Chapter 19

19

M aria…

The name echoed in Elvira's mind. She had always been told that she bore a striking resemblance to her mother. Now she understood that when the Laird looked at her, he did not see Elvira, but her mother. She had not expected to have this effect on him, but her mind worked quickly to take advantage of the situation.

"Get off me!" Laird McKovac yelled, pushing his advisors away. Hamish was still unmoved. The Laird turned his attention back to Elvira. "For years ye hae tasked me. The words ye left burrowed in my mind, and I hae never been able tae forget them. All of this… all of this is yer fault!" he rasped. He pointed a finger at his skull, and then clenched his fist, bringing it crashing to the arm of his throne. "Maria, lift this curse. Stop this torment. I need peace… peace! I need it now. Ye dinnae know what ye hae done tae me. For years, I hae searched for ye and now… now that ye are in my presence again… I implore ye, free me from these shackles."

Elvira quickly understood what must have happened, why her parents had fled these lands in the first place. They had always been coy about the true reasons, but now she saw. She could see every aspect of the way Laird McKovac looked at her. The fear, the anger, and the desire. Was all his hatred really borne from being spurned by her mother? Elvira knew she had two choices; either she could deny his words and tell him the truth, or she could play into his delusion. She chose the latter, thinking it might be the only way to navigate a conversion with his cracked mind.

"I will free ye, as long as ye swear tae stop this cruelty tae my people. Let us live freely. Abandon all ye plans of war, against us and the neighboring clans. Give us all peace," Elvira said, drawing her head back. For a moment, she felt the spirit of her mother flow through her heart.

Laird McKovac snarled and sneered. "Ye are just the same as ye always were, speaking of peace," he spat. "There can be nae peace! Ye need tae break the curse. There is nae other way!" McKovac said.

Without knowing exactly what the curse was, Elvira could do nothing more. The curse wouldn't have any truth to it anyway. Maria must have played upon the Laird's superstition and tricked him.

"I cannae break the curse, only ye can dae it. Dinnae ye see the curse that hae plagued this land? All of this death and horror, all of this fear… that is the real curse, and it comes from ye," Elvira pointed at the Laird. "Ye hae the power tae stop it, by declaring peace here and now, by bringing yer guards back tae the keep and ordering them tae sheath their weapons, by proclaiming that Romani people are welcome in yer lands again."

"Nae…nae!" the Laird frothed at the mouth as he beat his fists against the throne. He rocked side to side, and the throne moved with him. His eyes were manic, the whites of them wide, the pupils two small dots that were focused upon Elvira. "Ye told me I could be free. Ye told me…ye need tae fix this, Maria. Ye need tae save me. I cannae gae on like this. I cannae live!"

"I cannae break the curse, but I can read yer palm. Let me give ye a glimpse intae yer future and to help ye see the right course of action," Elvira said, hoping that if the Laird bought into these superstitions, she might be able to guide him towards making a sensible decision. While she found the idea of touching him revolting, she knew it was necessary in order to save her people.

The Laird's head dropped upon hearing her words. Everything went silent for a moment. Then, a sound of dread laughter emanated from him. There was a crazed look upon his face as he slowly lifted his gaze. He was not a man who possessed sanity any longer, and it was no wonder that his clan had fallen into such disarray. He had been driven mad a long time ago, mad by a woman's words. He laughed as he lifted his palms and showed them to Elvira, revealing charred flesh. The skin of his palms and fingers was mottled by fire, all the lines that were used as a guide burned away, with nothing left.

"Never again," he hissed. "Never again will ye lie tae me! I thought if I could get rid of these lines then it might free me from the curse, but it dinnae work. I thought driving ye all from my land would free me, but that dinnae work either! Now there is only one thing left. If ye refuse tae help me, then there is only one way I can free myself from the curse, and it's tae take the heart of the woman who placed the curse upon me. The only way I can be free is tae kill ye," his eyes flashed intensely as he left his throne again. He made a dramatic gesture, pushing his cloak away. He reached for his sword, which was as bony and thin as his own body, but it was still deadly. He held it like a needle, ready to jab it at her, and he lunged forward. Elvira's eyes went wide with fear. There was nothing more she could say to the man, no reasoning with him, no bargaining with him. He was convinced that this curse that addled his mind could only be resolved by killing the woman he thought to be Maria. He roared, deaf and blind to anything except Elvira.

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 ye everything . 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, and now, 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.