The cursed towers 214
Bạn đang xem bản rút gọn của tài liệu. Xem và tải ngay bản đầy đủ của tài liệu tại đây (3.08 KB, 1 trang )
Dillon gazed at the little boat in consternation. "There is no way we can all fit in that!"
"I ken," Johanna said calmly. "Ye must take Tomas and the master, and Kevan and his wife, and the
youngest o' the lassies. And Parian, o' course, he is still only a laddiekin and shouldna be here at all. Then
ye will need Anntoin and Artair to help ye and Ryley row, they are the strongest. The rest of us shall
swim alongside the boat."
Dillon cast her a quick glance of admiration. "But ye canna swim," he answered.
She nodded and met his eyes fiercely. "I ken that!" she snapped. "But if we hang on tight and kick our
legs as hard as we can, we should be just grand. Stop with your blither-blather and help me!"
The smell of smoke was thick now in the air and they could hear the cries of dying men. Dillon cast one
look back up the hall, saw soldiers running toward him with their swords drawn, and slammed shut the
kitchen door. Hastily he bolted it then pushed the kitchen table across it with the help of Anntoin and
Artair. He ordered everyone to climb into the boat, and they obeyed with alacrity, some of the younger
healers sobbing with fear. Johanna stripped off her dress and petticoats and unlaced her boots, and three
of the older healers copied her, leaving their clothes on the platform.
Kevan and his wife hung back. "We canna leave," the old caretaker said. "Her ladyship the NicAislin
entrusted us to have a care for this castle. We have lived here all our lives." To all their rapid entreaties,
he simply replied, "We do no' wish to go. We shall stay and hide in the cellar. Happen they shall no' find
us."
They did not have time to argue. Jorge said simply, "Ea be wi' ye then."
"And also wi' ye," the caretaker answered with a lifted hand, before hurrying to hide.
They could hear heavy boots trying to kick in the door, and then there was a small explosion, so that
foul-smelling black smoke poured out of the kitchen. They pushed the dinghy off from the platform,
Johanna and the three eldest healers slipping into the water and clinging rather desperately to its side. Jed
rushed back and forth, barking madly, then jumped into the water at Dillon's imperious whistle. He swam
right behind the boat, his head held high.
Dillon heard shouting and saw soldiers standing on the platform pointing after them. Then more soldiers
came, propping strange long weapons on shoulder-high prongs and squinting down their length. Then
there was a loud bang and puffs of white smoke issued from the mouth of the weapons.
"Get down!" Ryley cried. "All o' ye! Lie flat if ye can."
He tried to push them down into the dinghy but one of the healers suddenly cried aloud and toppled
backward, a crimson star opening in his forehead. Everyone screamed.
"Those long things be harquebuses," Ryley said, trying to row while keeping his head and shoulders
down. "We fought against them at Rhyssmadill. They are like arrows o' lead and smoke. Keep down, all
o' ye."
The dinghy was shallow, though, and overcrowded. It was difficult to row while trying to hunch below
the sides of the boat's hull, particularly since the healers were crouching as low as they could get. Again
the harquebus-iers fired their weapons. Artair gave a high-pitched scream and fell forward, blood
streaming from a wound in his throat. Almost simultaneously Ryley cried out and clutched his shoulder.
For a moment the boat veered wildly, then Dillon lifted his oar clear of the water, calling to Anntoin to do
the same. Keeping his body low, he leaned over Artair, his pulses thumping. The boy was dead, his eyes
