The Iron Realm (The Iron Soul Book 1)

by J. M. Briggs

  The howling of the wind increased suddenly and Morgana lifted her right hand to shield her eyes from the blowing dust. It took a moment to realize that she could hear voices on the breeze. Focusing on the voices, Morgana gasped softly as sounds familiar to her childhood reached her ears. She swallowed thickly, struggling to breathe and clutched tightly on the metal disk through the bag. When she regained control, Morgana loosened her grip enough to slip her hand inside the bag.

  She could feel the chill of the metal disk even before her fingers touched it, sending shivers through her entire body. Pulling her hand away from the disk, Morgana tightened her cloak to fight off the chill. Morgana sighed loudly and pulled her hand away, folding her hands in front of her. Standing still, Morgana listened to the soft music that drifting through the air, fighting back a sudden swell of memories from the tunnels. The caretakers had sung songs like this one, humming softly or playing a pipe while another sang in a haunting and sweet voice. Those had been the sweeter moments of her very young life. Wrapped up in blankets, in the perfect warmth of the white tunnel rooms with soft lights overhead, she had felt safe and content. There had been no fear or doubt, just a sense of belonging with those who cared for them and her fellow children in those moments.

  Swallowing, Morgana held back her tears and gripped her hands together even more tightly. She'd given no real thought to the others she'd been raised with. None of them did. Once a boy or girl was claimed and taken away they were never spoken of, not even in hushed whispers when the caretakers were occupied. Only on occasion were they seen again and the stories they told…. Morgana unclasped her hands and tugged the cloak tighter around her as the chill in her body intensified to a bone aching cold. Of course then there had been the whispers amongst the children of the role they played and how they served the Sídhe. While it had always sounded good to serve the Sídhe, even then the descriptions of the service had frightened her and now…. Morgana fought back a wave of nausea as her hands began to shake.

  The song seemed louder and Morgana looked out across the valley, her eyes tracing the rolling distant hills that blocked the sea from view. Somewhere out there was a new tunnel opening with the Sídhe celebrating so loudly that they could be clearly heard. They'd ride tonight, Morgana realized as her entire body tensed. The Riders would storm out of the tunnels on their great steeds, the Hounds baying by their sides and villages throughout the area would feel their might. Queen Scáthbás' quest to bring light to the iron folk and add the Iron Realm to the Sídhe collection of worlds would continue.

  Tonight it might even be her own village; they were located right next to the water and would be easy prey for the Riders. Perhaps the damage would be mild, Morgana told herself, only a few houses burned and a few children… Her stomach turned and her body shuddered.

  Forcing herself to breathe, Morgana straightened up and turned her gaze back to her village. With slow steps, she began to follow a trail down the steep slope, keeping a tight grip on her cloak as the wind continued to whip around her. She could warn Airril, she decided. It was known that she had seen the Hounds when they attacked Arto and had been saved by Merlin, she'd told her mother that much. If she could just convince the priest that she heard their songs and the howling of a Hound then maybe they could prepare enough defenses for the Sídhe to go to another village. It was a treacherous thought that filled Morgana with dread and guilt, but she forced herself to move faster towards her home in order to see it through.

  She found her husband just inside the wooden gates, speaking with one of the local metalworkers. His posture was relaxed and a cheerful smile was on his face. He laughed at something and Morgana felt calmer as she strode up to him.

  “Airril,” Morgana greeted with a soft smile. “I must speak with you.”

  Airril smiled widely at Morgana, the dimple on the right side of his face coming into view. His brown eyes gleamed with excitement as he took her hand and guided her further into the village. “My darling,” he breathed, “The wandering priest Merlin arrived while you were gone.”

  “Merlin!?” Morgana gasped, coming to a halt and making Airril turn back to face her with a confused expression. “Merlin is here?”

  “Indeed Morgana,” Airril informed her, his eyes searching her face. Stepping closer, he squeezed her hand gently and raised his free one to cup her cheek. “What is it Morgana? What did you need to speak with me about?”

  Swallowing, Morgana tried to find the words to explain, but Merlin was in the village. She'd seen him destroy a Hound with his magic. Either the Sídhe would not come, to avoid facing him directly, or they would come and focus on him. It no longer mattered what they did to protect the village. She decided quickly that this was better for her, the danger would surely be discussed by Merlin and she need not expose her own knowledge.

  The memory of the last time she'd seen Merlin swept through her and before she could think about the question, Morgana asked, “Is there a boy with him?”

  “A boy no, a young man. Perhaps thirteen,” Airril informed her, still looking at her in confusion. “Merlin introduced him as an apprentice.” When she said nothing in response, Airril stepped even closer and implored, “Morgana, please tell me what is wrong.”

  “Merlin and I…. we have history,” Morgana explained simply. “He vanished many years ago with my brother Arto.”

  “And you think this boy might be your brother,” Airril finished slowly with a worried expression. Nodding resolutely, he asked, “What would you like me to do? Merlin is a priest and we must not harm him, but perhaps-”

  “No,” Morgana interrupted as tears pricked at her eyes at Airril's offer despite the political issues it could cause. “No, it will be alright Airril. My parents were always certain that Merlin had good reason for taking Arto and if the boy is my brother… then this is a good day.”

  As they walked deeper into the village, Airril remained firmly at Morgana's side until they reached the hill on which they lived. Morgana only just kept her composure as Merlin came into view, but swallowed when a boy stepped around him to join in the conversation Merlin was having with their local priest Ronis. She stopped moving and Airril gave her a long moment before his hand moved to her back and gave her a gentle push forward.

  “Is it him?” Airril asked in a low voice as they approached.

  “Yes,” Morgana whispered, shocked at how weak her own voice was.

  “If you're not ready-”

  “No,” Morgana replied quickly, pleased at the strength returning to her voice. “I will be fine.”

  It was only a few more steps, Morgana kept her head up and hoped that she looked calmer than she felt as she and Airril came to a stop. Merlin had barely changed, his clothing was still loose and long, talismans hung around his neck, but a new bronze triskele clasp held his cloak around his shoulders. But Morgana knew that under that calm, drifter exterior was a dangerous mage capable of striking down Sídhe Hounds.

  “I greet you Merlin,” Airril greeted formerly with a nod of his head. “Tales of you have often enthralled us.”

  “I thank you for the welcome,” Merlin answered with a nod of his own, looking over at them. His eyes flashed with recognition, but he did not seem alarmed by Morgana's presence at Airril's side. The boy at his side however darted forward with wide eyes and a hopeful smile.

  “Morgana?” he questioned in a voice that was just starting to change. “It's me Arto.”

  “I know,” Morgana confessed, trying to keep her emotions in order. “Welcome little brother.”

  Merlin turned his brown eyes on Morgana, studying her in silence. She felt his heavy gaze even as she opened her arms to Arto and allowed the boy to wrap his arms around her waist. He was so much taller, she observed with a sense of awe and loss as she looked down at him when Merlin made no move to intervene. Arto must have been about twelve years old, nearly thirteen, she realized as she added up the years and already beginning to show signs of the man he would become. There was no doubt now
that he greatly resembled Uthyrn, although his features were softened by their mother's looks. Gently carding her fingers through his darker brown hair, she remembered the lighter locks of his youth that had darkened. A rush of anger surged through her as she cataloged all the changes she and her mother had missed.

  Arto released Morgana and stepped back with a wide smile still shining brightly. It was his turn to study her, taking in the changes that the years had wrought. Her face has lost most of her youthful baby fat and slimmed down, strengthening her resemblance to Eigyr, but her shoulders were broader like her father Kenwyn. Over the years she'd been told that she had his temperament and wit. Today, however, Morgana remained still and silent to give Arto the time he needed to study her. Carefully, she looked past him at Merlin and met the brown eyes firmly.

  The action only amused him and Merlin chuckled, his shoulders relaxing visibly as he leaned forward on his staff. His eyes dropped to the bag on her belt and Morgana felt a strong desire to hide it away, certain that he knew what it contained. She resisted the urge to move away, raising her chin slightly in defiance. Next to her, Airril shifted uncertainly.

  “Morgana,” Arto called, drawing her attention back to him.

  Her brother was frowning, having turned slightly to glance back at Merlin and then back to her. He had caught the silent exchange, Morgana realized with a flush of embarrassment and irritation at Merlin.

  “I'm afraid that like mother and your father, I was not happy when Merlin vanished into the night with you,” Morgana explained, looking back at Merlin with a challenge in her eyes.

  “Sadly, there was no alternative,” Merlin assured her, taking a few steps forward, his staff thumping on the compressed dirt with each step. “I sent messages when I could to your parents.”

  “Only to say that he was alive and well,” Morgana protested, moving forward and placing a hand on Arto's shoulder. “Surely you are not so detached from humanity that you fail to see how lacking those messages were.”

  The amusement was gone from Merlin's eyes and he frowned at Morgana, leaning forward on his staff once again, but this time he gesture radiated power and impatience, not serenity.

  “It is odd to hear you speak of detachment from humanity,” he observed in an even tone.

  Morgana's breath caught in her throat and she could barely contain her anger. Tightening her grip on Arto's shoulder, she steered the boy forward on the path while forcing a sweet smile.

  “Well, the past cannot be changed, but Arto you must stay with us tonight.”

  Before anyone could argue with her, Morgana half-escorted half-pulled her brother up the path to their roundhouse at the top of the rise. It was the largest in the village with a steep sloping roof and wood piled all around the walls under the cover of the thatch. The first thing a person saw when they entered were the stone shelves at the far side of the room where Morgana's jet necklaces, bottles of perfume, small vases of wine and golden trinkets, but Arto unlike most visitors paid no attention. Instead he quickly sat down on a stool by the hearth and looked up at Morgana.

  “I am sorry that I could never visit,” he told her softly. “Are mother and father well?”

  “I have not seen them for some time myself,” Morgana confessed as she gracefully sat down near her brother. “But the news from the south is that they are well and your father's trade continues to be beneficial to him.”

  “And you are married now? To Airril?” Arto asked with a glance towards the doorway, but Airril and Merlin had yet to follow them inside. A jolt of fear made Morgana shift with nervousness, wondering if Merlin would tell Airril about her history with the Sídhe.

  “Morgana?” Arto called, “Is Airril your husband?”

  “He is,” Morgana replied with a forced smile as she looked back at Arto. “He is a good man, our marriage came about when his father died and Uthyrn wanted a stronger partnership with the northern copper regions.”

  “Do you love him?” Arto questioned and Morgana stumbled for an answer. She was saved to her relief and horror by Merlin entering the roundhouse with Airril, smiling at Arto and barely glancing at Morgana.

  “Well my lad, have you questioned your sister about your parents?” Merlin inquired as she sank onto a stool of his own.

  “I have, Morgana says that they are well,” Arto answered with a small smile as he looked to his teacher.

  “That is good,” Merlin agreed with a nod before he looked at Airril. “You see, we have been traveling on Inisfail.”

  “The western island?” Airril sought to confirm. When Merlin nodded, Airril smiled and added, “I fear that I have never traveled that far myself.”

  “It was important that Arto see the sacred sites there,” Merlin explained calmly. “He spent a great deal of time studying with the priests.”

  “Ah,” Airril began with a quick glanced towards Morgana, “Then Arto is your student, will he be a traveling priest like yourself or take over a particular region?”

  “I suspect that he will travel a great deal as I do,” Merlin answered and Morgana frowned at the answer, glaring slightly at Merlin.

  She glanced back at Arto, who was alternating between looking around the tent with mild interest and studying Airril with a thoughtful expression. Rising from her seat, Morgana gave them all a smile and moved towards the door.

  “Please excuse me, I will see about having something special for supper tonight,” she explained quickly before pulling back the animal pelt. She could feel Merlin's eyes on her, but ignored her discomfort in favor of a new rush of anger. Slipping around the roundhouse, Morgana moved down the hill towards the wooden wall that protected the village from the elements. Morgana stopped a few people long enough to arrange for some fresh meat and produce to be delivered to her roundhouse before she found a quiet space out of sight behind an empty roundhouse.

  Pulling out her metal disk, Morgana fought back the urge to shiver and breathed in and out slowly for a moment. Then she closed her eyes and sought her connection to magic. It had been so weak the last time she had attempted this, but now she was scrambling in a void of nothing. There were mere wisps where her bond to magic had once been. Gasping softly, Morgana opened her eyes as the metal disk fell from her fingers. She distantly heard the thump as it hit the dirt. Her fingers trembled and her mouth was painfully dry.

  Swallowing, Morgana closed her eyes and tried to calm herself, but the urgency of panic was already overwhelming her. She fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around herself as the fight to breathe continued. Her fingers moved to her brooch on their own volition. Morgana stopped moving, allowing the subtle warmth to flow into her body. The tightness of her chest eased and Morgana took in a shaky deep breath. Lowering her eyes, Morgana stared at the metal disk in the dirt, trying to understand, but failing.

  28

  Healer’s Touch

  Alex and her friends moved with fast, but cautious motions as they stumbled back to Hatfield Hall, all the while looking around for more Hounds. Students at the doorway were looking around with curious expressions and Alex overheard them talking about the Hounds and animal control. As Aiden helped Bran up the stairs as casually as he could, Alex caught a remark about the pack of greyhounds that someone's neighbor had seen. Pulling out her keycard, Alex unlocked the door, trying to ignore the gossiping students and held it open for her friends.

  Aiden didn't need any direction, heading straight for the elevator and pressing the second floor button. Bran leaned against the back of the elevator, releasing labored breath and Nicki glanced down at the phone she was clutching in her hand.

  “What did Merlin say?” Aiden asked when the door closed and the elevator began to move.

  “Merlin is calling Morgana, they'll call us when they are together at his house. But he said that we should be safe. A pack stays fairly close together so there probably aren't any more.”

  Aiden nodded, but his hand went to the dagger he'd concealed once again in the back of his jeans. Alex barely no
ticed her own hand dropping down to her own dagger. The blood on her hand was rapidly turning sticky and Alex shuddered as the wound throbbed with pain. Nicki made a move towards her, but the elevator opened and they all piled out of the elevator. Following the others down the hallway, Alex was reminded that she'd never been to Bran's dorm. They usually just said goodbye in the entry.

  His door was only two down from the elevator with the RA on the far side of him. Bran pulled out his key, making a small hiss of pain that caused Aiden to hold out his hand. Without a word, Bran handed him the keys and waited while Aiden got the door open before stepping back.

  Bran moved into the room with sharp movements that favored his left side, dropping onto the bed without even bothering with the lights. Reaching into the room, Alex found the light switch and flicked it as she and the others entered the room.