A Promise of Iron by Brandon McCoy (the reading list .txt) 📕

herself behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist. We made our way to east gate, the most direct path to Gent, even if we planned to double back south. We avoided Heart Street and the House, taking the back alleys as they wound around the massive building. Many of the roads leading south were barricaded with crates and barrels.

“What’s all that for?” Lira asked.

“The survivors from the Mere attack,” I said. “Some of them were sick, so they put them up in Southquarter.”

“But why block the roads?”

“Quarantine,” I said. “Quill tended to them a few nights back. He said they were on the mend; I guess he was wrong.”

A pair of spearmen stepped across the barricade. They made a show of blocking the path, not that we had any intention of going in there. I waved and continued east.

The gate was closed as we arrived, which I found odd, considering it wasn’t yet midday- still hours before curfew. I approached the lead man, who looked closer to sixty than fifty; he held his hand up to me. I slowed but did not dismount.

He stepped in front of me, spear in hand. “Gate is closed, my uh… lord,” he said. “Golmere horde west of town, best you and your lady stay in today.”

I smiled and conjured my best lordly tone. “Let us pass. We have urgent business in Gent, away from your…horde.”

He gestured for the other man to cover the gate as he moved closer. I watched his knuckles tighten around his spear.

“Gent, huh. Why you taken the road then? Plenty of barges down at the docks would take you on.”

I froze. “I uh…”

“I get seasick,” Lira said.

The man narrowed his eyes.

“Seasick, on a river barge?” He placed a hand on Steven’s harness. “Ain’t never heard of such a thing. Gerald, you heard of such a thing?”

“What’s that?” The other man asked from in front of the gate.

“Little flower here says she gets seasick… on a river barge…. That’s why they got to take the long road down to Gent.”

The other man scratched his beard. “My ma had a touch of that, Bart. She couldn’t take no carriage neither. Nah, if she was going somewhere, she was walking, which meant we didn’t go much of anywhere. Terrible affliction that was kept me running as a lad though that’s for sure. She must have sent me to the market at least once a day for ten years.”

The first man turned to his comrade and glared. “Thanks for that, Gerald. I’m sure we are all glad to have heard it.” He turned back to me. “What sort of business you have in Gent?”

I leaned forward in my saddle. “I’m…”

“His business is my business, you lackey!” Lira snapped. “He’s my escort, and my business is my own.”

He took a step back. “Easy now, lassie, I’m just asking….”

“Excuse me, sir, but my name is Lady Lirael Valerius—not lassie. I’ll have you address me properly or I will inform my father Lord Edrogan Valerius of the treatment I’ve received at your hands.”

“I-uh…” he stammered.

She pointed to the man at the gate. “You there. Bart. Where is your commanding officer?”

He scratched his head nervously. “He-uh…”

“Come now, out with it, or I’ll have my man drag you through the streets to him.”

I rested my hand on Nadhril and smiled.

“There’s… there’s no need for all that misses…Lady Valerius,” the first man stammered. “Just trying to keep everyone safe is all. Our job to keep the gate.”

“And I rest easily knowing we have such capable men at the task,” she said. “Now. Open… the… gate.”

The gate opened. And we trotted through.

“That’s one way to leave loudly,” I said as soon as we were out of earshot.

She giggled. “If that’s the last time I can borrow on his name, I had to make it count.”

“Well, if he sends someone looking for you, he’ll have a long road ahead before he realizes he’s on the wrong path.”

As soon as we were a safe enough distance from the walls, we cut our way south and back to the west. We would ride parallel to the road but not upon it, lest we were followed, and when we reached the Ellish, we would follow it south along hills through Duncan’s Wood.

The Ellish, or little river as it was commonly known, was a tributary to the Woad. It was little more than a stream in most places, but it ran north and south the length of Belen and marked the unofficial western boundary of the province.

Steven was a perfect gentleman and slowed his gait to allow our Lira a smooth and luxurious ride through the country. Still, we made good progress for the first few hours despite cutting through uneven terrain. We traveled through grass valleys and over low rolling hills. We remarked on the beauty of the land, how untouched and unspoiled it was this far west.

When we found a spot of particular interest, some low stone wall from a long-abandoned homestead, or a clearing cut from the trees, I would mark them to the map I carried. Mostly, there was silence between us, both content to enjoy the distraction of the journey.

As we progressed further south, we reached the thick forest known as Duncan’s Wood. Our pace slowed considerably as we tracked the Ellish through a maze of thick pines. I lost sight of it a few times as it traveled under a hill, or branched off into multiple directions, masquerading as a stream or fast-moving creek. On the last such branch, I lost it altogether and was forced to double back.

“If your plan was to get us lost in the forest, I would have insisted we bring more food,” Lira said, taking an apple from the saddlebag.

“We’re not lost,” I said, looking up. “Not yet, at least.”

She took a bite of her apple then handed it to me.

“I’m not hungry, but I bet Steven wouldn’t mind a treat.”

I slowed to a stop and swung out of the saddle. “Let’s take a