Page 98 of Highlander’s Burning Touch

He was so innocent that Niven almost despaired. His brother never had had much aptitude for clan politics.

But then, Niven noticed the color drain out of his brother’s face. Suddenly, he stumbled, lurching to the side.

“Aargh,” cried Fingal. Niven stopped dead in his tracks. They all did. He turned to look at his brother, writhing in a pool of blood on the floor.

“Ye did this to him!” snarled Niven, a sudden rage taking him. His head steamed up until he thought he would blow. Crazily, he lunged for MacLean, but a coughing fit that had taken his brother interrupted him.

“Fingal,” called Niven, urgently. The sight of Fingal bent double, trying to breathe, had terrified him. In trying to help his brother, Niven loosened his grip on MacLean. It was all the chance the devious laird needed to get free.

Now, MacLean straightened himself up, but Niven barely noticed as he rushed to his brother’s side.

“I’m alright,” protested Fingal, feebly, although it was clear he was anything but. Slowly, he moved from his knees, with Niven helping him up.

Niven’s heart twisted. Even injured, Fingal still saw the best in people. There was no point in explaining to him that someone like MacLean did not warrant it.

He was just on the verge of moving Fingal out to a safe spot when a terrific lunge forced him into the stone walls. Niven struggled back as an unseen hand pushed him further in as if he were trying to grind his skull into the consistency of spit.

“No ye dinnae,” he yelled, but he couldn’t see straight. Everything in front of him had become blurry. Struggling to open his eyes, Niven tried to catch his footing.

He couldn’t. He was going over.

Soon everything around him was plunged into the dark.

* * *

“Get out of the way!”

The first voice Niven heard when coming around was the tall commander’s. It took a moment or so to place him. Then Niven remembered he was one of Rory’s men.

Slowly, he came to. He was still half crumpled against the floor, with a couple of them – Fingal included, gazing down at him.

“Brother, ye had us worried,” said Fingal, rushing to his side. Even though it strained him, he tried to help Niven up. Niven batted him away.

There, in the distance, was MacLean, his dark hair streaming from his head, as he launched a savage attack upon the laird’s men.

A surge of rage built up inside of Niven. The sight of this turncoat hurting his uncle was more than he could bear. He turned to the commander.

“Nae,” said Niven. There wasn’t a minute to lose. From the sight behind him, he could see a massive fight going on. Rory’s men were still hard-pressed against the laird of MacLean, and Niven was in no mood to let him win.

With a force of steel inside him, Niven pushed himself up. A quick glance to MacLean showed him laying into his uncle’s men. This was the boost he needed to get to his feet.

Quickly, Niven found the energy to lead the charge. Without warning, he surged ahead, launching himself into the heart of the scrum like a missile.

By now, his heart was on fire, burning with an intensity he had never felt. No way was he going to sit and let this cur treat his uncle so.

“Niven!” cried Fingal, from somewhere behind him. He still looked pale but pushed himself on through regardless. This didn’t please Niven. His brother was still weak from injury. He needed rest. But right now, Niven had more pressing things to attend to.

His uncle needed help, and now. Throwing himself into the fray of battle, Niven surged ahead, leaping forwards like a spooked horse towards MacLean’s throat.

And there he was, with the MacLean laird in another headlock, this time more vice-like than the first. With a strength he didn’t know he possessed, Niven held the laird tight, ensuring he could not wriggle from his grip.

The next thing he knew, he had thrust his silver dagger straight into the man’s throat. Doing so, Niven gave a cry of surprise. He hadn’t even realized he still had the sgian dubh in his hands. Within seconds, it had splurged straight into MacLean’s larynx, and finally, he had the grim satisfaction of watching him breathe his last.

It was only seconds, but it felt like hours as Niven watched MacLean’s eyes shut and his face empty of color. Then, giving him a shake from his arms, MacLean dropped to the floor, leaving Niven stunned and numb.

Hot, red blood pumped through, trickling to Niven’s outstretched fingers. For a moment, he started, astonished by what he had done. Then, seeing MacLean’s twisted face beneath him, he flinched violently.

It was like he had only realized what he had done, even though he had watched it all happen. Heart banging madly, Niven was consumed by a sudden blind panic. A crazy thought seized him; what if MacLean was not dead?