Talorac didn't mind that his older brother Breth had the limelight. No, planning with the clan chieftains had never been Tal’s thing. He put the finishing touches on Breth’s new chisel and then nodded to those waiting in line as he ran out of the forge shed. All he wanted to do was work at the forge, but nowadays he could only grab a moment here and there to do so.

Talorac was eighteen, and on his last birthday, he should have been sent off with ceremony to the large forge at Broch Nine, where he should now be smithing everyone’s weapons and tools under Master Ferath’s ever-diminishing supervision. Tal had been looking forward to that ever since he was eight years old, when Ferath had said he showed promise.

However, through trial by combat seven months ago, Tal’s brother Breth had become head chieftain over ten of the clans. Before, Breth had been second in line to run only their clan, and Father had given Tal leave to go to the forge. Now though, Tal took every moment he could find to escape from the heavy burden of potential duty that hung over his head as Breth’s nearest male kin.

Ten clans, he thought as he ran to yet another meeting. Five hundred warriors! Who could hold sway over any five hundred people, let alone warriors?

Tal fervently hoped the child Breth’s new wife Jaelle carried was a boy. And that the years until this child was a man went without incident to Breth.

Slipping into the meeting of three dozen people sitting around the bonfire outside the broch in the early light, Tal passed the chisel to Breth as a bribe to not chide him for being late.

It worked. Breth proudly held Tal’s gift up to show the other nine chieftains and their wives, sons or brothers — other poor fools destined to take the chieftains’ places when the inevitable happened.

They all ooh’ed and ah’d, mostly sincerely.

Emboldened by this success, Tal looked into his brother’s eyes.

“Try not to lose this one, you hear?”

Everyone laughed, and Breth socked Tal in the upper arm in retaliation for the teasing. And brought his hand back with a shake, eyeing Tal’s huge smithing muscles.

Tal looked around at all the smiling faces. Significantly missing this time were the druids. Each clan had two or three, and they acted as moderators. These gatherings were usually at the sacred grove, but the druids had said they needed it for something more important this day. What could be more important than a gathering of the chieftains?

Oh well. Far be it from Tal to understand the spiritual leaders, teachers, historians, and councilors. They were so alien, although he'd known the druids of these ten clans his whole life, coming into contact with the other clans yearly as they all migrated from broch to broch.

Chieftains Brude and Leo’s clans now manned the barbarian fort the ten clans had taken seven months ago, and Cint and Fergus’s clans held the one taken last month. Each fort would only fit two clans, or Breth would have left more. Taking a fort was easy, but holding a fort was another story. Anyhow, all ten chieftains were here at Broch One for this planning meeting.

Cint’s wife Agrona stood and waited till Breth nodded at her, then spoke.

"Sure, we have taken two of the barbarians’ forts, but you well know the purpose of taking them was to stage raids into the lands south of that foul wall they’ve erected. The time for waiting around is done. We must raid."

There was a general murmur of assent among the leadership.

Breth stood in the focal spot next to the bonfire and waited for quiet as Agrona sat back down.

"Aye, the time for waiting has come to an end. Very soon we shall raid!"

A cheer went up.

"What of the Gaels?" said Brude before it had died down. "How are we to confidently raid the barbarians to the south when the threat of the Gaels yet lurks to the west?"

Others joined in.

"They say Drest paid the Gaels to attack us."

Yes he had. Jaelle had seen him do it, and she was a reliable source of information on the man, having known him in her own time.

"Don't believe everything you hear. They say stuff like that just so we toe the line."

No we don’t! Where do you get that idea?

“No, I believe Drest paid those Gaels."

Good. At least one of you has sense.

"Paid or not, they’re still a threat."

This is true, even without Drest to worry about anymore. Ha! Breth sure put him in his place.

"Bring them on."

"Aye, we shall show them who has better fighting instincts, the people or the Gaels."

"I heard we were to join forces with the Gaels and all attack the southern barbarians together."

"Nay, that was more of Drest’s posturing. He's the only one we heard it from.”

“Breth hasn't said anything about it since."

Talorac was glad Breth let the leaders murmur awhile. Father had explained to the both of them that people resented it if you didn't let them express themselves a bit. Tal himself had been allowed to rant and rave a whole day at being told he wasn't going to the main forge after all but would have to stay and shadow Breth.

Looking back, Talorac didn't know why he'd expected anything different. Somehow, he had thought he was special, the exception to the rule. After Tal was done pounding all their spare metal into the most beaten-flat shields ever, Father had set him straight on that notion. He'd done it without Breth knowing, and now Tal saw the wisdom in that.

Breth loved him as a brother does, as an equal. Father had far more experience as a clan chieftain, and he knew when it came to clan leadership, you couldn't treat everyone as equal. Father had told them stories about how treating others as the chieftain’s equals could lead to resentment and even betrayal or desertion.

Tal had accepted his lot. He would dutifully learn all that Breth did, even though in his heart Tal was an artisan, not a strategist.

Now Breth held up his hand for attention, and he got it.

“Aye, we shall ally with the Gaels against the southern barbarians who call themselves Romans. Their wall will not be anymore fortified that it already is, and we shall not be contained to this upper northern region as they wish us to be. That cannot happen!"

A cheer went up.

Looking into the eyes of each chieftain in turn, and also into the eyes of their wives, sons, and brothers, Breth shook his fist in the air defiantly and built camaraderie where before there had been dissonance.

Talorac rubbed his sweaty palms on his baggy Pictish shorts.

I don't know how he does that, but I'll do my best if it ever comes down to me.

Only when Breth had made the rounds and shaken everyone's hand did he make his way back to the focal point of the fire ring and hold his hands up for quiet so he could speak again.

And again he got the quiet, but this time, Tal noticed, Breth got much more. He got the earnest attention of everyone present. They all wanted to follow him, wanted to do whatever he bade them.

There really was something to this leadership thing. You couldn't just expect people to follow you because you were the leader. Drest had tried that, and it had ended in disaster. No, Breth had the way of it, that was plain to see. And it wasn't for naught, that saying ‘Lead by example.’

Breth spoke to the gathering slowly and congeniality, as if he were speaking to only one friend.

"Very soon, a small team of special scouts will go over to the Gaelic kingdom. They will gather support for us and report back once we have enough support so that we can recruit them to our cause. In all honesty, this should not be difficult, for even the Gaels must realize our cause is their cause. The southern barbarians don’t see a difference between our two peoples, and just because we’re closer doesn’t mean the so-called Romans won't seek to overcome and enslave the Gaels as well."

Tal gasped.

It was highly irregular in the middle of a meeting of chieftains, but a small small boy named Cimoit ran up right in the middle of the conversation, and without pausing to say excuse me or anything grabbed Tal’s hand and tried to drag him to his feet — which was funny, seeing as how Cimoit was only seven years old and weighed half what Tal did, if that. He was insistent and there was urgency on his face.

"They've summoned you to the sacred grove."

Tal patted the boy’s head dismissively.

"You're mistaken boy. It's the warriors they would want at the sacred grove, not me."

Leo looked kindly on Tal.

"Well every man is a warrior in times of need. Even us older folk. What's the emergency, Cimoit? Should we all go to the sacred grove?"

Half of the chieftains and most of the sons had stood up before Cimoit answered.

"Nay, only Talorac is summoned. He is summoned urgently."

Shivers went down Tal’s spine when he heard Breth’s response to this.

"Tal is part of the small scouting group. Go, Tal. Go and do us proud."