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

I didn’t see the spear shaft as it cracked me on the back of the head and knocked me from my horse but I felt it. Then I felt nothing.

The rain clouds couldn’t wait until tomorrow. In a way, I was grateful. Had the sky not opened up, I might have remained drooling on the street well into the next day. I reached my hand to the side of my head and felt a knot. I winced, and I immediately felt the urge to vomit.

I put my hands to the street and began the arduous task of sitting upright. It was ill-advised. This time, I vomited. As the contents of my stomach washed along the gutter, I was grateful for the rain a second time. I leaned my back against the post of the street lamp and looked around. Steven was nowhere to be seen, though I had a pretty good idea where he was.

Panicked, I opened my satchel. The iron circle was still there, and to my surprise, nothing had been taken. The jacks must have been content to just beat me unconscious as a friendly reminder of my proper place in the world. My writ book was another matter; it lay face open in the middle of the street.

I sat there for a long while, watching as the rain continued to fall, trying to collect my thoughts. Soaking in the rain seemed as good a thing to do as any, but I knew if I were still here when they came round a second time, they wouldn’t stop at a beating.

With a deep breath, I put my hand to the pole behind me and pulled myself up. My other hand brushed the hilt of my sword. I felt dizzy and leaned over to vomit. Only this time, I lost my balance and fell back to the street in a heap.

I woke a short time later, according to the street lamp. The rain had stopped. My head throbbed, but I forced myself through to stand. My legs wobbled, but I wasn’t dizzy like before. Blood pumped through my veins, bringing a sensation of familiarity from my fingers to my toes. I felt wet, cold, and surprisingly hungry. I dared then to let go of the pole and wrapped my arms around my chest for warmth. My head still hurt pained me, but I ignored it as I stepped onto the street to retrieve my writ book.

As quin would have it, the cover had prevented any lasting damage. The pages opened to the elements were blank and could be removed. The pages that mattered were more or less intact; they would dry in time. Head down, I put one foot in front of me until I reached the light outside my shop.

I went to open the door when I saw light shining through the crack of the frame. It had been days since I was at the shop. Had I left it open? I put my hand to Nahdril and stepped inside. The door creaked as it swung inward. A shadow moved in the corner. I drew Nahdril. The ring of her motion sharpened my mind; I felt focused as I turned to face the figure.

“There is no need for that,” the voice called, his face half-concealed in the shadows, “I am no brigand.”

The voice was familiar, but I struggled to place it until the man took to his feet and walked into the light. No one suspects an unexpected guest, but Lord Edrogan Valerius was the last person I expected to be waiting for me in my home.

Shock froze the confused expression on my face, but I had enough sense to at least sheathe my sword.

“I apologize for the intrusion, I would have waited upon your step, but when the rain came,” he said, brushing the front of his coat. “Well, you have no easement, and the door was already unlocked.” He pointed to my lord’s coat hanging up on the coat rack. “It seems you had a delivery.”

“Uh yeah…” I stammered. “It’s fine…. Please have a seat.”

He gave me a measured look that explained how long he had been waiting then took another step towards me and the door.

“Right...can I offer you a—”

“Where is my daughter?” He asked. “Where is Lira?”

Something sour percolated in my stomach. Crylwin said Rick had taken her back to town this morning. I just assumed she was at home.

“I don’t know where she is,” I explained. “I assumed she was at home.”

He held out the letter I recognized as the one I had written her days ago. “We both know you were planning on seeing her?”

“My lord, I can explain,” I said. “As you no doubt read, it was in the hopes of seeing her at Windshear. We had no plans past that; she left the estate this morning without speaking with me.”

I watched his mannerisms, secret thoughts of the mind betrayed by the body in the most casual of gestures. The white of his knuckles. The clench of his jaw. There was nothing physically imposing about the man. He was of slim build, and his brown hair had long ago lost the battle to the besieging gray that now encircled his head, but his presence cast a shadow taller than most men.

“If you like, I can help you search for her, perhaps she is…”

He turned to me in a flash.

“I want you to stay away from her,” he said forcefully.

I matched his gaze. We were like two lines of men across a battlefield; no one moved dare they trigger the slaughter.

“Sir, Lira and I have—”

“Embarrassed my house enough,” he interrupted. “And were she here, she would be dragged out into the street like the whore she is.”

I ground my teeth. “Sir, we have done nothing untoward; your reputation as a great house is intact. I will ask you not to call—”

“And thank the gods for that. Had you put your seed