Through Iron's Eyes--Part 2

I wasn't intending on writing any more to this story but Angela asked me why he was wearing makeup. So I had to write more and answer that question. There will be no more to this story though. Sorry, hope I didn't leave you hanging too much!



“Really Mister Iron, I wouldn’t have recognized you since you covered up your scar with makeup only your eyes really are quite attractive. I think I have yet to meat anyone with eyes quite as attractive as your blue ones!”

Lard Strathford chuckled an ugly little chuckle at his comrade’s comment.  

“Oh yes? I have been told that a few times in my life I suppose.”  I tried to see my reflection in the glass windows of the train. Could it really be that after all this preparation I had forgotten to put in my brown contacts? Yes my eyes were “attractive”, in an altogether too dangerous way!

“Ah! Here we are. Sooner than expected. Please allow me to take you to my lovely home nearby where I will do my best to entertain you!” the train was slowing down as Lard Strathford spoke.

“May I escort you?” Sir  Bander cooed in my ear persuasively. “I wouldn’t want you to get lost in the crowd you know.”

Inwardly I recoiled from this man and his cooing. He disgusted me, but there was also another emotion I felt towards him, one that most of the Circle even didn’t realize I had—Fear. I was terribly afraid of Sir Bander, mostly because I didn’t know exactly how much he knew of me. I couldn’t gage his knowledge of my background and be prepared for what past horror he would hurl at me.

“I thank you but it I think if I was escorted by just you I might still get lost. Could perhaps two of your guards do it? No offence to you but you know the old saying, ‘Two is better than one’ .”

 “Oh, but I wouldn’t have thought your royal blood would permit you to be touched by blood not as noble as yours.” He said charmingly.

My stomach churned again. So that was one more thing he knew about me that I wished he didn’t. He knew how helpless I was in his hands and so he didn’t mind standing here on the train bantering with me. I felt a strong urge to make a desperate struggle to get out of here now and with a twist I was free of his arm. In a fraction of a second I had jumped free of the still train and was running desperately straight for the slums.

I heard his footsteps behind me. He sounded like he was hardly even jogging.  My breath came in short gasps; I was a sprinter, not a long distance runner like Sir Bander. Already I had nearly used up my strength. Should I use it now? The thought crossed my mind but I pushed it away. Only for emergencies, only as a last resort would I use that and expose my strongest weapon.  It banged against my heaving chest I could feel it dripping with my sweat. I must not use it yet, I must save it, there was one more thing I could try first.

I faced about and drew a long knife from under my cloak. Sir Bander stopped and looked at me for a while and then threw his head back and laughed loudly. It was a ridiculous idea for me, with a knife, to attack a man with a sword. He continued to laugh, his head thrown back his arms wide apart he was wide open. I jumped.

Sir Bander hit the ground with a thud as I landed on top of him but was well trained for things like this.

“You miserable little cur!” his large hand sent me sprawling with my ears ringing. He came and stood over me, his eyes glinting dangerously.

I had no choice but to use my last resort. I pulled the beautiful sliver whistle, with the mark of The Iron on one side and a galloping horse on the other, from under my shirt and blew as loudly as I could. It was as I expected, Sir Bander suspected me of treachery and the last thing I saw was a raised sword gleaming in the sunlight.