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

“Yes, we’re safe. Golmere are simple creatures, but they’re not fool enough to try and assault something so well defended as Windshear. We have tall walls and taller men to guard them. I’m sure they’re just here to make a little noise.”

That seemed to appease all the women but one. Lira squeezed my hand and whispered, “So why do you look nervous?”

“I’m just surprised. These lands are well patrolled. It’s been years since a sizeable raid reached this far inland.”

“What makes you think it’s a sizeable raid?”

I shrugged. “I won’t know until I talk with Penir. But I can’t imagine what a small warband would be doing picking a target like Winsdshear. Farmsteads, small towns, highway work… that’s their typical fare, not something with walls and a well-armed garrison.”

“Well, I am glad for those walls, and that garrison.”

I let go of her hand and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “We’re fine. I’ve never seen Golmere try and take down something this size. Hundreds wouldn’t be able to breach the walls.”

“Well, what if it’s more than hundreds?”

I laughed.

She frowned. “I don’t see what’s so funny?”

“Sorry, you would just have to know something about Golmere.”

She dropped my hand and crossed her arms. “And?”

“They just don’t do that sort of thing,” I explained, trying my best not to sound patronizing. “They aren’t like men or even other Mere for that matter. They’re tribal; they live in caves and little huts in the Marches. They don’t have a way to coordinate something on that scale, and even if they did, they would just as likely war with themselves as bother us.”

“I’ve heard stories of them invading all the way to the coast before.”

“That was a long time ago, right after the Fall.”

“Didn’t your people war with them for years?”

“Sure, twenty or thirty years ago maybe. But after the conquest, most of the Imperial Army continued west. They camped in the Marches for years, taking out the larger tribes one by one. The stories say they were more brutal to them than they ever were to us. Worst you can expect now is some Golmere warrior heading down the mountain with a few dozen of his friends. They’ll harass the countryside for a few days, stealing food or knocking over a village looking for iron, but they all end the same. Eventually, the provincial garrison tracks them, routs them, and the next day a few dozen new ears are circulating the Corps.”

Lira made a sour face. “That practice is barbaric.”

“You get no argument from me, but when an ear earns you a penny from the wrong hand and a noble from the right, you can see the demand.”

Lira puffed her cheeks and exhaled. “Alright, so nothing to worry about then?”

“Don’t worry, if they manage to get through the gates, I’ll protect you.”

I meant my comment to be a reassuring joke; her look told me it earned the opposite effect. I squeezed her shoulder again. “Poor choice of words, Lira. They can’t breach the walls even if they have a thousand. You’re safe; we’re all safe.”

It was a bluff. A thousand would be twice the number needed to put every man and woman in Windshear to the spear if they had a mind to it. But it was a tactical bluff, there was no Golmere army, and even if there was, they were primitives. Even with ten thousand, they lacked the means and metals to do much more than scrape the mortar off our walls.

Bluff or not, she seemed to accept my reassurances, that is until she looked out beyond the wall.

She pointed. “Looks like they are doing more than making noise.”

I followed her gaze. In the trees beyond the wall, an orange glow illuminated the night sky. “I had better hurry us along then.” I kissed her hand and retook my place at the front of the line.

At a comfortable pace, it was nearly a ten-minute walk from the inner wall to the gatehouse. I had walked that path many times over the years. Today, the anticipation made the journey feel twice that long. When we finally neared the gatehouse, my group split. Most fanned out, taking a welcome chair from Richard and his aides in the grass staging area. Lira and a handful of others accompanied me up the stairs to the ramparts above the gatehouse to get a better look.

A half dozen archers lined the wall, tall Roharan Longbows made of ash held by each; I recognized Ada’s hand in their craft. Penir stood at the center, Crylwin next to him. They peered into the distance sharing a spyglass between them.

“Bout time you got here,” Crylwin said as I approached. He pointed to the fire along the tree line as he handed me the glass. “About three hundred yards out.”

I looked through the device. For all their attempts to hide, their Meren eyes shown like wolves in the firelight. I counted them easily.

“Ten and three?” I asked. “That’s it?”

I felt Lira’s grasp on my arm ease. “Let me see!”

I handed her the glass.

“I can’t see anything,” she said. “Where am I supposed to look?”

“Just beyond the fire in the trees,” Crylwin said. “You can see the light reflecting off their eyes.”

“Oh, I see them! They look so small from up here.”

“They are small,” I chuckled. “Not much bigger than you are.”

“Hardly terrifying,” Lira said with a grin.

“Have you never seen a Golmere before?” Crylwin asked.

Lira shook her head. “I saw a caged one in Gent once. But he was so frail and sickly looking; I just assumed free Golmere were much bigger.”

“I’m sure they are,” I said. “But they are still slight.”

Crylwin nodded. “They may be slight, but they make up for that with speed. I’ve seen a pack of them chase down a rider on horseback.”

“They can outrun a horse?” Lira asked.

“Oh, gods no,” Crylwin explained. “Not at full gallop over any distance. But a sprint? Over flat terrain? They can