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

As they lifted the wooden beam, I turned my attention back to the top of the wall. Lira stood watching. I thought to call out to her—to tell her I would be safe—to tell her I would save him. I said nothing.

The door opened with a creak, and I stepped through.

Chapter Thirty

Summer 1272, Cyllian Imperial Count

I ran along the perimeter of the wall, faster than I had ever run before. Crylwin and the others struggled to keep pace. When we rounded the north bastion, the battle came into view. More than a dozen Golmere were racing towards Jaeron’s location. Jaeron was still a few hundred yards or more from the arrow line, running as fast as his little legs would carry him.

“All we need… is to distract them.” Crylwin breathed heavily, “If we rush them head-on, we might just—”

A crashing sound to our left cut him off. A separate force of Golmere, at least twenty strong, broke from the cover of the tree line. They marched towards us behind a wall of heavy shields and long spears.

“Fuck!” Crylwin cried out. “We need to divert them. Faerin, make straight for Jaeron, wave your arms in the air if you have to. Lads, you’re with me.”

Crylwin sped off, Bryson and Tenny in tow. He climbed a low hill a few yards away and planted his sword in the ground. He stripped off his buckler and coat and drew his bow. Tenny and Bryson knelt in front, spears and shields at the ready.

Crylwin pulled free an arrow from his quiver, launched, then readied another. The arrows glanced off readied shields, but the effect was served as the force tightened their formation and slowed their march.

“They’re trained,” Crylwin warned. “We won’t be able to hold them for long.”

“I’m on it!” I yelled back, racing towards Jaeron once more. I heard the repeating twang of bowstrings as I ran, then a shout as one lucky arrow found its mark. I looked back and saw the creature crumpled to the ground in pain, his grayish-green skin now painted with thick red blood. His comrades marched past and closed their formation tighter.

One down.

I pushed, drawing upon a strength I did not have; still, I began to slow. Then I felt something, like a gust of wind at my back. I looked over my shoulder to see the magician standing upon the bastion. His arms circled slowly in the air like he was working a heavy gear. The wind blew steadily stronger. I ran harder.

I was nearing the arrow line now, but Jaeron was still a hundred yards or more away, and the Golmere were gaining. I raised my sword in the air and waved it around angrily, hoping to draw them to me and a bigger prize. It was a pointless gesture; they had his scent. They would engulf him; then, they would turn to me.

Ninety yards, eighty yards. I looked back at Crylwin’s position. The second group had split, archers in the back while spears pressed forward to the hill. They took cover under a hail of arrows.

“Faerin, we can’t stay here!” Crylwin shouted as he launched another missile into their ranks. A shriek of pain followed.

Two down.

I watched impotently as the first Golmere spearmen reached Crylwin’s line. Tenny stabbed forward first, Bryson following the move a split second later. Both blows were deflected, but the third, a sweeping strike from Adamant, cleaved the offending spear and the arm holding it in two.

Three down.

The other Golmere reached their fallen brother. They did not charge in as he did, but held at spear distance, encircling the band. Bryson lunged forward with his spear, but he struck only air. A hail of arrows landed, this time from above, as the archers from Windshear rained down a volley to defend their lord. They met ready shields.

They will be killed, I thought, taking a step towards them. Then I felt a pressure in the air; I shivered as if all the world had gone cold.

I looked back towards the magician and watched him collapse as a wave of air rumbled over the grass. It slammed into the Golmere surrounding Crylwin, knocking more than a few to the ground. When they recovered, they met a flurry of spear and sword. A horn sounded from behind matched by the creaking of the wooden gate. The remaining garrison was rushing out to Crylwin’s position.

I turned back to Jaeron. He was less than fifty yards away. He could make it. I could reach him. The Golmere saw this, too; they held back and drew their bows. A volley of arrows struck the ground around him, some landing only inches away.

“Faerin!” Jaeron yelled.

I could see him clearly now, his leather bag bouncing as he ran, his face was stained with tears. I pushed myself harder. He was only twenty yards away; I could reach him, I could fight them off long enough for him to escape.

A tall figure emerged from the back, pale as snow, with a web of scars lining the side of his face. He had only one ear. His brethren parted in front of him as he lifted a bow made from two curved black horns. He readied an iron arrow as dark as the night sky.

I raised my buckler. Jaeron was only thirty feet away; I could reach him if…

The arrow sped towards Jaeron with incredible speed. It took him in the back, the force of the blow knocking him to the ground.

“NOOOO!” I screamed.

The arrow quivered from the force of the strike, then went taut, pointing towards the pale figure that launched it. The prime held his hand outstretched, calling for the iron arrow, willing it home. Jaeron began to move with the arrow, dragged with it by an invisible force. He clawed at the ground, tearing up shallow grass as the arrow pulled him closer to the Golmere.

I continued forward just as a volley of arrows launched towards me. I hid under my