Elvira turned, looking towards Rory. He was straining to get to her, but was being held back by guards.
“Nae!” he cried, but his words were forlorn. At least the Laird had shown himself to be insane, Elvira thought. Surely, the men around him could not deny the truth, and would need to wrest control of the clan away from him. She watched the blade thrust through the air, the point directed at her heart. She waited for the sweet release of death. A strange calm came over her, and in the distance she could hear her mother’s voice calling to her.
Then, in another moment, she was deafened by the clash of steel. There was a gasp as Hamish finally moved, stepping forward, unsheathing his own sword and using it to deflect his father’s. The Laird looked shocked. He turned to face his son, his expression turning to one of bitter betrayal. Elvira stepped back, stumbling over her feet as she made her way to Rory. They clung to each other as all eyes turned to the Laird and his son.
“That’s enough,” Hamish said sternly.
Laird McKovac’s eyes twitched. “Enough? Ye dare tell me that it’s enough?”
“Aye, and enough people hae seen what I hae known for a long time; that ye hae lost yer mind. That is nae the same woman who came tae ye all those years ago. Look at her, she is a young lass herself,” Hamish said, gesturing with his sword to Elvira. Laird McKovac fixed his gaze on her, trying to see through the haze of insanity and the reality he had concocted for himself.
“Nae…nae, it’s her! It’s her!” he cried.
“Ye are a pitiful old man who cannae lead this clan any longer. I am nae gaeing tae see ye lead us intae a war when ye are seeing ghosts,” Hamish said.
“Ye are fool if ye think ye can take this clan from me. This is my clan! And everyone else thinks sae,” the Laird swiped his sword through the air to punctuate his words. Hamish’s lips curled into a smug smile.
“Ye are wrong, Da. We hae all been concerned for a long time,” Hamish turned his head to the side and looked at the advisors. One by one, they moved to stand with Hamish. Laird McKovac’s mouth fell open, utterly shocked at the sight of this treason.
“Ye would all stand with him? With this… usurper?” he sputtered.
“Aye,” the advisors said in unison.
“Ye are nae fit tae lead this clan. I am taking over, with the support of the advisors. If anyone dares challenge me, then know that ye are throwing yer lot in with a man who hae lost his mind. This hae gone far enough,” Hamish said, his sonorous words filling the great hall. He looked towards the guards. None of them came to stand with their laird. McKovac turned, hissing like a viper.
“Ye would all act like this? Ye would all betray me? Bah, the lot of ye can burn! This clan is mine. I am the laird. I am in charge. I am the one ye should all bow down tae, and I will hae yer heads, every last one of ye. And I will start with ye,” Laird McKovac turned around the great hall, eventually making a complete circle so that he faced Hamish again.
Hamish shook his head and let his sword drop, indicating that he did not wish to fight. “Dinnae dae this, Da. Just accept yer fate quietly. It’s all over. The clan is mine.”
“I gave ye life. I gave yeeverything. And now ye would take it from me?” Laird McKovac lunged forward as he spoke, whirling his sword in the air, striking at Hamish’s heart. Hamish raised his sword in time to deflect the blow, but he moved back.
“I dinnae want tae kill ye, Da,” Hamish said, blocking McKovac’s wild blows and jabs. The Laird wasn’t going quietly, however, and Hamish was forced to fight back. He struck at the Laird, his sword cutting through the billowing folds of the dark cloak. Laird McKovac cackled, emboldened by Hamish’s inability to make the fateful blow. The swords whirled in the air and McKovac came closer and closer to striking his son. Elvira clung to Rory tightly, watching in horror as father and son dueled for the destiny of the clan, and possibly the Romani people.
Hamish’s brow deepened as the fight continued. As he withstood each blow, he realized that he was not going to make his father yield. The swords clashed and Laird McKovac’s cackling laughter could be heard all through the keep. Their fight led them back to the throne. They came close together, their swords scraping against each other, and then there was a moment where they each thrust forward, clasping each other. Everything stood still for a moment as people waited to see who struck the killing blow. Laird McKovac moved back, and at first, it seemed as though he had won. Then, he staggered and fell into his throne, dropping his sword to the floor. He clutched his stomach, and looked at his hand, stained with blood.
“Ye made me dae this,” Hamish said.
Laird McKovac went to say something, but his words were suffocated by blood. It poured from his lips, and then his head lolled back. A shocked gasp ran around the room, while Elvira and Rory were as close as they had ever been.
They had their arms wrapped around each other and now looked at each other. She lost herself in his green eyes, which expressed his relief that she was safe, and a deep need to protect her. His gaze fell to her lips, lips that promised a lifetime of joy and wonder. They had come so close to being ripped apart, andnow, after the reminder of Maria, Elvira knew the kind of man that Maria had wanted her to be with.
She was in his arms. There was no time for further hesitation.
“Rory,” she whispered.
“Elvira,” he replied. They were seized by passion, and thus seized each other, allowing their feelings to fly free in a stormy kiss.
20
News spread throughout the keep and then flowed wider. Like a flood, it drenched the village, seeping into every crevice. People reacted with disbelief and awe. Many barely believed it, thinking that Laird McKovac had been too ornery to die, and would have plagued the world with his immortal bitterness. Given that he had held on to such power for so long, there were people loyal to him, people who knew they were now going to have to answer for the crimes they had committed under Laird McKovac’s rule. The fact that they were following orders was not enough of an excuse. Some began to fight back, and were quickly caught by guards loyal to Hamish, who had spent a great deal of time picking guards who possessed integrity. The ones who remained devoted to the former Laird were hauled away in chains, bemoaning their guilt. News of this reached the village as well, and there was a notable group of people who fled the land, running into the forest and disappearing from sight. Their crimes would go unpunished this day, but at least the village would not be darkened by their presence.
Elvira’s face was adorned with a smile. Her eyes sparkled with delight, and it was as though the sun shone on her for the first time in a long time. The caress of Rory’s lips echoed on her own. The sensations tingled, and she became aware of every bubble of sweat that rose to the surface of her flesh. The kiss had been like a dream. The excitement she felt was exhilarating, and it was as though she were lighter than air.
But all was not well with Rory. He had managed to summon enough strength to stand by her side and kiss her, but the wounds from the fight had taken a greater toll than she had imagined. It hadn’t helped that he had refused to rest while being locked in the dungeon, instead hammering and prodding against every bar and every brick to test for weakness. More than that, he had wrestled with the guards in an effort to protect Elvira. Now, he swayed, almost toppling over. His eyelids twitched, and a haze came over him.
“Rory…” she gasped, concern etched upon her face.
“Nae worry about me, lass. This is a good day, a grand day. We must return and tell the others that the threat hae been dealt with,” as he finished speaking, Rory’s head lolled to the side and he made a frail cry. Elvira’s concern deepened. Fighting against his protests, she got the attention of a guard and told him to take Rory to a healer. Rory did not have the strength to resist, and was subsequently led away.
