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

you aren’t here to help, mate, you can ride back and tell the old man he wasted his time sending you; we will be done here soon and head out for the east granary tomorrow.”

The spearmen relaxed his weapon and I eased into my saddle. “Monroe didn’t send me. I came for the prime.”

Rick looked to the others. “What you want with the prime, lad?”

“We’re here to kill him,” I explained.

Rick stepped closer. “Who is we? I only see that horse of yours with ya.”

“I brought the militia,” I said. “They’re camped by the old wall.”

Rick nodded slowly as he took the reins from the spearman. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, mate.”

“Rick, you don’t understand. There is a massive horde heading this way; they are going to join up with the prime. If they do, we won’t be able to stop them from raiding into Belen.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” he said, circling around the front of Steven. “That’s why the boss called them out here. It’s not like the Circle can just knock over the inner granaries without everyone knowing it were us, not enough Seveli uniforms to pull that kinda job.”

I thought of the ambush on the river. It seemed obvious now. The Seveli never attacked the garrison; they had no plans for Belen; it was the Circle made to look like the Seveli. Patricia’s hands had done far more than make a simple lord’s coat. I had made a terrible mistake.

Rick jerked Steven’s reins. “Finish up here, lads; I’ll be taking this one back to Monroe. Looks like he’s seen a bit more than he should have.”

I looked at the granary, its first floors of liquid stone and timber. I looked to the torches that lined the carts, far more than they should need for a simple smash and grab job.

Rick followed my gaze. “Won’t take much to set it off either, enough dust in there to get it blazing within minutes.”

“Why burn it? You can’t possibly have emptied the whole thing.”

Rick chuckled. “And I thought you was supposed to be the clever one. I’ll go ahead and let Monroe tell you himself. I’m sure he will answer all your questions.”

There was something in his voice, something that triggered an instinct I developed years ago. I heard a dagger scrape as it left its sheathe. I listened to the faint strain of a bowstring being pulled. Then I heeded the voice in my head, urging me to run.

I bent down and reached across my body just as the first arrow sailed overhead. I came back with the Nahdril in hand and slashed the reins Rick was holding. The sudden loss of tension sent him to the ground in a heap. I grabbed what remained of the leads and pulled Steven to my left.

Another arrow flew past as I pressed my heels into Steven’s side. “Run, boy, run!”

Shadows turned to men in a flash, and a loose wall of them stood to block my path. I charged forward and slashed the head off of a lazily laid spear. I broke through their line but missed the second man who leveled me across the chest with the flat of his spear. I flew from the saddle and crumbled hard to the dirt. I coughed as I rolled, attempting to absorb some of the fall. As I got to my feet, I winced, sure that I had broken a rib. I held my left arm to my side while my right held Nahdril at arm’s length.

Three men circled me, each with spears leveled dangerously. I turned my body to face them and planted my feet. One lunged to strike, but Fedorick grabbed his shoulder from behind.

“Tie him up,” Fedorick said. “The old man will want him alive.”

Rick handed the man a long coil of rope.

“How the fuck you expect us to do that, then?” The spearman argued. “Ask him to put down his sword?”

“I don’t care how you do it, just do it. We need to finish the job and get out of—”

A horn sounded in the distance, cutting Fedorick off. These were deep notes, low and trembling upon the wind—no horn of man made such a sound.

“Always fucking early,” Fedorick shouted as he ran back to the carts. “Time to go!”

“What about him?” The spearman called after him.

“Fuck him,” Rick said. “He stays and he’s dead anyway.”

I turned as he took a handful of torches into the storehouse. He came out a moment later, smoke billowing behind. The spearman trio took a collective step back; spear points still leveled at me as they back-peddled to the carts. Shouts followed as the men loaded onto their carts and began the procession away and to the east, leaving me alone amidst the burning building.

I looked around for Steven, but he was characteristically gone. I felt at my ribs as the horn sounded again; it was closer now. If there was any hope of stealth, it was long gone as the granary quickly became a signal pyre, my signal pyre. The heat was so immense it forced me to take several steps back. The light would no doubt be seen for miles. I smiled. Light would be my advantage here or at the very least it would neutralize theirs.

The horn sounded again; this time I heard the stomping of feet accompanying it. I looked around once more, hoping I might see Steven, but he was likely halfway to Forhd by now. If I couldn’t flee, I would have to fight. I turned away from the blaze to the smaller buildings that encircled the granary and hid behind a short barn. The fire roared in the background, but I listened in to the sound of the march. Footsteps drew closer and closer, followed by the unmistakable sound of Golmere speech.

“Nisra dur tal.” — I seeing something.

“Gana dur si tol.” — You are seeing nothing.

Then silence. I stepped along the edge of the barn away from the sounds.

“Sic unari si tol