The Iron Realm (The Iron Soul Book 1)

by J. M. Briggs

“Any ideas what the metallic sound is?” Alex asked him, trying not to move her hands around.

  “Not at the moment,” Bran confessed, “I'll need to do some research, but when I first heard the sound I actually thought of a blacksmith. I guess that could make sense with the fire, but there has to be more to it than that.”

  “Maybe you'll see more when you have the dream again,” she encourage him, making Ban smile a little. “you are the one with the visions after all.”

  “If that is my power then I could live with it, just so long as it becomes a bit more useful and consistent,” Bran told her.

  The sound of a key in the lock made them both pause and Bran reached back to grasp the knob and open the door. Leaning to the side a little, Alex was able to see Jenny standing in the doorway with her bags and a snow dusted coat.

  “Jenny,” Alex greeted, moving forward past Bran while she smiled at her friend.

  Bran tensed up when Jenny looked over at him, but gave her a smile. “I'll leave you to get settled,” he told Jenny quickly before looking back at Alex. “We'll talk more later. See you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah,” Alex agreed quickly with a nod. “See you tomorrow Bran.” She closed the door behind him as Jenny walked over to her bed and locked the door.

  Turning to her roommate, Alex waited for her to speak as she shrugged out of her coat and hung it up. Able to see Jenny's face, Alex frowned. Jenny looked awful. Instead of appearing refreshed from their week break, she had bags under her eyes and her body language betrayed her exhaustion.

  “Hey,” Alex greeted gently with a soft smile. “Was the flight that bad?”

  “The flight?” Jenny repeated, looking at Alex with wide confused eyes. “Oh no, the flight was fine and the drive here was fine. I just didn't get much rest at home.”

  “I'm sorry to hear that,” Alex replied softly. “Did something happen?” she asked tentatively.

  “No,” Jenny answered as she hoisted her suitcase onto her bed. If she noticed that Bran had been sitting there, she said nothing. “Dad took time off and we did Thanksgiving with Arthur and his mom. It was nice. I just didn't sleep well.” Jenny gave her a painfully forced smile. “I guess I'm still adjusting to living away from home.”

  “Oh,” Alex agreed, forcing a small smile. “I'm sure you'll feel better soon.” Alex's eyes went to Jenny's suitcase and computer bag. “Do you need any help?” she offered, “You know so you could go to bed earlier.”

  “No,” Jenny answered, turning to her suitcase and unzipping it. “I can get it, but thanks.”

  “Okay,” Alex moved back to her desk and sat down. “Uh, have you had dinner? I could run out and get you something.”

  “Arthur and I swung through a sandwich shop before we left Albany,” Jenny assured her, before looking up an adding. “But thanks honey.”

  Jenny's use of 'honey' made Alex feel a little better so she gave Jenny a nod and turned her attention back to her computer. There was no doubt in her mind that something was bothering Jenny, but then again Alex really didn't have room to point fingers, she reminded herself. Of course, it could be argued that she couldn't tell Jenny the truth about her study group or other group of friends without risking a future of therapists and medication, maybe even an asylum. Despite her darkening mood, Alex chuckled at the strange way her mind worked. She pulled up her school email and double checked her homework list as Jenny put her clothes away. They both stayed silent, but after a few more minutes the silence became less tense and Alex was able to put both Jenny's quiet behavior and her conversation with Bran out of her mind, at least until she tried to sleep that night.

  Then the dream returned and she found herself once again following the sounds of the child crying, but also listening for the sounds of metal being struck.

  24

  The Wandering Priest

  817 B.C.E. Northern Cornwall

  Morgana's long brown hair whipped over her face as another gust of wind blew over the hill where she stood watching over Arto on the slope below her. It had been a warm summer day with a clear sky so Morgana could not begrudge her brother for leaving the village to have some fun, but the sun was sinking low in the sky. In front of her, completely oblivious to the lateness of the hour, a seven year old rushed after a dog who was barking playfully. Brushing her hair from her face, Morgana fixed her dark green eyes on her younger brother and her hand crept to the small bag tied to her belt where the bronze disk that connected her to the Sídhe was kept along with a few other precious items that she'd collected over the years to avoid suspicion.

  After five years no one questioned her about the night she'd been taken. Her powers had become weak to the point that even using the disk was a great challenge. Morgana paid it little mind, despite the moments that fear of her own treacherous thoughts crept over her. The last five years had granted her control over her Changeling’s memories and a chance to make her own in the Iron Realm. She'd grown tall for a girl her age and already Uthyrn was speaking of what marriage match would best benefit their family's control of the bronze trade. He'd suggested a match with the lords of the peninsula copper mines to the north to compliment his control over the regions tin mines. No matter what he suggested for the future, Morgana's attention remained on Arto at all times.

  “Morgana!” Arto called, waving to his sister and pulling here out of her thoughts. She chided herself even as she waved to her brother for losing focus. The boy's wide smile made her heart beat faster, but her hands turn cold as the weight of the disk around her waist increased.

  “Arto,” Morgana scolded half-heartedly as the boy reached her. “You're filthy, what will mother say?”

  “She'll shake her head and sigh,” Arto answered with a giggle.

  Their dog, a brown long legged creature rushed up to them, coming to stop at Arto's side. Morgana met the dog's intense brown gaze and saw its lips draw back to growl at her. Stepping back, she gave Arto a small smile and gestured him towards their village in the distance.

  “Come along Arto,” Morgana sighed, glancing at the dog as it bared its teeth at her once again when she reached to ruffle Arto's messy dark blond locks.

  “Down Alano,” Arto scolded the dog with a frown before he looked up at his sister. “I'm sorry,” he apologized quickly, “I don't know why he is like that around you.”

  “Perhaps he knows that I am Sídhe touched,” Morgana offered with a reassuring smile. “Dogs are very perceptive to the unnatural.”

  “There isn't anything wrong with you,” Arto protested sternly. “You are not unnatural.”

  A smile tugged at Morgana's face that she did not seek to fight. Reaching over, she brushed a strand of Arto's hair from his face. Ignoring Alano, Morgana leaded down quickly and kissed her brother on his forehead.

  “Not all believe that,” Morgana reminded him gently. “But it seems that enough time has passed that they know I am not going to change into a Sídhe myself.”

  “You're thinking about that priest’s test aren't you,” Arto observed with a scowl. “You shouldn't Morgana. The priest was a fool to think you were a Changeling. That was months ago.”

  Forcing a smile for the young boy, Morgana replied, “You're right Arto, but let's hurry home. Caoimhe was in quite a state looking for you.” She tried to give her brother a stern look, but he merely beamed in response, certain that she was not truly angry.

  Sighing, Morgana held out her hand and smiled in satisfaction when the seven year old grabbed it, twisting his fingers around hers. It did not take them long to reach the outer wooden wall of long poles driven deep into the ground that protected the large village from those seeking to cut into the regions bronze trade. Down at the shore, Morgana could see loads of bronze goods being loaded onto the shallow wooden ships and goods from the continent being unloaded. She wondered if there would be anything new or just more wine. Probably wine from Rome, she decided; Uthyrn was extremely fond of it and his control over the region's bronze production meant he had it as often a
s he wished.

  They turned to enter the great gate of the village and both stopped suddenly in their tracks. Caoimhe stood only a few feet in front of them, her grey hair tangled and giving her a fierce look made worse by her dark brown eyes being fixed on them. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her thin lips had nearly vanished with the sternness of her expression. Even Alano whimpered at Arto's side and ducked his head behind his young master's back.

  “Arto,” she called sharply, “What were you thinking child?”

  “I just went to play,” Arto protested, puffing up with courage that Morgana found rather foolish and knew would only earn the boy a longer punishment.

  “Without any warning,” Caoimhe demanded with a shake of her head. “This was not the time child. The wandering priest Myrddin arrived only moments before you slipped off and your sister went after you. Uthyrn and Eigyr were not happy to find that both of their children were messing.”

  “Who is Myrddin?” Arto asked when Caoimhe's rant eased and looked up at Morgana.

  “I haven't heard much of him,” Morgana admitted with a slight frown. “Is he important?”

  “Myrddin has great power,” Caoimhe said in a softer, hushed tone as she stepped closer to the children. “He calls himself Merlin now, but the rumors say he even has the power to strike down a Sídhe Rider without losing his life. Apparently he has wandered the islands for many years and faced many dangers. Him being here to speak with your parents in an omen of some sort.”

  Morgana's chest tightened as a rush of nervousness nearly overwhelmed her. Releasing Arto's hand, Morgana grasped at her mirror bag for a moment before putting her hands together as Caoimhe studied her filthy younger brother.

  “Well, Arto you had better come with me,” Caoimhe huffed with a shake of her head. “Honestly, on such a nice day you manage to get mud all over yourself.”

  The seven year old boy beamed in triumph, completely unaware of his sister's warring emotions. Forcing a smile, Morgana watched Caoimhe grasp Arto's hand and tug him further into the village. Looking over her shoulder at Morgana, Caoimhe added, “Myrddin is already meeting with your parents so do not interrupt them. If it goes on too long then come to my roundhouse for something to eat.”

  “Of course,” Morgana answered quickly, “Thank you Caoimhe. I am sorry for the trouble.”

  Watching Caoimhe walk away, Morgana tried to move her heavy limbs as a rush of fear and excitement pounded through her. She was starting to get a few looks from the other residents of the village as they moved through their daily activities and finally managed to start walking towards her family's roundhouse.

  Their village was built on a large hill overlooking the coast where the locals could keep a close watch on the production and trade of bronze. It enjoyed high status in the trade network of bronze and the locals were wealthy with almost everyone possessing bronze, jet and items from as far away as Rome. All around Morgana people were moving animals on the pathways, packing loads of cooper and tin away for the night and showing off bronze pieces cast that day. There was a sense of excitement and fear in the village and Morgana could hear bits and pieces of conversations that all seemed fixated on the strange man who had come to their settlement. Everything from if his name was Myrddin or Merlin, if he had really destroyed a Sídhe tunnel entrance on the western island or theories of why he was here were being discussed.

  Keeping her expression neutral, Morgana moved through the network of paths between roundhouses until she came to the path that led the rest of the way up the hill to where her family's large roundhouse stood. Glancing around, Morgana made sure that no one was paying attention to her before she stepped off the path and raced towards the back of the roundhouse. She reached the roundhouse and looked around cautiously to makes sure that she was still undetected.

  Resisting the urge to peer into the roundhouse and see the stranger, Morgana moved carefully around the large structure until she was out of sight. She scooted up against the roundhouse wall and pressed her ear to the rough texture of the side, straining her ears to listen to the conversation. At the moment everyone in the roundhouse was silent and she could hear the fire crackling in the hearth and Uthyrn pacing.

  “Can you be certain?” Eigyr questioned suddenly, breaking the silence. Morgana flinched at the fear in her mother's voice. “If you are wrong Merlin….”

  “I fear my lady Eigyr that there is no mistake,” the stranger, Merlin, replied gently. Morgana frowned at his words, her hand dropping to the bag around her waist. “Your son has a great destiny; he was born with special soul.”

  “And what is your role in all of this?” Uthyrn demanded in his gruff voice, his pacing pausing.

  Morgana shuffled even closer to the wall, no longer worrying about her dress being ruined or the poke of the uneven wall against her skin.

  “I am a mage,” Merlin answered calmly and it was all Morgana could do to stay quiet. This was one of the queen's real enemies, but her expected fury and righteous anger did not overcome the worry for Arto that was filling her. “Many years ago I was given a vision by the raw magic of our world and with that vision I was given the task of caring for this special soul. I am afraid that Arto has the vital task of protecting our world from those who invade it.”

  “Invaders… you mean the Sídhe?” Uthyrn asked, his voice far weaker and more frightened than Morgana had ever heard. “No,” her stepfather hissed, “Not my son, not my child.”

  “I am sorry,” Merlin replied and Morgana could hear him moving in the roundhouse. “This has nothing to do with Arto being your son, this is about the soul within his body and the power he carries because of it.”

  “But the Sídhe,” Eigyr whimpered, her voice barely audible to Morgana. “What can he do against them? Weapons don't work and they are becoming more and more militant with every passing year.”

  “I understand your fears,” Merlin assured them and Morgana longed to hit the meddling fool. “There are ways to fight the Sídhe, even ways to destroy them.”

  Nearly jumping in alarm, Morgana blinked blankly at the wall and became aware of the tight grasp she had on her mirror disk. She took a long slow breath and focused on the conversation.

  “I can remain here for at least a few years and train Arto, but it will soon become unsafe for the boy to remain anywhere for any length of time.”

  “You are suggesting that we just hand our son over to you!” Uthyrn demanded his voice gruff and angry. “He is only seven years-”

  “I am aware of his age,” Merlin cut in smoothly. “And I do wish that this was not necessary, but the magic of our realm has already warned me that the Sídhe know of the boy and his presence here.”

  A small pained cry escaped Eigyr, but she recovered enough to ask, “If they know then why have they not attacked? Why haven't they come after him?”

  “They may be waiting to better understand the threat the boy could pose to them,” Merlin answered, as calm as before. “The current ruler of the Sídhe, Queen Scáthbás is not a rash creature, she does nothing without certainty of success.”

  His tone held enough respect, even if only begrudging, that Morgana puffed up a little in pride at the words about her queen. It had been so long… Morgana shook her head and strained to listen.

  “Perhaps…” Uthyrn's voice trailed off.

  “What is it lord Uthyrn?” Merlin questioned, his tone both calming and yet leaving no room for silence.

  “Five years ago our daughter, well Eigyr's daughter from her first marriage, was captured by the Sídhe. We recovered her, but-”

  “Uthyrn!” Eigyr snapped, “How can you suggest such a thing! She was tested not even a year ago by one of the priests. She is not a changeling and Morgana would never harm Arto, she spends all of her time with him.”

  “Too much time with him,” Uthyrn counted, his tone irritated. “She is fourteen years old and watches the boy like a hawk at all times.”

  Merlin interrupted the brewing argument by ask
ing, “Were they always so close?”

  “She always loved him to be sure,” Uthyrn admitted, “Arto was only two when Morgana was taken, but her behavior changed after that and you cannot say that it didn't Eigyr.”

  “Morgana was taken by Riders,” Eigyr replied in a sadder tone, “It must have been terrifying, she has always refused to speak about it.”

  “I see,” Merlin said slowly and Morgana frowned at the tone. “I am sorry that your child had to endure such a trial. Arto is my primary concern. For the sake of our world he must be protected or we will be yet another people put under the yoke of the Sídhe.”

  Biting back a hiss at the harsh words, Morgana drew back from the roundhouse as the adults inside began to move about the structure. She moved away, her hand already scrambling for her mirror before her mind caught up with the action. Forcing herself to take a deep breathe, Morgana let go of the bag and started walking quickly but calmly down the hill. She avoided the path until she'd reached the bottom of the hill and stepped out onto a side path as smoothly as she could.