Read Online The Iron Ring by Auston Habershaw - Free Book Online Page B

from a river otter on his head, and left the cottage. He made certain to slam the door.
    Artus, who had been sitting with his back to the cottage, stood up. “Oh, it’s you. Is Eddereon still in there?”
    Tyvian gestured at the door. “You better hurry. He may run out of simplistic ethical aphorisms any moment.”
    Tyvian turned his back and walked away on unsteady legs as Artus went inside. The cottage was situated a mere fifty yards from the banks of a narrow river—­a tributary of the Trell, no doubt—­and he could see the bridge from which he had fallen two days earlier stretching over it. The engine track cut across the snowy landscape ahead of him, a barren black strip of lifeless ground in a field of white. He traced the track east with his eyes, toward the imposing gray and white peaks of the Dragonspine, knowing that the Freegate road would run in the same direction, though it might be as far as a mile from the track itself. He considered his route. It was cold, and the heavy leather and fur boots were poorly sized for his thin feet. Between this and his exhaustion, Tyvian felt like he was dragging wooden blocks behind his legs.
    He heard the door to the cottage slam open behind him. There was the crunch of footsteps in snow and he turned around to find Artus planted in front of him. “Hey! Hey, what did you tell him?”
    Tyvian rolled his eyes. “Let’s see—­I called him a backstabbing, stinking vagabond and a cheeky, moralistic git. What is it to you?”
    â€œHe’s gone, is what! He just up and gone! He left a note!” Artus held up a scrap of paper. Tyvian could see the crudity of the handwriting from where he stood.
    â€œI presume that you can’t read, then.”
    Artus shook his head. “Can you?”
    Tyvian scowled and snatched the note from the boy’s hand. He glanced it over, and after parsing Eddereon’s blocky script, saw that it read:
    Artus,
    Remember this: it was not I who saved you from the spirit engine, it was Tyvian Reldamar. No matter his faults, which are many, he is a man destined for greatness who is possessed of a noble soul. He is embittered, though, and angry, and will need help along the way. You offered to serve me in return for saving your life; I ask you to transfer that debt to Master Reldamar. He doesn’t have many friends, Artus. Be his friend, despite his sharp tongue, and neither he nor you will regret it.
    Saints bless and keep you well,
    Eddereon
    â€œWell?” Artus asked.
    Tyvian cleared his throat. “ ‘Dear Artus, please bugger off and leave Tyvian Reldamar alone. Your hairy friend, Eddereon. P.S. Learn to read, for Kroth’s sake, so as not to annoy your betters.’ ”
    Artus frowned. “It don’t say that!”
    Tyvian threw the note over his shoulder and began to follow the riverbank downstream and away from the spirit engine tracks and the road.
    The boy fished the note out of the snow and trotted after him. “Well, what does it say? Tell me!”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhy not, dammit?”
    Tyvian spun around. “Allow me to be clear, boy. Our relationship is over . You and I have nothing more to say to one another.” He pointed down the river. “When we follow this river to the Trell, you are going to turn downstream and go to Galaspin. You’ll like the gutters and alleys there, I’m certain. I, meanwhile, will go upstream, to Freegate, where there is a comfortable bed and some decent clothing. Thus will end the tale of Tyvian Reldamar and Artus the street urchin.”
    Artus snorted. “Fine, but you owe me ten marks.”
    â€œHa! Whatever for?”
    â€œThe job—­what else? I fooled that guy for you, didn’t I?”
    Tyvian hissed out a laugh. “You did nothing of the kind. The man wasn’t Akrallian nobility; ‘he’ wasn’t even a man . She was a glorified constable and she certainly