Chapter 10

10

W ind whipped through Rory's hair. He could taste it in his mouth. The sound of hooves against the ground was like a cacophony of thunder, and the impact sent reverberations throughout his body. His face was set in grim determination. He kept himself low, wanting the horse to move as swiftly as possible. His gaze flickered towards the ground, making sure that he was following the tracks. The men who had taken Elvira seemed to have followed a trail, and they hadn't made any attempt to hide their tracks, perhaps assuming that they were not going to be followed. Maybe they thought that nobody was going to care about Elvira.

They were wrong.

Every time Rory thought about them mistreating her, he was filled with righteous anger. She must have been so scared. She had fought back valiantly, but it had not been enough. Two men had been enough to overpower her and send her dagger helplessly to the ground. Was she even still alive? No, Rory could not allow himself to think that way. The last thing he wanted was to cradle a limp body and take Elvira back to her grandmother and siblings, knowing that this only happened because he was too stubborn to help. He should have listened to her better, he should have… oh a pox on it. It didn't do him any good to think about things on these terms. The various possibilities all spiraled away from him like wispy clouds, and there were countless of them. But he did know one thing for certain; if Elvira had died, then he was going to kill the men responsible, and he wasn't going to stop killing until he had gotten to Laird McKovac himself. He was the one hunting the Romani people, he had driven Elvira from her home.

Rory's blood flowed as hot as fire. It crackled through his body. Although he had spent all day in the forge, he did not feel tired at all. He was emboldened by his anger. Eventually, he stopped when he saw a plume of smoke rise, and the light of a fire flickering in the distance. The horse whinnied a little as he pulled back, bringing it to a halt. Rory placed his hand upon the horse's neck and breathed deeply, calming it. He left it near a tree to rest and graze.

"Wait here," Rory whispered, turning with his sword still drawn. He kept himself low, skulking as close to the ground as possible. He strained his ears. The forest was quiet at night, and as he drew closer, he could hear Elvira's voice rising above the fire. There was something strained about it. It lacked the usual strength that he had become accustomed to. He remained hidden as he approached the small camp. The two men, a surly pair to be sure, were sitting beside the fire, illuminated by the warm glow. Elvira was some way away, at the periphery of the light. Rory stifled at gasp when he saw how she had been tied to a tree. Her clothes were ragged, her hair tousled, and there was a dark look in her eyes.

"Ye will never rest, ye will never-" she said darkly.

"Nae, of course I am never gaeing tae rest if ye keep gaeing on like this! I told ye before that I dinnae believe in yer curses. Wasting yer breath, ye are," one of the men said.

"But what if she's telling the truth? I don't want tae be cursed. Gold is fine and all… but what if I never get tae enjoy it? I dinnae want people tae laugh when I cannae… ye know," the other man said, looking down towards his groin.

The first man shook his head and sighed. "Dinnae pay any attention tae her. This is what she wants."

At this point, a malevolent look came upon Elvira's face, and she started speaking in a language that Rory did not understand. It sounded ancient and jagged, the words as sharp as any dagger he could have forged. The words rolled from Elvira's tongue as though imbued with a force that came from outside herself. The scared man was horrified, his eyes widening in fear. He fell back and pointed at her.

"What is she saying! What is she daeing?" he pointed towards Elvira. The other man, who was far more pragmatic, cursed under his breath and scowled.

"Enough of this," he muttered, and grabbed some old rag. He walked up to Elvira and stuffed the rag in her mouth, gagging her and interrupting the stream of words. Elvira's moans were muffled. She turned her head from side to side, and then the man struck her with a sharp blow, pointing a finger towards her. "I told ye tae be quiet, and this is yer last warning."

Rory had intended to assess the situation. He thought he might wait until both men were asleep or, if one of them decided to keep watch, then for one of them to sleep. He was not a trained fighter, so he wanted to make things as even as possible. However, all thoughts of patience left him when he saw Elvira being struck like that. Some instinct deep inside him had been triggered, something that had been there since the day of his birth. He heard the roar of a lion inside, and he lunged forward, brandishing his sword. Strength rippled over his body. The men turned to face him, shock on their faces as they saw this possessed man striding towards them. Rory ran towards the man by the campfire first. He reached for his sword, but was too late. Rory came in and swung his thick leg towards him, connecting with his jaw. There was a sharp crack and a plume of blood sprayed out as the man was knocked back.

By the time Rory turned his attention to the other man, the rogue had drawn his sword. He turned away from Elvira.

"Ah, ye dae hae friends," he muttered.

Rory snarled. His nostrils flared and he charged the man. He whirled the sword through the air, using it more like a hammer than as the elegant weapon it should have been in the hands of a skilled warrior. However, his brute strength was enough to overwhelm the rogue, at least for a time. Rory's blade crashed against the other man's sword so loudly that the song of steel stretched through the night. The anger was so intense inside that at one point it felt as though flames crackled along the blade of his sword.

But then, the rogue was able to deflect his blow and rolled away. Rory was slow to turn. He twisted his blade, remembering lessons from long ago, ones that were buried deep in his mind. He thought about all the duels he had witnessed over the years, and mimicked the stance of warriors. He stood between the rogue and Elvira, determined to block that evil man from his prize.

The man charged in again. This time there was a flurry of slashes, and Rory felt a cut on his arm. He gasped in pain and looked down, seeing a crimson line trickling over his flesh.

"Ye are a big bugger, but ye are nae the first giant I hae faced. That sword looks unwieldy in yer hands. Ye made a mistake in coming here, boy," the man hissed.

Rory grit his teeth and charged again. At one point, their swords were locked together for so long that he could see the yellowed teeth of the man, and smell his stale breath. They were not going to get Elvira. Not a chance.

The rogue showed surprising agility as he ducked around and spun, leaving Rory standing there with his back turned. The rogue did not have the opportunity to bring his sword to bear, but he could jab the hilt into Rory's kidneys. He felt the dull pain, and staggered towards Elvira.

"Watch out! Defend yeself!" she said, having spat out the gag. Rory turned and raised his sword just in time to deflect a blow that would have run through the middle of his body. He blinked away sweat that threatened to blur his vision, and behind him came a cry. "Listen tae me!" Elvira said. Rory calmed his thoughts, and heard only her voice.

Rory came from nowhere, like a bolt of lightning. After all that had transpired between them, he was the last person she expected to come to her rescue. He was certainly no coward now, although his initial advantage of surprise had been lost. Elvira knew that the longer the battle continued, the likelier it was that Rory would be defeated. In the background, she could see the other, more fearful man staggering to his feet again. She needed to help. As she watched the fight unfold, she used her keen gift of observation to study Rory's opponent. She noticed some patterns of attacks, and some tells. Every time he shifted his weight, she knew that a certain blow was going to follow.

"Rory, duck tae yer left," she cried. Rory did as she said, and avoided a cutting blow that sliced through the air. The man cursed, and when he was unbalanced, Rory lunged forward and put his full weight into a shoulder barge. The rogue went staggering back. He was able to regroup, however, and came back with another few lunging blows. Rory lifted his sword, managing to catch them all like lightning.

"Leap back!" Elvira cried. Rory did so, sucking in his gut as the rogue's sword came thrusting forward in a straight line. With Elvira's help, Rory was able to fare better against the rogue. who was becoming frustrated and leveled his own curses towards Elvira, wanting to silence her once and for all. Fury blazed in his eyes, and she sensed that he wanted to deal with Rory swiftly so that he could skewer her against the tree. Elvira watched his feet, and then yelled towards Rory. He shifted to the side and brought his sword up in an arc, slicing the man's leg open. The rogue cried out in pain and staggered to the ground, as though he had been held up by strings that had been cut. He fell to one knee. Rory swung around and drove a knee into the back of the man's head, and the rogue fell face forward into the mud, utterly still.

By this point, the other man had gotten his senses back. He had picked up his sword, but now Rory turned on him.

"The curse hae already begun. I summoned this man, an ancient warrior from long ago, whose heart beats with fire. He will chase ye tae the ends of the world," she cried out.

The rogue's knees weakened as Rory strode towards him. He ended up on his knees, begging for mercy. Rory had his sword in hand and could have run the man through, but instead he brought his fist back and swung it across the man's face. His neck turned sharply, and the light fell from his eyes. He too fell into the mud, his chest rising slowly.

Rory stood over him, bristling with strength, before he turned towards Elvira. Elvira took a moment to appreciate the sight of him, clad in an armor of power, her avenger. Then, he strode towards her and cut through the ropes that bound her. She fell forward, tension easing across her body as she was now free. She could breathe easier. She ran her hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face. She also adjusted her clothes as well. While she was grateful that Rory had rescued her, she now felt a little ashamed at the scathing words she had said the last time they had met. He had certainly proven that he was no coward, yet still, she was angry at him for turning her away in the first place. This, coupled with the trauma of the night, gave her a steely resolve. She did not fall into his arms like a swooning damsel. Instead, she acted as though she had the matter entirely under control. She smoothed down her dress and cleared her throat, dipping her head towards him respectfully, but maintaining her composure. She clasped her hands together and took small steps forward, fearing that she might lose all strength from her steps if she walked normally.

"Thank ye for coming tae my aid, although I had everything under control," she said.

"Aye, it certainly looked that way," he replied with a skeptical look.

"I was gaeing tae wait for them tae sleep before I made my move."

"I'm afraid I could nae be as patient. Sae, ye think my heart beats with fire?" Rory lifted his chin and displayed pride at the way she had described him. She narrowed her eyes, not wishing to inflate his ego. Why did all men think that excelling in combat was the only way to succeed in the world?

"I only said that tae strike fear intae his heart. I dinnae always mean what I say," she said.

Rory looked a little crestfallen, before realization crept upon his face. "Wait, daes that mean ye were lying when ye spoke tae me earlier?"

Elvira sighed and put her hand to her head, massaging her temples. "Rory, after the night I've endured, I dinnae want tae speak about these matters with ye."

Rory composed himself after this and turned towards her, looking at her with concern. "Did they hurt ye?" his tone of voice softened, and she appreciated the kind words.

"Nae enough tae last. And nae enough that I cannae give it back myself," she walked up to the man Rory had been dueling with and kicked him in the side. It was a sharp jab of a kick, hard enough to cause a bruise. The limp body twitched, but the man did not awaken. While it was not enough to cause any lasting damage, it did do wonders for Elvira's mood. She had been tied up for so long that she believed she would never have been able to strike out against them. This small act was enough to give her some satisfaction, at least.

After this, she walked to the fire and began rummaging through their belongings, stealing their coin purses and looking for any other items that might be useful.

"What are ye daeing?" Rory asked.

"What daes it look like I'm daeing?"

"Ye should nae steal from them."

Elvira cast a glance towards him, wondering if she really just heard him say that. "What dae ye think I should dae? Tuck them up in their bedrolls and kiss them on the forehead?"

Rory frowned, shifting his weight between his feet. "I never said that. I just…" he sighed, clearing his throat. Sometimes it seemed as though it was impossible to have a simple conversation with him. "What did they want with ye?"

"What daes any man want with a woman? Especially a Romani woman. I tried tae tell ye before, Rory, people dinnae see us the same as ye. We are just things, nae different tae cattle or sheep. This is the way we live, fearing that someone may just come and take us away. The world is nae kind tae us, and all because we are different. Sae now I am gaeing tae take a wee reward and return home, hoping that these men dinnae darken my door again," she said, deciding that she wouldn't tell him about Laird McKovac just yet. She had already been shaken enough by the ordeal, and it was difficult to keep her emotions under control. There was a part of her that just wanted to fall to the ground, to break down weeping and crying, beating her fists against the hard soil. There were times when everything seemed hopeless. How many other men would be sent to find her? How many other times would she be captured? She couldn't always rely on Rory to rescue her, and the fact that she had to rely on him at all was galling.

Once she had gathered the loot, she returned to Rory and looked at the dagger resting against his waist. Her hand nipped forward, and she plucked it from him. Her hands grazed his tight stomach, and he leaped back as she did so, once again reluctant to be touched.

"I'm nae gaeing tae hurt ye. I just want my dagger back," she muttered. "That's a fine sword, by the way. Where did ye get it?"

Rory angled the blade and held it straight in front of him. "I made it," he said in a small voice.

Elvira pursed her lips and nodded. Perhaps her words had an effect on him after all. She always knew how to get a reaction from people, and often her talents lay in deciding what people needed to hear, not necessarily what they wanted to hear.

"Come, the horse is nearby. We can return home before these men wake up. Hopefully, they will nae come after ye again."

"I doubt they will. Ye tanned their hides well," Elvira said.

"Aye, although ye did help," he said. It was a tacit acknowledgement of her impact on the fight. She could see the gratitude in his eyes and hear it in his words. She dipped her head gently, and it felt as though a newfound respect rose between them. Elvira could not escape the fact that they would have been doomed without each other. She would have been carted off to Laird McKovac if he hadn't saved her, and he would have been run through with a sword if she had not told him where to strike. Depending on someone like Rory did not sit well with her, but she was thankful he had been there when she needed him. She thought about the silent prayers she had made, and wondered if Rory was truly the answer to them.