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

“He comes,” I said, bending low to inspect the creature. “It said, ‘He comes.’ ”

Interlude

A tear fell to the page. Then another.

Are you alright?

“Yes, I’m…I’m fine,” she said, wiping her face to prevent a third. “Just caught up. Go on.”

The book paused.

Perhaps it’s best if we take a break.

“No, I’m fine, really. Please, continue.” She looked up at the clock above the door. It read a quarter past four. “I still have a few hours.”

It will be many days before we are finished.

The book paused again.

The others stir.

“You say that like it is a bad thing?”

After a long silence, crimson words began to flow again.

There comes a point in every journey where the road ahead is shorter than the one behind.

“Okay. Is that some kind of metaphor?”

A caution perhaps. There is still time to turn around.

“I have been trying to solve the mystery of this book, your book, for months. Trust me. There is nowhere else I would rather be.”

I admire your courage. Just know that once we cross that point on this journey, there is no road back.

She took her hands from the book and crossed her arms. “Okay, let’s start with that. Ignoring the obvious of how are you speaking to me through a book thousands of years old, I have questions, lots of questions, and your cryptic responses aren’t helping.”

I will answer what I can, what you are ready to hear.

“See! That right there! That is the least helpful answer ever. Answer something, anything with a straight answer, and I will keep my mouth shut.”

Ask, and I will do what I can to answer.

“Helpful.” She frowned, tapping her finger on the desk. “Here’s one. Judging by the age of this book, you predate written history. How then do you know my language?”

That is a complicated question.

“One that you can answer?”

The book paused.

I, we, do not know your language, though in time we could learn.

“Then how am I able to read what you’re writing?”

That is also a complicated question.

She rolled her eyes. “This is the most infuriating conversation with a book I have ever had.”

I am sorry. This is not easy for me.

She sighed. “Is there anything you can tell me?

Only that in time, all shall be revealed.

She tapped angrily on her desk. “Then proceed.”

Part Three

Chapter Thirty and One

Summer 1272, Cyllian Imperial Count

The wooden doors of the gatehouse opened as we approached then closed quickly behind. We were not a triumphant force returning from some grand campaign- no horns sounded for us.

“Bryson, take Tenny and bolster the south gate. Grab anyone you see along the way,” Penir called from his perch above the gatehouse. The two spearmen nodded and headed south along the wall. “Rick, have your boys circle a mile out. One of the lads saw movement past the creek. I’m not going to let those little bastards catch us with our dicks hanging out.”

“Ease on, mate,” Rick protested. “We just got back. Let me get things sorted with…”

Penir leaned heavily on his spear. “Now, Rick.”

Rick muttered something under his breath, then handed me Jaeron’s satchel. “Yeah, alright, Pen.” He mounted once more, turned back through the gate, and let out a sharp whistle. “On me, lads.”

Six riders followed Rick through the gate for a second time that night, one less than before.

Penir descended the staircase.

“Where’s Crylwin?” I asked.

“Quin is patching him up. The master is with him.”

“Is he alright?”

Penir grunted. “Gonna take a lot more than an arrow to the chest to bring that man down. How about you? How’s your leg?”

“Hurts,” I said through gritted teeth. “But it wasn’t poisoned, so I’ll manage.”

I looked around and saw only men carrying spears and men carrying bows. “Where is everybody else?”

“Kerry came and sent ‘em all to the guest houses,” said Penir. “Pretty sure I saw your missus with ‘em.”

“The old man, the magician from earlier- where is he? I wanted to thank…”

“His people came and took him back to their camp.” Penir rubbed the back of his head. “He just sort of collapsed up there. With all the confusion, we didn’t really do much for him. It was a few minutes before anyone noticed he wasn’t moving.” He reached out his hands. “Here, lad, let me help you with…”

“I have him, Penir. Just…just not sure where to take him.”

Penir pointed to the crest of the hill where several lamps buzzed around like fireflies. “Richard would know best, lad, best go see him.”

I adjusted Jaeron in my arms and started walking.

Penir grabbed me by the arm as I passed. “You did all you could, lad. Sometimes, that’s all you can do.”

I nodded, but I did not meet his eyes. I couldn’t. My leg ached with every step up the hill. I welcomed it. I invited the pain. I would welcome more if it helped wash away the real pain.

Richard turned as I crested the hill, hallowed by lamplight. “My lord, please let me…”

“I’m fine, Richard. Just tell me where I can…let him rest.”

Richard nodded solemnly. “Elder Quill will be tending the dead in the ossuary when he’s finished with the wounded. Perhaps you should visit him in the study first and have him take a look at your…” He saw my face and trailed off. “Come, I will lead the way.”

He led me to the north side of the manor house along a narrow winding path that cut through a crop of oak trees. I had never come this way before, not that it was off-limits, Richard seemed to know the way as if he had committed the steps to memory. Lamp in hand, he led us through the darkness until we reached a clearing at the base of the hill beneath the manor house.

Cut into the hillside was a single door, carved of stone and beset with a keyhole lined with silver. Richard produced a wooden box filled with uniquely shaped keys. There were several held in a row, some carved of stone, more than one made of cast copper or bronze. He