on the strand and a sound came from him, a deep groan. The water retreated. It had scattered pebbles across the carven wood, touching Lagu , Nyd, Eh . Three runes, and only a heartbeat of time to interpret them. Water, tides. Inner strength. A problem to be solved, a tool to be found. I was too weak to lift a man, but the sea could do it for me. “Get up!” I shouted as the man stirred, shifting on the pebbles. “Quick!”
    He dragged himself up to his knees. I crouched beside him and lifted his arm over my shoulders. Let me be strong enough to hold him against the tide. Gods give me fortitude.
    “Hold on. When the next wave comes we’re going to stand up. Ready?”
    A sound from him, more of a grunt than a word.
    “Here it comes. One, two—”
    The wave caught us, drenching me to the waist as I struggled to my feet. The man hung on. We were standing.
    “Move!” I screamed, for the next one was coming fast, and it was much bigger, surely powerful enough to smash us against the rocks. “Now!”
    I staggered toward the place where I had climbed down, half-dragging him with me. “Quickly!” But he could not be quick; it was taking all his strength to move one foot before the other. No chance of getting there in time. It was coming. I heard its roar behind us.
    “Breathe!” I shouted. I braced my legs and threw my arms around the man’s waist, holding on hard. No time to pray.
    The wave hit us. I fought for purchase, clinging to my companion as the water crashed into me, chest-high, and spent itself on the rocks. All was swirling white around us, and then came the sucking undertow, and I did pray, a wordless, mindless plea. It was gone, and we were still here. He wheezed for air, the sound like a knife scraping iron. His legs were buckling. I fought to keep him on his feet.
    “Well done!” I shouted. “Now up! Up, quick!”
    I dragged him up, step by stumbling step onto the slippery rocks. His breathing vibrated through my body. “Up there. Next