Page 3 of For an Exile’s Heart (Ancient Songs #2)

A dair found his brother, Daerg, in his own quarters, sitting on the floor with a jug of ale beside his knee.

It had taken him some time to chase Daerg down. No one had seen him, which seemed strange. If he, Adair, had been away a matter of months, the first thing he would do was visit all his friends. But the fellows in the warriors’ hall had no idea where Daerg might be.

At last a young serving girl said she’d taken him a jug of heather ale at his quarters.

Daerg, clearly sunk into an unsounded depth of misery, barely glanced up when Adair came in. So dim was the chamber, it tamed the fire of Daerg’s flaming red hair and beard and washed his complexion to gray.

Adair hunkered down next to him, noting that Daerg still wore the stained and crumpled clothing in which he must have traveled. He’d come to his brother for information. Now concern moved to the fore.

“Brother, are ye unwell?”

They were not close, the three brothers—not so much as it might seem they should be. Too different in spirit, perhaps, for that. Yet Adair could not behold such misery without striving to lift it.

Daerg did not speak, merely tucked his head down more closely between his shoulders and squeezed his eyes closed, the gestures of a man shutting out the world.

“Come now, Daerg, it cannot be all that bad.” Daerg, after all, had come home, while Adair faced leaving Erin, the place of his heart.

Perhaps, aye, Adair should be angry with Daerg for his failure to secure his own lands. If he’d succeeded, after all, Adair would not have to take up this unwelcome duty.

“Speak to me,” he urged, sitting on the floor beside his brother.

“I ha’ failed Father.”

“Aye, well, ’tis not the worst thing on the face o’ the world, is it?”

Daerg’s face lifted. He was not the most comely of Gawen’s sons, having a stark, freckled countenance and eyelashes so pale it put one in mind of a fish. Usually he schooled his emotions well. Now devastation rode him hard.

“It is my place and my duty to please Father in all things.”

Well, and that was pure foolishness. No one could be pleased in all things. Adair did not say so.

“Moreover, this was my chance. To achieve something Baen could no’ do. He is a hard man to follow, is Baen.”

So he was. Their faultless elder brother with his fair hair and far-seeing hazel eyes, his competence on the field and nearly nonexistent sense of humor, was—

Well, faultless.

Adair wondered what Baen would think of his upcoming marriage. Who was she?

And would Father one day choose a bride for him, also? Would some far-flung marriage alliance be the way Gawen finally made use of what he considered a near-useless son? The prospect made Adair writhe. He thought of the bonny Forba, with her clever fingers that could coax music from wood and a bit of string, and do even more amazing things on a man’s body. Did he mean to marry her? He hadn’t got that far in his head. Now he would not have the chance—at least until he accomplished his impossible mission.

“Ye ha’ no need to compete wi’ Baen,” he told Daerg a bit lamely. “Ye are your own man.”

Daerg’s searing look of scorn told Adair what he thought of that advice.

“Here, have a drink.” Adair took up the jug, which splashed nearly empty. “Did ye drink all o’ this?”

“What else is there to do?” Daerg once more lowered his head to his hands in despair.

Adair cursed low, under his breath. “Come, man, it cannot be all that bad.”

“I have disappointed Father.” Daerg seemed stuck on that.

“And will he no’ get over his disappointment? Take it from one who knows. I have disappointed him scores o’ times.”

Daerg directed a bleary look at him. Adair could now see half of Daerg’s trouble was a state of mild intoxication. “Fine for ye, Adair. Ye being the favored one.”

“Nay, that is Baen again.”

“He never asked much from ye, though, did he? Never pushed ye very hard, either.”

That was true. Father had never asked much—till now.

Adair shrugged. “I was the youngest.”

“He always liked ye the best.”

“Least. I do believe he despaired o’ me.”

“It does no’ matter. The worst part o’ failing him is, they were my own lands I was going to claim. What manner o’ man cannot claim his own lands?”

“What is it like there—in Alba?”

Daerg shivered. “It is a dark and terrible place o’ black lochs and dark mountains, won awa’ from the savages who still inhabit the interior. The settlements o’ our people are held by mere fingertips upon the coastal lands. Kendrick’s settlement is a mad place. He has sons—two o’ them—who want it, all o’ it, for themselves and ha’ no liking for an interloper from Erin. And a stepdaughter and a wife no better who tells him what to do. No one there, I tell ye, is right in the head. ’Tis a terrible place to be.” He glanced into Adair’s face, and must have glimpsed something there. “Why d’ye ask?”

“Father is sending me there. In your stead.”

“You?” Daerg lost all his misery at least temporarily, in astonishment. The look he directed at Adair was not complimentary. “You?”

Adair grimaced. “Aye. I tried to tell him what a bad choice I am. He would no’ listen.”

“But—you are no sort o’ statesman or negotiator.” Daerg took up his cup and drank. “Worse even than me.”

“Father seems to think where ye and Baen failed in your duties, I might charm Kendrick out o’ his lands with my talk and my merriment.”

Daerg swore with deep feeling. “When d’ye leave?”

“In the morning. On the same boat, no doubt, that brought ye home.”

“Well and I must say, Kendrick will no’ be pleased to see ye. Nor his sons.”

“Tell me everything, Daerg. All I need to know.”

Daerg looked him in the eye. “I suppose ’tis best to be forewarned.”

*

When Adair left his brother’s quarters some time later, his head buzzed. Daerg had given him what might be too much information, much of it disjointed and out of order. None of it good. He seemed to feel Adair’s mission was doomed before his feet left the soil of Erin. Which would not be so bad, if Adair did not agree.

And that was the other thing. His feet did not want to leave the soil of Erin, to go to some dark and terrible land such as Daerg had described. His heart did not. Nor his spirit.

He did not sleep that night, instead spending it packing his belongings, the things he thought he would need in order to court a man—an uncle—who would not welcome him.

He wanted to make the rounds of his friends, to bid them all farewell, but by then it was the middle of the night. So he roused only his good friend, Oisin, and bade him make explanations to the others on his behalf.

Including Forba.

“Why di’ye no’ go and see her yourself?” Oisin suggested.

“’Tis the middle of the night.”

“She will no’ mind.” Oisin looked Adair in the face. “Especially if ’tis farewell for a time. I know fine she fancies ye.” He grinned reluctantly. “Of course, most o’ the clan’s young women do. Makes it hard on the rest o’ us. Mayhap ’tis no’ a bad thing ye will be awa’ for a time. Might make it easier on me.”

“I trust I will no’ be gone long.” Adair’s hope was that Kendrick would take one look at him and send him straight back home.

“So I trust,” Oisin said more seriously. “Ye will be sorely missed.”

“Ye say my farewell to Forba for me.” A mischievous and beautiful young woman. He had no real idea why she or indeed any of the young clanswomen might favor him. Being a younger son, he had not much to recommend him.

His own father had as much as told him so.

At dawn, he climbed high up the side of the hill and looked out, as the sun rose, upon the land he loved. The land for which his ancestors—including the legendary warrior Ardahl MacCormac—had fought and suffered. The land for which his very heart beat.

On a clear day from up here, one could see the ocean and sometimes glimpse the coast of Alba lying like a sleeping blue dragon to the northeast, their own shore not afar. This, though, did not promise to be a clear day. Clouds gathered over the top of the hill like a white blanket and dulled all the distances.

They would have rain on their journey. No matter, this land still looked bonny to him, and every part of him rued being torn away.

Surely, he promised himself, surely not for long. Below he could see his party readying to leave. They would journey upon the short trail to the coast where lay Father’s boat. Passage to Alba would not take long. As for the journey after they landed there—

Adair did not know. He had never bothered to inquire. He traveled into the unknown.

For some reason, he shivered. He must go down and take up his duty, as never before. But he whispered to the gods and to the land itself before he did, “Please. I was not born to be an exile. Please let me come home soon.”