There was silence at the dinner table. Tiyodor was staring at Ervingal’s empty seat. ‘He’s been in his shed all day, hammering away and what not. I don’t know what he’s doing, but if he doesn’t come out soon, I’ll drag him out with my own bare hands.’

Irma coldly regarded her husband. ‘Varna needs a leader. A real leader who faces problems head on. Ervingal is making a mess of things.’

Little Gavin gave Dunkan a questioning look. When he didn’t receive a response, he moved around uncomfortably in his chair. Dunkan kept a straight face.

‘I thought that I’d be able to convince him,’ Tiyodor said. ‘I’ll talk to him one more time, but if he still doesn’t take action after that…’

‘Then what?’ Irma asked. ‘It’s not like we can just jump on the ferry back home. We’ll have to spend at least another three weeks here, Tiyodor. Amidst robbers and rapists. I shudder to think about what could happen to Anira.’

‘Let’s not have this conversation in front of the children.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ll make sure that Ervingal faces up to his responsibilities.’

Anira had to try her hardest to suppress her anger. She scrutinized Little Gavin from the corner of her eye. She didn’t believe he would keep his mouth shut, especially to his brother, but the message to the Watcher Yarnus had been sent, nobody could change that.

While her parents continued their conversation, Anira felt that Dunkan was trying to make eye contact. She was convinced that her parents’ words about his stepfather hurt him. Nevertheless, she ignored him. Of all people, not even he took her seriously.

She abandoned her food and silently left the table. In her room, she sat by the window and stared at Ervingal’s shed. The chimney was smoking relentlessly, and the air was being constantly pierced by shrieking blows. Anira hid her face in her hands, and her shoulders heaved with her sobs. She was worn out. After no time at all, her hands were sopping wet with tears.

While the sun was setting, someone slowly opened the door, but Anira refused to look up. The door was closed softly, and she heard footsteps. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

‘If I had known you were planning to come to Varna, I would have strongly advised against it, Anira.’

Anira turned around and looked Dunkan in the eye. She wiped the tears off her face and let him help her up.

‘I’m sorry, Anira,’ Dunkan continued. ‘I enjoyed your letters and had hoped to meet you under different circumstances, after all these years.’

Anira put her head against his chest and sighed when he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. She heard his heart beating. ‘Me too,’ she whispered. ‘The way Ervingal treats you and your little brother is horrible, Dunkan. He completely ignores you. I don’t understand why my parents don’t stick up for you.’

‘It’s all right,’ Dunkan said softly. ‘I do understand. We’re not really his children.’

‘Nonsense. When Ervingal married your mother, he adopted you as his own flesh and blood. You’ve been through enough. You both deserve someone who cares for you.’

‘I’m a man now,’ Dunkan said. ‘I think the time has come for me to find my own happiness. To build a life, create a family perhaps. Then I can take care of my brother and give him the life he deserves.’

Anira didn’t respond. All of that would only be possible if they could ever leave Varna. She imagined how the pigeon would be flying over the river Dayno at that very moment. It felt strange that their fate depended on a little bird flying head on into the eastern wind in the hope of reaching Lavinyord.

There were noises coming from the courtyard. Dunkan let go of Anira and walked to the window. She followed him. Outside, Tiyodor was banging his fist on the door of the shed. ‘Ervingal?’ he yelled. ‘Open the damned door!’

The hammer blows continued uninterrupted, resounding in the pastures behind the house. Nothing happened. Tiyodor cried out in frustration and resumed his banging, using both his fists this time. ‘What in heaven’s name are you doing in there, Ervingal?’ he yelled. ‘Open up, we need to talk!’

‘What? Who’s there?’ After so many hours the hammer blows finally stopped for a short while.

‘It’s me: Tiyodor. Listen, it’s high time you came out of there and explained to me what you’re doing.’

Laughter emanated from inside the shed. ‘Leave me alone, Tiyodor. I have work to do. And believe me, once I’m finished, you’ll be grateful to me.’

‘Then at least tell me what it is you’re doing. And what’s that smell, Ervingal? What’s your fire burning on? Or is it nightshade?’ Tiyodor clenched his teeth. ‘If that’s nightshade…’

‘Leave me in peace!’ Ervingal shouted.

Seconds later the hammer blows resounded once more. Tiyodor kicked the door furiously, turned around, and walked back towards the house. Once there, he stopped in the doorway and turned around again. ‘You won’t get rid of me that easily, Ervingal!’ Then he went inside.

Dunkan made a helpless gesture and sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘For crying out loud, what’s going on with those two?’ Fatigued, he let himself fall back on the bed and stretched out his arms.

‘I have no idea,’ Anira lied. ‘But as far as I’m concerned, they'll have to sort it out for themselves.’ She lay down next to him on the bed and studied his face. He had stubble on his chin and under his nose, but his cheeks were smooth, except for his thin sideburns.

She crawled next to him and rested her head on his shoulder. For the first time since she had arrived in Varna, she managed to relax. Despite the fact that, at the same time, the scent of his body made her feel strange inside. A family perhaps, Dunkan had said. She cuddled up to him and ran her fingers across his chest. He was inhaling and exhaling evenly, and when she looked up, she saw he had fallen asleep. She smiled disappointedly and closed her eyes also.

When Anira woke up again, she was alone. She got up and opened the curtains. Judging from the position of the sun it was already mid-morning. She couldn’t hear any hammer blows anymore, and the chimney had stopped smoking. She did, however, hear an unusual rasping  sound.

Anira sat at the window for a while, listening to the sound, and wondered why Dunkan had left without saying anything. She rubbed her hands on her brow. Reluctantly, she got up, washed, and put on clean clothes.

While she was plaiting her hair, the courtyard suddenly grew very quiet. She walked back to the window and nervously looked at the shed. It wasn’t long before the door opened and Ervingal came out. Soot was smeared across his face, and both his tunic and trousers were soaked with sweat. In his hands, he was holding the enormous blade he had forged. It was encased in a thick layer of clay. From Merg’s words, Anira knew this was the last stage of the iron forging process.

Ervingal yelled out to get assistance, and only seconds later the door to the house opened and two servants came out. ‘My lord?’ one of them said. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘I’d like you to start a wood fire. As quickly as possible,’ Ervingal said. ‘Make a circle of stones and get some firewood. The sooner it’s burning, the better.’

While the servants hastily set to work, Tiyodor and Irma came outside with Anira’s cousins on their heels. ‘Have you finally come to your senses?’ Tiyodor snapped at his brother. He walked up to him and looked into his eyes. They were red. ‘Nightshade? Be honest…’

Ervingal shook his head in denial. ‘I haven’t slept for two days.’ He turned towards his servants and indicated where he wanted them to build the fire. ‘Hurry. We don’t have much time.’

Anira left her room and rushed down the stairs. She ran through the house to the courtyard and came to a halt in the doorway. Dunkan smiled at her but immediately averted his gaze. Little Gavin was looking at his stepfather with wide eyes.

‘You look a mess.’ Tiyodor stared at the encased blade in Ervingal’s hands. ‘What the hell have you been up to?’

Ervingal grinned. ‘Just be patient for a little longer.’

‘You owe me an explanation,’ Tiyodor said.

‘I’ve discovered something, brother. Something that will save Varna from destruction and bring me fame throughout the entire kingdom. Better still, across the Land of Spirits in its entirety.’ He raised the blade solemnly. ‘All my years of working as master swordsmith have finally paid off.’

‘What is it?’ Tiyodor asked.

‘Iron... An iron blade, I have forged.’ Ervingal laughed. ‘It is a metal, many times stronger than bronze. We’re at the dawn of a new era, Tiyodor. Iron weapons will make the Mano race more powerful than ever.’

Little Gavin was getting ready to run to his stepfather, but Dunkan held on to him tightly. Gavin flailed about to no avail, but didn’t want to give in.

Tiyodor squinted. ‘Show me.’

‘Not yet,’ Ervingal said. Looking pleased, he observed his servants, who were stirring up the wood fire until the logs turned red. ‘It needs to harden first.’ He laid down the blade in the fire. ‘It will be finished by the end of the afternoon.’

‘He’s lost his mind,’ Irma hissed.

Tiyodor regarded his brother closely.

‘I know I’ve been acting like a fool,’ Ervingal said softly. He wiped the black smears off his face. ‘But, please, give me one more chance. I promise you won’t regret it.’

Tiyodor sighed out of frustration.

‘Give me the benefit of the doubt, brother. Summon the members of the village council, meet me here at the end of the afternoon, and together with them behold what I have created.’ He laughed. ‘The village council will immediately remove me from my post if it turns out I’ve been lying to you. You know this. I’m prepared to take that risk. What have you got to lose?‘

Irma grabbed her husband’s hand. ‘Tiyodor, enough is enough.’

‘If it turns out you’ve been stringing us along, you’ll accept your dismissal without a fight?’

Ervingal nodded. ‘Yes, but imagine the possibilities if I’m telling the truth.’ He grinned broadly.

Tiyodor growled. ‘You’re still my brother, Ervingal, so I accept your proposal. However, this is your last chance.’ He ignored Irma, who was rolling her eyes.

‘I understand that’ Ervingal said. With a tender expression in his eyes, he stared at the blade in the fire. The clay was slowly getting darker.

Little Gavin suddenly broke free from his brother’s grasp and stormed towards Ervingal with clenched fists. ‘You’re a liar,’ he screamed. ‘Why don’t you just tell the truth?’

Ervingal fended off Little Gavin’s fists with his arm. ‘Easy, son. Everything will be fine, don’t be scared.’

Dunkan stepped forwards and grabbed his little brother’s wrists.

Little Gavin started crying loudly. ‘We’re in danger,’ he sobbed. ‘Anira told me so. The Guyins are coming. We’re all going to die!’

Tiyodor snapped his head in Anira’s direction. ‘What have you been telling that poor boy?’

Little Gavin kicked at Dunkan’s legs and tried to break free. ‘But it’s all right,’ he yelled at Tiyodor. ‘Anira stole one of the carrier pigeons to ask for help. Everything will be all right now.’

‘What?’ Tiyodor grabbed her arm. ‘Is this true, Anira?’

She didn’t answer and desperately searched for her mother’s soothing eyes, but Irma was staring at her, shaking her head. Anira’s expression grew obstinate as her father raised his voice at her again.

‘I’m fed up with this, Anira,’ he said. He gestured at Irma. ‘Your mother will take you to your room, and as far as I’m concerned you can stay there until the ferry comes to bring us back to Lavinyord.’

While Irma dragged her inside, Anira glanced back at Dunkan. His eyes were closed and he was shaking his head. She felt a dull ache in her chest.