Elvira made a hasty retreat back to the small farm she called home, skulking along a trail used by hunters and denizens of the forest. It was barely visible in the darkness, but she had traveled it many times before, so she was sure-footed and nimble. The path wound between trees, wending like a river, and she was obscured by leafy bushes. She crested a ridge and expected to be greeted by the sight of the homestead, but instead, she was faced with a ruin. The soft moonlight was gentle, but it could not soothe the ache in her heart. The building had been charred by fire. There was a gaping hole in the thatched roof. The fence had been broken as well. The animals who hadn’t been slaughtered, must have freed themselves. Everything they had, had been just taken away.
Elvira silently sank to her knees and wept, unable to move. She couldn’t bring herself to go to the farm because she was afraid of what she might find there. Were her siblings and grandmother laid among the ash, or had they been taken? She wasn’t sure which fate was worse. As she sobbed, she curled her hands into tight fists and beat them upon the ground. Anger and pain flooded her mind, and she gave into the rampant emotions that roared inside her. She wished that Laird McKovac was below her, and she was pummeling his face, making him feel all of the pain that he inflicted upon her people.
And then, a hand came upon her shoulder. It startled Elvira so much that she flinched, pushing herself away as she fearedit was a guard. Instead, it was the kind, wizened face of her grandmother, Mirella, who looked almost bemused.
“Now, child, this is nae time for tears. We needed them before, they might hae put out the fire,” she chuckled.
Elvira immediately threw her arms around her and hugged her fiercely. “How can ye laugh at a time like this?” she asked between quiet sobs.
“I haven't more tears to give for these men.” Mirella rolled her shoulders. “Come, lassie; yer siblings are waiting.” She turned, and Elvira followed.
They walked a short distance to a small glade, where Tereza and Ollie waited for her. She clung to them as she saw them again, crying with relief. With them stood Storm, the old family horse.
“We fled the farm before they arrived,” Mirella said, sighing heavily. “I think it’s time we left this place.”
Elvira’s eyes widened. “We cannae give the laird what he wants. We cannae let him win!”
“Look at us, Elvira. He hae won already. I am nae gaeing tae live in a land where we are nae wanted, just out of spite. Best tae move on, for the wee ones,” Mirella added this last part when she saw that Elvira was getting ready to argue.
Elvira looked down at her siblings. They were tired and confused. Mirella was right. They shouldn’t have to grow up in a world ruled by fear.
“Where can we gae?”
“Laird Boyd’s land. He is an enemy of McKovac’s. Perhaps we can find refuge there. Ye may remember that we hae an old family friend,” Mirella’s eyes twinkled and Elvira’s did the same. She remembered the broad-shouldered older boy who showed an uncanny skill with the hammer. She had been just a slip of a girl, and he was becoming a man. Elvira had been quitetaken with him, and she remembered her mother coming to her, smiling as she could tell Elvira’s secret.
“Ye like Ian,” Maria had said. Elvira had blushed and tried to hide her face. Maria had sat Elvira on her lap and had taken her palm in her hand. “Elvira, one day ye will marry a good man like him. Strong, tall, handsome, and with a good heart. That’s what ye must look for above all else, a good heart. And maybe, if ye are patient enough, ye will find the man ye want.”
When she had been younger, Elvira had always dreamed of being reunited with that boy, Ian McKendrick. As the years passed, that dream had dwindled, and she rarely thought about him. Her parents used to move from clan to clan, until they had returned to these lands, unable to find prosperity elsewhere. Despite all the people she had seen, there had never been anyone like Ian who had anchored in the root of her childhood mind. But was this the river of fate carrying her back to her childhood fantasies? Was all this pain going to take her into the arms of a man who was to be her husband? It seemed so absurd, but then again her mother had shown tremendous insight, and perhaps her influence on the world lasted longer than her body.
While Elvira did not like the idea of leaving these lands and the people who needed her, she could not deny that she needed to do what was best for her family. So, she lifted Tereza and Ollie onto Storm’s back and then walked alongside the horse to new pastures. Perhaps there was something noble in retreat, as long as it guaranteed safety.
2
Rory’s bicep glistened with sweat, illuminated by the light of the forge. He often worked shirtless, for he sweated so much that his clothes clung to his skin. The heat licked his flesh, and the power of the hammer flowed through him as he brought it crashing down onto the forge. The clang echoed around his ears, a sound that had long become routine to him.
The past two years had been an industrious time for young Rory, who had grown into a man and a blacksmith of some repute. After inheriting the forge from Ian, Rory had focused on his craft. After having been involved in so many schemes in his youth with his sister Anne, and in his adolescence with Ian himself, Rory was glad to put that life behind him. He had flirted with trouble often enough, but he had vowed never to do that again. He was going to be a dutiful man, blinding himself to any kind of illicit scheme or trouble. He wanted to earn honest coin and do what he was good at, and so far, he had succeeded.
He was interrupted from his work by Torrin, who knocked on the door and called Rory’s name. Torrin was a kind, comfortable man, settled into his life and manner. He was almost ten years older than Rory. His hair was blond and curly, his face full andsoft. He always claimed that he enjoyed not having to work with his hands, and it showed.
Rory turned and grabbed a cloth, patting himself down before he pulled on a shirt.
“With you working like that, it’s no wonder that the maidens giggle when they walk past,” Torrin said teasingly.
Rory arched an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything in reply. Ginger meowed as the feline came to greet Torrin. Torrin made a sound with his teeth and scratched Ginger around the neck. Ginger lifted her head and closed her eyes, purring softly.
“Ye should pay more attention tae this one, else she’s liable tae wander off,” Torrin warned.
“This is as much her home as it is mine, and I pay her plenty of attention. She just likes enough of it,” Rory said.
Torrin chuckled. “I’ve known a few women like that in my time. Perhaps ye should get acquainted with some,” he cast a sharp look towards Rory.
“I’m just fine with the way things are, thank ye. Life is uncomplicated, and that is the way I like it,” Rory said.
Torrin nodded, but he had an uncertain look on his face, as though he was just waiting for the day when Rory was going to change his mind. Today was not going to be that day, though. “Well, I hae something here for ye,” he produced a letter and handed it to Rory. Rory’s eyes flashed when he saw it, taking it and unfolding it open immediately. “Thank ye, Torrin.”
“Nae problem, lad. It was delivered by a passing seller. Brought terrible news, he did,” Torrin continued. Rory had already turned his back and bent his head, eager to read news from Ian and Lucy, who were now residing in France. Torrin hadn’t yet taken the hint to leave, however.
“Mmhmm,” Rory murmured.
