A Fire Within (These Highland Hills, Book 3) (39 page)

From a hut in the center of the little circle of dwellings up the
hill, Athe stepped out just then. His eyes gleamed with a wild,
crazed light. A dagg was shoved in his belt, and in his hand he
gripped a claymore. Armed as he was with only his knife, Dar
wondered whether a pistol ball or a sword would soon be piercing his heart.

"Ye've come back for no good, haven't ye, Brother?" Athe cried
when Dar was still several yards away. "Well, yer chance to run
is over and done with. Ye've been pushing to fight me all these
years. Today, ye'll do it, or die." He laughed. "Indeed, ye'll die
whether ye do or don't fight me."

Dar halted a few feet from him. "I'll fight ye, and gladly. It's
past time ye were challenged to a battle for clan chief. Ye've been
at it overlong and have done a poor job of it in the bargain."

He spread his hands wide for all to see. "I need a more suitable
weapon, though, than my wee dagger. Unless ye plan to shoot
me straightaway with that pistol, which would go against clan
tradition in a fight for the chieftainship, might I suggest ye put
it aside? Instead, let's settle this with the sword."

Athe pulled his dagg free and handed it to one of his guards
who had come up to stand beside him. "A pistol shot would be
far too merciful for the likes of ye. I much prefer slicing ye up
bit by bit until I've slowly and verra painfully killed ye. Ye need
yer pride whittled away, at the same time as I whittle away at
yer flesh.

"Give him yer sword," Athe spat at another guard who wore
a claymore on his back. "I've allowed this sniveling coward to
live far too long as it is."

The claymore's handle felt good and solid when the man slapped it into Dar's hand. He hefted it and knew it was a wellbalanced weapon. It was also long and heavy, nearly the length
of the height of the man who had given it to him.

Wrapping his other hand around the handle to use it in the
traditional two-handed grip, Dar took a few steps back and settled
into a fighting stance. "Kill me if ye can, Brother," he said. "Or
give over the leadership now and I'll spare yet life."

"No quarter, Dar," Athe snarled, a feral grin on his face. "No
quarter.

With that, the claymore raised in a high, slicing position,
he leaped forward. Dar nimbly dodged him and left a carefully
controlled cut on Athe's arm in the passing. With an enraged roar
that was part pain and part surprise, his brother slid to a halt,
wheeled about, and charged again.

This time, Dar met the attack head on. Blades clanged together, skittering down until each rested on the other's quillon
guard. Muscles strained as both pushed hard.

The month of increasingly strenuous work had served Dar
well. With a sudden shove, he sent Athe stumbling backward.

His face red with anger and sword held high, his brother
charged yet again. Dar could've easily thrust his own weapon
straight into Athe's unguarded belly. At the last second, however,
he hesitated. With the moment finally upon him, Dar found he
had no taste for taking his own brother's life.

He parried Athe's downward swing and they slammed back
together. Their gazes locked. Something passed across Athe's face.
His mouth lifted in a malicious smile.

"I knew about yet real father. I also knew ye didn't kill Nara,"
he whispered. "I knew because I found her dead before ye did.
Dead at the bottom of that cliff, with Father standing there at
the edge, gazing down at her."

"F-father?" Dar asked, the unexpectedness of the revelation
like a blow to his gut. "But why?"

With a laugh, Athe shoved Dar away and attacked again. This
time, Dar staggered back beneath a furious onslaught of crosscuts and thrusts, barely able to defend himself. He cursed his
passing inattention. His brother had succeeded in momentarily
distracting him. With a ferocious effort, Dar forced his thoughts
to return to the task at hand.

He surged forward, fighting back with powerful parries and
thrusts. For a time, both seemed equally matched.

The repeated clang of steel upon steel began to gather an even
larger audience-one now of MacFarlane men and even some
women. At last, though, Dar and Athe came together once again.
Quillon guard met quillon guard as both pushed and shoved and
struggled to catch their breaths.

"He k-killed her, ye know," Athe panted in a low voice. "Killed
her because she wouldn't agree to wed me, even as sh-she carried
yet spawn in her belly. When I came upon him afterward, having
heard she was to meet ye there near the cliffs, he told me that
we'd blame it all on ye. Ye were, after all, the one who had set her
death into motion, in daring to take what wasn't yers."

With a cry of fury, Dar crashed into his brother. Athe was sent
flying back, lost his footing, and fell to one knee. This time, however, Dar was in no mood to pull back or spare him. He surged
forward, sword upraised to deliver the killing blow.

Athe, stretching out toward him, reached Dar before Dar
reached him. He thrust his sword deep into Dar's lower leg, then
twisted it to scrape steel against bone.

Excruciating pain exploded in Dar. Bright lights sparkled before his eyes. For an instant, everything began to gray. With a
superhuman effort, he fought past it because he had to. Had to,
or die. Fought to see clearly enough to bring his blade down,
aiming it straight at Athe.

The claymore sliced into sinew and flesh, all but severing
Athe's left arm from his body. His brother screamed, a shrill, fearful sound, and fell back. Fell back to writhe in agony while
his life's blood spurted away.

Dar sank to his knees, his own breathing harsh and labored,
his leg burning like fire. And, as Athe's guards rushed over to
their former leader, Dar felt other hands on him, bearing him
up. He turned, saw Kenneth's face, then looked to the opposite
side and saw the faces of several others.

"Is ... is it f-finally finished?" he mumbled, feeling as if he
were simultaneously going to be sick and black out.

"Aye, that it is, Cousin," Kenneth said, a grim smile on his
face. "Ye're now the MacNaghten."

Relief swamped him. Dar sagged back.

"A dubious distinction ... considering I never wanted the job
in the first place," he whispered, managing a weak grin.

"Well, no matter how ye feel about it, ye're stuck with us
now.

Dar looked down and saw the blood pouring from his leg.
"Then ye'd better get this cauterized straight away," he said, the
pain only intensifying the ever spiraling dizziness, "or ye might
not have me for long."

"Aye, that we should." His cousin sighed. "And where is Caitlin
when ye need her?"

It was a meager victory, but one Dar clung to for a long while
thereafter. This time, when they finally pressed the hot iron to
his flesh, at least he managed not to pass out.

Caitlin waited until after Niall and fifty of his clansmen had
ridden out late that afternoon. Then she sought and found
Goraidh in the castle's small herb and vegetable garden.

"I'm going to Dundarave," she promptly informed him once
she'd made certain there was no one near to overhear them. "Will
ye come with me?"

The older man rose slowly from the row of rosemary bushes
he was trimming, set the shears back in its wooden tool box, and
dusted off his hands. Only then did he meet her gaze.

"And ye've procured yet brother's approval for this wee trip,
have ye?"

"Of course not." She sighed in exasperation. "Ye know as well
as I Niall wouldn't allow it. Right now, he likely wants me as far
from Dar as he can get me. But I can't stand passively by while
Dar's in danger. I need to be close enough so that, if he needs
me, I can be there for him."

"To do what? Help him fight Athe? Aid him in convincing
the clan they should take him as their chief?" Goraidh shook his
head. "Lass, lass, ye'd be no help. Indeed, ye'd be worse than a
hindrance. Ye might even be the distraction that'd be Darach's
undoing."

"Don't ye think I know that?" In spite of her efforts to the contrary, impatience threaded her voice. "But if he succeeds in
unseating Athe, Dar told Niall he'd await him at Dundarave. And
I want to be there first, so I can speak with Dar."

The hermit eyed her warily. "Talk to him about what?"

"What else? About his noble if foolhardy offer to turn himself
back over to Niall." Caitlin paused to point to a rose bower that
was finally beginning to bloom with fragrant, single-petaled, pink
flowers. "Come, let's talk over there, away from prying eyes."

"So, ye mean to convince Darach not to honor his word to
yer brother, do ye?" Goraidh asked once they were seated on the
bower's stone bench.

"It's the only option. If Dar becomes clan chief, he's back in
the fold and will be equally subject to the proscription. And that
puts both him and Niall in a difficult position. By law, Niall will
be obligated either to execute him or turn him over to be jailed
and tried, and then likely executed anyway. Yet, if we can just
buy some time, it's possible the proscription might eventually
be lifted, especially if Dar, as clan chief, can keep his people alive
and out of further trouble. But he has to live to do so."

"Aye, all that's verra true." The hermit clasped his hands in his
lap and, for a moment, looked down. "Still, I'm not so certain
he'll do that," he then said, glancing back up.

"If anyone can convince him, I can."

Goraidh chuckled. "Aye, that ye can." He cocked his head.
"It'll be dangerous, ye and I traveling alone. I'm not the best with
a sword, ye know."

"I can handle a small sword passably well, in addition to a
dagger." Caitlin smiled. "And I intend to travel as a lad, which
should simplify things a wee bit. We'll just dress verra poorly.
That way, few will be tempted to try and rob us."

"And what of the Lady Anne? Will ye tell her of yet plans, or
not?"

Caitlin hesitated, torn between her inclination to keep the plan secret or share it with her best friend and confidante. Try as she
might, though, she couldn't find it in her heart to leave without
any explanation. Besides, once Anne understood her reasons,
Caitlin knew she wouldn't stop her.

"I think I owe her that much and, through her, Niall. After all,
if Dar will have me as his wife, I'll not be returning to Kilchurn
anytime soon."

"He loves ye and no mistake. Still, I'm not certain he'll agree
to wed ye. Campbell though ye be, to become a MacNaghten
makes ye as subject to the proscription as the rest of us. And Dar
already feels at least partly responsible for the death of the first
lass he loved."

"Well, let's deal with one problem at a time, shall we?" She
stood. "I'd like to depart in two hours. Can ye be ready by
then?"

Aye.

"Good. Then I'll meet ye at the stables. In the meanwhile,
please see to some food for our journey. Tell the kitchen staff that
ye've a verra large appetite when ye travel, and I'm sure it'll be
enough for the two of us. Fortunately, there's a full moon tonight.
If we ride hard and fast, we should be at Dundarave by dawn."

"As ye wish, lass. Best ye see to the Lady Anne then."

Caitlin nodded. Despite her earlier optimism, it wasn't going
to be easy to convince Anne to let her leave. But Anne at least understood a woman's heart. And it was past time, Caitlin thought,
she be allowed to follow it-wherever it led.

Dressed in nondescript trews, shirt, and a threadbare jacket,
her hair tucked up beneath a soft, woolen Highland bonnet,
and her face smudged a bit with dirt, Caitlin managed to transform herself into a slender but passable-looking lad. They both
obtained swift horses, capable of outrunning any sent out to overtake them. Short swords were stashed in their packs, and they
wore daggers at their sides. Nothing identified them as from any
specific clan, and especially not of Clan Campbell.

Reluctantly, Anne gave Caitlin leave to go to Dar only after
Goraidh assured Anne that if Dar didn't live to reach Dundarave,
or Athe came there, he would immediately use the secret passage
to bring Caitlin back to Kilchurn. Their parting, however, was
still emotional and tear-filled.

"Niall's going to be verra angry with me," the auburn-haired
woman said as she clung, weeping, to Caitlin. "As it is, he's already
furious with Darach for breaking his word to him. And now to
send ye out to all but elope ..."

Caitlin managed a shaky laugh. "Ye might yet see me back here
in record time. Goraidh's convinced Dar won't wed me."

"Knowing the predicament he and his clan are in," Anne replied, smiling bravely through her tears, "I wouldn't put it past
him. Which is the only reason I'm letting ye go to him."

"Why?" Caitlin frowned. "Because ye're certain he'll send me
back here posthaste?"

"Nay, because he's too honorable to wed ye only, in the doing,
to put yer life in danger."