The Devil's Armor

by John Marco

  It was true, and it made Lorn curious. There was magic in Deine’s touch. Whenever she cradled the baby, Poppy quieted immediately.

  “She should eat before going to sleep,” said Lorn, but the way Kahlin was already occupied made that unlikely. No matter, thought Lorn. There was milk and fruit juice for her upstairs. When she awoke during the night—as she always did—he would feed her.

  He let Deine amuse the child, not saying anything but enjoying the quiet company. Foric continued fussing with his broom, while the prostitutes excused themselves and went upstairs, except for Deine and Kahlin. Van told jokes that Lorn couldn’t hear but had Kahlin chuckling wildly. They were both more than a little drunk. Lorn smoldered a little as he watched the girl carry on, unhappy about letting his daughter drink from the breast of a whore but knowing he had little choice. And really, what did it matter? Poppy was happy and healthy and safe.

  He reached for his mug of beer, long gone flat, and took a sip. Liirian beer was sweet and weak, and he was about to comment on it when the door to the tavern opened again. The stiff breeze surprised everyone, who turned to see a young man hurry in from the storm. His clean-shaven, boyish face was covered with rain. After closing the door behind him, he stomped his feet loudly to shake off the mud. He was barely twenty years old by the looks of him, but more surprising was the uniform he wore—that of a Royal Charger. The mere glimpse of him made Van wither, and he immediately shooed Kahlin from his lap and turned his face away. Noting Van’s discomfort, Kahlin excused herself and went up the creaking stairs to join her “sisters.” Lorn’s eyes panned between Van and the stranger as he slowly sipped his drink. The Charger’s young face was drawn. He looked haggard, or perhaps frightened. Happy to see a new customer, Foric put his broom aside and greeted the fellow.

  “It’s a witch of a night! Come in, come in . . .”

  The man—or was he a boy?—looked around in some confusion. The exhaustion on his face was plain as he let Foric guide him toward the hearth.

  “You sit here, by the fire,” said Foric. There was one free chair across from Lorn. The young soldier collapsed into it with a grunt. Then, realizing his cape was still on, he rose in embarrassment and handed the wet garment off to Foric. Surprising Lorn by smiling at him, the fellow took his seat again.

  “I’d appreciate a drink, and maybe something hot to eat if you’ve got it,” he said politely.

  “A mug of hot cider will start you off,” said Foric, “and I’ll see what I can do in the kitchen.”

  The young man nodded in thanks, then dug into his pocket for a silver coin, which he tossed onto the table between himself and Lorn. Foric grinned when he saw the coin, then went off to fetch the man’s order.

  “Gods, what a night,” the soldier sighed. “I’ve been on patrol all day in the rain, went to my post to report, and now I’m just plain dog tired.”

  “Your post?” queried Lorn. “You mean the library?”

  The soldier nodded. Lorn couldn’t believe his luck.

  “Shouldn’t you be there now?” he asked.

  “I should, but I needed to get away.” The young man’s eyes turned glassy as he gazed into the fire. He was obviously troubled. Lorn did his best to seem nonchalant. Next to him, Deine continued playing with Poppy. He turned to her with a practiced smile, saying, “Deine, I think it’s time Reena got some sleep. Would you see to that for me, please? She likes when you put her to bed.”

  The older prostitute beamed, eagerly agreeing, then took Poppy upstairs, leaving only Lorn, the stranger, and Vanlandinghale in the main room. Van kept his back turned to them, but surprised Lorn by staying put. A moment later Foric returned with a tall glass full of steaming cider. He handed it to the stranger, who took it gratefully.

  “Ah, thanks,” said the soldier. With both hands he tilted the drink into his mouth, then gave a loud smack of content.

  “I’ll have food for you shortly,” said Foric. “We’ve had hardly any customers all day, so the ovens aren’t warm.”

  “I can wait,” said the soldier. “Thanks.”

  As Foric disappeared toward the kitchens the man leaned back in his chair, clutching his hot drink desperately in his hands. Rivulets of water dripped down from the curls on his forehead. He bit his lip as he stared into the fire, as if lost in faraway thought.

  “So,” began Lorn carefully, “how long have you been a Royal Charger? You look rather young.”

  Across the room, Van heard the question and cocked his head to listen.

  “I’m not really a Charger, not like the others,” said the soldier. “I just wear the uniform. But Breck says I’m a Charger, and I guess that’s good enough.”

  Lorn nodded as if he understood. “So you’re a soldier, then.”

  “I volunteered, like a lot of others.” The young man focused on Lorn suddenly. “You’re not from around here, are you? You have an accent.”

  “I’m Norvan,” replied Lorn. “New to the city.”

  “So you probably don’t know, then. About the library, I mean. Most of the real Royal Chargers left Koth. They fled to become mercenaries or just deserted. But some others stayed. Breck was one of the old ones. He knew King Akeela. He even knew the Bronze Knight.”

  “Really,” drawled Lorn.

  The stranger took a pull of cider. “It’s true. Breck and Lukien are old comrades. The Bronze Knight is in Jador now, across the Desert of Tears.”

  Was that interesting? Lorn didn’t know. He had heard of the Bronze Knight’s legend, but that was so long ago it hardly seemed to matter now. He was far more interested in Breck.

  “So Breck, your commander,” he continued. “He has a lot of volunteers like you?”

  “As many as he can get. He calls all of us his Royal Chargers so we don’t forget the old days, the way it was before the wars. He and the real Chargers train us. We’re the defenders of Koth.”

  “The old days, eh?” Unable to stop himself, Lorn’s eyes flicked toward Van, who remained still, seated with his back to them. “And you’re keeping the city safe,” he told the young man, loudly enough for Van to hear. “That’s admirable. Loyalty is a good thing. A man should defend his home.”

  The stranger frowned. “So why’d you leave Norvor?”

  “Because,” said Lorn crossly, “there was nothing left for me. Jazana Carr took over my country.”

  The soldier nodded and leaned back, his expression miserable. “I know. And now she’s got her eyes on Liiria.”

  Lorn sat forward. “Oh?”

  “She’s on her way,” said the young man. “I was just out on patrol with some others, riding the Norvan border. I was gone for days, around Andola mostly. Jazana Carr is massing near the city.”

  “Are you sure?” Lorn asked. “You saw them?”

  “Hard to miss them! She’s got an army five times the size of Ravel’s at least, and more on the way. Baron Ravel’s forces are rallying to stop her, but they won’t be enough. Neither will we.” The soldier’s face tightened with dread. “Ravel’s got a stronghold in Andola, a castle that should be able to hold Carr’s forces for a while. And he’s been building defenses along the border. Still, it won’t matter for long.”

  It was stunning news, and it had come sooner than Lorn had expected. For a moment he was speechless, his mind racing with possibilities. At last Jazana Carr had come. Was he ready? Could he make this fellow Breck believe him? He glanced over at Van. The former mercenary had put down his drink, sitting with slumped shoulders. His silence and defeated posture angered Lorn.

  “Van, come here,” he commanded. Van heard him but took his time answering.

  “What is it?” Van replied without turning around.

  “I want you to hear this,” said Lorn.

  “I heard already.”

  “Did you? And you’re just going to sit there ignoring it?”

  It was enough of a jibe to get Vanlandinghale out of his chair. He stood and regarded Lorn with a peculiar expression.

 
“We had a deal, Akan,” he said evenly. “No more talk about politics, remember?”

  “I remember. But this young fellow has news even you should care about—news about Jazana Carr.” Lorn gestured to the stranger, who was obviously confused, and asked him his name.

  “My name is Aric,” he answered. “Aric Glass.”

  “Glass?” Lorn reared with surprise. “There’s only one Liirian I know of with that surname.”

  “Aye, Baron Glass is my father,” admitted Aric, none too keenly. “Or he was, before he abandoned us. Captain Breck told me about him.” A shadow darkened young Aric’s face. “My father was in Norvor with Jazana Carr. All those years the rest of the world thought he was dead, he was in bed with that whore. Now he’s in Jador with the Bronze Knight.”

  “I know about your father,” said Lorn. He struggled to keep the bitterness from his tone. “I know about him helping Jazana Carr.” He turned to Van, asking, “Did you know him? When you worked for Carr?”

  Van shook his head. “That was before my time with her.”

  Aric didn’t seem interested. “Don’t expect me to defend him, sir. My father left me and my family to rot here in Liiria, all the while living in luxury with the Diamond Queen. Breck says he’s a good man. I say he’s a bastard.” The young soldier laughed mirthlessly. “And now he’s safe again in Jador, while the rest of us have to fight off his old lover! Fate above, what a father!”

  “Some say he’s a hero,” said Van. “Some say he left Jazana Carr to help defend Liiria.”

  “Yeah, well you would say that, wouldn’t you?” hissed Aric. “You worked for that bitch Jazana Carr?”

  Van nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Then you’re a traitor.” Aric looked at Van fearlessly. “Just like my father, you ran away.”

  Lorn expected Van to erupt, but he did not. He merely took the insults, strangely mute.

  “Van, you heard what the boy said,” Lorn continued. “Jazana Carr is on the move, just like you said she’d be.”

  “So I was right,” said Van. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “She’s heading for Koth,” Lorn reminded him.

  “Oh, don’t waste your time,” spat Aric. “This man’s a dog, a mercenary. He doesn’t care about anything but money.”

  “This dog is my friend,” snapped Lorn. “And he’s not one of the bitch-queen’s freelances anymore. Or hadn’t you noticed?”

  Just then Foric returned with a plate of hot food. Stepping between them, he laid down the plate with a smile, took the silver coin from the table, and left without a word. The tension in his wake was palpable. Young Aric spied the food but didn’t eat. He ground his jaw grudgingly.

  “All right,” he said. “I talked out of turn.”

  There would be no better apology. Lorn got out of his chair.

  “Eat,” he told Aric. “But don’t leave. I want to talk to you before you go.”

  Aric shrugged, more interested in his food than any conversation. He picked up his plate while Lorn led Van away, back to the table where he’d been playing cards. Still within earshot of Baron Glass’ son, he kept his voice low as he told Van to sit down. Van did so reluctantly. Lorn sat across from him, pulling his chair as close as possible.

  “Before you lecture me let me say something,” Van insisted.

  Lorn grimaced. “Go ahead.”

  “Nothing has changed. Remember what I told you when we met, about how the men at Library Hill were fools?”

  “Shh, keep your voice down . . .”

  “Well it’s true,” Van whispered. “That boy, that so-called Royal Charger—he as much admitted it. They don’t have a chance, Akan. Now, you, me, and your daughter have to get out of this city. Fast, before things really get bad.”

  Lorn was incredulous. “You’d leave, just like that?”

  “Damn right! And if you have any brains you’ll come with me.”

  “No,” said Lorn. “No, I’m not going with you. I’m going to Library Hill, Van.”

  Van blinked in disbelief. “What?”

  “I have a chance to defend against Jazana Carr, and I’m going to take it. You’re not from Norvor. Maybe you can’t understand that, but—”

  “What’s to understand, you idiot? You go to the library, you get killed. Don’t tell me you’re that stupid.”

  Lorn tried staying calm. He glanced over at Aric Glass and saw the boy staring at them, dumbfounded while he chewed.

  “Van, I can’t explain it all to you here. You just have to believe me. I must go to the library. I must defend against Jazana Carr. It’s more important than you realize.”

  “I know one thing, Akan,” said Van sharply. “Norvans are crazy. Some of them—like you—are willing to die for no reason. I’m not.”

  “Great Fate, man, look into your heart for once! Dig deep enough and maybe you’ll remember something about honor and loyalty. That’s what brought you here, I know it. You didn’t want to help Jazana Carr conquer your homeland. Well, walking away now is the same damn thing.”

  Angry, Lorn rose and walked toward Aric, who still seemed stunned. Halfway between the two soldiers, Lorn stopped. “Aric Glass,” he said, “your cause needs volunteers, yes?”

  The young man nodded as he swallowed. He put his plate aside and stood up. “That’s right.”

  “Then I’m coming with you,” announced Lorn. “I have news for your Captain Breck.”

  Aric was stunned, but no more so than Van, who looked at Lorn as if he’d heard the most bizarre declaration.

  “Van, you have a choice to make,” said Lorn. “You can come with me and help defend your city, or you can stand there with your mouth hanging open. Which’ll it be?”

  “Akan, you don’t know what you’re doing . . .”

  “This is not a time for apathy, my friend. This is a time for men—real men—to stand up and defend themselves.” Lorn smiled wickedly. “You’re a man, aren’t you?”

  The question left Van bemused. At last he laughed, shaking his shaggy head. “Maybe a madman,” he said. “But a Liirian, certainly.”

  “So you’ll come with me?”

  Van gave a loud sigh. “Yes, you mad bastard. I’ll come with you.”

  Heartened, Lorn grinned and rubbed his hands together. He turned to Aric and said, “You see? It is a time for men, Aric Glass! Now be quick with your food. I want you to take us to your captain—tonight. I’m anxious to have my vengeance on Jazana Carr.”

  14

  THE DEFENDERS OF KOTH

  While Aric Glass rested and finished his meal, Lorn and Vanlandinghale gathered their things and prepared to leave the Red Stallion. They hardly spoke while they packed their meager belongings, preferring not to disturb the others. They had no intention of explaining themselves, or of even saying good-bye. Unsure of the reception they would get at the library, Lorn thought it best not to say too much. In the morning he might still need his job washing dishes. So he and Van collected their things, once again dressed Poppy for the road, and quietly told Aric to meet them at a stable down the street where they boarded their horses, the only real thing of value either of them owned. It had been a hardship for Lorn, keeping the horse and paying for its housing and food, but his paranoia over being discovered had made a quick escape from the city a necessary contingency.

  The lateness of the hour saw the stable empty when they arrived. Rain pelted the street, gathering in pools among the cobblestones. A boy of around fourteen had been hired to guard the horses. When Lorn and Van arrived, the boy was asleep in a stall full of hay. Van rattled the tack along the wall, frightening the boy awake, then demanded he ready their mounts. The boy did so at once. While Lorn remained inside the stable to keep Poppy from the rain, Van brought their mounts into the empty street and waited for Aric Glass to arrive.

  Within a few moments the young soldier trotted into view, looking miserable and confused. Van waved to him, then helped Poppy onto Lorn’s back, hoisting her into the leather harness. With ca
re he fixed the blanket around her head. It was not a long way to Library Hill, thankfully. Lorn could see it through the gloomy night, looming over the outskirts of the city.

  “So?” Aric called to them. “Who are you two?”

  In his haste to leave the inn, Lorn had told the soldier very little. He waited until Aric rode up beside them before answering.

  “My name is Akan,” he said. “This is Vanlandinghale.”

  “I know your names,” said young Aric. “I picked up that much on my own. I mean who are you really? Criminals? Because if you are Breck won’t welcome you.”

  “I am not a criminal,” spat Van.

  “Then why’d you leave Jazana Carr?” Aric grinned. “Maybe you stole from her, maybe a few gems that didn’t belong to you?”

  “Nothing of the sort,” said Lorn. “We both have a bone to pick with Jazana Carr, you might say. I’ll explain it all to your commander when we reach the library.”

  Aric pointed at Poppy. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to bring that child to the library? Isn’t there someone else you can leave her with, like a woman?”

  “I don’t have a woman,” grumbled Lorn, spurring his horse forward. Van went quickly after him. Reluctantly, Aric followed.

  The clip-clop of the horses echoed musically through the empty streets. Blessedly, the rain began to slacken. Lorn looked skyward and saw the moon struggling through the clouds. The dismal weather did nothing to dampen his mood, which was soaring as they rode toward the library. The great Cathedral of Knowledge, broken dream of a mad king, ruled the skyline of Koth. Not even Lionkeep, the former royal residence, had such a commanding view of the city. It had taken King Akeela years to construct the library, filling it with books from around the world. When it finally opened it quickly became a beacon for scholars and a light of hope for the poor. A grand dream, certainly, and one that Lorn understood.

  If only Norvor had been like that, he thought to himself as he rode. If not for war, what might Norvor have become?

  But war had devoured Norvor, just as it was now consuming Liiria, and he had never had the chance to be a true king or to build anything like the library. Instead, his legacy was deception and endless gravestones. Even Akeela wasn’t spoken of with the same derision as King Lorn the Wicked. It was just one more unfairness heaped upon him by Jazana Carr.