by John Marco
‘Why not? The Akari in the Eyes of God do not crave blood. Why are you so different?’
‘Because my armour is a thing of war,’ Kahldris thundered. ‘And the Eyes of God are not indestructible. Why do you think no blade may nick you? You have wakened me from a great sleep, and now I must feed!’
‘Quiet,’ grumbled Thorin. ‘We’re not alone, remember.’
‘The workmen cannot hear me because I do not wish for them to hear me,’ said Kahldris. ‘Hear me, Baron – the armour must drink if you wish to stay strong. It has been much too long since Nith.’
‘Don’t.’ Thorin turned away, not wanting to be reminded of the man they’d murdered. ‘You have told me too many things already today. Don’t speak to me more. I don’t want to hear your bad news.’
But Kahldris would not be ignored. He floated over to Thorin, wrapping his ethereal arm around the baron and putting his dead lips to his ear.
‘Feed me, Baron,’ he warned. ‘Or watch your nation fall again.’
There was no escaping the demon. Everywhere Thorin turned, Kahldris moved to face him. At last Thorin put up his hands.
‘Stop!’
Kahldris retreated, then smiled. ‘Listen.’ He cocked his ear toward the entrance. ‘Someone nears.’
A moment later Kahldris vanished, leaving Thorin alone beneath the vaulted ceiling.
Rodrik Varl walked through the darkened corridors of the library, guided by the light of distant torches. It was an enormous structure, unsafe now due to the bombardment, but the workmen were busy in another wing entirely, leaving Varl to search for Glass alone. The smell of paint filled the air, making him light-headed. Up ahead, he saw the entrance to the great, round reading chamber glowing with orange light. His boots scraped quietly across the tiled floor, not wanting to alarm Glass but not wanting to surprise him, either. Along the walls of the corridor, haunting reminders of the library’s glory stuck him by their absence, for where once grand portraits had hung there were now only faded spots of brick. The defenders of the library had sold almost everything of value in the place, all but the books which still lay everywhere in mammoth, unloved piles.
Varl had come to the library alone, without Jazana’s blessing. He had waited until nightfall, unsure what he would say to the Black Baron. The library had been mostly deserted, but a few intrepid craftsmen still worked on the front fac¸ade, where the bombardment Varl himself had unleashed had been the hardest. Their progress had impressed Varl, who had stopped within the library’s enormous entry hall to tell them so. With weary eyes the workmen nodded, not saying a word, then returned to work. Varl left them, sure of where he would find Baron Glass.
It had not been a secret that the great artist Lucio had come to Koth to paint a masterpiece. By the time Varl had left the city for Norvor, Lucio and his team had just arrived, eager to meet the challenge Baron Glass had laid before them. Though the carpenters and bricklayers worked out of fear, the great Lucio saw only the chance to create something grand, and that was why he had heeded Glass’ call. The ancient artist had seen the turmoil of the last twenty years bring his beloved country to its knees. And had no love for Baron Glass, whom he had openly called a tyrant. Yet his love for Liiria empowered him enough to overcome his prejudices, and give one last gift to his homeland.
Varl was eager to see what Lucio had created, and he knew that Baron Glass would be there still, admiring Lucio’s handiwork. As he neared the round chamber, Varl listened for any sound of Thorin, but the chamber up ahead was silent. He paused, noting the flickering torchlight. An ugly sense of fear twisted through him. Each time he saw Glass, the baron was different. Slowly, the Devil’s Armour corroded more and more of the good man he had once been. Gathering his courage, Varl went to threshold of the chamber, swallowed instantly by its dark enormity. Overhead, the fresco created by Lucio and his novices came breathtakingly to life, animated by the light and smoke from the torches. Directly below the masterpiece, in the dead centre of the chamber, stood Glass. He had his back to Varl, but he slowly turned to face him, his armoured left arm glowing unnaturally with black light. The baron’s appearance startled Varl. He seemed younger, full of vigour, his jaw strong and squared, his shoulders broader. The skin of his face stretched tight across his cheekbones, pulling out the wrinkles Varl knew had been there months before. Glass’ eyes shone like gemstones. His hair looked lustrous. He reached out with his enchanted arms, using the magic fingers to beckon Varl inside.
‘Come in and look,’ said Glass. ‘Isn’t it marvelous?’
Varl let his eyes scan the ceiling as he stepped inside. It was indeed marvelous, depicting one of Liiria’s many battles against Reec. Not a student of Liirian history, Varl could not determine the particulars, but he easily recognized the river Kryss and the flags of the opposing armies.
‘That is me,’ said Glass, pointing toward a panel directly overhead. ‘At the Battle of Sandy Ridge. See me? With the sword?’
Varl squinted to better see the painted figure. ‘You don’t look much different these days, Baron.’
Glass smiled as if it had been meant as a compliment. ‘Lucio has a miraculous talent. It’s not done yet, but mostly. Some details to work on or some such nonsense. But I will unveil it soon so that the people can see.’
‘The library is hardly safe enough for that,’ argued Varl.
‘And whose fault is that, eh?’
It was the old argument. Varl had never been sorry he’d attacked the library. His action had saved lives.
‘Thorin, I have been to see Jazana,’ Varl said, changing the subject. ‘I have brought her news from Norvor.’
‘Good news, I take it.’
‘No, Thorin, not good news. Not at all.’
Thorin grunted and turned away. ‘Bad news? I have had my fill of that today, Varl. I don’t want to hear it.’
‘But you must hear it,’ said Varl, stalking after him. ‘Norvor is in peril. Thorin, Carlion has fallen.’
Baron Glass stopped pacing. He lowered his head to his chest, muttered a curse, then looked up again.
‘When?’
‘Three weeks ago.’
‘Elgan?’
Varl nodded. ‘He and his men took the castle. Gondoir is dead.’
‘And the others?’
‘The others are safe. Elgan’s men have not moved beyond Carlion. They’re digging in, waiting for an attack. Manjek hasn’t moved against him, and neither has Demortris. Rolga looks safe.’
‘So it’s quiet?’
‘For now.’ Varl looked sharply at the baron. ‘But maybe not for long. Elgan and his men are waiting for Lorn to return. They know he’s alive, Thorin. There are a lot more people loyal to Lorn the Wicked then we thought. And they think Jazana has abandoned them.’
Thorin turned his face away. ‘Do they?’
‘Yes. Because you’ve kept her here, in Liiria. And because you’ve taken all the diamonds, too, to rebuild Koth and the library.’
‘I’m protecting Koth.’ Glass looked up at the ceiling and sighed. ‘Haven’t you noticed? We have enemies.’
‘The Reecians? They’re on your border because they fear you, Thorin. They’re the ones protecting themselves.’
‘You’re an idiot for thinking that, Varl. Look at this painting! Do you know how long we battled the Reecians for the river Kryss? It was ours! It was always ours until Akeela gave it away.’
‘And made peace with Reec,’ Varl argued.
‘There is no peace with wolves,’ said Thorin. ‘Wolves are always hungry. The Reecians have the Kryss by right of treaty, yet still they mount on our borders? And you say that is because they are afraid?’ The baron flexed his metal arm. ‘Well, they should be afraid. Soon I will deal with them, and take the Kryss back for Liiria.’
Varl’s jaw fell open. ‘Another war? After all that’s happened?’
‘Yes!’ barked Thorin. ‘What would you have me do? Let them spit in my face? The Reecians are coming to fight us. There’s no o
ther reason for their buildup. But they do not know that Baron Glass is not an old man any more! And I have all the resources of Norvor to help me.’
‘Yes, our resources,’ said Varl. ‘Norvan diamonds and Norvan blood. Didn’t you hear what I said, Thorin? Carlion is gone!’
‘It will be ours again,’ said Thorin. ‘Once I have taken apart Raxor and his pathetic son. Once the river Kryss is taken back for Liiria.’
‘Jazana told me you’d say that,’ said Varl. ‘She believes you, Thorin. She loves you.’
Slowly Baron Glass turned his frightening face toward Varl. ‘And you? Do you believe in me, Varl?’
‘No.’ Rodrik Varl stared into Thorin’s fiery face. ‘I think you’re demented. And I don’t think you care at all about Norvor. Oh, you love Jazana, I’m not denying that. But what you really want is her gold and diamonds, so you can feed your vanities.’
‘Rodrik Varl, you have stones of steel to speak to me that way!’ laughed Thorin. ‘Good, I say. Be honest with me, I don’t mind.’ Thorin took a step closer, smiled, then quickly brought up his gauntlet, seizing Varl by the throat. ‘And let me be honest with you.’
Varl felt the metal fingers closing off his windpipe. His hands went up to pry loose the grip. At once his face began to swell as the pressure built in his skull.
‘I won’t have you questioning me,’ said Thorin softly. ‘Do you hear? I won’t have it.’
Varl worked desperately to pull off Thorin’s grasp. The steely hand kept clamped around his throat. Speaking was impossible; only a wheeze issued from his throat.
‘Stay out of my way, Rodrik,’ Thorin warned. ‘Liiria is mine, and so is Jazana. If you ever speak against me again I swear I will kill you.’
Thorin held Varl by the throat until the mercenary could no longer breathe. Then, with Varl’s eyes rolling backward, he at last let go, watching as the man fell gasping to his knees. Varl coughed as he found his breath, coughing up spittle and massaging his aching neck. He looked up into Thorin’s angry face and saw the mask of a madman.
‘Go to Norvor and fight if you wish,’ said Thorin. ‘I have no use for you here. I keep you around only because Jazana cares for you. But take no one else with you. They’re needed here.’
It took effort for Varl to rise to his feet. Checking his rage, he held back the insults dangling on his tongue, looking hatefully at Thorin. Killing him was impossible. He knew that even as his hand went to his dagger. Thorin saw his hand and shook his head.
‘Don’t,’ he suggested.
Varl let his hand fall away. His breathing steadied. ‘I can’t stop you. I can’t kill you and I can’t stop you from ruining Norvor.’
‘I don’t intend to let Norvor fall to ruin, Rodrik. But I will save her in my own time.’
Varl hesitated, then slowly backed away. Thorin quickly turned his attention back to the ceiling. Instantly mesmerized, the baron seemed to quickly forget his row with Varl. Seeing this, Varl moved to the door, more certain than ever that Glass was insane.
Worse, Jazana was in danger. Her love for Glass had made her blind, and though he claimed to love her too, Varl could easily imagine his mood changing. Violently.
As he left the chamber, Varl decided he would not go back to Norvor. Jazana needed him, more than ever. He would stay with her, and if he could, protect her from her mad lover.
21
Princess Salina entered the garden and took a breath of the precious air. She had not been out of the palace in over five weeks, and she had counted each of the arduous days on a calendar made from beads. The day was perfect, full of sunlight and the scent of flowers. A gentle breeze stirred the palms along the cobblestone path. Behind her, her two ubiquitous bodyguards kept two paces back, watching her without saying a word. They had been with her constantly since her imprisonment began, escorting her everywhere she went within the palace, even standing outside the doors of her bedchamber when she slept. Her father had taken every precaution to keep her inside. Salina walked slowly along the path, relishing the light and sweet-smelling air. Around the bend, she could see the servants in their white jackets standing dutifully around her father’s table. King Baralosus sat with his back toward the path, waiting for his daughter to arrive. They had not seen each other since her treachery had been discovered, and her father’s summons surprised Salina. She supposed she should have been delighted by it, but she was not. Instead, Salina felt afraid.
Her weeks imprisoned in the palace had been interminable. At first, her father had not even allowed her to leave her chambers. Eventually he had softened on this, letting her move throughout the palace, but only with her bodyguards, and her contact with others was severely curtailed. She had learned quickly that her trusted handmaiden Nourah had been beaten and sent away for her part in Salina’s deception, and Kamag the tavern owner had been publicly hung. Hearing this, Salina had sent word to her father, begging him to come to her, but Baralosus had ignored her pleas. At last, Salina had given up the idea of making amends with her father.
Until today.
Nervous, she padded along the walkway until she reached the bend, where she paused to see her father seated at the table. Tea and confections had been laid on the table and King Baralosus had already begun consuming them, sipping absently from an alabaster tea cup. Salina knew her father had heard her approach. She waited for him to greet her. At last he put down his tea cup.
‘Come, Salina,’ he ordered, not turning around.
Salina steadied herself, then stepped into his view. His eyes finally flicked toward her. He seemed older than he had just weeks ago. Thinner, too. His troubled expression filled with tension when he saw her.
‘Sit down.’
A servant pulled out a chair for her, opposite her father. Another filled her cup with tea. When they were done Baralosus shooed them away.
‘Go now,’ he told them all.
The servants quietly dismissed themselves, leaving Salina and her father alone with her bodyguards. The king dismissed the soldiers as well, sending them back along the cobblestone path. An uneasy quiet filled the garden. Salina found it hard to look directly at her father. Baralosus remained silent, studying his daughter. His silence pained her.
‘You sent for me,’ she reminded him.
The king nodded. ‘Are you angry?’
‘No,’ said Salina. Emotion took hold of her, making it hard to speak. ‘I’m afraid.’
‘You’ve had time to think now on what you did.’
‘Yes,’ said Salina.
‘And?’
‘I’m sorry, Father. I’ve always been sorry. I told you that.’
King Baralosus looked neither satisfied nor assured. ‘It’s time we spoke again, Salina. I can’t keep you imprisoned forever. You’re not a pet. But you need to understand things. Do you understand?’
‘Why you’re angry with me? Yes, Father, I understand. But I don’t understand what you did to Nourah and Kamag. Nourah was innocent. And Kamag didn’t deserve to die.’
‘You are wrong on both accounts,’ said Baralosus. ‘Nourah knew that she was helping you, and what Kamag did was nothing less than treason. I cannot have that in my kingdom, Salina. Not ever.’
‘Kamag was a good man. All he ever wanted was to help people. That’s all I ever wanted, too.’
The king groaned. ‘Then you don’t understand, Salina. What you did was too big to keep secret. The whole kingdom knows about it. Not everyone is like you, you know. Many honour the old ways.’
‘The dark ways, you mean,’ said Salina bitterly. ‘Is helping people so wrong?’
‘You went behind my back, girl. You deceived me, and made me look a fool. You have no idea how much trouble you caused me. And yourself.’ Leaning forward, Baralosus said, ‘You were in danger, Salina. Even some of my advisors wanted you beaten in public.’
‘What advisors?’ Salina asked indignantly. ‘Kailyr?’
‘Yes, Kailyr. And others. You may think they’re just foolish old men, but th
ey know the heart of the people. It was not easy to quiet them, but I did.’
Her father’s words shocked Salina. ‘Would you ever do such a thing? Have me beaten in public like a dog?’
‘Salina, you are but a girl,’ said the king. Frustration reddened his face. ‘And whether you honour our ways or not, this is a holy land. Girls do not disobey their fathers. Especially not my girls. Now, you have been trouble to me most of your life, but I overlooked it because I love you.’ He smiled. ‘You are my favourite. You’ve always known that, and you task me because of it.’
‘Yes,’ sulked Salina. ‘Your favourite dog.’
‘My favourite child,’ corrected the king harshly. ‘But that doesn’t mean you may do whatever you wish. Being a girl child means you have a place that must be kept. When you step out of that place it is I who must defend what you’ve done. You went too far by helping those foreigners, Salina. You must understand that. I cannot go on protecting you.’
‘No? You’re my father. It is a father’s job to protect his children, no matter what they do.’
‘You are wrong, Salina. When you break the law, when you embarrass me or do things that threaten my rule, it is my place to punish you, not protect you.’
‘So my imprisonment is to continue, then,’ said Salina, looking down at her empty plate. ‘You do not trust me.’
‘You’ve given me no reason to trust you. That’s what pains me most of all. I brought you here to discuss these things, but after five weeks you still don’t see the wrongness of what you did.’
Salina said nothing. Her father saw her clearly – she didn’t think her actions wrong. This time, though, she had sense enough not to argue. There were other plans being laid in her mind, plans she had not given up. And everything her father said convinced her of her rightness.
‘Kailyr wanted me flogged?’ she asked.
The king nodded. ‘Yes. Publicly.’
‘Just for helping those wretched northerners?’
‘And for betraying Aztar. Or have you forgotten that?’