{15}Strike Bars E and R

“Do you think I should send it to Helena?” Iris asked the next morning. She and Attie were sitting at Lonnie Fielding’s kitchen table, waiting for breakfast to be served. Tobias was outside, cranking the roadster’s engine. He was about to leave for Oath, and Iris had spent most of the night preparing articles for the Inkridden Tribune.

Attie set the papers down. Her lips were pursed, her left brow cocked. Iris knew that meant she was deep in thought.

“I think you should, Iris,” Attie finally said, pouring herself a second cup of tea. Steam rose in the air, fragranced with bergamot and lavender. “At the very least, Helena will want to see it, even if she doesn’t publish it in the paper.”

Iris nodded, staring at her pages. It was nothing like the original myth Roman had once found and sent to her, but it was close enough. The doomed love story of Dacre and Enva. How he used his hounds and his eithrals to terrify mortals above until Enva had agreed to live below with him.

“The only thing I wonder…” Iris trailed off, grimacing. “Should I include the second half when Enva sang him to weep, then laugh, then sleep?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Attie asked.

“I don’t know. But I have this feeling.”

“What feeling?”

“A warning, maybe. Like this knowledge shouldn’t be broadcast in the paper.”

“That Enva’s music controlled him when she played underground?” Attie reached for the pitcher of milk. “But what if it was widely known? Maybe people’s opinions on music wouldn’t be so severe.”

“Or maybe they would only worsen,” Iris said. “Maybe people like the chancellor already know of this myth, and that is why he outlawed stringed instruments. That is why this story has been torn away from all the tomes about divinities and why it was never taught to us in school. Because it’s dangerous.”

Attie didn’t have a chance to reply. The back door opened and Tobias stepped into the kitchen, his trench coat beaded with mist.

“Are your articles ready?” he asked them.

“Good morning to you, too,” Attie said wryly. “Shouldn’t you eat breakfast before you depart?”

“No. A storm’s blowing in from the west. I need to outrun it.”

“Can we have Mr. Fielding pack you a lunch, at least?” Iris said. “He’s cooking right now.”

Tobias granted her a smile, a dimple marking his cheek. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine.”

Attie already had their articles packed in a folder, ready for transport. She slid it across the table; Tobias seamlessly picked it up.

“When will you be back?” she asked.

“Tomorrow evening,” he replied. “I need to have the roadster serviced in Oath, which will delay me. You both remember our agreement?”

Iris was quiet, but she recalled Tobias’s request from the other night. It was hard for her to think about something happening to him on the road when their surroundings felt so normal and familiar, as if the three of them had been here before. Indeed, Lonnie Fielding was whistling as he cooked in the adjacent kitchen. Bacon was sizzling in a pan and a kettle was hissing. The dining room was a cluttered space with a timber-beamed ceiling and books piled up in the corners. Iris felt safe here, but she knew Tobias was right. Things could escalate quickly, just like they had in the Bluff. Their group needed to be prepared for the worst.

She shuddered, pulling the sleeves of her jumpsuit over her hands as she crossed her arms.

“Don’t worry, Bexley.” Attie finally broke the silence. “We won’t wait on you if people begin evacuating.”

Tobias held her stare for a moment before nodding. Then he turned and was out the door before Iris could so much as blink. She realized her typed myth was still on the table, and in that split second, she decided she wanted to send it.

She followed Tobias out the door, running along the stone path through the garden to the road. He was just about to drive away, his hand on the gearstick, when Iris caught his attention.

“Wait! I have one more article,” she panted, holding up the papers.

Tobias didn’t seem shocked. He only snorted as he handed the folder to Iris.

“You’ll be careful?” she said as she hurried to tuck her papers inside.

“Of course,” he replied. “I’ll see you and Attie tomorrow night.”

Iris nodded and stepped back. The mist swirled as Tobias drove away, but Iris remained standing on the cobbled street, soaking in the morning.

She had never been to Bitteryne before, but it felt like Avalon Bluff and River Down. Cottages, winding streets, idyllic pasture views. When the war is over, she thought, I’d like to live in a place like this one.

The peace was broken when Iris felt a rumble beneath her feet. She stared at the cobblestones in disbelief before glancing up the road, wondering if a line of lorries was driving into town. But there were no signs of life on the streets.

The rumbling faded, although Iris could still feel an echo of it in her bones.

She remembered the night before—the clinking beneath the floor. Like axes hitting stone, deep in the earth. Swallowing, Iris turned and hurried back inside.

Lonnie was setting breakfast down on the table. He looked up expectantly and said, “Oh, there you are, Miss Winnow. Glad to see you look well rested. Is Mr. Bexley with you?”

“Did you feel that?” Iris breathed. “That rumbling in the ground?”

Both Lonnie and Attie froze. The seconds stretched on, tense and silent, but there was nothing odd about them. The floor did not shake again, nor did the pattern of clinks return.

“I’m sorry,” Iris said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I must have imagined it. I stayed up late last night writing, and—”

“No,” Attie gently interrupted her. “I sensed something peculiar last night too. It was faint, but the floor was shuddering.”

The girls looked at Lonnie. He was an older farmer, one who had lived his entire life in Bitteryne. His wife had died years before, and his two grown sons and their three daughters were all fighting in the war for Enva’s cause. Iris and Attie were currently staying in his granddaughters’ rooms because Lonnie had decided the best thing to do with a suddenly empty house was to rent the rooms and help the cause as much as he could.

“You didn’t imagine it,” he said. “For the past week now, we’ve felt the rumblings throughout the town.”

“What could be causing them?” Iris asked.

Lonnie sighed. “None of us know. This is a peaceful valley. We’ve never encountered anything like ground shakes before. Honestly, it’s very noticeable some days, and others not so much. But don’t you two worry about it! I’m sure it’s nothing to fret about. Here, help yourself to the bacon and scones. I’m sorry to say I don’t have any eggs today. I sent them west to Hawk Shire, for the army.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fielding,” Attie said. “This is more than enough for us.”

“Yes, thank you.” Iris smiled, but her stomach churned as she sat down. She met Attie’s gaze from across the table. She was thinking about the myth she had just sent with Tobias. A myth full of winding tunnels, deep in the ground.

This is a test to ensure the strike bars E and R are in good working condition.

ERERERERER EEEEEE RRRRRRRRRRRRR

RERERERERERE REEEEEEE?

Test confirmed and easily passed. (Although I thought we had agreed thatIwas to write first, Elizabeth.) Regardless, you are quite lucky that you found me in a quiet moment. This rain has delayed the move to our next destination.

—R.

Dear R.,

I’m writing to gain your insight on a strange matter. Last night, I sensed something odd. There was a clinking in the floor beneath me, followed by rumbles, like thunder. My host says that this has been happening in town for a week now, and none of them can explain it. But I sense that it may be something sinister, and I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this save for my fervent hope that you may have an answer or advice?

Yours,

E.

Dear E.,

I’m afraid I don’t have an answer at the ready but give me a day. I may be able to find one for you.

In the meantime, remain on guard.

I’ll write soon.

Yours,

R.

The rain continued to fall hard the following day, turning Bitteryne’s streets into creek beds. Iris and Attie spent the afternoon going door-to-door, gathering reports and stories from the townspeople. But there wasn’t much new information to glean. Rumors swirled that Dacre had finally left Avalon Bluff and was now stationed in a town called Merrow. Why was he taking his time moving eastward? What was he waiting for?

Iris didn’t know, although she sensed Roman might. She was anxious, waiting for his reply, but as the afternoon waned into a stormy eventide, he had yet to write.

She decided to sit in the dining room with Attie and work after dinner. They spread their notes out on the table, sharing a pitcher of chilled cider while a fire crackled in the stone hearth. Iris was halfway through with her article when she realized that Attie had gone still, her gaze fixated on the back door.

“What is it?” Iris asked. “Is it the ground again?”

“No, it’s Bexley,” Attie replied. “He said he would be back by now.”

Iris was quiet, listening as the rain continued to pour through the night.

“I’m sure it’s just the storm slowing him down,” she said, but she was anxious about Tobias driving through such weather. “And it’s only evening. He may still arrive tonight.”

Attie sighed and resumed her typing, but her words seemed to come slower. Her eyes continued to dart to the back door, as if she expected it to swing open any moment.

The hours melted. The storm only grew stronger.

The electricity flickered and eventually went out. Iris and Attie worked by firelight, bidding Lonnie Fielding goodnight when he ensured they had everything they needed.

But when midnight struck, the girls finally packed up their typewriters and notes, returning to their rooms.

Tobias Bexley had failed to return.