Page 13 of Highlander’s Quest of Desire

Drew pulled back and struck the poor man with a club, knocking him out. "Thank ye, very much," he said, dragging his limp form and tossing it in the cell. "Now he willnae have to explain how Laird Grant escaped on his watch."

"Aye," Leo grinned. "Though he'll nae thank ye for it."

"It is nae our fault he wasnae bright enough to ken he'd be receiving an injury or two for his trouble." Drew shrugged. "It's a pleasure to see ye, Laird."

"Pleasure will turn sour if we donnae get a move on," Leo said. "It's this way."

Bruce did not attempt to take the lead. This was Leo's operation. Drew took up position behind Bruce to protect his back. They managed to traverse through the passage to a staircase without incident.

Bruce found his breath catching in his throat as they climbed the stairs. His strength was fading, but he didn't want his companions to know. The Bruce they knew was in his prime, strong and full of life. He was loath for them to view him as anything but. What loyalty and fealty would this reduced Laird inspire in his men? It was too abhorrent a thought to be allowed.

The air was full of salt. Bruce licked his lips and took fortification from the fresh wind. He felt more alive than he had in days. They were near the ramparts. He could hear flags pulling taught and swaying in the wind.

"Bruce," Leo stopped a few feet from the landing. "Stay here. Drew and I will see if all’s clear."

Bruce nodded though he did not like to hang back. Drew pulled out a thin blade from inside his jacket and climbed up after Leo. Bruce felt useless. His body was sore, and the wound on his back throbbed. The cool wind was refreshing against his hot face, and he was sure he was running a fever. But nothing, no slash of chains, or blow to the stomach, wounded his pride like staying back from a fight on his honor.

The night noises of wind, flags, and waves took on a new quality. Muffled sounds of struggle reached Bruce's ears. Within minutes Drew was back, a grin across his face.

"We're ready for ye," he said.

Bruce followed. Two guards rested by the parapet heads resting on each other's soldiers. They were out cold. Leo secured a rope and instructed Drew to climb down.

"Just a minute," Drew said. He removed the boots off of the English soldiers' feet and placed them on their hands instead. "That'll make for interesting conversation once they're awake."

Bruce chuckled. Trust Drew to find the humor in tense situations. He watched Drew climb down. It took him minutes, and soon it was Bruce's turn.

"Can ye make it?" Leo asked.

The question stung. "Aye," Bruce said, rankling with pride. "They've nae beat the man out of me."

"That's nae what I meant and ye ken it."

Bruce was ashamed. Of course, Leo didn't mean to question his abilities. None of his men would. They were concerned for him, and he could not lie and declare he was fit. They had risked their lives to rescue him. The least he could do was not question their loyalty.

"I'll try my best. Donnae wait for me to reach the bottom before ye climb down. We should be away before they sound the alarm."

With an effort, Bruce lifted his legs and climbed off the rampart. Flames of pain shot up from his lower back, and his arms were corded tight. Instead of shimmying down he held the rope with his hands and propelled his legs against the wall, hopping down inch by inch. It was agony, and he had to grit his teeth tight to not scream.

Feet away from the ground, his back seized. Unable to move his feet, he dangled against the rope, his shoulders protesting against the strain. Leo looked down at him, his face a darker shadow against the inky sky. Below him, the form of Drew beckoned with upheld arms. The wind buffeted him until he swayed like a lazy pendulum coming to rest, the motion making bile rise from his abdomen until he thought he was going to be sick.

It was all too much. His shaking hands let loose, and he fell. His back collided with the ground, knocking the wind out of him. Thankfully, the pain was so acute it took away his voice, and though his jaw unhinged in a wailing scream, no sound came out.

Drew's arms propped him up. "That was a nasty fall," he hissed. "Yer bleeding!"

"Tis just an old wound," Bruce managed to say. "Give me yer hand," he commanded. Taking Drew's hand, he pulled himself up. Every movement was agony, but the adrenaline was coursing through his veins. "Is Leo down yet?"

A thud of boots on grass announced his descent. "Aye," Leo said. "Would ye like to go for a swim?"

"Can he?" Drew looked skeptical.

"Ye bet yer life I can," Bruce said.

“Halt!” A yell from the parapet. “Who goes there?”

“Thanks for the stay!” Bruce yelled back. “But I’ll be off now!”

“Sound the alarm! Prisoners escaping!”