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

out of them once more. Tab was near him, barking orders that he casually ignored. On the porch sat a woman dressed in a bright green dress. I stared at the house for a long time. I wanted to see her, see the shape of her face; I would need to remember it. Could I tell her? Could I explain? Could I…?

No, I couldn’t. Crylwin was right. I had to let her go for her sake. I wanted to call out to her to say to her one last time, “I love you.”

Agony cannot be described in words; its meaning is hollow. Not unlike love, agony can only be understood by those who have felt it. As I turned away, pressing my heels into Steven’s flank, I felt it, that cold grip wrapping itself around my heart, choking me, steeling me. I did not look back.

We traveled west until the land transformed into the foothills that then turned to mountains. We crossed the Ellish and made camp on the far side near an old stone wall.

I hammered a stake into the ground for Steven; there would be no more running off.

I took stock of my provisions. Three weeks of food was a generous estimate; I would need to hunt if I were to survive the Marches. I unpacked the other bag and lined the various oddments on the ground. Jaeron’s knife was among them; I set it on my belt then reached for my pocket watch. I turned the wind. Click, click, click.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to Steven.

He said nothing.

I circled my camp, gathering sticks and broken branches for a fire then worked the flint until I got a spark. I felt a warmth then, thawing the ice that had formed around my heart. It was not the heat from the fire; this was an inner warmth, something stirring that had been quiet for far too long.

I placed a clay jar of beans to warm over the fire. I stacked flat river rocks to pass the time. They were houses. They were churches. The smaller ones were people. As I stacked, I envisioned Cyllia and its towers of white stone. When several buildings stood proudly above the sand, I swept my hand, knocking them into the flames like a vengeful god.

A branch broke in the shadows. I stood, drawing Nahdril. Steven snorted, his Alea focused on the tree line at the edge of our camp.

A figure stepped into the light. His skin was red, his eyes bright shining violet.

“Hello,” Vox said. “Need a…hand?”

Epilogue

There was a knock at the door: Rap, rap, rap.

Elizabeth looked up at the door, then the antique clock hanging above it. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” She closed the book and stood up from the desk. “Uh…just a minute…”

The door opened. A tall man stood at the threshold. He wore a long grey coat, a gift from his wife, though the weather hardly called for such precaution.

“Captain?” Elizabeth said. “I’m just…”

“Late?” he said with a smile.

She sighed. “Preoccupied. I am so sorry.”

He held his hand up. “It’s alright; I understand how easy it is to get lost in your work.” He looked at the book on her desk. “Any progress?”

She placed her hand on the cover. “Nothing yet, but I can feel a breakthrough on the horizon.”

He stepped inside and looked around. He made it seem casual like he wasn’t noting every crumpled piece of synth, every plate of half-finished food. “Those sound like your father’s words.”

She gestured to her sitting chair, then frowned when she realized it was covered in dirty clothes.

“If you just give me a few minutes, I can meet you—”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” he said. “I brought dinner to you.”

She looked at him as if expecting him to pull a plate from within his coat.

He clapped his hands, and the door opened again. Daniel was there, pushing a cart with several covered dishes.

The captain stepped next to her desk. “Here is good.”

“Oh, I… um…let me make some room.” She grabbed various pages of notes and pushed them to the side. The book remained at the center.

Daniel set a plate down in front of her, then another opposite her.

She caught his eye. “Thank you, Daniel.”

He smiled, nodded, but said nothing.

“That will be all,” the captain said as he dumped the clothes from her chair and set it next to the desk.

Daniel bowed and stepped towards the door. It opened with a whoosh. “Very good, Captain. I will be outside, should you need anything.”

The captain took his seat, then gestured for her to do the same. She sat slowly.

“I would suggest wine,” he said, pointing at the empty bottles lining her counter, “but it seems you are out.”

“Yes, well… I…” She removed the cover from her meal. “Oh.” She grimaced. “I… I am not sure if you know this, but I’m a vegetarian.”

The captain looked at the prime cut of steak on her plate, then at his own. “Huh, you would think that would be something my steward would know.”

“Well, I’m sure he just forgot, no matter. I will just eat the vegetables here; they look plenty…”

He stabbed her steak with his fork and placed it on top of his, then lifted his plate and dumped his vegetables onto hers. “There, problem solved. You eat the foliage, and I’ll eat what eats the foliage. Together we are perfect dinner companions.”

She tried to smile, but the effort was poor, to say the least.

He cut into his steak and began to chew. She took large bites, hoping to speed things along.

“Elizabeth,” the captain said around a thick piece of steak. “I thought it best that we sit and have a little chat.”

She looked up. “Certainly, Captain. I know that we have not had a chance to discuss recently, but—”

“That is precisely why I wanted to speak with you.” His eyes went to the book. “As you know, there is a great deal of excitement around this find.”

“Yes, Captain. And I was—”

He held his hand up,