Of Iron and Devils

by B. H. Young

  Lucinda made her way out of the castle with her guardsmen trailing behind. Walking through the streets towards the docks, she pushed through her two cousins, now strolling down the street, "Cunts," she said creating a commotion of shock between the two women.

  Stomping her way down the ramp she signaled the captain, who was eating under the canopy, to ready the ship. With promptness, he obeyed her ruling gesture, knocking over his bowl of stew as he jumped from the table and darted onto the ship.

  The wind rolling off the river hugged her strict posture as she gawked at the medium sized ship with wood of black and large damson sails. Kill the captain and head out to sea, be rid of this place, rid of father and Dethal, rid of it all, she thought. It was a nice fantasy but Lucinda knew the hateful bastard would just hunt her down. Lestat approached from behind with a concerned look to his face. It was coming she sensed, his uninvited advice.

  "Sister you really shouldn't test father like that, its best just to let him say what he has to and be done with it," Lestat said.

  Lucinda would not answer nor break her stare of the ship. She loved her older brother very much and knew he meant well but he was in no position to be critical of her when he does not follow his own counsel. Lestat was favored above her and treated with kindness as to where she was a cruel trick by the Gods to suffer through ridicule and resentment for an entire life. He suffered a terrible beating once when they were younger for trying to defend her against father. Lestat was brave in that moment but father broke him. He would not break her with such ease though. Lestat never defended her again, choosing instead to stay quiet, but she could see in his eyes he wanted to but that memory shined the brightest in his gaze and she could not hold his cowardice against him.

  "The ships ready," she said.

  Lucinda stormed off from Lestat, boarded the ship, and stood planted to the deck with arms crossed tight. "To Niset, we have to go wipe the Eldafienden's ass," she yelled to the captain.

  Chapter 6.

  The morning came as quick as Godzton shut his eyes, it seemed to him, washing the woodland wall of Sprite Forest in a hazy blue, and bringing a sheet of fog over the ground. He sent two messages before leaving Helbrode, one sealed in black wax to Overseer Lisbet carried by raven and the other sealed in red wax to Martha carried by pigeon. Ravens were exclusive to the Iron High Guard and pigeons were for the common folk.

  They sat idle at the forest edging following the tracks Ginrell had found the day prior. Irons were hard, taught never to give into emotion in order to maintain control, but Sprite Forest was a dangerous place and Godzton couldn't help but feel worried as he led his horse into the woodland.

  The songs of nature filled the russet of winter in all directions. Dead leaves drifted in the wind and the grey of morn commanded the area. They were making good time along the back trail with Ginrell at the lead to sniff out the rest of the tracks left by the killer's horses. Tracks that were leading them to Pyne, as best as the map showed, they were halfway there Godzton thought.

  "You've been looking at that map of Terongard like a scholar since we entered the forest," Laythan hollered back to Godzton.

  "I'm just curious, the Pilgrim's Aisle revealed the killers to be from Northanos," Godzton said, adjusting the horse's reins under the map he held. "If their trail is leading us to Pyne, which it seems to be, then they seem in no hurry to leave Terongard."

  "What are you thinking lad?" Ginrell yelled back.

  "Pyne sits by the Dandelion River which runs along the Khane Border into Fleslinburg. They may be heading further into Terongard, can't be sure, though," Godzton said.

  "Or maybe they're at Pyne to just share in company with shits of similar character to their own," Laythan said, "then we can just deal with the bastards and be done with it all."

  "If the Gods are with us," Ginrell put in.

  "I'd wager for luck more than I would for Gods," Godzton said.

  He caught sight of the mangled mess of wood lying off the side of the trail in the distance among some laid trees. He slowed his horse behind Laythan. It was a merchant wagon, smashed into pieces with shrapnel blanketing the area. The smell of the blood littering the debris and staining the ground was not more than a few hours dried and still lingered its coppery stench.

  "Cutthroats, raiders, maybe," Laythan said and adjusted his sword higher on his waist.

  "No bodies, for not even the fucking horse, just blood soaked ground." Ginrell pulled at his mustache. "Bandit's nor raiders did this lad." He pointed to the giant animal tracks, big as a coat of arms shield stamped into the ground, around the carnage. "Sharpen up lads here be monster in these wood. Titan bear," he said with a voice of dread.

  They all knew of the beast that Ginrell spoke of, a vicious animal twenty feet tall when raised on its hind legs, their bodies massive with muscle; snub ears pointed like a wolf, snouts as wide as three hands of a grown man, filled with jagged teeth and canines the size of daggers. Storied to be pets of fabled giants, titan bears kept to the deepest parts of the forest and high mountain ranges of Terongard. Rare as trolls, but a troll would be better company by any measure.

  "Poor bastards suffered a fate I'd wish on no man." Ginrell laid his short arm double-headed battle-ax across his lap as his old eyes scattered the passing scene of death.

  Godzton knew, as did his men, this was not an animal to be trifled with. He rolled up his map and placed it in his coat remaining vigilant. He had only ever seen a titan bear once, after it had been taken down by a hunting party of thirty men, reduced to six by the time the animal stopped breathing.

  Oddly, the fluttering sounds of the morning forest increased and then fell silent Godzton noticed. It was almost as if every being that called Sprite Forest home had stood down out of a fearful respect for what came next. The thunderous roar rolled through the air breaking the silence, shaking the trees, and pushing clouds of birds from atop their crowns. Godzton's horse raised up, patting at the air in a panic, and nearly threw him from the saddle. He clenched the reins and curled up closer to the saddle horn. The horse stepped back on its hind legs before slamming hooves back to the ground. Ginrell and Laythan struggled to calm their horses as well he saw. In a fright, he looked in all directions of the dense forest, as the cold hollowing made due in his gut. It was too broad to know which direction it came from, but with a titan bear direction was not the element of importance or worry, certain death was. He pulled a sword, as if it would do any good, and growled defiantly against the horses panicking whiny.

  "Think it's time we picked back up the pace!" Godzton yelled. His voice was filled with much anger to accompany the fear.

  "Aye, damn bears got the horses spooked." Ginrell tightened his grip around the ax in his lap and cursed his horse.

  "Not just the fucking horse's old man," Layhthan assured him.

  Godzton drove heel to horse, falling in behind his men as they fled the area. A second deafening roar rolled through the air, rattling the very ground under them. He tucked his elbows, leaned into the saddle, and stayed the path. The speed a titan bear had for such a large animal was not to be taken with salt.

  At full gallop, the rest of the morning was spent staring straight ahead as the world blurred at the sides, and until the sore sights of Pyne began to fabricate in the smearing, they would not stop. Godzton had questioned the Meekroot stable master to no avail. Not to his surprise, as he knew the unwritten rule of the town. The vow of silence all its citizens swore oaths to, but he would get what he came for, oath or no oath. Under the cover of gawking eyes, they made their way to the Samdog. Inn's were always the first stop for any Iron worth their weight. An inn for a place like this was more valuable than gold, as long as the common folk cooperated. But Pyne doesn't take kindly to strangers and are more intolerant of the law, a well-known fact among the Iron. Perhaps they'd fair better to Irons who may have led a titan bear to their quaint little filthy patch of the world? The cold drip still trickled down Godzton's spine. He half expected t
he damned beast to come charging through the trees and square into the middle of the town. All things considered, a titan bear laying waste to Pyne may not be the worst thing that could happen to the town.

  The Samdog was ripe with customers drinking and mingling with one another. The blubbering noise filled air lessened with haste to mere whispers as the Irons entered. Ginrell and Laythan brushed into the room, each idling near a crowded table of patrons that could be troublemakers. Godzton swept his eyes but saw no one who could fit the boot prints he found. Most of these people looked half starved and strung out. There were killers in this place as sure as the rain is cold, but not the killers he sought. Bountiful eyes and clamoring chatter stopped as he made his way to the bar. Many were brave in the absence of Iron with tall talk of threats and fictions of what they'd do, but they dare not allow that stray garble to reach an Iron's ears. The resentment Pyne held toward any man or woman of the Iron was well established. But neither Godzton nor his men would hesitate to cut down anyone that posed a threat and chose to act on their defiance. It was a lesson he hoped not to have to give.

  The innkeeper took notice of Godzton's two swords strapped at his back with a scowling smug to convey he was not intimidated nor would be. The one-eyed innkeeper smelled of shit and his clothes were stained of filth. He planted his large forearms onto the bar with a stout disgust on his face that three Irons walked into his establishment and spat to the side of Godzton.

  "What the fuck will you have iron?" the innkeeper asked.

  "Information," Godzton said.

  "Don't got none of that, only shit food and piss warm ale."

  "I'm looking for three people. They would've been through here a day ago, one of them very large." He ignored the foul innkeeper's attitude for the moment.

  The innkeeper's brow crawled down in a scrunch. "Told you what I got. Now you and your two friends can have that or you can piss the fuck off," he said.

  A chain of laughter broke out among the patrons taking much amusement in the chiding of an Iron and a disheveled strumpet at the end of the bar echoed the innkeeper's words with a sneer and a giggle.

  Godzton stared the innkeeper with incisive eyes. "Three people, one of them very large?"

  "What, do you got shit in your ears you fucking Iron?" the innkeeper scoffed.

  Godzton snatched the innkeepers left forearm pulling it out from under him while driving his face into the bar sounding a loud thump through the lobby. A river of blood and teeth shot from the innkeeper's mouth across the top. Godzton jerked the man's forearm back opposite the elbow bend. The innkeeper shrieked and his forearm fell limp off to the side. When the stubborn man tried to raise his head, Godzton drove it back into the bar to another thump and dispersing of more blood.

  The disdainful whore curled up against the bar and screeched at the top of her lungs. Chairs and tankards crashed against the ground as patrons stumbled for the door. Ginrell slammed the butt of his ax into the face of a staunch man who rose from his seat brandishing a knife. Laythan drove his tucked elbow into the back of a grungy Elven man's head that moved towards Godzton with intent, laying him out cold.

  Godzton pushed harder against the innkeepers pinned head pressing it into the bar. "Three men," he said with clenched teeth and whitened knuckles.

  "Go fuck yourself," The innkeeper said.

  Godzton pressed the man's head into the bar, harder, shifting his weight onto his arms for added force. The grunts of pain from the innkeeper were drowned out by the scared strumpet at the end of the bar repeating a name.

  "Teyah, Teyah, Teyah... you bastard!"

  "Shut up," The innkeeper howled.

  Godzton smashed his fist into the man's face knocking him out and then removed his grip of the man's head letting his body slide off behind the bar. He looked at the sacred woman, pushed from the bar and walked to her.

  "Teyah, she kept company with the big man," the frazzled woman screamed, shaking and cowering in place as Godzton approached her.

  "Where can we find her?" he asked.

  "In the pits, she is staying in the pits at the other end of town, a dark green mangy shack. You'll find her there. Now get the fuck out," the whore sobbed with fear-stricken hands cupped to her face.

  Godzton placed a gold coin atop the bar and slid it to her. "When he comes to, tell him to buy some better manners," he said and she collapsed into her tears.

  The big brown eye of concern peaked from behind the edge of the half-opened door a moment before the little fingers pulled it back further revealing the petite Elf absorbed with modesty. She stood gazing with concern at the three men, studying each of them before answering. "Yes?" she said with a supple tone holding the edge of the door in her small hands.

  "Are you Teyah?" Godzton asked.

  "Yes."

  "My name is Godzton, these are my men, we are of the Iron High Guard."

  "Yes I know, have I done something wrong?" she asked, a great concern flushed over her face.

  "No. But I do need to ask you some questions about the man you kept company with at the Samdog," he said, perceptive to her worry.

  The redness crept across her cheeks and her chin dipped down. "I've only been working there two days and he was the only patron I had," she said.

  "What was his name; did he say where he was from?"

  "Sylo, he said his name was Sylo and he was over from Helbrode."

  "Could you describe him?"

  "His head and face were clean from hair, soft." Her bangs pressed against her face in the wind as she focused on her memory of him. "He was a menacing looking man but gentle in his touch and his eyes... his eyes." A thin smile grew meagerly on her face. "They were a charming blue like I've never seen before that seemed to glow ever so lightly. Like magical runes or a phantom."

  Ginrell perked up at her words stretching a glare that looked more aware than his usual absent gape. It took a lot to get any rise like that out of the old fool and Godzton was certain something had caught the old hound's attention, but he ignored his commotion for the moment and continued with his questioning.

  "What of the two traveling with him?" he asked.

  Teyah took pause for a moment, focusing blankly. "I only saw him with the cloaked man whom he sat with. But they did not travel together, the cloaked man was there hours before," she said.

  "This cloaked man, do you know his name, can you describe him?"

  "No, I'm sorry. He wore a dark crimson cloak and his attire was very out of place around here, it was noble looking."

  Noble dressed men do not come to Pyne by accident Godzton knew, they do not come to Pyne at all. "What of this man, Sylo, did he say where he was headed?"

  "No, but I overheard a deckhand of the Siren's Rump later that day saying a phantom eyed man had procured passage with his captain. I assumed he meant him," she answered, but then began to trail off in her reply, "he didn't talk much, just left me a large amount of coin for my company and told me to leave this place. I am to leave today, with a merchant caravan."

  "The Siren's Rump, a pirate ship?" he asked and she replied in kind with a nod.

  "Thank you, Teyah you have been very helpful."

  Godzton extended her a handful of coin and she hesitated a moment before opening her little palm. He took a bit of comfort in knowing she would be leaving Pyne, as he knew the kind of things that could happen to those who do not remain silent.

  As they made their way from the dingy shack, Godzton stopped and turned to Ginrell. "What was all that about? She mentioned his eyes and you tensed up?"

  "Haven't seen that look from you old man since your hand discovered that whores cock in Rendin," Laythan said twisting the corner of his mouth with amusement.

  "Aye, you two know the stories of Irons whose bodies have become one with the Vannik Serum?"

  "What of them?" Laythan said.

  "I hear tell stories of one a few years back whose body did such. They say his eyes turned a phantom blue color with a dim glow as a result," he
said.

  "Did you sneak a pint of Pyne's famed piss filtered ale when we weren't looking old man," Laythan said and smirked.

  Godzton had indeed not heard that particular tale but he never gave much thought to stories sung by words of wild tongue as Ginrell did. He dealt in facts with what was real and what he could see and touch.

  "There just tales Ginrell, there have never been any records of such things happening," Godzton said.

  Ginrell grew agitated with Godzton's no-nonsense tone. "Damn your discipline and records Godzton. She said phantom eyes. That's no damn coincidence or I'm a frog's ass. I'm telling you that lass may have just given credence to those tales."

  "Well it shouldn't be hard to find someone with glowing eyes," Laythan said. "Wouldn't do no harm to check with Archivist Edverc if anyone by that name is in the Iron records."

  The Iron records all branches kept contained the names of every member, past and present, domestic and foreign. It helped with weeding out imposters and clarifying a traveling Irons identity. It was a good suggestion Godzton thought.

  "No, it wouldn't," Godzton said, "let's find the ship she mentioned and deal with these pirates. Then we will deal with this matter," he said.

  Pirates would not give much trouble to questioning, they swore no vow of silence, and their loyalty was only to coin. Godzton was relieved to see the large ship at the end of the pitiful dock. It was a fitting style river ship for a band of pirates with its name, Siren's Rump, painted onto a decorative wooden plaque fastened to the side of the bow. A common trait amongst the river pirates to gain infamy among those they robbed. The cabin was dim by the clouded portholes and the air smelled of fish and other foul stenches. Its walls were adorned with a great variety of weapons. Godzton had paid the pockmarked deckhand for an audience with the captain who agreed on the condition Ginrell and Laythan stayed on the docks.