The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(98)

Dugald leaned closer, studying the map with enough intensity to make the hair on the back of Arthur’s neck stand up.

There was nothing identifying about the document. The handwriting was minimal, and as for the drawing ... Dugald had never paid much attention to Arthur’s “scribblings,” except to make fun of them. He had nothing to fear. But still his brother’s interest made him uneasy.

“Where did you get it?” Dugald asked.

“It was taken off an enemy messenger my men intercepted a few weeks ago,” Lorn replied. “But from the accuracy of the numbers, I suspect there is a traitor in our midst.”

Murmurs of outrage and anger buzzed across the room, which Arthur joined.

“Unfortunately,” Lorn added, “the messenger was unable to identify him.”

“How can you be sure, my lord?” Arthur asked.

A knowing smile curved Lorn’s mouth. “I’m sure.”

Meaning the messenger had been tortured.

Lorn scanned the faces of the men around him—the inner circle of his command. “Keep your eyes out for anything unusual. I want this man found.” He flattened the map with the palm of his hand. “But his map has proved useful. I have a plan to beat the usurper at his own game.”

Arthur stilled, trying not to show his excitement. Perhaps he was finally going to have something to report to the king.

“What do you mean?” Alan asked.

“I mean we are going to turn his tactics against him. Bruce has achieved victories against much larger forces by fighting battles on his terms—choosing the right place and terrain to attack, striking hard and fast from places of concealment, using the same kind of tactics used by our ancestors for generations. Highland warfare. I’ll be damned if I let a Lowlander beat me at my own kind of war.” He paused to a chorus of agreement. “We aren’t going to sit here and wait for him to lay siege to the castle as he expects; we’re going to attack him first.”

Everyone started talking at once. Arthur forced himself not to jump into the fray, waiting to hear the rest. But he knew this was big—monumental, in fact. Lorn was right: the king wouldn’t be expecting an attack. Not with a fortress like Dunstaffnage to hole up in.

Lorn quieted the room with a movement of his hand. “Hold your questions until I tell you the rest.” He edged the map forward on the table, enabling the men gathered in front of him to see it better. “Bruce and his men are coming from the east, following the road from Tyndrum.” He pointed to the far edge of the map. Arthur’s skin prickled, sensing something important. Lorn moved his finger along the road, stopping at the Pass of Brander. Arthur’s stomach sank with dread.

“To reach Dunstaffnage they will have to cross through the mountains here. At the long narrow pass of Brander. This is where we will attack. We will position men here, here, and here,” he said, pointing to three high ridges above that would be nearly impossible to see due to curves in the road.

Arthur bit back a curse as the room exploded in excitement. It was the perfect place from which to wage a surprise attack. The MacDougalls would surprise Bruce from above, descending on the marching army in a narrow gap where the king wouldn’t be able to take advantage of his superior numbers.

“When?” Dugald asked the loudest.

“Our reports put Bruce at Brander early on the fourteenth.”

Treacherous bastard.

The room fell quiet. “But the truce doesn’t expire until the fifteenth,” Alan said carefully.

Lorn’s eyes narrowed. “It is the usurper who has chosen to ignore the code of warfare, not I. Bruce is marching on our lands. He is the one to break the truce.”

A self-serving rationale if ever Arthur had heard one. But no one attempted to argue with him.

“Alan,” Lorn continued, “you will leave with the main force of the army tomorrow and be in position by nightfall, just to be sure.”

Arthur wasn’t surprised to hear that Alan would be in command. The steep gullies and demanding terrain would be difficult for even the younger warriors to navigate.

“You will hold the castle, my lord?” he asked.

Lorn shot him an angry glare. “My father will hold the castle,” he corrected. “I will take a fleet of galleys with the rest of the army and command from here.” He pointed to the place where the River Awe flowed into Loch Awe. “Thus, after we surprise them from above, we’ll attack from ahead as well.”

Striking Bruce from two directions.

It was a brilliant plan. Not only was it the perfect location from which to launch an attack, but by striking first—and before the truce expired—Lorn would have surprise on his side.

A barrage of questions followed, but Arthur was already focused on the task ahead of him. He needed to warn the king as soon as possible, without alerting Lorn that his plan had been compromised.

He would have to risk trying to get a message out tonight. Then, in the excitement and chaos preceding the attack, he would be able to slip away.

For good.

A knot fisted in his gut. The moment he’d dreaded, but knew was inevitable, had come. The time to say goodbye. The time when he was supposed to slip back into the shadows and disappear without a word. It was what he did. What he’d always known he would have to do. He just hadn’t expected it to be so damned hard.