The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(23)

Christ, MacLean’s plan had worked! Magnus felt a jolt of victory surge through him, as he saw the causeway left unprotected.

MacLeod shouted to MacGregor to light the signal, and a moment later an arrow shot across the sky in a flaming arch.

As soon as the English started to scatter, the Highland Guard moved into position near the causeway, creating a line of defense for Edward Bruce’s men to leave the island, while Douglas and his men kept up the terrifying assaults on the fleeing English.

But something was wrong. Bruce’s men weren’t coming.

He heard Gordon shout beside him. “The river!”

In between thrusts and blows, Magnus glanced toward the castle.

Ah hell. The mist that had shrouded their attack had also shrouded another: The sea assault they feared had arrived. Three—nay, four—English galleys were approaching the sea-gate, raining a stream of arrows down on any man who tried to venture out of the castle gate. In a few minutes English soldiers would be pouring off those galleys, able to block any attempt by Edward Bruce to escape. There was the added danger of the fleeing English soldiers realizing what was happening and turning around. Fear would no longer obscure their smaller numbers.

“Chief!” Gordon shouted. “Over there.”

MacLeod had seen the same thing they had. “Go,” he said to Magnus and Gordon, understanding the unspoken request. “Take Ranger and Arrow with you.”

They didn’t hesitate. The four men shot across the causeway, heading for the castle, situated on the far side of the islet.

The boats had already started to pull into the jetty under the partially dismantled sea-gate. Ironically, Edward Bruce’s slighting of the castle a few months ago left him in the position of being unable to defend his position.

But as the sea-gate was located on the far side of the castle, the English arrows were now out of range of the causeway, giving them a small chance of escape. MacRuairi and MacSorley had realized the same thing. Magnus could see them ahead, ordering Edward’s army to run.

The burned-out shell of the castle loomed in front of them. Most of the wooden outer buildings had been burned to the ground, including large sections of the wooden palisade that surrounded the bailey. Only part of the stone tower remained.

The English started to pour into the bailey from the sea-gate, stalling the efforts of MacRuairi and MacSorley to get Edward’s men out.

“The tower,” Gordon said. “The wall will block them.”

Magnus took one look and understood. If Gordon placed his powder under one of the partially destroyed walls, it would crumble right into the path of the English. Even if it didn’t block them entirely, it would give MacSorley and MacRuairi added time to clear all of the men from the island trap.

Magnus nodded, and quickly told Campbell and MacGregor what they intended to do while Gordon removed an ember from one of the braziers and used it to light a torch.

“The vaults!” Gordon shouted above the din of battle, as they fought their way past a few of the invading Englishmen.

They raced into the cool, damp stairwell. Without its roof, the stone had been left open to the elements, and the stairs were damp and slippery with moss as they made their way into the vaults.

Magnus didn’t need to ask what Gordon intended. It was nothing they hadn’t done many times before. They’d worked for so long together, they communicated without speaking.

Gordon headed for the far wall that was directly under the precariously perched tower wall. “It may take more than one,” he said, removing a few small sacks from a leather bag he wore slung across his shoulder. He handed four of them to Magnus. “We don’t have much time, so fire them all at once. At the arch,” he said, pointing Magnus to the side nearer the stairwell. He used the torch to light two small candles he’d removed from his bag for such occasions. “I’ll tell you when.”

Gordon went to the far side of the wall, packing his bags along the arch near the top of the wall. Magnus did the same on his.

“Ready?” Gordon asked.

Magnus nodded.

Gordon wedged his candle between the bags and started to run. “Now!” he yelled.

Magnus secured his candle and did the same.

There should have been plenty of time to make it up the stairs and out of the tower before the first explosion. But something went wrong. Magnus was a few feet from the door—Gordon a few feet behind him—when the first shattering boom exploded beneath them, the concussion of sound and earth knocking him to the ground. The ground was still moving as the second one sounded.

He covered his ears and tried to get to his feet. The explosions were too loud. Too powerful. What the hell had happened?

He couldn’t hear a damned thing, but somehow he knew Gordon was saying something. He turned around, seeing him shout—“Run!”—but it was too late. The walls were coming down, and they were trapped.

He tried to fight his way to the entry, attempting to dodge the falling stone that crashed all around him. One big stone hit him in the shoulder, sending a crushing blast of pain through his entire left side. He staggered. His ears were still ringing, but he could hear Gordon shout behind him and knew he’d been struck, too. He turned around to try to help him, but at that moment the tower collapsed around them.

Magnus put up his arm, trying to shield himself from the rain of stone pelting him mercilessly, driving him to the ground.