She swallowed and nodded. What could go wrong with Magnus and Snaffles by her side? If her experiences so far were anything to go by, a lot, that’s what.
“We willnae be here long,” Magnus continued. “We’ll find the blacksmith and be on our way. Just follow my lead.”
“Follow your lead. Right. Speaking of leads, should I put Snaffles on his?”
Magnus shook his head. “I dinna think he’ll stray far. Looks to me as though he’s as nervous as ye are.”
He was right. Snaffles, on spotting the settlement up ahead, had slunk close to Izzy’s side and his tail had lowered apprehensively.
“And here’s me thinking you were getting brave,” she said to the big dog, scratching his head. “Turns out we are as bad as each other.”
She made a point of pushing her shoulders back and trying to look confident as they walked down to the settlement. As they entered Hodwell, she couldn’t quite figure out if it was a village or a town or something in between. Certainly bigger than Morwenna’s village, it had several muddy streets instead of just one and rather than just homes, there was commerce going on too. Several market stalls lined the streets selling vegetables, eggs, cheeses, and small barrels that she guessed contained beer or whisky. Chickens, goats and even the odd pig rooted around in the kitchen gardensattached to the dwellings and people bustled about on errands of their own. There was a general air of activity and life about the place, even if the inhabitants were grubby, the streets made of mud, and the air was pungent with the smell of animal dung, wood smoke and stale beer all mixed together.
Nobody paid any attention whatsoever to Magnus and Izzy. In fact, Izzy soon found herself losing her apprehension as she gazed around at the sights and smells and sounds, so different to what she was used to. Did this place still exist in the twenty-first century? If so, what did it look like? Were these same streets now full of shops, cars, businesses? Hundreds of years into the future were people walking down this same street talking on their phones, sitting at cafes, ordering takeaways? It was a dizzying thought.
She was so engrossed in looking around, taking everything in, that she didn’t notice a change come over Magnus until Snaffles let out a low warning, ‘uff’. She looked over to see that Magnus had stopped in his tracks and was staring down the street, eyes narrowed, face pale. Izzy followed his gaze and spotted a man walking along the street in their direction.
“Quickly!” Magnus hissed. He grabbed her arm and yanked her into a side street and the shadow of a tall building.
“What’s wro—” Izzy began, but Magnus made a cutting gesture with his hand, demanding silence.
Carefully, they peered out from their hiding place. The stranger didn’t seem to have spotted them as he was still walking up the street on the same course. He looked to be around the same age as Magnus, tall but not as broad. Hehad sandy-colored hair and a bow slung across his back. He moved with a strange, feline grace, and his eyes scanned the street as though he was searching for something.
Magnus pressed himself into the shadows. “Damnation,” he growled under his breath.
“Who is he?” Izzy whispered. “Another of those outlaws?”
“Nay,” Magnus replied, his voice low.
“Then who?”
Magnus watched the stranger with narrowed eyes, shoulders tense. “Someone we need to avoid.”
Only when the man was out of sight, did Magnus lead them from their hiding place. Izzy opened her mouth to ask for an explanation, but Magnus took the horse’s halter and set off at a brisk pace in the opposite direction to the one the sandy-haired man had taken. Izzy was forced to trot to keep up.
As they maneuvered further into the bustling settlement, Magnus’s pace began to slow, his eyes darting everywhere, searching. Finally, he paused before an elderly woman selling fresh produce from a cart and gave her a respectful nod.
“Do ye have a blacksmith in Hodwell?” he asked.
“Aye, lad,” she replied, pointing with a bony finger. “Just down that path there, on yer left. Ye’ll see a sign of an anvil hanging. Big chap, bald as a coot—ye canna miss him. But bear in mind he’s a grumpy sort, so keep yer pleasantries to yerself.”
“Thank ye kindly, madam,” Magnus nodded and tossed her a copper for her trouble.
They followed the directions and soon found themselves outside a large wooden shed-like building with smoke billowing from its chimney and the rhythmic clanging of metal on metal reverberating from within.
As they stepped inside, Izzy spotted the blacksmith hunched over an anvil as he hammered away at a red-hot blade, sending sparks showering with each blow. He was enormous, almost as big as Magnus, his impressive arm muscles bunching rhythmically as he went about his work.
He halted his hammering and looked up when he spotted them. A scowl pulled down his bushy eyebrows as he looked Magnus up and down, his eyes narrowing on the bird of prey brooch on Magnus’s plaid. “Well now,” he rumbled, setting down his hammer. “This must be my lucky day. Ye are the second one of yer lot been in today.”
A strange expression passed across Magnus’s face, his eyes flashing. “Wait outside, Isabelle.”
“What? But—”
“Please, Isabelle,” he said, his voice low and intense. “Wait outside and keep an eye on the horse.”
Something in his voice stopped any further protest. It was almost...pleading. Izzy nodded, took hold of Snaffles’ collar, and went outside to wait in the yard. It was muddy, a bit smelly, and to top it all, it was starting to rain. Whatever Magnus planned to do, she hoped he would be quick.
AS ISABELLE LEFT, MAGNUSturned to face the blacksmith. Just as the old woman had said, he was bald-headed and a thinsheen of sweat stood out on his scalp. He was all sinew and muscle from years of plying his trade and Magnus got the impression he wouldn’t be a man who was easy to intimidate. He crossed his arms over his soot-stained apron and scowled.
