The Eyes of God

by John Marco

  It was on him too quickly, knocking the breath from his lungs and the sword from his hand. For a moment he saw its inhuman face, hissing, then tumbled backward into the muck, the creature’s arms flailing after him. He felt the powerful limbs seize him, heard the gnashing of teeth again his armor, but he was suddenly blind and realized he was underwater, his face buried in the mud. A cold appendage snaked around his neck; the garmy’s tail. Lukien panicked, found a strength born of terror, and exploded upward with a shout.

  “No!”

  The garmy fell backward, its tail still coiled around Lukien’s throat. The appendage pulled, dragging Lukien after it. He dug desperately into his belt, finding his dagger. As he fell forward he plunged the weapon down. The blow stunned the monster. Lukien drove the blade with all his weight, puncturing the scaly hide and releasing a spray of stinking blood. He was suddenly a savage, a berserker, and the beast bellowed as he thrust the dagger again and again, stabbing it repeatedly. In the distance he heard Cassandra’s voice, calling to him. He heard Tomas gurgling nearby, screaming for help. And then he heard another voice, familiar yet surprising.

  “Tomas! Hold on!”

  A black stallion splashed into the flooded road, madly flailing its hooves. Atop the steed was Trager. The lieutenant’s face was furious. His blade sprang from its scabbard as he searched the foaming water. Lukien saw it as if in a dream. His own fight was almost over. The garmy’s tail slipped slowly from his neck. Now it was the garmy that was desperate to flee. It twisted its wounded body and began crawling away, slashing its spiked tail at Lukien’s face. Lukien grabbed hold of the tail and jerked the creature backward.

  “Come here, you bitch!” he spat.

  The monster’s face turned and snapped at him. He punched his dagger forward, sending it through the garmy’s open mouth. The creature cried in agony, tumbled backward into the mud, then lay there twitching and dying. As Lukien turned to help Tomas, he watched Trager dive from his horse, falling against the last garmy. The creature had risen against its new adversary, bringing up its head and arms even as Tomas dangled from its tail. The young man’s face was purple. He wasn’t moving. Trager’s sword slashed, slicing the garmy’s shoulder. The creature’s arms flew at him, raking his armor with its powerful nails. Exhausted, Lukien stumbled forward, his dagger still in hand. The garmy noticed him and let down its guard—a fatal mistake against the skilled Trager. The lieutenant saw the opening and lunged, burying his sword in the monster’s chest. The garmy’s shrill scream tore through the forest. Its arms flailed, its tail slackened, and its yellow eyes dimmed as it collapsed. As he fell from the creature’s grasp, Tomas collapsed beside it.

  “Tomas!” Lukien cried.

  Trager was already over the man, lifting him from the mud. It was plain that Tomas was dead. His head lolled back in Trager’s arms, lifeless. Lukien stopped mid-step, dropped his dagger, and let out an anguished moan.

  “Oh, no,” he sighed. “Don’t tell me he’s gone.”

  Cassandra brought her horse to the edge of the water. She looked at the corpse in Trager’s arms. Her face contorted with sorrow.

  “It’s my fault,” she whispered. “Fate forgive me.”

  “No.” Lukien looked squarely at Trager. “It’s not your fault, my lady. It’s the fault of this incompetent fool!”

  “What?” Trager blurted. “Captain, I tried to save you!”

  “Fool!” Lukien said again. “You said this road was safe!”

  “It was safe!” Trager roared. He still had Tomas in his arms. “I didn’t see the garmys yesterday. It was raining. It was dark!”

  “Dark?” Lukien laughed horribly. “You were on scout duty, you ass. What does it matter that it was dark?” He pointed at Tomas. “You killed him, Trager. Not those garmys.”

  “You arrogant bastard,” Trager sneered. He turned and walked off, holding Tomas in a dismal embrace. He passed Cassandra without regard, put Tomas onto the back of the dead man’s horse, then took the stallion’s reins. When he had gathered up his own horse, he led them both away. Lukien watched him go.

  “Lukien?” asked Cassandra. “Are you all right?”

  Lukien stood in the mud amidst the dead garmys. He closed his eyes, fearing he might weep. “Let’s get back to camp.”

  10

  To Cassandra, who had never seen a city larger than her home of Hes, the Liirian capital was a marvel. It was everything Akeela had promised, everything Lukien had bragged about, and it humbled the princess with its beauty. Koth was a hub of activity, a meeting place of businessmen and scholars, its streets filled with carts and carriages, its buildings tall and gilded. Cassandra fell in love with it immediately. After her dreary ride from Hes she was ready for the luxuries of a city again, and so spent her days in the castle with Akeela, preparing for their wedding. Even after a week had passed, there was still more of Lionkeep to explore, still dozens of servants whose names she hadn’t learned. And there were ministers, too, scores of them. They constantly came to the castle to vie for Akeela’s attention, most of them old, somberfaced men with trains of civil servants, their hands nervously scribbling in ledgers. In those first days of her arrival, it seemed to Cassandra that the chancellors of Koth could do nothing without Akeela, for they monopolized him day and night, and even when he was away from them, he was exhausted.

  But Cassandra took it all in stride. She adored the freedom of her new home, and Akeela’s busy schedule gave her time to investigate Lionkeep and to think about what had happened on the road to Koth. She had not seen much of Lukien since their arrival, yet she still thought of him often. True to his word, the Bronze Knight had mentioned nothing of their encounters to Akeela, and for that Cassandra was grateful. Despite the tragedy of Tomas’ death, Akeela had greeted her with a smothering smile, and she knew that he suspected no infidelity of her, not even of the daydreaming kind she had committed. Before her arrival, Akeela had ordered the city gates trimmed with ribbons and flowers and the streets lined with white horses. The chancellors had come out to greet her, filling Chancellery Square and showering her with praise. There had been music, too, with honey-voiced minstrels and a choir of children arranged for her by the one-armed Baron Glass, head of the House of Dukes. Koth had turned out in force to welcome its new queen, and Cassandra had melted at the outpouring of emotion. At that moment, she knew she had made the right choice in accepting Akeela’s proposal.

  Mostly.

  For though she seldom saw Lukien, he was never far away. Akeela had named Lukien her champion. Sweetly, her soon-to-be husband seemed not to notice the way Lukien’s eyes flashed when he was near her. The young king was too preoccupied in exhibiting the sights of Koth. When they had arrived at Lionkeep, he had shown her their apartments, a vast collection of chambers occupying an entire wing of the castle. It was more than anyone should have, even a queen, but Cassandra loved the excess. Afterwards, he had taken her to a ledge of the castle, very high up on the north side, Koth spread out like a blanket beneath their private perch.

  “On the tenth day of spring we will be married,” he had told her. His voice had been as soft as down. “It will be a special day, the kind of wedding you deserve.”

  She had looked at him and smiled, and in the moonlight he seemed a little boy, starstruck. He was lovesick for her, in a way that Cassandra feared she could never return.

  With the tenth day of spring only a week away, Cassandra finally settled into a routine. Because she was not yet married, she had a room of her own in Lionkeep, away from the cavernous wing she would soon share with Akeela; Jancis had a room nearby. The sickness that had plagued her for months continued to trouble her, but she ignored it, confessing nothing of it to Jancis. The handmaid was giddy with the attention the Liirians showed her. She accompanied Cassandra everywhere, relishing the newness of her surroundings even more than her princess.

  On a perfect morning bright with spring sunshine, Cassandra and Jancis toured the avenues of Koth, conveyed by an opulent carria
ge and guarded by a host of Royal Chargers. Lukien chaperoned them, pointing out attractions along the boulevards and directing them to the best shops. Because he was away from the castle his mood had improved. He no longer avoided Cassandra’s eyes. Cassandra and Jancis relaxed in the coach, whispering like two conspirators.

  “He loves you, I think,” said Jancis.

  Cassandra nodded. The carriage moved through a crowded street. She could see Lukien atop his horse, proudly ferrying them through the traffic.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said sadly. “In a week I will have a husband, and it will not be Lukien.”

  “Then forget him, Cassandra,” said Jancis. “Think of Akeela.”

  “I will,” said Cassandra.

  But she knew it was a lie. She would never be able to forget Lukien. He was too close, and he had done something to her. Now when she thought of her impending marriage, she did so joylessly.

  As promised, the wedding took place on the tenth day of spring.

  Neither Cassandra nor Akeela could have asked for a more splendid day. The sun was warm but not oppressive, the sky bright without being glaring. A gentle breeze moved through the city and the lilacs around Lionkeep bloomed. Cassandra wore a dress of white and emerald, was veiled with silk and followed by a long, elaborate train. The dress had been made for her by Akeela’s royal tailor, who had promised the young bride she would look stunning in his creation. As she walked down the aisle of Lionkeep’s throne room, she knew the tailor hadn’t lied. The faces of those gathered reflected her loveliness. At the throne stood Akeela, resplendent in an outfit of black and crimson. Atop his head was his golden crown, still looking out of place upon his young brow. He wore a ceremonial sidearm and a nervous smile. Even from across the chamber, Cassandra had seen him perspiring. Next to him was Lukien. The knight wore his bronze armor, outshining all of them, even Cassandra. She had let her eyes linger on him for a moment.

  After the ceremony, the new bride and groom had gone off to the yard for the tourney. The courtyard of Lionkeep was decorated with flags and colorful pavilions. Hundreds of people, mostly Liirian nobles, milled through the yard with goblets in their hands, nosing around the tables laden with food and wine. Musicians and jesters entertained the guests while the knights readied themselves for the tournament. Akeela had explained to Cassandra that Liiria had such a tournament each spring, and that it was one of the best times in the city, a sort of holiday for the countless civil servants and their noble masters. All the chancellors had come, bringing their wives and children with them, and had taken seats either near or within the royal gallery, where Akeela and Cassandra sat in the first row, flanked by Lukien and Warden Graig. Cassandra had removed her train and veil and took a seat next to her new husband, eyeing the crowds as they nodded and smiled at her. Before the gallery was the tournament ground, busy with the activity of knights and squires as they prepared their weapons and horses for the show. It was a test of skill, Akeela had told her. The lances and swords were blunted. He had also told her that Lukien was the champion of the tourney, and had been for the past three years. He would be defending the title later in the day, partaking in the jousts against his rival, Trager. Cassandra stole a glance at Lukien. He sat beside Akeela with a goblet in his hand, laughing as a jester told jokes. To Cassandra, he looked remarkably calm. She leaned back and let a servant fill her glass. Next to her, Jancis gave her a nudge.

  “Well?” her friend whispered. “How do you feel, my queen?”

  Cassandra frowned. “Queen.” The word felt strange to her. “It’s all too much, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t think so,” chirped Jancis. She took a sip of wine, happily studying the platters of food. “I think it’s wonderful. Look how many people there are!”

  But the new queen was unable to brighten, because they were all strangers. None of her own family had come, for King Karis was a private man, and despite the new peace between Reec and Liiria he still felt unwelcome in the land of his old adversary. Surprisingly, Cassandra missed him. As eager as she’d been to be gone from him, she wished he had seen her married.

  “Look how fat they all are,” she whispered. “These ministers; they are all the same everywhere.”

  “Shhh,” cautioned Jancis. “What’s wrong with you, Cass? You should be happy. This is what you wanted.” Her brow furrowed. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Fine,” said Cassandra. She didn’t tell her friend about the fire in her bowels. It was making her feel out of sorts. Before she could change the subject, Akeela took her hand.

  “Cassandra?” He gave her a great smile. “What are you two chatting about?”

  The others in the front of the gallery turned to hear her answer. Even the old man named Figgis seemed intrigued, dropping his mutton joint to listen. Cassandra mustered up a beautiful smile.

  “Forgive me, my lord,” she said. “We were merely talking about all the people that have come. It’s quite a crowd of ministers you have. My father didn’t have nearly so many advisors.”

  “No,” agreed Akeela sourly. “Nor all the problems they bring, I’d wager.”

  Cassandra tried to lighten the conversation. “Forget your troubles with the chancellors, my lord. Remember the spirit of the day.”

  “Of course,” said Akeela. Yet his eyes lingered on the second row, where Baron Thorin Glass was seated. The Chancellor of the House of Dukes sat nearby, as his station demanded. With him was his wife, a woman much younger than he, and a gaggle of unruly children. The Baron was a big man, barrel-chested and ruddy, with unkempt red hair and an oiled goatee combed to a sharp point. Cassandra guessed his age to be in the mid-forties. Like all the nobles, he had dressed for the occasion in expensive clothes and jewelry that twinkled in the sunlight. But most remarkable of all was his left arm, which wasn’t there at all. In its place hung an empty sleeve, pinned up at the shoulder. Glass poured himself more wine, and when he noticed Akeela looking at him he smiled and raised his goblet in tribute. Akeela returned the gesture, drinking with the Baron, but Cassandra caught the glare of contempt in his eyes. The emotion looked misplaced in Akeela.

  “My lord,” she said softly, “you could do a better job of hiding your feelings for the baron.”

  Sure that Glass couldn’t hear him, Akeela replied, “The baron knows my feelings, my lady. There’s no reason to hide them.”

  “For the sake of your kingship, then,” Cassandra suggested. “You will need the baron’s goodwill for your many projects.”

  “He opposes me, Cassandra. He makes it plain in the House of Dukes.” Akeela lowered his goblet, his eyes shifting angrily. “Mark me. Before this day is over, he will spoil it with politics and bad news.”

  Cassandra had never seen Akeela so agitated. His mood surprised her. “Akeela,” she said mildly, “this is our wedding day. It’s time to celebrate, not brood.” She passed him a bowl of grapes. “Forget your duties for one day. Enjoy yourself.”

  He chose a grape and popped it into his mouth. Before them, a group of knights and young pages were readying for the first bout. Akeela seemed not to notice them.

  “He is a bitter old fool,” he whispered. “He’s jealous of me because I’m young. Tell her, Lukien.”

  Lukien looked up. “My lord, please don’t make me speak against Glass. You know how I feel about him.”

  “How, Lukien?” asked Cassandra. “Do you know him well?”

  “Yes, my lady,” said Lukien, keeping his voice low. Next to him, Figgis strained to hear. “He is a hero in Liiria. Once he was a great soldier.”

  “A long time ago,” Akeela reminded him.

  “Still, I honor him. As do most of the Chargers. He fought in the war against Norvor, and against Marn. That’s where he was wounded.”

  Cassandra snuck a peek at Glass again, and at the peculiar way his empty sleeve dangled at his shoulder. “Remarkable.”

  “He is remarkable,” said Lukien. “As I said, he is a hero.”

  “Hero,” scoffe
d Akeela. “You are twice the hero Glass ever was, Lukien.”

  Lukien shook his head. “No.”

  “Yes,” Akeela insisted. “Twice and more.”

  “The king is kind.”

  “I know something of Baron Glass,” said Figgis suddenly. The old man shifted eagerly forward. “I learned about him when I was in Marn, during the war. Sir Lukien is right, my lord; he was a great soldier. And if I’m not mistaken, he served your father well.”

  Akeela rolled his eyes. “You are an expert on too many things, friend Figgis.”

  “Good,” said Cassandra brightly. “Then let us change the subject. Figgis, my husband tells me you are a learned man, a great scholar.”

  The old librarian puffed up at the compliment. “The king does me proud to say so, my queen. But yes, I would agree with his description. I have studied many subjects all my life. Languages, the patterns of the stars, poetry.” He thought for a moment. “To be true, it is hard to think of a subject that bores me.”

  Cassandra laughed. He was a peculiar man, but she liked the twinkle in his eyes. “And Jador,” she added. “The king says you are an expert on that land.”

  “Ah, now you have touched on my greatest passion, my queen.” Figgis’ face lit up. “If anyone can be called an expert on Jador, than I suppose it is I. Since I was a boy the Jadori have fascinated me. When I—”

  “Figgis, stop,” said Akeela, smiling. “Really, the queen was just being polite.”

  The old man looked hurt, but soon found solace again in the food and entertainment. The knights who had taken the field were ready for the first bout. Lukien shoved his plate of pheasant away, sitting up to watch the joust. Behind him, Baron Glass told his children to take their seats as he, too, relished the coming combat.