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her eyes
and could feel a strange tugging inside his chest.
His breath caught in the back of his throat for a
moment. "Lock yer arms behind me neck, lass. Don't be
lettin' go unless I tell you." the smile he flashed
her was warm and comforting. She nodded, pale, but
again collected.
He glanced up at his old friend and cocked a wry
eyebrow. They shared a look that spoke a thousand
words. "I'll cover her, and you had better damn well
cover me."
The archer helped them out the window. The maid drew
in a deep breath, keeping it taut in her chest and
shut her eyes tight. Hand over hand they descended,
the Irishman keeping the maiden's body between
himself and the wall, shielding her with his own.
They were halfway to the rampart when guards began
pouring into the bailey below. Longshanks called a
word of warning, then began a methodic harassing fire
down into the gathering crowd of men-at-arms.
Somewhere a horn blew.
The soldiers lost no time in finding cover,
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once discovering the effectiveness of a talented archer
from a strategic, fortified position. A handful
already dead in as many shots, none more would soon
brave again the open. By the time Duril saw the Rogue
land atop the battlement wall, he had managed to pick
off yet another handful of the foolhardy troop, who
thought themselves safe venturing into the courtyard
at a greater distance.
Timeras had pushed the girl down against the
crenelated wall, out of the line of fire, and gone
back to steady the rope for his partner when he had
to dive for cover himself. A small detail of
crossbowmen appeared from around a corner below,
firing a volley of bolts up at the would-be rescuers.
The girl screamed. Duril jerked away from the window
as two quarrels splintered against the wall,
demonstrating the skill of their firers. They had but
narrowly missed the ranger, and he had felt the
stinging rain of stone fragments upon his cheek.
O'Cuire steeled himself to leap up when a powerful
voice sounded from the courtyard beneath them.
"Thieves!" The cry rang out,
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