The air tasted of dust. Ciarán wanted water so much that he fought his way back to consciousness to get it. He opened his eyes but could not move his arms or his legs. As his vision came into focus, he saw piles of stones pinning his arms, and the memory came back. Mac had gone into the chamber ahead of him before the cannonball hit. She was still there, buried alive. Ciarán started to dig himself out, freeing one arm and then another. His legs were the hardest. Pinned down as they were, he could not reach them. He twisted and did all he could, pushing and pulling one rock at a time. At a time when speed mattered, he could only make slow progress pulling and pushing at stones one by one.
“Ciarán!” One of his clansmen rushed to him and pulled the remaining stones away. “Hamish told me to f
