Nae one answered.
But then we saw the gun turn, aim, the flash and the thundering clap, a missile whistling through the air, and the explosion against another section of the wall.
Zach said, “Fuck,” and aimed his rifle at the tank. He fired off some bullets but it changed nothing. He sat down, dropping his back to the stone parapet. “Fuck, I just want a bigger gun.”
He looked back around the stone. “Try it again, Fraoch, aim a few feet to the right.”
“I hae two more tae go.” Fraoch fired twice, once at each of the tanks. We shot our guns. But the two tanks fired round after round at m’walls until I was left with naething but two corner towers, one leaning precariously. My castle was fully exposed, the walls beaten, holes in the side of the main building. The brewery was on fire. Black smoke billowed from the kitchens.
Fraoch said, “At least this Keep is still standin’.”
Zach groaned. “Don’t say it, that can’t be good?—”
The tank turret rotated and then a loud clap, flash, blast, and a whistle screech. A missile struck the side of the Keep just under us. Zach yelled, “Go go go!”
We raced, ducking, while we ran tae the stairwell.
The Keep was rocking, the stone crumbling under us. We descended the stairwell, the steps underneath, shakin’ and shimmying as we careened down. Fraoch stumbled behind Zach, I grabbed him by the shirt and heaved him back tae his feet.
Wallace was behind me. He called, “We daena hae any more weapons?”
“Nae, I had a great many comin’ but they never arrived — our vessel daena work.”
“Twas Asgall’s plan!”
We raced from the stairwell out intae the courtyard.
I stopped, havin’ tae yell tae be heard over the roar of war. “He did it? Dost ye ken how?”
He shook his head. “Nae, I just overheard it!”
I heard a squawk from the radio clipped tae Zach’s belt. A man’s voice said something unintelligible.
Zach was doubled over, pantin’, fumblin’ with the radio, when it squawked again.
He pressed the button. A voice emitted:
Had Enough, Yer Highness?
Zach drew his hands back in shock, “What the fu?—?”
He unclipped the radio and passed it tae me.
I pressed the button: “Who is it?”
Is this His Royal Highness, Mag Mòr?
“Aye, and ye are...?”
My name is Asgall.
“Alright, Arsegall, ye murdered m’brother, I want ye tae ken, I will kill ye for it.” While I spoke, my eyes looked out over the bleak ruin of my castle, still ablaze. The sky was dark with thick smoke, the world smelled of death.
The voice emitted from the radio:
I would expect nothing less. IhopedMag Mòr would fill his heart with hate and seek revenge until his last dying breath. This is delightful.
I tried tae control m’breathin’. Tae keep m’voice steady, but I wanted tae race down the hill with m’guns drawn. “Ye are a madman, ye brought modern war machines tae a medieval firefight, and hae destroyed an important Scottish castle. How did ye get the English King tae submit tae ye?”
