Of Iron and Devils

by B. H. Young

  Hollow, dusty and rancid with untended smells the three rooms had showed of no use for some time. He made his way back to the lobby under a veil of confusion. "Doesn't seem to be anyone here? I'll check the house across the way," he said as he passed Ginrell who grumbled and took another swig from the bottle.

  He entered slowly into the quaint cabin after his knocks went unanswered. The cooking pot hanging in front of the hearth was cold to the touch and the logs resting beneath it had not seen fire yet. He slid his fingertips across the table caking dust on them. There were no signs of a struggle in either building. Everything was undisturbed as if the residents just up and left without worry.

  The owl shrieked out, starling Godzton and he turned quickly, pulling his blade. The cryptically coloured bird perched its small frame at the base of the window glaring an odd stare at him as if it had been there the whole time. But He was certain it hadn't been. It was small, but he would not have missed it showering in the outside glow. It clutched a dead rat, half its size, in its left talon. Godzton had always thought they were nocturnal, hunting at night and sleeping in the day. Maybe the temptation of such a large meal was too good to pass up.

  "It's going to take awhile to eat that large bastard little fella," he said and the owl shrugged, ruffling its feathers.

  A faint tap whispered out from behind the pantry door sending the bird flapping away with a lasting howl. Godzton turned and gazed the entry a moment and another soft rumble carried out. What are the odds of encountering two witches in hiding, in one ranging he wondered? With a steady grip of his trench knife, he lumbered towards the split wood door. The hair of raven exploded as the door smacked against the wall and the woman darted for him with a dirk in hand. He stepped to the side, knocked the blade from her hand, and pushed her face first into the wall. Slicing out a yelp as her head crashed into the brick and she buckled cold to the floor. Godzton scuttled to catch her but missed.

  A panicked resident he thought until her head rolled to the side and her fawn skin parted through her blackened wavy locks. Rung with adrenaline his eyes filled with disbelief. Laythan had pointed her out to him at a summit in Mystenthel some years back he remembered. Of all the things he would expect to find, Lucinda Mathayus hiding in a pantry was not one of them. She was well known by the Iron High Guard and so was her brother Lestat who he could see no sign of in the cabin.

  Stories of her actions were of chaos and death, rumoring of a maddening bitch of the ugliest kind the world could offer, but as he squatted down beside her, she looked peaceful and pleasant. He could not deny that for an Elf, she was very attractive and a man would be a damned fool to try to deny that.

  The book had slid out of her satchel and rested just off to the side of her. Pristine leather of coal framed with metal, it was unlike any covering for a book he had seen. Not even books from Spire Hall came dressed in such elegance. He reached over, picked it from the floor, and glanced at its pages. Not sure, at first of what he was looking at until a symbol stopped his eyes. Three lizard heads with horns on a sphere twined of tentacles. It was a mark he knew, the sigil of the Eldafienden. He brushed through the book quickly and a heavy feeling sat in his stomach as his eyes rolled over the parchment all quilled out nice and neat. It took a moment for the reality of what he held in his hands to sink in. The Blackphisk. The Eldafienden's dried heart thumped with the Order's history coursing through the girth of its pages until sprawling to its current ranks and dealings. Quite organized and far from the radical order of fools Godzton was led to believe they were, he wondered if fate could be any kinder.

  A page riddled with names stopped him and Lord Willem Mathayus sat center at the top underlined with importance. Gesalec Marielle, Owen Warmisch, and Yera Roerich sat below with lesser important names under them. He knew those three names well; they were the ones Martha had given him. Sylo's actions were indeed of the Orders doing in an effort to seize the throne. He would never doubt Gayleon again.

  Their scathing reach of corruption was limitless he thought as he beamed at Typarion Olvlen's name, the High Master Adviser to the king. Only the king's court was as impenetrable as the Iron High Guard, or so he thought. It seemed both could find themselves basked in tarnish though as dread took a knee beside Godzton and placed its hand atop his shoulder, slowly pulling his breath away. A person he had not expected to see waved out from under the High Master Adviser, stabbing him unexpectedly. His chest fell hollow and he read the name, again and again, thinking he had gotten it wrong, but the wording did not change. Lisbet Kassin. Despair did not discriminate and it choked him tight to see an Overseer listed in the ranks of the Eldafienden.

  Godzton shut the book with a hard gasp and dazed off as if searching for an answer to a question he could not ask. She had betrayed her oath, betrayed all of them. He struggled to find wind to fill his lungs and subdue the conflicted voices shouting out in his head, as his beliefs shattered in a blink to cruel realities. He placed Lucinda's wrist in shackles, pulled her up and slung her over his shoulder.

  Ginrell coughed in a hard fit to him as he entered with Lucinda slumped over his shoulder like a prized doe. Godzton pulled a chair from the table and sat her to it. He undid one of her wrists from the shackles, pulled them behind the chair, and locked them again. He walked over, sat down, and stared grim eyes at Ginrell's flushed face.

  "Of all the things I thought you'd carry back in here, I assure you an Elf wasn't one of them," Ginrell said.

  "It's Lucinda Mathayus."

  Ginrell's brow scrunched as his watery eyes bulged and he said, "What's the matter, couldn't find the King out there?"

  Godzton reached up, placed the book on the table, and slid it to him. "She was carrying this."

  Ginrell turned page after page slowly with shaken hand, covering his coughs with the beaten rag. "As I live and breathe, hardly. These names... Lady Maven Aleid, can't really say that surprises me."

  "Look under Typarion's name," Godzton said in a low and flat voice.

  Ginrell gave an ill chuckle and said, "The High Master Adviser to the King. Oh, it would do me a favor to be the one to slit his pompous throat." The amazed look on his face melted back into his sickness and he rose sluggish to Godzton. "By the Gods, Overseer Lisbet... you understand what we have here lad?" he said and hacked into his rag.

  Godzton slid his fingers along the table looking as if in mourning. "I do."

  It was all too surreal, but it was there documented and laid out for all to see. It was a great gift in one hand and a heavy blow of defeat in the other. Overseer Lisbet had betrayed them all. The honor and the oath of the Iron now seemed to linger hollow in him as if teasing him all his life that it was true and just. Rusted Irons stepping off a bit into the shady fields was not unheard of, but an Overseer, they were of the highest honor, attained by only the diligent or so he thought.

  "The Eldafienden is behind all of this just as Gayleon said." Godzton stared absently past him. "And I killed her Ginrell. I killed Martha. Overseer Lisbet betrayed us, betrayed the Iron. She had to have found out Martha saw that the Crown List had been altered. Because I asked her to," he said and frowned.

  "Lad we can end all of this now. With this book, we can bury them so far beneath Blackwitch Prison they'll never see daylight again. Forget Sylo forget Lord Dorat. Let us head back to the compound and slap chains on this traitorous cunt so hard it breaks her fucking wrist." Ginrell struggled to hold back a cough.

  "Sylo will answer for his crimes, they all will," Godzton said in a bleak voice. "I just can't believe an Overseer... I mean it's incomprehensible."

  Ginrell growled fighting back a heaving fit and said, "That's always been your problem Godzton, you're too naive to the fairytales of the Iron, but that's what I always liked about you. Because it meant I never had to worry about having to follow you down a wrong path. But our armor is not beyond piercing."

  "If Sylo completes his task then it will not matter who we show this to Ginrell, if we are even still alive to
do so. Their reach is far enough that they could easily make it all go away, along with us. If the Eldafienden were to get three province stewardships than they would have the combined armies of those regions along with Lady Maven's at their command and we can't allow that. We must finish this."

  The sides of Ginrell's whiskers fluttered out as the old fool rolled a sigh. "Godzton, I am your brother and will storm the fields of hell with you if need be, but we need to handle this accordingly."

  "We will, we'll get word to Overseer Gelfradus and Hacan about her betrayal and about this book. They can start from their end."

  "All we have are words on paper and nothing more. That may not be enough to convince them," Ginrell said.

  Godzton turned and looked to Lucinda. "She can give credence to it," he said with confidence in his voice. "She'll come with us."

  "Lad, that's not a good idea," Ginrell said and sniffled.

  "It isn't but there is not a dungeon within a hundred miles we could place her in where she would be safe until this is all over. The jailers would likely sell her off to the lower commoners of the Valhur or worse."

  "And you plan to take her with us to Castle Benwin, have her tag along while we chase this madman? Is there any part of how awful that idea is that I need to explain to you?"

  "Lord Edwin is a man of honor and will respect that she is our prisoner," Godzton said and looked back to Lucinda who was still dead to the world.

  "That's assuming we get to him before any of his lot notices our catch and cuts us down. And what about the serum? There's no reason to think that traitorous heathen wench has even made good on your request to send us more stock."

  "We still have time, I believe, though not much. Lord Edwin employs some of the best healers in the lands maybe they can help us."

  "What makes you think the Elf would even turn on her father?" Ginrell asked with a scruffy voice as he gouged the rag at his nose.

  Godzton tapped his finger at the book. "She already has."

  "Perhaps you should ask the little lass then, just to be certain."

  Godzton slid his chair close to her. "Wake up," he said and tapped her on each cheek.

  The Roltharian's skin was soft and delicate making him restrain from a hard hand. Her head began to roll showering a rain of black along her face and resting to her shoulders. Sapphire stars flickered with slow life to him before growing full. Their captivation of him was stiff as she just stared in silence.

  It was too easy to get lost in those eyes, a failsafe to mesmerize someone before gutting them he thought, winced, and said, "Welcome back."

  Lucinda rolled her head, uttering groans. "Fucking Irons," she muttered. "If you aim to kill me then get on with it. I'm tired of running."

  "And what are you running from, Lucinda Mathayus?" Godzton asked.

  She gawked at him, tilting her head, with a curious twist of her mouth. "You know who I am then?"

  "I do, stories of you and your brother are quite popular around the compound."

  Her face tightened and she squirmed. "They are just that, stories. Words of wild tongues and nothing more," she said and grinned.

  "Words of wild tongues seem to follow your family good and well. Speaking of your brother, where is he? I hear tell it you two are inseparable?"

  She stared at him with dull eyes and an angering frown. "He's dead, murdered by that bastard of a man."

  "Who?"

  "A foreign piece of foul shit named Dardanos Eastmunn."

  "Wonder what that flea bitten scag is doing in Terongard," Ginrell said. The wheezing in his voice agitated Lucinda's throbbing head.

  "I'm sorry to hear that," Godzton said.

  She groaned and stretched her neck. "I'm sure you are. And what reason would you have to take me into custody?"

  Godzton pressed his hands onto his knees and hunched over. "Trying to murder an Iron for starters."

  "If I was trying to murder you, you'd be dead."

  "Would that be before or after you smacked the wall knocking yourself silly?"

  There was a slight tremble at her nose above her frown of embarrassment. "Bastard."

  "What are you doing out here in Valhur territories?"

  "Am I not allowed to travel freely?" she said and twisted in her binds to find comfort.

  "You are but I would think it not wise what with the history of your families."

  "Grudges that are as ancient as the sky itself given grand life by those with too much time to partake in idle chatter."

  Her pitch changed and Godzton could tell she was lying. People not very good at it were unaware of the signs that gave them away. "What of Balsfom's folks then?"

  "Murdering Mathayus bitch probably killed them all Godzton," Ginrell said and then let out another violent cough.

  Lucinda leaned passed Godzton and threw a snarl to him. "That's right you old smelly bastard! I killed them all, disposed of their bodies, and hid myself in the pantry. It amazes me that you were able to solve such a clever crime so quickly. Irons truly are remarkable intellects," she said and Ginrell puffed out to respond but succumbed to another fit of hacking. "If you're going to continue to cough yourself to death old man could you please go outside, I have a splitting headache."

  "I'll give you a fucking splitting headache," Ginrell said straining through the cough and tried to stand.

  "Easy," Godzton said and motioned him to sit back down. "Why were you hiding then?" he asked turning back to her.

  Lucinda leaned her head back and roared a sigh. "I heard your horses and I wasn't sure if you had been sent by my father."

  "Why would you hide from men sent by your father?"

  "I've grown tired of this conversation."

  Godzton reached back to the table behind him, pulled the ledger lying beside her weapons, and turned back to her. The Roltharian donned a more nervous look at the sight of the book in his hand.

  "Is this why you are running from your father?"

  "It's mine you fucking Iron!" she yelled and struggled in her chair.

  He pulled the book open, turned it to her, and pointed. "This is your father's book, his handwriting, is it not?" He stared her with a hard look. Resentful Sapphires blazed him and no words came cutting from her mouth. "If you value your life you will answer."

  "Or what Iron, you'll kill me?"

  "No," he said. "No, I'll have you sent back to Riverton Hold, to Lord Willem, without this of course. I'd wager he would not be too happy to know that it has fallen to the hands of the Iron High Guard."

  She scowled at him trying to hide the worry his words brought. "It is," she answered with a soft submissive voice.

  "And he is the head of the Eldafienden and planning to dethrone the King?" He was certain to the answer of his question but wanted more confirmation as if the book wasn't enough. She needed to give credence to it.

  Lucinda smirked and blew a draping bang from her eye. "What is it that you think I know of the Order? You think because Lord Willem is my father that he would share his vast knowledge of their dealings with me? They keep their secrets closely guarded from one another to say nothing of their families," she said, giving him a sneer.

  "Not your father, but perhaps your brother, I see his name is in here," Godzton said and raised his eyes to hers, "but not yours. Perhaps the Mathayus princess is too good to wallow in the ranks of the Eldafienden."

  Lucinda gave a chuckle and stared blank for a moment, then gave another chuckle and said, "I assure you I am many things to my father, but a princess is not one of them."

  "Perhaps not, but you don't strike me as one to go without questions."

  "Lestat was a Sentinel and even he knew very little of their dealings. He just followed orders is all, as all Sentinels do," she narrowed her eyes at him and bite softly at her lip, "Condemned to grunt work such as cleaning up dead Irons," she said putting a scathing tone in her breath.

  "Dead Iron?"

  "That's right. In Niset, we had to dispose of one your brother's rotting
body. He'd been run through something awful, foolish bastard thought to extort slayers." Lucinda threw a giggle following a stretching grin and stabbing brow.

  Niset would be the closest port for one coming from Northanos Godzton thought. Her words of a rusted Iron did not concern him, though. From the sounds of it, justice had been served for his treachery and good riddance. Though she aimed to upset him with news of a slain brother in her bitterness, he was not impressed.

  "Why do you have this book?" Godzton said.

  "Because I stole it."

  "You wish to do harm to your father?"

  "Very much, because the little that I know of the Eldafienden is that they do not tolerate failure even of a Harbinger. Beyond that, I know nothing that could help you."

  "You know more than you think and you can give credence to this," he said, holding the book up. "We'll not be killing you, nor will we be letting you go. You'll be coming with us."

  "I won't be going anywhere with you two," she growled.

  Godzton leaned into her with hardened eyes and Lucinda tucked her chin back trying to hide away her fear. "I beg to differ," he said, "Because you do not have a choice in the matter."

  "If I get out of these shackles I'll slit both of your fucking throats."

  He knew she meant it, but paid no mind to the Elf's threatening tongue. "We'll stay here for the night," he told Ginrell who was slumping onto the side of the table. "I'll take first watch. Go get some rest."

  "No lad, you go. I'll watch the little lass." He coughed and hacked, squeezing the rag to his face. "I won't be getting rest anytime soon."

  Godzton leaned down to him and said, "Don't kill her old man."

  "Aye, she won't be broken by morn, you have my word."

  "Am I to stay strapped to this fucking chair all night?" Lucinda yelled hopping the chair from the floor in a pout.

  "Yes," Godzton said as he passed her making his way to one of the rooms. The Roltharian roared slanderous words at his back with a steady pace and then Ginrell shouted her down.