"Nay now," Bhatar said softly, as an aside to his comrade. "We can discuss that later."
"But we decided—"
"Aye, but it will keep 'til later," Bhatar announced jovially, forcing a smile.
Hugh narrowed his eyes at having been cut off.
Neacal frowned. What the devil were they up to? "We have allies—the Camerons."
"Bah!" Hugh said. "We don't need them coming here."
Neacal's rage threatened to return. "I trust Colin Cameron more than anyone. We were foster brothers."
"Aye, well… there are many more Camerons besides him. The chief for instance."
"You don't like Colin's father?"
"'Tis ancient history, Hugh," Bhatar warned gruffly. What he was talking about Neacal hadn't a clue.
"If we need allies, 'tis either the Camerons or the MacKenzies. Or both," Neacal said.
Hugh grimaced. "The MacKenzies are powerful, but I'll nay forgive them for killing so many in our clan."
Neacal shook his head. "Elrick must take the blame for their attack, because he captured a MacKenzie hostage."
"Aye, I'm well aware. I was here! I saw what happened."
"You like none of our allies. You're impossible to please!" Neacal said.
"Come, Hugh, let's leave the lad to his thoughts." Bhatar started toward the stairwell, turned back and said, "Tuitidh á chraobh a bhithear á sìor shnaidheadh."The tree that is constantly hewed at will fall.
Neacal ground his teeth even as Hugh followed his fellow elder.
Neacal was no tree, nor did he intend to fall.
Every day was a struggle to control the rage that simmered beneath the surface. He hadn't been like this before the damnable torture. He no longer even liked himself. 'Twas no wonder everyone feared him or nagged at him to change.
He wished he could change.
But more than anything, he wished he could go back in time to right all the wrongs he'd sparked off. Since that wasn't possible, he had to help the clan in some other way. Although Hugh had discouraged him from contacting Colin Cameron, Neacal knew this was his best option at the moment.
Over two dozen men had been killed in the recent siege. But even before then, the garrison had diminished over the years, while his father was chief.
Though Neacal didn't like admitting it, he needed help in the event Sleat returned with a large force and tried to seize the castle. Neacal had hired on a few new guards, but he needed more in order to protect the clan and castle adequately.
He headed downstairs to his solar. At the desk in the corner, he took a seat in the wooden chair. After dipping the quill into the ink, he quickly penned a missive to his foster brother. Colin Cameron was one of the few people Neacal had trusted since he was a lad. Neacal had fostered with the Camerons for a few years to strengthen their clans' alliance. Colin had spent much time at Bearach as well. He would know where to find dependable soldiers in need of a clan and perhaps even loan a few of his own men in the meantime.
He would have Lawler and Roth deliver it to Colin on the morrow. He hoped Colin would arrive before Sleat had time to gather more forces and return.
***
That evening, Neacal dressed for supper and readied himself to go downstairs, no matter how much he hated the socializing aspect of meals.
"Come, Dunn."
The wolfhound rose from the rug by the fireplace and followed him.
When Neacal entered the great hall, several people watched him warily, but as soon as his eyes met theirs, they averted their gazes. 'Twas his own fault. Although he tried each day to gain their trust, he had taken a step back today because of simple swordplay practice. He knew the difference between practice and actual battle, but sometimes the lines blurred. And thanks to Sleat, his temper had been riled far more than normal. He hated when he could not control his anger.
