Chapter 21

"Stop moping, ye great fool," Alex muttered to Jock as the horse stood by the fencepost.

Jock was looking at him in the most melancholy manner, and had been ever since Alex had brought them to the village.

"I'll take ye back to her as soon as I can, ye great lummox," Alex added, patting the horse's neck and shaking his head as he gave him some fresh water. "Ye're of nay use to me in this mood."

The stallion stomped a hoof in protest. Alex looked out at the horizon, where he knew Isobel and Heather might be waiting for them.

If I'm lucky. Isobel may never speak to me again after the way I behaved.

He moved away from Jock to make his way back to the cottage, just as he heard a sound behind him. Whirling in place, he saw a figure slowly emerge from the shadows.

He gathered himself and nodded in greeting as Rory approached with several fish on a line in his hands and his harpoon at the ready.

Alex looked him over. The man had clearly been free-diving in the lake before the light had faded—he was soaked through. Rory was a fine fisherman and had spent many days out at sea bringing the pirates their catch when they'd had no food to speak of.

"A good haul is it, tonight?" Alex asked.

Rory nodded, dropping the fish in a bucket at his feet and sticking his harpoon in the ground beside him. "Aye, Cap'n."

"Now, I told ye before, it's M'Laird if ye're ever goin' to fit into these parts," Alex said firmly.

It was time for his crew to leave his old title in the past.

"Aye, M'Laird," Rory replied, but there was a sneer in his tone that Alex didn't appreciate. "What news of the traitor in our midst?" he asked, sitting down on a wooden stool and beginning to unhook the fish from the line.

Alex leaned against the fence, looking up at the hills above. "Nothin'." He glanced down at him, wondering how much he should divulge. "It's only a matter of time. I shall find out who they are soon enough."

"Aye." Rory took out a short knife and started scaling the fish. "It's an odd spot to choose."

Alex cocked his head. "What do ye mean?"

"The beach." Rory shrugged. "Plenty of easier places. Forest makes more sense to me."

The knife sliced off the fish's head, which then fell into the bucket.

"Aye," Alex replied as he frowned.

Suddenly, something sparked in the back of his mind.

"Better if there were two of them to fire from both sides if they really wanted to hit ye. Hard to hit yer mark at such a distance."

Rory's hand moved swiftly over the fish, gutting it. The innards filled up the bucket as Alex pushed off the fence, looking down at his old friend, dread filling his gut.

"How do ye ken there werenae two of them?"

"Ye said it was just one man," Rory muttered, his eyes focused on his task.

Alex stared at him, watching the blood from the fish drip over Rory's fingers, hearing the squelching sound as the innards fell into the bucket.

"I never said it was just one man, Rory," Alex said slowly.

Ice rushed through his veins as he saw the hand holding the blade go still.

Rory looked up at him, and Alex finally saw the reality behind the mask.

Rory's face was twisted into a snarl as he slowly stood up, throwing the knife and the fish down as he laughed cruelly. "Och, aye. Ye didnae tell us that, did ye, Cap'n? Me mistake."

"M'Laird," Alex growled, feeling his hand move to his dirk.

"Ye're nay lairdof mine. Ye'll always be a man of the sea—however far ye run, that's what we all are."

Alex stiffened as Rory kicked the bucket filled with his catch to the side and sidestepped around it, moving into the wide clearing beside the shoreline. Alex heard Jock whinny beside him as the tension rose between them.

He didn't want to hurt Rory, but the image of that arrow almost piercing Isobel's eye flashed in his mind, and his dirk was in his hand before he could think any further about it.

"It was ye," he said with absolute certainty as they began to circle one another, the soft evening breeze ruffling the sand on either side of them, creating little eddies across the lagoon.

"Aye, it was me." Rory pulled out a long knife from his boot and held it in front of him, sneering at Alex as though it was the funniest joke he'd ever told. "Did ye value me opinion on finding the culprit? I think I was more than generous with me advice."

Alex glowered at him, his fingers tightening around his blade. "Why did ye do it, Rory?"

Rory spat on the floor between them, before lunging forward. Alex stepped to the side easily as anger overrode Rory's technique. He had always been a scrappy fighter, possessing more strength than skill.

"Ye ruined me life!" Rory cried as he spun back around to face him, his voice echoing off the high hills around them.

"I saved ye," Alex protested. "I saved all of us."

"Hah! Saved us? I loved me life at sea. We took down the world one ship at a time. We were the envy of every crew, kenned throughout the lands. The greatest, most feared fighters. And what did ye do? As soon as ye stepped into the captain's shoes, ye pulled us all to the dregs of the world." Rory spat again as his shoes scuffed through the sand.

He lunged at Alex, and their blades connected in the air. Alex parried back, pushing him to the left, and Rory flailed sideways, landing in the sand with a bellow before leaping back to his feet, snarling wildly.

"Livin' on the edges of this world like pigs, the villagers lookin' down at us like scum, thinkin' we're thieves and murderers." Rory chuckled darkly. "And what if we are? I made a livin' same as them. I did it better and got rewarded better for it than any of their kind. I spend every day in this place, bein' looked down on by peasants," he hissed. "We were gods at sea. We were Poseidon's men. This existence is nae a life. It's a prison."

"Ye had yer chance to leave," Alex growled, watching Rory's body tense up in anticipation. "I gave every man the choice to go. Why did ye nae find another ship?"

"I didnae want another. I didnae think this farce would last. I thought ye would see sense. But nay. Once ye had it in yer head that ye were a laird, there was nay stoppin' ye. Ye're just the same as all the other greedy bastards, thinkin' they have a right to rule us." Rory grabbed a tiny dagger from his belt and hurled it at Alex, missing his left cheek by millimeters.

Alex ducked, rolling over the earth and coming up to his feet, his blade outstretched.

"And after years—years of service," Rory continued, "days and nights workin' side by side—I saved yer damned life! And who do ye make yer man-at-arms? Gavin witless Braidy. Half the man I am!"

Sweat was covering his brow, and his hands were shaking with anger as he eyed Alex.

"Ye chose this life," Alex said, trying to reason with him. "Why did ye nae just talk to me, instead of scuttling away to the rocks, attackin' me when me back was turned, attackin' me wife?!" he growled.

"Yer wife? She's nothin'. Some harlot ye've kenned for weeks. We served with one another for twenty years."

"Ye'll keep a civil tongue when ye speak of Isobel."

"She's a wench, like all the others."

Alex lunged at him. Their blades clashed again, and he swung his fist, hearing the cracking of bones as Rory's head snapped back with the force of it.

Rory howled, blood trickling down his face as he backed away. "We could have had the whole world at our feet," he yelled. "But ye chose strangers over yer own crew."

"These arenae strangers, Rory. They're me people, always have been." With a hollow inevitability, Alex tensed up for the final fight. "I was never one of ye."

Rory screamed and charged toward him, his anger and fury blinding him as he thrashed and stabbed at Alex in a whirlwind of movement. Alex felt his dirk connect with Rory's knife and saw the man's hand reach into his belt for another weapon.

He quickly reached behind his back and pulled the dirk out of the sheath at his belt, before swinging it forward in a wide arc and driving the blade into Rory's side as the other man's knife sliced across his cheek.

There was an awful moment of stillness, where Rory felt suspended into thin air, an expression of shock and wonder on his face before finally, he groaned and collapsed against Alex's chest.

The life drained from him as his feet buckled beneath him and his knees gave out. Alex took his weight, lowering him gently to the ground, finding no pleasure or satisfaction in his death. He had hoped he would never have to end another man's life as long as he lived.

He heard the sound of rapid footsteps on the sand behind him, and he looked back to see Gavin sprinting toward them.

Gavin came to a stop as he saw the blood on Alex's shirt, and he fell to his knees, pulling Alex to him.

"Ye're hurt!" he cried, looking horrified.

"Nay. ‘Tis nae me blood, Gavin. Calm yerself."

Gavin looked down at Rory's limp body in shock.

"He came at me with a knife," Alex muttered, his voice sounding unnaturally loud. "He's the one who fired at us on the beach. He almost killed Isobel because of his bitterness. He believes I robbed him of his life."

Gavin's eyes widened with astonishment. There was a long silence as they both stared at the body. "What life?" he asked in a low voice.

Alex shook his head with a shrug. "He said we were Poseidon's men. Gods of the sea."

"Is he mad?" Gavin asked. "We were half starved most days, forced to do terrible things just to stay alive for a few more hours. What kind of life is that to aspire to?"

"He felt he had more place on a ship than here."

"Then he's a fool," Gavin said solemnly. "He was always bitter about ye choosin' me as yer man-at-arms," he murmured, his eyes never leaving Rory's lifeless form.

Alex looked up at him in confusion. "Why did ye nae tell me?"

"Because he fooled me, is why. He pretended better than anyone to be settled here, helpin' all the villagers find their homes. He was the main reason most of them had homes at all. He took the smallest and most wretched one for himself. I thought he was past it." Gavin sighed. "I was wrong. I'm sorry, I should have told ye."

Alex sighed, leaning back on his heels and looking down at the man he had once believed to be his friend. He felt a hand fall on his shoulder, and he looked up into Gavin's eyes. They were soft and sad.

"Go to yer wife, ye stubborn arse. Ye've found the blaggard, now ye can beg for her forgiveness. I freely admit I was wrong there, too. She's the best thing that has ever happened to ye, and ye've almost thrown it all away."

Alex chuckled. "She willnae speak to me. Ye didnae hear what I said to her."

"Ye can try," Gavin said with a half-smile. "I'll deal with this fool. Ye have a lady who deserves yer attention."