A Promise of Iron Brandon McCoy (howl and other poems TXT) 📖

There were three, I noted, as a set of footsteps drew closer. I followed the side around to the back of the barn. I froze there and listened as the sound of stomping feet cleared through the roar of the fire. They were many, many more than I could hope to handle alone. A patrol, a scouting party, but easily twenty or more. I gripped the leather on Nahdril’s hilt until my fingers groaned in protest.

“Nega nisra gana dur toran.” — I seeing nothing bright.

I recognized that as the first voice. He appeared to have moved off from his original position at the front of the barn. I crept back slowly, hoping to get a look at the larger force. Footsteps approached.

He turned the corner. I saw greenish-gray skin and bright yellow eyes.

“Isha tul—” the poor creature did not get a chance to finish his call to his brothers as I slipped Nahdril across his throat. Blood pooled around my hand, where I held his mouth closed. Once he finished thrashing, I dragged his body to the back of the building. I looked him over and saw a crude knife carved of antler at his waist and a necklace of finger bones around his neck, human finger bones.

I took the knife and tested it on the Golmere’s flesh. It would do its part. I wiped Nahdril on his clothes and sheathed her, favoring a smaller weapon to the task of stalking prey.

“Griska dola nochtaryan.” — Griska, where journey?

He was ahead of me around the side of the building, I could charge him, but I knew it would leave me exposed.

“Ickra dur!” — Seeing him.

I heard the shout from where I had just laid the Golmere down behind me.

Horns blasted. The sound of alarm was the same in all languages. I braced myself against the wall as the creature came barreling around the corner. He was looking out into the open fields; he didn’t see me. I jumped free of the shadows as he neared and buried the knife deep into his chest. He swung an arm up at me, grasping at the back of my neck. I stabbed him repeatedly until I found his heart, then he went limp in my arms. I let him slip from my grasp and then scampered away, not bothering to loot his body as I ran with labored breathing to the safety of another set of buildings on the opposite side. I heard another cry and several short blasts on the horn.

I clung to the shadows along the outer edge, hoping the light from the blaze would disrupt their vision. As I fumbled in the dark, I stumbled upon a wooden shield propped against the edge of the building. A broken spear sat next to it. I picked up the shield only to find that its leather straps were both ripped and useless. I set it back down just as three Golmere emerged from around the corner; their eyes glowed like wolves. There was no hiding now.

Two charged forward with spears while the third took several steps back and leveled a short bow at me. I grabbed the shield and held it in front of my face just as an arrow embedded into it. The two that charged me howled, and I moved into step. I swung the shield to my right, brushing the spear that lunged at me to the side, then I turned and smashed it across the face of the second creature. In the same movement, I brought Nahdril to bear and cut cleanly through the shaft of the spear, leaving the first Golmere weaponless and the other with more than a mild headache.

I raced towards the archer, hoping to close the gap before he could level another shaft. Realizing I was too far, I threw my stolen knife at him. I didn’t know the proper technique for knife throwing, nor was this a proper throwing knife, but even as the knife bounced uselessly off the archer’s chest, he hesitated, and that was all I needed to close the distance.

I cut the yew bow in half with a slash, and the Golmere flashed yellow eyes full of panic. I stabbed him in the chest but not before he could call out to his brethren.

“Ickra dur! Ickra dur!”

I swung again and relieved his body of its head.

Red searing pain filled me as I felt a stab in the back of my leg. I turned and saw the Golmere I had smashed with the shield standing with the spear in hand while the other ran the opposite direction to retrieve the rest of his brethren.

He wrenched the spear free from my leg and sneered at me with sharp crooked teeth. His pointed nose bent awkwardly as blood poured freely from it. With a swift stroke, I took the copper tip of the spear. With the second stroke, I took the hand that held it, with the third, I took his life.

Pain crashed over me like waves upon the sand. I crouched down to lean against the wall. I had killed four, but that would not be enough. The Golmere that fled would return and lead the rest of them right to where I was. I pressed down on Nahdril in an attempt to stand, but my leg gave way. Pain overwhelmed me, threatening my consciousness. I felt dizzy. I felt cold.

Chapter Forty and Eight

Summer 1272, Cyllian Imperial Count

I was in a field overlooking a cottage where a thin line of smoke poured from a stone chimney. Moonlight showed from overhead, and I recognized where I was. I was dreaming again, unconscious now to be sure and likely being ripped apart by a few dozen bloodthirsty Golmere. I stepped towards the cottage, the control not my own. It was all the same as before, scarred black skin, same silver hair, and strange black eyes. I was prone, and the silver man was weeping. Tears fell upon me;