A Promise of Iron by Brandon McCoy (best free ebook reader TXT) 📗

west along the old Illyrian road. It was wide enough here that the men could march in formation with room to spare on either side. The old roads were well maintained within the inner lands. Their surfaces were regularly cleared free of vegetation, but as we traveled further north, away from civilization, they fell to neglect; this was a place the Imperials wanted to forget.

We stopped briefly to rest and refill water skins at the Woad before crossing at Stone Bridge, another relic of Illyrian craftsmanship. It had wide pylons of stacked white stone, covered in green lichen, and poked with many holes and crumbling supports. It was ancient, but as they say, a bridge standing was as good as the last boots that crossed it.

The remaining miles to the Heights was a wide alley carved out of the wilderness. The occasional black stone reminded us that this was once a grand highway that served the Illyrians of old. It led to a series of switchbacks hewn from the cliff face. We ascended five abreast, walking upon worn white stones. The stones looked clean, pristine even, betraying no signs of the centuries of blood that had been spilled upon them.

I took point and scouted ahead, hoping to rouse any Golmere ambush that may lay in wait atop the bluff. I expected resistance, some sign of the enemy. We encountered neither as we climbed the cliff face. When I reached the top, I crossed the broken stone wall and took a moment to appreciate the view.

I looked out over Belen, following the Woad on its way to Gent until it vanished against the setting sun. I turned back to the plateau that we now called Belen Heights. Hundreds of square miles stretched out before me, illuminated by only a thumbnail moon. I saw the glimmer of water far to my left; this is where the Woad began. Somewhere hidden in the dark distance rested the ruins of Tol Rukar.

I bent and scooped up a handful of red dirt. Apart from its color, it was nothing remarkable, nothing to indicate this was some of the most fertile lands in all the Empire. Farmers had grown here for hundreds, if not thousands, of years; the red held secrets that even the oldest elders did not know. It was said that the first kings of Illyria seeded this place, and Tol Rukar grew from that seed. Now it was filled with old quin and old bones.

I brushed my hands on my jacket and gave the signal that all was clear.

“Mr. Borton, have your men sweep the plateau in pairs,” Ros instructed. “Clear to the river, then set a perimeter at a hundred yards before setting camp. Faerin and I will scout ahead.”

Borton nodded and began issuing orders to the men, while Ros and I unburdened our horses of the supplies. The moon gave us little light, and what it could muster was covered by clouds that hung menacingly above, threatening rain. Poor conditions for scouting, but we had little options.

“I am starting to doubt the efficacy of your story, Sword Faerin,” Ros said as we neared the center of the plateau. “No horde, no prime, no sign of anything other than a ghost chase that has taken twenty of our men away from the city.”

He pulled on the reins and slowed his horse to a stop. I slowed next to him and noticed his hand was resting on his hilt. “Why are we here, Faerin?”

I shook my head. “They should be here; maybe they are further into the ruins.”

My words hung in the air as he searched my face for something, signs of deceit, of betrayal. He turned his attention towards the large shadow that loomed in the distance, the silhouette of the tower-like granary that stood at the center.

“We should check the granary,” he said, moving his horse to trot. “For your sake, let’s hope there is something there worth the journey.”

I followed. But we did not travel far before we both stopped and dismounted, pulling our steeds behind us into a welcome grove of pine.

“Torches,” I whispered. “I count a dozen.”

“So the Golmere have already taken it then,” Ros said. “They will have fortified their position. We should bring up the men and devise a plan of attack.”

I gave him a bewildered look.

“What?” Ros insisted. “If they have dug in, the two of us won’t be enough. Ride back and retrieve Borton. We will need to take them now before they get truly fortified.”

“This is your first time against Golmere, isn’t it?” I asked. “And here I thought I was green.”

“This is not my first command, Sword,” he said in an attempt to shine the veneer of his authority.

“But your first time against Golmere,” I stabbed. “And clearly, you didn’t pay much attention to your primers. Golmere can practically see at night. I’ve never heard of them using torches. Those aren’t Golmere at the granary; those are men.”

He shook his head as if not believing me, then took a spyglass from his bag and crouched low. It only took him a moment to confirm my own suspicions.

“It is too dark to see their colors; we should wait and get the men, approach them from a position of strength.”

I stepped out from the cover of trees, leading Steven behind me. I swung up onto his back and began to move forward.

“Faerin!” Ros shouted in a whisper from behind me. “Where in Sereventus’s name do you think you’re going?”

“I am going to talk to that group of men over there and see if they feel like helping us kill a one-eared Golmere,” I replied.

“That is an unknown force operating in a warzone without banner,” he said as if he was quoting from a military textbook. “We should go back and get the men.”

“You should go get the men, that’s certain,” I said plainly. “There are three possibilities of who they might be: It could be some random looters hoping to score on an undefended