CHAPTER THREE
Cailean was exhausted after the day's training, invigorated but tired all at once, as only battle could bring out in him.
He hadn't fought anyone in earnest in a long time, but Darren had put up a no-holds-barred fight today on the sparring field, and the two of them had left black and blue and satisfied with their work.
Cailean knew he'd regret it in the morning when his muscles would be screaming at him, but that was what training was for; to prepare him for the worst so that he'd be ready when it happened for real.
"Cailean."
He looked up to see Kier standing there with a look on his face that was both mildly amused and slightly proud, without any sort of pity within it whatsoever. The older man had been watching the battle between Cailean and his son, and had seemed pleased that the two friends had not held back.
"Aye, sir," Cailean said, immediately getting to his feet as a sign of respect.
Kier never expected him to refer to him as sir, but Cailean did so anyway; he had nothing but respect for the four elder members of the rebellion who made up their council, and his own blood history did not overshadow the structure and strength they gave to this camp. "What do ye need from me?"
"Relax, son," Kier replied, rubbing his hand through his beard. "Ye're needed in the war room. Come with me."
Cailean had been planning to take a long, hot bath to soothe his aching muscles, but he did not protest. He immediately nodded, knowing that his long day was far from over as he followed Kier toward the large hut that served as their war room and strategy center.
As he entered the war room, the other members of the council who were not out on a mission were there.
Ewan and Hamish were two men who Cailean had known for a long, long time; they had been members of the McNair guard when he was a boy, and had been steadfast and loyal ever since.
The two of them had retained their life during the massacre by happenstance.
Ewan had been on a scouting mission for Cailean's father, while Hamish had been on a leave of absence to visit a sick aunt in a different clan.
When they'd returned home, they'd found McNair Castle burned to the ground and the family gone.
Morag had been the one to find them, as Cailean found out later.
She'd brought Cailean to the rebels twenty years ago to keep him safe, then gone back to the McNair lands to scout for survivors and send them in this direction.
Cailean hadn't seen Morag since, but he knew that she was still a close ally of the rebel forces, doing whatever work it was she had found since then.
The two men she had left him with originally were Kier and Senan; the latter was the fourth member of the council who, at fifty-eight years old, was still the most physically fit person that Cailean had ever met.
All four men had been friends and mentors, teaching Cailean to read and write, to lead and fight, all four becoming a makeshift family, somewhere between fathers and comrades in arms.
Kier was even more of a parent than the others had been.
With Darren around the same age as Cailean, and so many Bruce cousins running around the camp since the displaced people had all joined the rebellion, Kier had more or less just brought Cailean into the fold.
The Bruce clan had been one of the McNair clan's closest allies, but Kier — the chieftain of the clan — had lost most of his land during the same invasion which had led to Cailean's family's deaths and the loss of the life he'd known before.
Now, the rebel camp was filled with Bruces everywhere that a person looked, all cousins and uncles and distant relatives of Kier, Darren, and Fergus.
Today, Kier's expression was intense, and that was no wonder.
After all, the lands around Darach Castle were Bruce lands by right.
In fact, until twenty years before, the castle had been the Bruce Castle, home of Kier and his wife.
She'd been lost in the fighting, as well the lands and castle, and all these years, Kier had been waiting for his revenge. Now someone had given it to him.
"It's vulnerable," Ewan was saying as Kier and Cailean entered the war room. "Even though that bastard Kyle is ready tae move intae the seat, there's still a strategic chance that we can take the castle back at last."
"I dinnae ken. With Senan away on his recruitin' mission, it might be better tae hold back," Hamish retorted. "We need tae be at full strength. We'll have one chance tae take the place back, and if we ruin that chance…"
"We'll just have tae succeed, then," Kier interrupted.
Both men looked up and nodded toward Cailean and Kier as the two approached the map on the table.
"It's been twenty years since I've seen me home, and I'm more than ready tae get back there.
If me son ever gives me grandbairns, I willnae have them nomads like me son and nephews have had tae be. "
"At least the traitor is dead. He and his father sided with the English and betrayed the king when he took that castle, and now they're both gone," Ewan said, sounding grimly satisfied. "That worm Kyle has moved in, but I think we can take him."
"And I think he's stronger than ye expect," argued Hamish. "The men of Darach havenae lost their swords. They'll kill us as easily under Kyle Darach as under Malcolm — more easily, even. The Darachs arenae above slaughter."
Kier scowled. "Stop bickerin' like a pair of old wifies," he ordered. "The fact is, we have two options. We raid… or we dinnae. So which is it?"
"I say we do it," Ewan said immediately. "I say we launch an all out attack and get this over with."
"I say it's too risky," countered Hamish. "We're a wider rebellion than we once were, but our forces cannae match an army. If Senan were here, I'm sure he'd agree with me, and I dinnae think we can come tae an agreement on somethin' like this without him."
Both looked to Kier, who shrugged. "I'm of a mind tae go slaughter the lot of them," the grizzled older man said, "But it isnae up tae me.
All three men's gazes turned to Cailean, who instantly felt uncomfortable.
"Darach took me lands, but he betrayed yer father when he did it," Kier said evenly. "Our king. And ye, his son, his only heir, are here. So what say ye? What should we do?"
Cailean was already shaking his head. "I am nae me father. I've told ye this over and over again; I'm nae king."
"Then who are ye, lad?" Hamish asked gently. "We've told ye over again—"
"I'm nae king," Cailean insisted. "Me birthright was taken away with me family. I'm part of this rebellion, but me voice holds no more weight than any of the others here. I'm nae part of the council, I'm naebody special at all."
The three older men exchanged looks, then Ewan said, "Aye, fine. Just another soldier as ye say. But tell me, as a soldier, what's yer opinion? Should we complete this raid? Should we risk it tae take back what's ours?"
Cailean felt the pressure of their eyes on him and knew he had to give at least something.
He weighed up the options in his mind then decided to give the truth; he did not want the decision on his shoulders, but the least he could do was tell them the truth as he saw it. "I think it would be foolish."
The men looked at each other again, but Cailean pressed on.
"I think the plan is fraught with too much danger and not enough return," he said. "It's overly ambitious, and we could lose our numbers before we've even managed tae build them tae full strength. This isnae the right course of action. I'm sorry, Kier. I ken ye want yer home back, but…"
Kier snorted. "Ye talk of risk, do ye? Well, lad, what's war without risk? I've been gentle where I can, but nae in this. Nae war is won without risk, without sacrifice. If we wish tae be in with a chance of winnin' this battle at all, then we must—"
"What battle?" Cailean demanded. "What war?"
Three sets of eyes were upon him in an instant, but Cailean was suddenly filled with such passion and sadness for his words that he no longer felt their weight.
"This isnae a war, Kier. It hasnae been a war in twenty years, nae since me home and me family both burned tae the ground.
We lost that war. Now all we're doin' is survivin'.
" Cailean shook his head. "And if ye want me tae speak as though me words mean somethin', hear me now: we will nae risk the men and women who've given themselves tae this rebellion without a chance of success. Nae while I'm breathin'."
Silence met his words. To his surprise, all three of the elders wore expressions somewhere close to satisfaction, even though he'd just openly contradicted them.
He had the horrible feeling that he'd just been maneuvered into accepting a mantle of leadership that he simply did not want, but before he could accuse them of doing just that, the door slammed open, and Darren burst in, his tree-sap golden curls bouncing around his head and his dark eyes wide with alarm.
"They're comin'. The redcoats, they're comin' this way," Darren said without preamble. "We need tae go. Now."
Cailean's stomach dropped. If the redcoats found them here, it wasn't just the rebels who would be in danger.
The nearby village would be branded as traitors to the crown; men, women, and children alike.
At best, they'd be imprisoned, but Cailean knew that mass slaughter and capturing for 'sport' were much more likely. He simply couldn't allow that.
He'd gotten so used to this camp, but he'd have to drop it, just like over the years he'd let go of so many temporary homes.
But then, it didn't matter. He hadn't had a home in twenty years, and no matter how much Kier thought they were fighting a war to win, he knew the truth. He'd likely never have a home again.