She withdrew the ingot as silently as she could, watching the goblin as it tested the sharpness of its blade, clearly delighted that it hadn’t been found. Not especially smart, she thought with amusement. Good — that worked to her advantage. She weighed the ingot in her hand, getting a sense of how much force she’d need to use… and then, just as the goblin turned around to notice her, she hurled it as hard as she could directly at its head.
It was a hit. The ingot thudded into the creature’s face — and the scream it let out was hideous, echoing out over the whole courtyard and up into the still-lit windows of the castle. Well, that was to her purposes, as well — a bit of early warning for the wake-up call she was about to deliver. The goblin went down, screaming as it clutched at its face, and she ran up to it, ducking to seize her ingot as she did. To her horror, the thing’s face looked badly burned — it was blistering and singed where the iron had touched it, the flesh actually bubbling beneath the goblin’s hands. She actually felt a momentary pang of pity for the poor thing, so grievous was the wound… but then it stared up at her with pure hatred and malice glinting in its tiny eyes, and she withdrew with some horror. It swiped at her with its handful of sharp talons, hissing and spitting in a guttural language she didn’t understand — but she knew enough about swearing to recognize it even in a language from another world.
It was struggling to get to its feet, and Nancy knew in a heartbeat that she couldn’t let it. So, drawing her foot back, thinking of her father trying to teach her to kick a ball when she was ten, she booted the goblin right off the side of the wall. It screamed as it fell, and she heard a satisfying splash as it hit the surface of the lake. Good. She hoped Nessie would find it and have a delicious midnight snack. Would Nessie be on her way to help? she wondered. Well, she certainly hoped so. They were going to need all the help they could get. She set off running again, headed for the castle. First, she’d wake Donal and Anna — then Maeve, and then hopefully everybody else. Like Malcolm had said, they needed every set of hands in the castle.
Nancy barreled through the door, grateful it was unlocked, and tore up the stairs, heading for the room she knew Anna and Donal shared on one of the upper stories. Why’d they have to be so high up, she thought irritably, breathing hard as she made round after round of the spiral staircase up to the upper floor. Was the view really worth all this exhaustion? But finally, she was there, and pounding on the doorway, and face-to-face with a bleary-eyed Donal, who had clearly been taking advantage of the first half of the evening to get some sleep. She felt awful to be disturbing him, but there was no time now.
“Nancy? What’s —”
“Goblins,” she panted, leaning over to brace herself on her knees. The run up the stairs had really taken it out of her. “Attacking. Battlements — six at the front gate then one — round the side —”
“Slow down,” Anna said, moving in beside Donal. She was wearing a dressing gown, but she was nevertheless steely-eyed and ready to go. Nancy could see every bit of the soldier she’d been — and still was. “Attacking? How many?”
“Lots,” she gasped, trying to steady her breathing. “Six at the front gate… one round the side by the door, more coming. Malcolm says… iron on every window ledge and doorstep, every able-bodied shooter on the wall.”
“Aye,” Donal said grimly, already shrugging his armor on and taking up the sword that lay on their dresser. Anna, too, was dragging on a pair of trousers over what looked like pajamas, wrinkling her nose as she tugged them over her baby bump. “I can shoot. I know a handful among the staff and scholars who can, too. I’ll get them.”
“Iron?” she said, thinking of John the blacksmith. “Where do we get —”
“We’ve a hundred iron dirks in the armory,” Donal said, still dressing. “The stables will have some iron horseshoes, too. Anna and I will be needed on the wall to fire on the attackers. Nancy, we trust you. Wake the castle. Get iron on every windowsill and doorway in the place. Prioritize the lower floors first.”
“You can do it,” Anna said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it hard. The words were half encouragement, half threat.
Nancy nodded, her heart pounding — but what choice did she have? As Anna and Donal headed down the stairs, headed for the wall, she turned, bracing herself. This uppermost story was as good a place to start as any.
She ran down the hallway, shouting at the top of her voice and pounding on each door she passed a few times. Before long, a handful of sleepy-looking people in varying states of undress were standing in their doorways, confused and alarmed. She raised her voice to be heard, aware that she must look mad in her cloak and windswept hair with a piece of iron clutched in her fist.
“The castle’s under attack!” she bellowed. “Goblins. We need to wake everyone in the castle. Anyone who can shoot, to the walls to help defend. Anyone else, with me. Now! Go!” She tried to inject some of Anna’s steely tone into her voice, and to her delight found that it worked.
There were confused murmurs from the people of the castle — she recognized a few scholars and herbalists among them — but they got moving quickly, a handful of them striding up to her, clearly waiting for instruction. Good — that was good. Dizzy with the power that had been delegated to her, Nancy took a deep breath.
“We have to get iron on every windowsill. Head down to the armory, get it open, find the black iron dirks there. Prioritize the lower levels, then move up,” she added. “And wake everyone as you go, tell them to do the same.” She hesitated. “Keep a dirk with you, too. Hopefully, the people on the walls will keep the goblins at bay, but just in case…”
“Understood,” said one of the scholars, a quiet woman with intense gray eyes. “A hundred dirks won’t be enough for all the windows —”
“I’m on it. There are horseshoes in the stables, I’ll run over there now.”
“And iron pots and pans in the kitchens.” That was Blair, she realized with a start — the sharp-eyed Headwoman was among the group. “We’ll resort to those last, please.”
Nancy took a steadying breath as she watched the group go — most of them heading to lower levels to wake up the rest of the castle and start setting iron on the windowsills, some heading for the battlements to lend a hand with shooting any goblins who attacked the wall. They’d reacted quickly, she knew — she just hoped it would be fast enough. She ran down the spiral staircase with her group, heading for the armory, which Malcolm had shown her when she first arrived — thankfully, the door was unlocked, and she was able to bring one of the torches in from the corridor to light the room. There were the dirks, sleek black weapons made from iron. She nodded in satisfaction as the people of the castle began charging in, grabbing armfuls of the weapons and heading off to the lower levels of the castle.
Now to grab more. Nancy set off running again, this time down the stairs and across the courtyard to the stables. The horses were extremely uneasy — most of them were shifting in their stalls, and as she moved quickly through the building, she saw one try to rear up. Their eyes were rolling and a few of them whinnied uneasily, and she thought with a start of how frightened her mare had been when the goblins had been chasing them. Horses could sense when the creatures were near, it seemed — she set her jaw, heading for where she knew the horseshoes were kept. The grooms were in the habit of keeping old, worn horseshoes in a bucket — she’d always wondered why, and now she knew. She seized the heavy bucket and started dragging it toward the castle, gritting her teeth at the weight of it. She could do this.
She had to.
Chapter 47
Halfway across the courtyard, she saw a familiar face come running from the steps to help her. Maeve, her silver eyes alight with worry — the woman grabbed one side of the bucket and hoisted it effortlessly. Together, they carried it quickly toward the castle, where a handful of people immediately rushed it, taking handfuls of horseshoes and running for the stairs. There were a couple of dirks already set in the big double doors that allowed
entrance to the castle, and Nancy sighed with relief.
“How are we doing?”
“The first two levels are covered,” Maeve said breathlessly, “but we have to keep working. These creatures are skilled climbers. But it’s under control.”
“Nancy!” She flinched at the sound of her name — it had been shouted from the nearest wall. She looked up, seeing Malcolm there, a bow in his hands. “We need more bows and arrows!”
Sure enough, there were a dozen or so men and woman standing on the wall, looking frightened but ready to fight. Some of them had bows, but not all — and more were emerging to join them. “On it,” she yelled, glancing sideways at Maeve, who nodded.
Together, they ran into the castle, still bearing the bucket of horseshoes, heading up to the armory — which, she realized, was on the same level as the door that led out onto the wall. Perfect.
The supply of dirks was dwindling as the people of the castle continued to return for them, and Nancy and Maeve set the bucket of horseshoes down beside them. Hopefully, there was enough iron here to cover the castle’s collection of windows and doors… but Nancy couldn’t help worrying. She almost turned to head back to the stable to see if she’d missed any — but then Blair burst through the door with an armful of frying pans.
“Cast iron,” she said matter-of-factly. “Does the trick, I guarantee it.”
“Brilliant,” Nancy said, taking a deep breath. “Maeve?”
“I’ll bring as many arrows as I can carry, you bring the bows.”
They filled their arms with the supplies from the armory. Nancy didn’t envy whoever would have to clean up the mess later — the room was chaotic. But it’s serving its purpose, she thought with an appreciative nod — the layout was smooth and intuitive, and allowed them to grab what they needed quickly before heading out toward the wall. Brendan was behind that, no doubt, she reflected. He was an organized man.
On the wall, the situation was tense. Nancy passed a dozen or so goblin bodies, several with arrows sticking out of them. She recoiled in horror — but Maeve, at her side, was more businesslike. The genteel older woman took hold of the arrows and wrenched them free, adding them to the quivers she was carrying without a word. With a combination of respect and fear building in her chest for the quiet woman, Nancy continued along the wall. They left bows and quivers with everyone they passed who seemed to need them. Shouts flew back and forth as new goblins were spotted, climbing up the walls, or throwing grappling hooks up to make the climb faster.
When she was down to four bows, she found Malcolm, still standing over the front gate. There was a prodigious assault coming from the land bridge — dozens of goblins, seething forward, low to the ground and difficult to see on the moonless night. Nancy felt sick to her stomach — she’d just been thinking about how dark it was. Of course the goblins had taken this opportunity to attack. Hopefully the iron would prevent them creeping through the windows of the castle. Malcolm looked over his shoulder at her after releasing his most recent arrow, nodding appreciation for the armful of weapons she’d brought.
“Castle’s defended?”
“They’re putting iron on every window ledge. Dirks, horseshoes, and frying pans.”
Malcolm laughed aloud, turning back to the front of the wall and loosing another arrow that found its mark. A gurgling scream went up from beneath the wall. “Good work. Keep it up. There’s a few around that way who could use the bows.”
Maeve was still distributing arrows, so Nancy pressed ahead with the bows, finding the people Malcolm had mentioned — a couple of women on the wall, looking unsure of themselves with empty hands. She handed each of them a bow, recognizing them as herbalists she’d met briefly during her time in the library.
“I used to be the best in my village with a bow,” one of the older women said, nervously. “Used to catch half the parish’s supper, some nights. Hope I’ve still got the knack.”
“I’m sure you do,” Nancy reassured her, smiling. Maeve came up behind them, a couple of quivers of arrows still in her arms and handed them over. With that, their supplies were exhausted.
“Hope it’s enough,” Maeve said softly as they headed down the stairs toward the courtyard, intending on helping with laying out iron on all the castle windows. “I’ve never seen so many goblins in all my days. Usually it’s only a dozen or so that get through the burgh at a time. I can’t imagine what’s wrong.”
Nancy just shrugged. There would be time to deal with that later. For now, all that mattered was getting as much iron as possible onto every window and door in the place — and hoping that the brave volunteers on the walls were good enough shots to take out the attackers.
The battle waged long into the night — but it was still hours before dawn when it seemed the goblins’ forces were broken. Nancy had headed up to the gate with a restock of arrows — an extra cache had been located in the armory — and she watched as the hordes down on the land bridge retreated toward the forest. There were dozens of goblin bodies down there, and who knew how many more on the walls around the castle — there’d been a constant demand for fresh arrows, which meant that they were being used up. For a tense hour, they continued to wait for more goblins to appear, the volunteers shivering a little in the cold but determined to wait it out. Finally, Donal called an end to the siege — but not before organizing a group of the volunteers to remain patrolling the walls until the patrols from the village returned to them.
“This is bad,” he said in a low voice to Malcolm. “If they’re brave enough to attack the castle, that means their numbers must be unprecedented. We have to warn the villagers. They must know that we’re the source of the patrols that are stopping them stealing food…”
“There’s a meeting tomorrow,” Malcolm said. “We’ll discuss it then. Take heart,” he added, clasping his brother’s shoulder. “We’ve put a dent in their numbers tonight and no mistake. We won’t see another attack like this for a while.”
“Aye — and the castle remains untouched, thanks to you, Nancy.” Donal nodded to her, respect gleaming in his eyes. “You did well. And now you should get some rest,” he added, giving Malcolm and Nancy a beady-eyed look. “I’ll be taking watch for the rest of the night.”
Malcolm took her hand in his as they headed toward the castle. She was too dizzy and adrenaline-soaked to even notice that they weren’t heading for her quarters — they were heading for his. It wasn’t until they stepped through the door together that she realized where they were, and what was going on.
“Malcolm, this isn’t my room,” she started breathlessly — then he silenced her with a bruising kiss, pressing her against the closed wooden door of his quarters. Some combination of the stress of the evening, the relief of the narrow escape, and the giddy exhaustion in her body made her respond with a complete lack of self-consciousness — she threw herself into his arms, feeling him react with enthusiasm as he tore at her clothing and his own. They left a trail of discarded clothes on their way over to the bed, breaking apart to laugh breathlessly at the clanking of weapons as they hit the floor. There was a frying pan resting on Malcolm’s window, neat as you please, and she giggled wildly when she saw it until Malcolm silenced her again with a bruising kiss.
Before long, they were under the covers, their hands roaming all over each other’s naked bodies, and Nancy had never felt giddier in her life. Finally — after the weeks of waiting, and pining, and hoping that he felt the same way, and doubting that he did, and second-guessing herself — here she was, in Malcolm’s bed, his muscular physique under her roaming hands, his breath hot on her throat, her body pressed against his. It was exactly the comfort both of them needed after the frustration of the long weeks of warring with the goblins, of not knowing what was happening, of feeling trapped and powerless and unable to do anything about their situation.
When he slid inside her she gasped, feeling her whole body light up. He fit so perfectly with her body that she almost couldn’t believe how good i
t felt. They moved together through the late night, their breath hot on one another’s faces, and when she felt herself go crashing over the edge it was with absolute shock — that had never happened for her before, not with a partner at any rate. He wasn’t far behind, groaning into the side of her throat, and they lay together in a sweaty tangle of limbs for a few moments before a deep, dreamless sleep finally claimed them both.
Chapter 48
Nancy woke slowly, a little disoriented to find herself tangled in the arms of someone soft, and warm, and extremely pleasant to the touch. Before long, memories of the night before swamped her… mostly memories of the latter part of the night, which had been a lot more enjoyable than the goblin attack, she had to admit with a little giggle. Malcolm was stirring, too, the sunrise creeping over the window ledge and bringing them both out of their exhausted sleep. He brushed a lock of hair out of her face as he gazed down at her, his face surprisingly soft and gorgeous in the dawn light.
“Good morning,” she said sleepily, smiling back at him.
“Any regrets?” he asked gently, an ironic quirk to his lips.
She stared at him. “Malcolm, I’ve been wanting this since I met you. The only regret I have is that we didn’t do this sooner.”
He laughed, a gorgeous sound, resonating through his broad chest, and though she was still half-asleep, she had a few ideas about what they could spend the next hour or so doing.
Stranded By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance-Highlander Forever Book 2 Page 29
