“I am nae thief. People give me their coin willingly. If ye found yeself in a strange place and all ye hae was yer hammer, would ye give away yer skills for free?”
“That’s different,” Rory said.
Elvira merely arched an eyebrow, silently challenging him to define how it was different.
Rory could not offer an explanation. Instead, he scoffed with derision and waved a hand in her direction, shaking his head. “I dinnae need tae speak with ye. Just gae back tae the tavern if ye like. If people want tae throw away their hard-earned coins while talking tae a stranger, then sae be it. I’m nae gaeing tae get involved,” he spat, and turned his broad back to her. Something about his attitude pierced Elvira’s heart. Here she was, having seen her home burned, being driven from a land as some madman had decided that she and people like her were no longer welcome. And there Rory stood, a man who seemed to have never known hardship in his entire life. He could dismiss everything she stood for in one breath, just as though he was wiping raindrops off his tunic and sending them splashing to the ground.
“That’s the phrase that sums ye up, I wager. Ye dinnae get involved. Whenever a problem comes tae ye, ye just turn away and pretend it dinnae exist,” she said darkly. Lustrous, curled strands of hair fell across her face as she dipped her head. At that moment, Elvira wished she did possess magic, as she would have liked to see the surprise on Rory’s face. As it was, he received only a baleful glare.
Rory threw his hands in the air and huffed. “I’m sorry for nae helping ye last night. I dinnae realize that I hae tae open my forge tae anyone who comes along. I guided ye tae the tavern, did I nae? And that seemed tae work out well for ye. Ye would nae hae all these customers if ye were staying with me. I’m sure ye will be moving on soon enough anyway, sae I suggest that ye stay away from me while ye are here.”
“I wish I could move on, but that is nae easy for someone like me. Nae matter where we gae, my people are nae welcomed. We’re viewed with suspicion and fear. Sae far I hae received hospitality, but I know that can change in an instant. Whenever I move somewhere new, I hae tae worry about whether we’re gaeing tae hae swords at our throats. I came here because I thought I hae a friend, and I’m just thankful that Isla and Torrin took pity on us. It could sae easily hae been different. Ye would nae know about that, never knowing if ye hae a safe place tae rest yer head, being viewed as worthless, nae belonging tae this land. But that’s fine, ye are nae the first person tae feel this way, and I pity ye for haring such a black heart. But this is nae just about my family. This is about yer entire village,” Elvira stepped closer to Rory as she spoke, closing the distance between them until there was barely any air. Now that she was so close to him, she could see the dark stubble that threatened to bloom into a full beard, the stiff neck muscles, the slight hint of freckles across the bridge of his nose. “Ye stand there refusing tae help everyone, including the people around ye. Perhaps things may be different if theypaid ye for yer skills, aye? It’s nae as if ye would forge weapons for free.”
The words cut through the air. The color paled from Rory’s cheeks and he looked haunted. He staggered back, as though he had been struck by an open hand. He blinked quickly, as though he was trying to understand how she could know such a thing.
“Did Torrin tell ye?” he asked, the words rushing out of him in a hushed whisper. He looked around anxiously. “What are ye trying tae dae? Dae ye know how much trouble ye could cause?”
“Ye hae nae idea how much danger ye are truly in,” Elvira replied. In his panic, Rory grabbed her arm and dragged her to a nearby alley, and he continued speaking in a low voice.
“What are ye talking about? Is this another trick?”
Elvira rolled her eyes. “There hae been nae tricks, Rory. I hae nae lied tae ye. Ye just think that I hae, but ye are wrong. I dinnae want tae hurt anyone. I just want tae help them, and I can help ye tae.”
“How can ye help me?” Rory scoffed, wearing a disbelieving look.
“The same way I help everyone else, by telling ye the truth. Nae once hae ye thought tae ask where I come from, or what brought me here. Dae ye think I like living this way? I hae lost my home, been driven from my land… and I think ye can sense where people like me would be treated sae harshly. There is a storm coming, Rory, and the best thing ye can dae is prepare for it. Pretending like it is nae gaeing tae happen is foolish. Ye would be daeing yeself and the people of this village a disservice.”
“McKovac lands,” Rory said in a grim, gravelly voice.
Elvira nodded. “Aye. He is losing himself tae madness, and naebody can reign him in. I watched my home burn because of him. I fled raiding parties. It is only a matter of time before he turns his ire outwards and starts attacking other enemies, enemies like this old clan. Ye might think that ye can stay in thatforge and all the troubles of the world will pass ye by, but ye are wrong. McKovac will come, and if ye are nae ready tae defend yeselves then this place will burn. That is the truth, and I will nae even ask ye for any coin in return,” she gave a haughty sway of her head and then turned from him, walking back to the tavern. Her cloak swayed along with her hips, but she did not look back towards Rory, no matter how much she wanted to. There was something about him that got under her skin and caused a fervor, although she wasn’t quite sure how he accomplished that.
Rory was left reelingin the wake of Elvira’s warning. He wanted to think that she was lying so badly, but everything she said made sense. He shook his head after running his hand along his scalp, and then returned to the refuge of the forge, trying to hammer away all the tension and unease that plagued him. However, no matter how fierce the cacophony of sound was around him, Rory could not get Elvira’s words out of his mind. Everything she said made sense, and if McKovac turned on people within his own lands, then what would stop him from striking at ancient enemies? Perhaps his need to avoid trouble was leading him to endanger others.
He wondered what he would have done had Ian, Lucy, and Anne been there in the village. Would he have been so quick to turn away from Torrin’s call if people he loved were in danger? He had become a solitary figure, distancing himself from others. He was beginning to see how this had led him to a dark place, to a point where he barely recognized himself. He felt like a hypocrite. Elvira accused him of not knowing what it was like to have doors slammed in his face, to be treated like a nuisance, to be told he didn’t belong. On the contrary, he knew exactlywhat that was like. Had things changed so drastically? Had he really left that boy behind? And the way he had erupted in anger at Elvira… Was that just pent-up frustration for the life he had been forced to live with Anne? They hadn’t wanted to cause so much trouble or deceive people, but it was either that or die of starvation.
And now Elvira was trying to goad him into action by calling him a coward, but a coward he was. This village was not his home in the sense that it didn’t house people he cared about. Perhaps there was a part of him that had always thought if he got into trouble he could just move to a new village and a new clan, or even return to live with Anne and Finlay. After all, there were plenty of places that could use a skilled blacksmith.
But that wasn’t who he was, or at least who he wanted to be. He never imagined he would turn into the man who slipped away into the shadows, disappearing while danger soared around them. A bitter feeling entered his heart and he wore a cloak of shame. Sweat mingled with tears as he thought about all the people who depended on him. He could help so many. What if they died? The blood and the screams would be on his clean hands. None of these people deserved to die, and certainly not because some blacksmith thought himself above getting involved in trouble like this.
The more Rory thought about Elvira’s words, the more he realized that he had changed too much for his own liking. He had to put a stop to it now, before he was beyond salvation. It was time to make a difference. It was time to find Torrin and help protect this village from the oncoming storm, because if Elvira was right, then McKovac could not be negotiated with, and Glennrock did not seem disposed to protect the people of the village.
Rory had been working on instinct, and when he looked down, his creation took him by surprise. He had abandoned thecommission he had been working on, and instead had made something far more important. He had forged a sword, a symbol of the new attitude that he wanted to live by from now on.
8
Afew days had passed since Elvira had accosted Rory and tried to get him to see sense. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to have worked. Rory had been noticeably absent from the tavern. Elvira hadn’t been brave enough to visit him in the forge. She thought it was better to put him out of her mind entirely, although such a thing was easier said than done.
As well as spending her evenings sitting in the corner, reading people’s palms, Elvira helped Isla with cleaning and other duties. Elvira used this labor to help pay for her lodging expenses and meals. As a result, the food they ate was not made of meager portions any longer, but rather thick knobs of cheese and juicy slices of meat. They were eating well and, although they did not have a home of their own, they were safe for the time being. However, Elvira was attuned to the mood in the village, and it was clear that people were becoming more frightened. She asked Mirella if they should move on.
“And where would we gae? At some point, ye hae tae take a stand. Besides, if we gae tae far, then we may never end up back in the land where we belong,” Mirella said, meaning the McKovac land.
“Dae ye think there is a chance for that tae happen?”
“Oh aye, all it takes is that mad fool tae keel over. We only hae tae wait him out,” Mirella said. When she spoke like this, it seemed to be the simplest thing in the world. Unfortunately, that sentiment did not prevail in Elvira’s mind. When she spoke to her guests and to Isla, she was given a grim and bleak picture of the village. People were worried about the absence of Laird Boyd. There were no rousing words or promises coming down from the keep, which left the villagers feeling unprotected. There were murmurs of farms on the outskirts being raided, with cattle being stolen, and the ground being disturbed by a sizeable patrol. She was continually asked about whether the laird would listen to the villagers again, and she was unable to allay their fears.
Eventually, she had to go to Isla to address her concerns. “Isla, hae ye noticed how people hae been acting recently?”
“It’s hard tae miss,” she said, shaking her head.
