by John Marco
Raxor glanced up at her. ‘Yes?’
Mirage hesitated. ‘You must be careful. This armour Thorin wears . . .’ She stopped herself, not knowing if she should continue. ‘Please don’t ask me to explain it all. There are things I can’t reveal to you, not ever.’
The old king rose and stood before her. ‘Your secrets are safe. But please, tell me what you must.’
Not wanting to betray Grimhold, Mirage kept her words particular. ‘The Devil’s Armour is everything you’ve heard it is,’ she whispered. ‘It cannot be destroyed, and while Thorin wears the armour he cannot be defeated. Please, King Raxor, don’t ride into this battle.’
Raxor reached out and traced his finger along her cheek. ‘I don’t seek battle, Mirage. I will talk with Baron Glass first.’
‘He won’t listen to you,’ said Mirage. ‘What your men have told you about him is the truth – he is suspicious. He fears anything that might take Liiria away from him. The Devil’s Armour has possessed him.’
‘Possessed? What do you mean?’
Mirage shook her head. ‘I can’t explain to you. It’s magic, just like you were told. It’s a powerful magic and it has corrupted Baron Glass. It has maddened him, my lord, and he will not listen to your reason.’
‘Then what shall I do? Be a coward? I cannot let him come to Reec to spread Jazana Carr’s empire. No. No matter what weapon he wields against us, we will confront him. That is the way it must be, Mirage.’
There was no arguing with the old king. Mirage saw his logic immediately. But in her mind she also saw his broken body, savaged by Thorin and his armour, and the image brought a surprising tear to her eyes.
‘I know,’ she said, nodding quickly. ‘I know. Just . . . be careful.’
King Raxor puffed out his broad chest. ‘Ah, have confidence in me, girl. Ask Corvalos to tell you some stories about me. I was a great solider in my day, more than a match for Thorin Glass.’
‘Yes,’ Mirage agreed, collected herself. ‘I’ve heard. And I don’t think you’re too old, and I don’t think you’re crazy, my lord. I think you’re just a kind and lonely man.’
‘And strong,’ said Raxor. ‘Don’t forget that one.’
Mirage smiled. ‘Yes, strong,’ she told him.
But in her heart she knew she was lying, and that he had no chance at all against Thorin.
18
Lukien spent his first days in Torlis trying to fathom the city’s grandness. Though he had lived his entire life in Koth, a place renowned for its science and accomplishments, he had never seen anything like the land of the Red Eminence or the magnificent palace she called home. To his surprise, Lahkali’s holy man Karoshin gave him and Jahan full run of the palace, not forbidding them from any area, inviting them to explore the palace and its elaborate grounds. Under orders from his young queen to give them anything they required, Karoshin had assigned them a fabulous set of chambers in one of the palace’s vast wings, complete with maids and body servants to attend their needs. Jahan, who had grown up in his simple village, remained awestruck by the palace and its abundance. Food came to them on silver trays, and baths were not taken in the river but rather showered over them with perfumed water. Beautiful girls were made available to massage their backs and soothe their feet, and talented musicians came with their meals to entertain them with their strange instruments. For Lukien, exhausted from his long journey to the Serpent Kingdom, Torlis and its palace were heavenly. For the first time in countless weeks, he was comfortable.
Still, his mind did not relax, plagued as it was by the riddle Lahkali had laid at his feet. He spent endless hours in discussion with Jahan, pondering the location of the Sword of Angels and wondering if he had forgotten some important tidbit from his encounter with his dead beloved, Cassandra. He questioned each new servant sent to their chambers, asking them all they knew about the outside world and the legend of Malator, but each time he got the same friendly, useless answers.
Even in the great comfort of the palace, Lukien despaired. He had come so far and proven the existence of the sword, and it was so close to his grasp now that his hand trembled when he thought of it. Yet it was kept from him, its location locked in the mind of a single person, and young Lahkali had no intention of divulging her secret.
On his fourth day in Torlis, Lukien found himself wandering the grounds of the palace, admiring its flawlessly formed trees and considering his dismal options. Alone, he made sure to stay well away from the praying holy men who peppered the grounds, kneeling in their white robes among the flowered lawn. In Torlis, the weather always seemed perfect, as if the god Sercin had forbidden clouds or wind from disturbing the contemplation of his monks. Today was like the previous days, warm and glorious, enjoyed as much by the larks in the trees as by the people strolling the ground. Lukien avoided the others, finding a spot away from the busy lanes, where a large rock waited by a trickling stream, a tiny tributary of the great river that raged down from the mountain. He could see the holy mountain in the distance, like a titan overlooking the city. Akhir had called it the home of Sercin.
‘Sercin, if I prayed to you would you help me find the sword?’
Lukien waited for an answer, gazing at the mammoth mountain. He sat himself down on the rock, smoothed by countless backsides over the years.
‘No?’
The mountain and its god did not reply. Lukien took the Eye of God from beneath his shirt, holding the precious thing in his palm and staring into its scarlet jewel. During his time in Torlis, he had begged Amaraz to speak to him, to help him unlock the riddle of the sword. Amaraz, who knew so much, could surely help him with Lahkali’s secret. But as he always did, the great Akari ignored Lukien’s pleas, keeping silent in his golden home.
‘Amaraz, you came to me once,’ said Lukien. ‘I need you. Do you hear? I need you.’
The red jewel in the Eye’s centre pulsed at its usual tempo. Lukien touched it with his finger, feeling its living warmth. He had never understood why Amaraz ignored him, when all other Akari spoke freely with their hosts. Only once had the spirit appeared to him, and even then he had ignored Lukien, speaking directly to Minikin as if Lukien were not even there. The insult had hardened Lukien’s heart.
‘You’re a great, powerful being,’ said Lukien. ‘But you’re also unspeakably cruel. You sent me on this mission, Amaraz. You told me there was a way to defeat Kahldris and his armour, and all I’d have to do is find it. Well I have found it! It’s here, and all I have to do is lay my hands on it. Now speak to me, you wretched imp.’
Still the amulet gave no change, no signal at all that Amaraz was listening. Lukien laughed bitterly.
‘Don’t talk, then. Just listen. The life you’ve given me is a curse, you know. You and your mission are just keeping me from Cassandra. I should rip you from my throat and toss you in the ocean, and I will once I’m done with the Sword of Angels. I will, Amaraz, and you won’t be able to stop me.’
He had made the same threat to the Akari before, many times. It felt good to threaten a god.
‘So I’ll die. Do you think I’m afraid of that? I welcome it. I think every day of it, of being free of you. And what will become of you then? Perhaps a whale will swim by and swallow you, and then you can give the whale immortality. Would you like that?’
His taunts were useless. Nothing he could say would shame Amaraz into breaking his silence. Placing the amulet back beneath his shirt, Lukien left the solitary rock behind, heading west toward the sun, where earlier he had noticed a large, walled area attached to the palace but not nearly as well maintained. The wall was barely six feet high and built of stones laid one atop the other. It looked like it had been there forever, long before the rest of the palace. To Lukien, the area hinted at a stable. Drawn by curiosity, he made his way toward the wall, which had no entrance that he could see but simply continued on around the back of the palace. Reaching it, he put his hands to the wall to feel its construction, then heard a commotion on the other side. A man�
��s voice, shouting. And angry.
Unable to find a way in, Lukien settled on peering over the wall instead. Not wanting to be seen, he tiptoed to an area of the wall shrouded by trees. Being just over six feet tall, he could barely see across the top of the wall, into the field beyond. Like the flowery grounds of the garden, the area hidden by the wall had trees that blocked his view. Beyond the trees, he saw figures moving, but only barely.
‘Damn . . .’
Lukien repositioned himself and, straining atop his toes, hoisted himself up with his arms and elbows, dangling on the wall as carefully as he could. Still hidden by the trees, he was confident the figures could not see him. But he could see them now, and what he saw intrigued him, for there was young Lahkali, dressed like a warrior of Torlis in a black flowing robe with a golden rope cinched around her waist. In her hands was a giant, spear-like weapon, two-pronged like the tongue of a snake, just like the ones Lukien had seen the palace guards carrying. She was on her knees, desperately holding the spear before her, trying sloppily to ward off blows from a man Lukien had never seen before, a thin-boned dagger of a man with two curved swords that wheeled against Lahkali, driving her further to the ground. Lahkali cried with effort as she fought to hold back the onslaught, but it was obvious to Lukien that she was in no danger. Not far from her stood her trusted holy man Karoshin, stroking his chin unhappily as he watched the girl defend herself.
Lukien watched the fight intently. The muscles in his arm began to burn with the effort of holding himself on the wall. Lahkali tried gamely to rise to her feet, but each attempt brought harder blows from the man with the swords, driving her down again. Finally, with tears spouting down her cheeks, Lahkali cried out for the mêlée to stop.
The field grew quiet. Lukien held his breath. The man with the swords stopped his attack but did not help the Red Eminence to her feet. Instead he tossed his weapons into the dirt, a look of disgust on his bony face. Angry words poured out of him, but he was too far away for Lukien to comprehend. Still, his meaning was plain, and while he berated her, Lahkali simply stood and took his abuse, looking at her feet in shame.
‘Son of a bitch,’ Lukien whispered. She was only a girl, but her brutish teacher railed at her like she was an officer in his command. He picked up Lahkali’s weapon, demonstrating how poorly she was holding it, as if he had already given her this same lesson a hundred times. Karoshin did nothing to come to the girl’s rescue. The tattooed priest merely chewed his lip unhappily.
At last the warrior collected himself, taking a deep breath before speaking softly to the Eminence. He set aside the forked spear, speaking directly, never taking his hard gaze off his pupil. Lahkali tried to listen but Lukien could tell her mind was elsewhere, struggling with the shame of her performance. She nodded at everything the warrior told her, yet the tears continued. Then, like a little girl she wiped the sleeve of her garment across her face.
The warrior bowed and left her, turning almost in Lukien’s direction before departing for the palace. Lukien lowered himself until he was sure the man had gone, then peered again over the wall. By now his arms were on fire, and he knew he could not hold on much longer. Grunting under his breath, he watched as Lahkali sunk to her knees again, weeping. This time Karoshin rushed to comfort her, putting both hands on the girl’s shaking shoulders. Lahkali turned her face from him, shooing him away. The priest lingered a few moments, ignoring the girl’s request, until Lahkali angrily ordered him to go. Long-faced, Karoshin followed the warrior out of the training field.
Lukien slunk back down the wall, leaning against it. If he listened carefully, he could just make out Lahkali’s sobs. The sound of it broke his heart, and he did not know why. He remained there, hidden from the girl, waiting for her crying to subside. When it didn’t, he hoisted himself all the way up the wall, tossing one leg over it and then the other before dropping down on the other side. The noise of his descent startled Lahkali, who looked up with a gasp. Lukien paused at the wall, waiting before coming closer. Lahkali stared at him through her tears, shaking her head miserably.
‘You saw?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’ Lukien offered her a kind smile. ‘I didn’t mean to spy. I’m just tall, you see.’
The joke fell flat with Lahkali. ‘You should not have watched. This is a private place.’
‘You’re right, but I’m here now,’ said Lukien, going to her. He glanced around, pleased to notice they were alone. ‘Really, I am sorry. I don’t mean to embarrass you. I wouldn’t have watched if I wasn’t concerned.’
Lahkali let Lukien help her to her feet. She was amazingly light, as though her little frame was filled with feathers. Her whole hand disappeared in Lukien’s fist. She brushed the tears from her eyes, trying to look like Torlis’ ruler.
‘You can go,’ she said. ‘I’m fine.’
But Lukien didn’t go. Instead he looked at the weapons strewn across the ground, the two curved swords the warrior had used and the long, twin-forked spear. He picked the spear off the ground, feeling the heft of its ebony shaft. It was a well made weapon, but heavy and much too large for Lahkali.
‘I’ve seen these around the palace. The guards carry them. What are they called?’
‘That is a katath,’ said Lahkali. She eyed the thing angrily. ‘All the warriors of Torlis know how to use them, and the swords.’
‘All the warriors. So why are you training with it, Eminence?’
‘Because I must. Because I have no choice.’
Lahkali turned and sat back down on the ground, folding her arms around her legs and resting her chin atop her knees. Lukien looked down at her, not sure what to say. Surprisingly, she did not order him away.
‘I am the Red Eminence. Do you know what that means, Lukien?’
‘Not really,’ Lukien admitted. ‘Jahan told me some, about how you turn the river to blood by slaying the Great Rass.’
‘Your friend Jahan does not think much of me,’ Lahkali grumbled. ‘I saw it in his face when he met me. Others come from closer villagers to see me, and they always have that same look about them.’
‘What look, Eminence?’
‘Disappointment. I’m not the man they expect to find on the throne of Torlis. I’m not a man at all. I’m just a girl.’
Lukien knew she was right about Jahan’s reaction. Jahan still had not stopped talking about it. ‘You’re the ruler of Torlis. Why should it matter that you are a girl? Someday you will grow into a full woman, and I have known some powerful women, Eminence.’
Lahkali’s eyes flicked up at him. ‘Have you?’
‘Oh, yes! For years I was in the employ of a woman called Jazana Carr. They call her the Diamond Queen. Trust me when I tell you that she lets no man push her around.’
‘I wish it were that way in Torlis,’ said Lahkali dreamily.
Lukien stuck one end of the katath into the ground, leaning against it. ‘Why are you training with this, Eminence? To kill the Great Rass? The boatman who brought me here said it was almost time for the Great Rass to appear again.’
‘That’s right,’ said Lahkali. ‘And it’s my task to kill it. Only I cannot.’
‘Because you can’t wield this weapon? There are other ways, surely.’
‘No, you don’t understand. The weapon is not the problem. The problem is me.’
‘Being female isn’t a problem,’ said Lukien. ‘With time you can learn techniques—’
‘Lukien, no.’ Lahkali put up her hand to silence him. ‘No. The problem is not the katath. The problem is me, inside me. I do not have the abilities I need to battle the Great Rass, the ability all my line had before me.’
Lukien lowered himself to one knee beside her. ‘Anyone can learn to fight. It isn’t in the blood.’
‘Perhaps not. But not everyone can learn to control the rass. Only my line has that power, all the ones that came before me. My family, Lukien. That is why I am the Red Eminence.’
‘Because you can control the rass? How do you mean?’
‘I don’t really know,’ said Lahkali. ‘I’ve never been able to do it. They told me that it would come when I was older, but it never did. My father could control the rass, right up until he died. Not just the Great Rass, either, but any rass. With his mind he could calm them.’
‘I see,’ said Lukien, at last understanding. ‘Where I come from, there is a boy who can read the thoughts of other creatures, make them do things. His name is Gilwyn.’
Lahkali seemed amazed. ‘An outsider could do this? Could he control the rass?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Lukien, feeling melancholy. ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him. It was a new ability for him, but I’m sure he’s growing into it.’
‘For him it is magic? Like that amulet you wear?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Then it is different, because for us it is not magic. It cannot be learned, either. It is just part of us.’ Lahkali lowered her eyes. ‘But not me. And there is no way I can fight and win against the Great Rass if I cannot control it.’
‘But that man I saw training you – he’s trying to teach you how to use this spear.’ Lukien still held the katath as he kneeled, propping himself up. ‘He must think you have a chance.’
‘That man you saw is Niharn, the fencing master. He teaches me because he must, but he does not believe in me, Lukien. You saw the way he spoke to me. He is frustrated and I do not blame him, because he knows I will not be able to kill the Great Rass.’
Lukien rose, studying the spear in his hand. It was a lithe weapon, heavy, flexible but far too weighty for Lahkali to wield. He was sure that was part of her difficulty.
‘Eminence, what would happen if you did not kill the Great Rass?’
‘What would happen? Everything would die! When the river turns to blood it feeds the land. We live off the land, Lukien. It gives us fish and waters our crops. We would not survive without the blood water.’