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

granary, the Circle looking to appropriate said granary for their cause, or the Seveli hoping to use the Heights as a staging ground for an invasion into Belen. In either case, a captain of the Imperial Army would not be the most welcoming or calming sight to any of them.” I took off my jacket and tossed it to him. “Prepare the men, I am either back in thirty minutes, or I’m not coming back. If it’s the latter, assume it was the Seveli, I can handle a couple of looters, and the Circle wouldn’t harm one of their own.”

I regretted my words almost immediately.

“A Ruk that is,” I explained, though I had little doubt of the seed I just planted.

“So you assume that just because you are a Ruk, they will welcome you into their little camp? You are an officer first, a Ruk second.”

“Captain,” I said, “for once, there might be some value in being both.”

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I could see him working through the dilemma. He knew I was right; this was beyond a stroke of luck; this was quin; this was providence. He knew that we needed them, any of them, and he knew that he would have no hope of securing their help.

“Thirty minutes,” he said as he tossed me his spyglass. “A moment later, and we will march on the granary.”

I nodded to him and turned Steven back towards the flickering torches that circled the granary like fireflies. With a deep breath, I eased the heel of my boot into Steven’s side, and we rode away.

Chapter Forty and Seven

Summer 1272, Cyllian Imperial Count

I didn’t bother looking back as I galloped to the granary and the promise of aid. There was no reason to hide my smile, either. It was the Circle; somehow I knew. Looters wouldn’t target something so large, and the Seveli attacked the river, in ambush. Nothing would indicate they had any desire for a campaign in these lands. If anyone had the means and the will to loot an abandoned granary ahead of a Golmere attack, it was the Circle, and for once, I was glad to be carrying the iron circle in my pocket.

As I neared the granary and the torches became more significant, I slowed, not wanting to startle the men encamped there. I watched as smaller torches moved from the tower base to where a cluster of them stood in a circular ring off to the side. Inside the ring, the torches revealed several wooden carts already laden with burlap sacks.

“Rider!” The alarm came from an unseen source. He spoke Cyllian, and without a hint of an accent. At least they weren’t Seveli.

“He’s armed!”

A flurry of movement commenced all around me.

“Hold!” I shouted to them with my hands raised high above my head. “I am no threat.”

I allowed Steven to continue towards the center of the activity unguided by my hand as I watched shapes and shadows moving in the periphery around us. As I approached, the hair on my neck stood, and that unmistakable feeling of danger crept in around me. I knew archers to be aiming at my position. A chill ran the length of my spine, but I continued forward.

As I reached the cluster of torches, the men in the shadows revealed themselves. They wore dark clothes, grays, greens, and blacks, with heavy cloaks and deep hoods. I couldn’t see the color of their eyes, but I didn’t need to; they would be blues and greens and grays, the eyes of my people.

Steven was allowed two more steps before a figure emerged from behind one of the carts and took him by the reins. He held a spear in his other hand, and I felt the bronze tip of it press lightly against the soft of my stomach. I flinched but offered no resistance as he led us to the center of the torches.

I looked around as I counted the figures and shapes. Not all of the men revealed themselves, but I counted at least ten, maybe as much as ten and three in all. It was hardly a heroic force, but they looked to be hard men, no strangers to spilling blood.

“My name is Lordson Faerin Monroe,” I called out to no one in particular.

“Faerin!?” A reply came from around the back of the granary. “What in six hells are you doing here? I didn’t know the old man brought you in on this. Did he send you? Well, you can tell him that we have this under control, we don’t need any babysitters.”

The man’s voice was familiar, and as he emerged from the shadows, he removed the hood from over his head.

“Fedorick?” I gasped.

He stepped clear then into the light and managed a slight grin. He rested his hands on his belt, where I saw two slender daggers, weapons I never saw him carry before.

“What are you doing here, Rick? This is about to be a battlefield.”

“Battlefield? Trust me, mate, we aren’t staying long enough for that.” Fedorick said. “The Golmere are still a few miles out, milling around the ruins last we saw ‘em. The old man said we had until high moon; we should be long gone by then. Won’t refuse an extra pair of hands, though. You come up waterfall way? Didn’t know you knew it. Was Dickson asleep on watch again?”

He gave me an appraising look and I became more aware of the men he had in his company. Outside of Fedorick, I didn’t recognize any. Were they from the Circle? How would I really know? All I knew was that they were here now, unceremoniously emptying the granary before the Golmere arrived.

“How many are they?” I asked.

“Who the Golmere?” Fedorick shrugged and helped one of the other men load a heavy bag onto the back of the cart. “Enough, I suppose. We just have a few more to load up.” He placed another bag on the cart. “If