They stepped forward, then stopped just outside the range of his arrows. More lined up behind them. An attack was coming and when it did, it would be big.
He left Bruce in charge, running down to the courtyard to speak to Heather. No one had seen her. He sent word that she was to be found but had no luck until Keith came running toward him.
“My laird,” Keith said, panting for breath. “I saw her from the kitchen window. She headed out the sallyport.”
Cursing his stupidity for letting her out of his sight he went to go after her when Tanya stopped him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “I have not seen you in…?”
“Twenty years it has been,” Tanya replied. “You have become a man.”
“How did you get in? We are in the middle of a siege.”
“You would need stronger walls than that to keep me out when I wish to speak to a MacGregor.”
“Can this wait? I must go search for someone.” He was already heading for the sallyport.
Tanya took hold of his arm. Though she had no strength to her, he found himself unable to move. “Heather will make her own way to you,” Tanya said. “She has done so once already.”
Not for the first time Gavin found himself looking at his half sister. “How do you ken about Heather?”
“We will have time to talk about that later. For now, I want you to tell me everything you remember about the silver keys.”
He was torn between chasing after Heather and returning to the battlements. He did not want to waste time talking to Tanya. He had no choice but to do so. It was one of the promises he had made his mother. When Tanya wanted to talk to him, he must speak to her.
By the time he had finished telling her everything he could remember, Heather had reappeared. He heard her calling his name just as the attack began.
“Go,” Tanya said. “Defend your castle. When you are done, bring Heather to me. It is time I spoke to her.”
He ran up to the battlements, pausing only to check that Heather was being taken to safety. Then he got his men ready to repel the ladders if the outlaws tried to use them again.
The first wave was weak but it was enough to keep him trapped where he was. The second wave was far more organized. As the men ran low on arrows from knocking the first wave back, more men ran on under the cover of hide shields.
They made it to the castle, raising their ladders to the battlements. “Draw swords,” Gavin yelled over the roar of the attackers. “Send them to the pit where they belong.”
He reached for the nearest ladder, pushing it away from the wall, an arrow brushing his shoulder as he did so. The ladder began to fall, taking climbing men crashing to earth with it. More fell into the moat, disappearing from view a second later, their armor too heavy for them to even attempt swimming.
More ladders, more men. Soon Gavin was unable to hear anything but the sound of swords hitting armor. Some of the attackers made it onto the battlements. One huge brute clambered on and pointed at him, mace swinging in his fist. Gavin pointed at his own chest. “You want me?”
The brute grunted, raising the mace above his head.
Gavin shrugged, beckoning him on. The man was so large, his stamping feet made the very battlement shake. Gavin took a step back, drawing his assailant forward. The brute grew impatient, letting out a roar and then running at Gavin.
The laird grabbed an arrow from the nearest archer, notching and firing his bow so fast the first the brute knew of it was when the steel tip entered his throat.
He looked down at the arrow sticking out of him, a frown appearing on his face. He yanked it out, bringing a spurt of blood with it. Then he toppled sideways, falling into the courtyard and crashing through the roof of the stable.
Gavin didn’t pause to gloat, he ran to the nearest ladder, swinging his sword at the next person climbing. They lunged up at him but he was faster, tipping the attacker off balance, sending them screaming down into the moat.
Glancing around him, he could see it was touch and go. Then he looked down at the outside of the castle. The Frazers had not joined the attack. What were they waiting for?
For the next few minutes he put the question aside, concentrating on beating back those outlaws continuing to clamber up the ladders. His limbs ached from swinging his sword and just as his energy was beginning to run out, the last of them fell back, sprinting away across open land, arrows helping to speed them on their way.
A cheer went up among the MacGregors but it was a weak one. Gavin could count at least five dead on his side. “Another victory like that and we will have none left to celebrate,” Bruce said, coming to stand beside him.
“You’ve got blood on you,” Gavin said, pointing at Bruce’s face.
“It’s all right,” Bruce replied, wiping with the back of his hand. “It’s not mine.”
