merlon and watched the MacIain arrows fly. Some hit the nearest ship, but they’d need more. Clenching her fists, she mustered her strength. “The only way to keep them at bay is to beat them. We have the power to hold them off, but every single man on this wall must shoot straight and hit your mark!”
The men reloaded their bows with trembling hands.
Helen bolstered her resolve. Cowering behind the stone wall was no place for a woman who must instill confidence in her soldiers. Keeping her head down, she hastened around to the back side of the cannon. “Set your sights Mr. Keith, and sink those two galleys.” She marched down the row of elderly men, now firing their arrows at will. “They think they can attack Mingary? I assure you, it will take a great deal more than two galleys filled with fighting men to conquer us. We have five-foot thick walls and a grand gun from Portugal on our side.”
The cannon boomed. Helen jumped so high, she nearly fell off the wall-walk. She coughed at the acrid smoke burning her throat. And while the haze cleared, her ears took on a high-pitched hum. She peered through a crenel notch and strained until she could again see the galleys. Curses, the cannonball missed its mark, but flames leapt above the hull on one of the galleys.
Helen’s heart skipped a beat.
They’d made their first gain.
She raced toward Mr. Keith. “Can you make an adjustment and actually hit one of those galleys?” The words rattled from her tongue in an anxious high pitch.
“That’s what I’m trying to accomplish.” Sweat dripped from his brow as he turned the crank. “I cannot believe I actually got the blasted thing to fire.”
She gave a sharp nod. “You’re doing well. But we must stop them from reaching the sea gate.”
Baring his teeth, he strained with one more crank. “Stand back, m’lady.”
She stared at the long black gun as if it were about to explode and take down the wall. The thing nearly killed her when she strolled on the beach. Would it now be her salvation? ’Tis time to make the gun worth its while.
At the chilling sound of a man’s anguished shriek, Helen whipped around. “Oh, no.” She sprinted to the far end of the wall-walk. Torquil lay writhing on the stony floor, gasping and grunting from an arrow shot to the shoulder.
Helen dropped to her knees beside him. “Hold on and we’ll set you to rights.” She glanced over her shoulder. Every able-bodied man was needed to defend the keep from the pillagers below. And she knew better than to try to pull the arrow out now—but there must be a way to help him endure the pain. “Have you any whisky?”
“I-I-I’ve a flask in me sporran,” he managed through panting breaths.
Finding it, she held the spirit to his lips. “Drink it all.”
He guzzled greedily.
“They’re coming ashore, m’lady,” Mr. Keith hollered.
She stoppered the flask and set it beside him. “Hold on, sir. We’ll see to your comfort as soon as we are able.”
Torquil’s weathered face ashen, he nodded.
Helen picked up the man’s bow and ignited an arrow tip. The MacDonald men were jumping over the side of their galleys and splashing through the water toward the sea gate. A row of men carried a pole as thick as a tree trunk—a battering ram for certain. Heaven help us, they aim to smash through the gate.
She trained an arrow straight down on a man. She’d hunted deer and rabbits, though had never killed a human being—but these men were attacking her home. Holding her breath, she released. Her arrow fell short. She must raise her sights to account for the distance.
She pulled a second arrow from the barrel and lit the tip.
The cannon boomed.
This time Helen didn’t flinch. With the ringing in her ears intensifying, she focused on another MacDonald raider and let her arrow fly. Smoke and the stench of burning sulfur stung her eyes as she lined up her sights. She hit her mark and the man fell to the ground, writhing and clutching at the arrow.
Her insides squelched like she was about to vomit.
Ahead, the whistling cannonball smashed the stern of a MacDonald galley—though it wasn’t enough to sink the boat, Mr. Keith had done some damage.
But there was no time to celebrate. The battering ram boomed as it slammed against the sea gate. The bailey walls shook. Stones crumbled. It was a matter of time before the MacDonalds breached