A Fire Within (These Highland Hills, Book 3) (36 page)

"How else?" Kenneth riveted a furious gaze on him. "Athe
killed him."

"N-nay. Och, nay!"

In a rush, all the strength drained from Dar. He stumbled to
the nearest hay bale and sank down onto it, his limbs trembling,
his gut churning. His hands clenched into fists.

"Why?" Dar shot his cousin an anguished glance. "Why would
Arlie do such a thing? Yet father was no threat to him. All he
wanted-"

"All he wanted was a worthy chief to lead the clan," Kenneth
savagely said. "All he wanted was for ye to come home and assume yer rightful position. But ye wouldn't, would ye? Ye hadn't
the heart to fight for us. Indeed, once ye laid eyes on Caitlin, ye
didn't care for aught anymore but having her. So ye turned yer
back on us, deserted yer clan!"

As the other man threw accusation after accusation against
him, Dar winced as if struck by repeated blows. Everything
Kenneth said was truth. He hadn't wanted to be chief and all
but fled from even the consideration of such a task. And, though
Kenneth was wrong in claiming he lacked the heart to fight for
his clan, it was also reality that he hadn't fought too hard against
the Campbell's offer to remain at Kilchurn for a year. In one
sense, it had come as a reprieve from the heavy responsibility of trying to save a people who seemed almost not to want to
be saved.

In another sense, his pact with Caitlin's brother also gained
him time to be with her yet a while longer. He just wasn't ready
to leave her totally, or forever. Not, he realized of a sudden, even
for the sake of his clan.

Shame swallowed him. Shame and despair. Dar leaned over
and buried his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Kenneth," he said, groaning out the words. "Och,
I didn't think ... Och, I'm so verra, verra sorry!"

"Since ye left us, Athe's gotten increasingly worse. He suspects
most of us of plotting against him. He has taken to gathering a
small group of men around him as guards. He hardly sleeps, paces
constantly, and spends hours at a time scheming with his guards,
when he isn't sending out spies to places unknown.

"Two nights ago, it all came to a head. He announced he'd
news that the Regent was coming to pay the Earl ofArgyll a visit.
He announced he planned to lay in ambush along the Regent's
proposed route as he passed through Hell's Glen and, when he
and his entourage rode by, kill him."

Dar looked up and turned to stare at his cousin. "Kill the
Regent? But that'd surely be the final nail in our coffin."

"Aye," Kenneth said, nodding. "Exactly what Father told him.
But Athe refused to be deterred. In Athe's increasingly disturbed
mind, the Regent is solely to blame for laying the proscription
on us, and must be punished. Father and Athe ended up in an
argument which, before anyone could stop him, Athe suddenly
ended by drawing his dagg and shooting Father.

"I went mad then and tried to get to Athe. For my efforts, I
only managed to receive a sound beating from his men. When
they were done with me, they all laughed as I crawled back to
Father. And, as Father lay dying in my arms, yet brother calmly
c-called his guards to him and w-walked away."

The bard's voice broke and he began to sob. Dar rose, walked
to his cousin, and wrapped his arms about him. After a time,
Kenneth appeared to regain control. He pushed Dar back.

"He didn't live verra long," his cousin said, angrily swiping
aside his tears. "There was just enough time for one request. And
that request was for me to bring ye back. Bring ye back, because
ye're now our only hope."

Our only hope ...

Once, Dar would've been overjoyed to be asked to return to
the clan. To be considered not only a person of value but the
clan's only hope.

But not now. Now, his only value lay in ridding them of
an even greater scourge. If he could. And, if he couldn't, what
would it ultimately matter? He had been dead to them all along
as it was.

"If Athe's surrounded himself with guards," Dar said finally,
"he'll be even harder to deal with than he was before. And if he'd
shoot his own uncle, he'll likely be even quicker to shoot his hated
half brother, who he fears has returned to take the chieftainship
from him."

"Half brother?" Kenneth smiled sadly. "So ye finally know,
do ye?"

"Aye. Goraidh at last found the courage to tell me the truth."
A sudden thought striking him, Dar paused. "And how long have
ye known the truth and not chosen to tell me?"

"Father told me shortly after ye left to take Caitlin back. Until
then, at the request of his two older brothers, he kept the secret.
But once he saw ye with Goraidh, he knew it was but a matter of
time until yet true father told ye. He also didn't want the secret
dying with him. The secret that ye, even more than Athe, have
as much, if not more, right to be chief."

"Actually," Dar replied dryly, "if we're talking about greater
right, Goraidh long ago relinquished his claim to the chieftain ship. So, short of a successful challenge by any of his relatives,
Athe is his father's-the last chief's-appointed successor."

"Well, then that leaves only ye left to challenge him. A former
monk and a bard are hardly chieftain material. Especially now,
when it'll take a true warrior to wrest the position from Athe."

Dar's laugh was mirthless. "Then we've a problem, Cousin.
For this warrior still doesn't wish to be chief, much less risk his
life in a lost cause."

"Aye, I suppose we are a lost cause, aren't we?" Kenneth demanded, his voice going taut with fury. "What's the point of
attempting to rejoin a proscribed clan, when one may well now
have opportunity to gain admittance into powerful Clan Campbell? And, in the doing, also mayhap win the hand of the bonny
Caitlin?"

"I don't hesitate because of aught Niall Campbell has offered
me-and he most certainly hasn't offered me Caitlin's hand, ye
can be sure!"

Frustration filled Dar. How could he make his cousin understand, when he wasn't so certain he even understood the emotions
roiling within him. All he did know was that he deeply resented
being expected to sacrifice his life for a clan that had never-save
for a very few-cared if he lived or died. And those few-with
Feandan's death-had now dwindled to just Kenneth.

"There's naught left for me with Clan MacNaghten," Dar
said, knowing it was truth even as shameful an admission as it
was. "The clan has never sought to censure either Brochain or
Athe, and it's a power they've always had. So, it matters not to
me if Athe finishes the destruction his father began. I'm free of
it at long last."

"Ye only imagine ye're free," the bard said, his eyes blazing with
a strength and certitude Dar had never before seen in him. "All
ye're doing, though, is fooling yersel£ As I, when I finally realized
what we were about, fooled myself that night at the MacNabs into thinking what we were doing was justified for the insult they
had done us. And that, because I didn't lift a hand to harm any
of them, I wasn't as guilty as the rest of the clan.

"But I was, Dar. I played the part I was given. In the doing,
I lured them into the trap that was their destruction. I killed by
omission, just as ye surely will."

Dar wanted to look away. It was almost more than he could
bear to see the disappointment in his cousin's eyes.

They had been friends since childhood. Kenneth had been
one of a very few children who would dare risk their chief's
displeasure by befriending the despised son. And, after he was
banished, Kenneth had been the one link still joining him to the
clan, periodically meeting with him at a secret place, to bring him
news, food, and whatever money Feandan could spare.

For all those acts, and more, Dar would always be grateful to
him. Would always love him.

But, despite Kenneth's friendship and Feandan's attempts to
protect him as best he could from his brother's cruel ways all those
years of his growing up, they hadn't been enough. He had always
wanted-needed-more. And here, as unexpected and illogical as
it might seem, Dar had begun to find what he had been seeking
his whole life-peace, love, and even a strange acceptance.

"Mayhap ye're right, Cousin," he said at last. "Mayhap I'm
wrong and will regret my decision. But, for the first time in my
life, I've the ability to choose. And I'm not so willing to toss that
aside for some nebulous chance at besting Athe, for a position
I'm not so certain I even want.

"There's no reason, though, for ye to return to that hornet's
nest, either. Yet father's gone, and few if any brave enough left
there are likely to support ye. Stay here. The Campbell's still in
need of a bard. Once he hears ye play and sing, he'll quickly forget
ye're a MacNaghten. Stay, Kenneth. It's a chance at a new, better
life for the both of us."

For a fleeting moment, indecision flickered in the younger
man's eyes. Then he shook his head.

"Nay. Someone has to return to challenge Athe. Someone has
to make the others finally face the truth."

"But he'll kill ye, Cousin," Dar cried, dismay flooding him.
"Ye're no match for him. One way or another, he'll kill ye!"

"Mayhap he will." Kenneth shrugged. "I'll take my chances.
But at least I'll have tried."

Dar didn't know what to say. Indeed, everything had been
said. They had reached an impasse.

"I'll wait down by those oak trees on Loch Awe for ye until
midnight. In case ye've a change of heart," Kenneth said. "But
no longer than midnight, Dar. Athe plans to ambush the Regent
in two days' time. And it'll take over a day's travel to reach his
new hideout."

"It won't matter, Kenneth." Dar managed a weak smile. "I'm
not coming with ye. I'm done with them. Done."

"Aye, mayhap ye are." His cousin gripped his arm. "And, if ye
are, then so be it. But I'll wait, nonetheless."

Dar placed his hand over Kenneth's. "Have a care, Cousin."

His throat closed, and he couldn't say more. Instead, Dar released his hold on the other man's hand and, disengaging from
his clasp, stepped back.

Kenneth eyed him for an instant longer, then turned and
walked from the stables.

After the supper meal that evening, Dar was assigned to feed
the horses, then see they were all secured in their stalls for the
night. He lingered there for a time once his chores were done,
knowing there was nothing left him but to retire to his subterranean room. And he wasn't ready to lie there in the silent darkness,
alone with only his thoughts.

He knew the time would pass with interminable slowness as
he counted down the hours until midnight came and went. Until
it was too late for him to reach Kenneth before he rode out for
places unknown. Until it was too late ... too late to change his
mind.

The fact he was all but condemning his cousin to certain death
wasn't the issue. Dar didn't dare let it be that. Kenneth must make
his choice, just as he must.

And who could really blame him for choosing life? After all
this time, he deserved what he had fought so hard for all these
years. Life and some small shred of happiness.

There was no shame in turning his back on his clan. No one
would know, save Kenneth, if his cousin even lived much longer.
Indeed, Dar thought with a bitter smile, once Kenneth was gone,
no one in his clan would even miss him.

They had all been misled in any event-Kenneth, Feandan,
and even Caitlin-into believing it was his destiny to be the
MacNaghten chief. From birth, Athe had been groomed to assume that role. Yet look how far he had fallen short. How could
they possibly expect a man who lacked even the most minimal
guidance and encouragement to do what a man minutely trained
couldn't do?

Yet, with an instinct strong and sure, Dar also knew it took
more than training to be a good chief. Instead of pride, it required a humility to admit one's shortcomings and strive always
to better oneself. It required a wisdom not gained with words
but by hard experience, by suffering. And, instead of an inbred
sense of entitlement, it required unrelenting perseverance and
endurance. Perseverance to go the extra mile, to inspire rather
than intimidate, and never to give up trying.

All traits Athe lacked. Yet traits Dar had learned in order to
survive. Survive ... and transcend what might have turned him
into the same kind of man his brother had indeed become.

Niall Campbell, Dar realized, possessed all the traits that made
for a good chief. He had never imagined he would admit such
a thing about a man whom he had once considered his direst
enemy, but his opinion had suffered a major upheaval the day
the Campbell had offered him that document to sign. He had
admitted not only to failings of his own but to a faith in God
that helped him be a better man. He had offered Dar not only
forgiveness but also a chance at a better life.

He had gone the extra mile when no one would have expected
he should. Indeed, Dar thought, there were likely many who
questioned if not actually derided his decision. Yet his love for
his sister and for the Lord had compelled him to do it anyway.