The Devil's Armor

by John Marco

  “That’s right,” said Lorn evenly. He could tell Breck had already surmised his identity, and was now wondering if it were truly possible. “Captain, I was with King Mor during the massacre at Hanging Man. I took that ring from him myself.” He took a breath, stood up straight, and said with all seriousness, “I am Lorn.”

  “What?” erupted Van. Then he started laughing. “Akan, what are you doing? This isn’t a joke.”

  “No, it isn’t,” said Lorn. He looked at the man who had become his friend and gave a wan smile. “Van, I never told you because I couldn’t risk it. But I am King Lorn, the one they call the Wicked. I’ve been on the run from Jazana Carr since she took Carlion. Reena is my daughter, Poppy.”

  Van went white with disbelief. “That’s not possible.”

  “It’s the truth.” Lorn turned to Breck and said, “Jazana Carr wanted my daughter. It wasn’t enough for her to take my city and my whole damn country. I couldn’t let her have Poppy so I fled. I came here to Koth to hide and help you.”

  Breck’s eyes narrowed on him, contemplating the possibility. “King Lorn the Wicked. News reaches us slowly here, I admit, but we’ve all heard that Lorn is dead.”

  “I live,” declared Lorn fiercely. “That ring is mine rightfully, as is the throne of Norvor. Jazana Carr has agents after me, no doubt. She may know that I’m here, or she may not. Either way, talk of my death is only rumors, I assure you.”

  “Your daughter,” gasped Van suddenly. “She’s blind.”

  Lorn nodded. “That’s right.”

  “So?” asked Breck.

  Van grimaced. “Captain Breck, I once heard it said in Jazana Carr’s camp that Lorn had only one daughter, and that she was blind. No one was really sure if it was true or not, but word had come from Duke Rihards that it was so.”

  “Duke Rihards was a snake,” said Lorn. “He betrayed and destroyed me. But he was also my friend. He knew Poppy. He knew how we suspected she was blind and deaf.”

  “I don’t believe this,” muttered one of the men who had remained seated. Now he rose to confront Lorn. “If you are King Lorn, then you abandoned your people at Carlion. Would you have us believe that?”

  “Believe it,” said Lorn darkly, “because it’s true. There were traitors everywhere in Carlion at the end. I could trust no one. I wasn’t about to leave my daughter to Jazana Carr.”

  “Akan,” stammered Van, “I mean . . .” Lost, he shook his head. “Tell me this is all some jest. Please, tell me I haven’t been so deceived.”

  “Van, you think King Lorn was a tyrant,” said Lorn carefully. “But I was not. Hate me if you must, but also know the truth.”

  Van couldn’t barely speak. “You lied to me . . .”

  “I had to,” Lorn insisted. “I couldn’t trust you or anyone else. Not until I reached the library.”

  “Damn you,” Van hissed. “Damn you for making me believe you!”

  He began storming away, but Breck called after him, “Lieutenant, stay where you are!”

  Turning toward him, Van flared, “Commander, if this is King Lorn than this is the man responsible for countless deaths in his own country.”

  “Blame Jazana Carr for that,” sneered Lorn.

  “She wanted to liberate Norvor from you, that much I know,” said Van.

  “It doesn’t give her the right to come here next,” said Breck.

  “No, sir, but she was right to fight you, King Lorn,” Van argued. He looked at Lorn helplessly. “You are a tyrant, or you were once. I can’t believe I rescued you from those robbers. I should have let them kill you.”

  “I still don’t believe it,” said the nameless soldier.

  “I can’t believe it,” added Aric Glass.

  Murdon looked at Lorn and laughed, “You don’t look like much of a king.”

  Breck tossed the ring over to him. “Take a look at this, then. It’s genuine. It bears the crest of Norvor. Unless he stole it from someone else, this really could be Lorn.”

  “What a fool I am,” said Van hatefully. “I saved your life. After helping Jazana Carr defeat you!”

  “Because she paid you!” railed Lorn.

  “And because I really thought I was doing some good. That’s why I came here with you! To do some good for once!”

  “Well, now is your chance then, isn’t it? I brought you here so we could both do some good.”

  “Why did you come here, King Lorn?” asked Breck suddenly. “You said your intent all along was to come here to the library. Explain yourself.”

  “It’s obvious. I want my country back. I want Jazana Carr dead. I want her army defeated. I want all those things, but if I can’t have them I intend to die fighting her.”

  “And you can help us?” This time it was Murdon who spoke. The soldier handed the ring back to Lorn. “What can you offer besides your services with a weapon?”

  Lorn took the ring, kissed it, then slipped it onto his finger. It was the first time he’d worn the ring since leaving Carlion, and just feeling it against his skin made him feel like a king again. He said to Murdon, “I can offer you knowledge. I know more about Jazana Carr than anyone here. I fought her for sixteen years, remember. I know her tactics and how devious she can be.” He smiled confidently. “Captain Breck, you need me.”

  Breck’s expression was inscrutable. He looked at Van, who was quietly smoldering, then back at Lorn. “I need every able-bodied man I can get,” he admitted. “Especially one with knowledge of the Diamond Queen.”

  “I can help too,” snapped Van.

  “I know you can, but will you?” asked Breck sharply. “Lorn the Wicked has vengeance in his belly. That’s good; I can use it. But what do you have, Vanlandinghale? I put it to you—will you be loyal? Or will you keep whining about hardships?”

  “I was deceived,” said Van, looking straight at Lorn.

  “So?” barked Breck. “We were all deceived. I was deceived into thinking King Akeela was a good man. You think I want to have my family living here, preparing to die? And you—you deceived people who trusted you into thinking you were a Royal Charger.”

  “I am a Royal Charger!” cried Van. With a threatening step toward Breck he added, “How about I prove it to you?”

  Breck laughed. “Good! That’s the kind of fire you’ll need. Because Jazana Carr isn’t like you. She’s not a mercenary who’s out for money. She’s playing for all the cards this time.”

  “That is so,” echoed Lorn. “You should listen to him, Van. Demons drive Jazana Carr. She’s insatiable. You may go on thinking me a tyrant; I can’t change that. But this is your country at stake now.”

  “You don’t have to convince me,” said Van. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’ll fight Jazana Carr with you, Lorn.” Amazingly, a hint of acceptance crossed his face. “Now we’ll both have a chance to prove ourselves.”

  Lorn smirked. For some reason, he still liked the arrogant Vanlandinghale. There would be no real truce with Van tonight, but maybe in time. He turned back to Breck. “I expect no special treatment,” he said. “I’m not asking for anything but the chance to help you defeat Jazana Carr. I’ll tell you everything I can about her. I’ll pick up a sword and fight. And if I get close enough, I’ll cut out her heart and eat it.”

  Breck smiled. “Let’s pray to the Fate that you get your chance, Lorn the Wicked. But it won’t be tonight. Right now we all need rest, and I have a wife waiting for me. Murdon, take them somewhere and make them comfortable. If they’re hungry give them food.”

  “Commander, my daughter . . .”

  “Your daughter is being cared for,” said Murdon. “I’ll take you to her.”

  “We’ll talk in the morning, Lorn,” Breck added. “Lieutenant Vanlandinghale, you’ll be reporting to Murdon. He’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

  Van gave a reluctant nod. “I understand, sir.”

  Breck sighed and rolled his head around his shoulders until the muscles in his neck popped. “Dismissed, all of you.”<
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  The men seated at the long table rose and began filing from the chamber, following Breck toward the door. Aric Glass, however, stayed behind, as did Murdon.

  “There’s room in my barracks,” volunteered Aric. “They can both quarter with me.”

  “Just Van,” said Murdon. “He’s a soldier. He needs to be around other Chargers again.”

  “What about me?” asked Lorn.

  “You come with me. There are other people you can stay with.”

  Before Murdon could lead him away Lorn paused and said to Van, “I’ll see you in the morning, after I speak with Breck. I’ll tell you what happens, keep you informed.”

  The offer got only a nod from Van, who followed Aric out of the room.

  “I’d like to see my daughter,” said Lorn as Murdon headed for the door.

  “That’s where I’m taking you.”

  “That man Garthel you sent to me—will I be boarding with him?”

  “We keep the citizens away from the soldiers. That’s where you’ll be sleeping.”

  “That’s what I guessed.” To Lorn it really didn’t matter. He had meant what he’d said to Breck—he wasn’t looking for luxury. He only wanted the chance to battle Jazana Carr. And, if possible, to keep Poppy safe.

  Concern for his daughter sped Lorn’s pace as he followed Murdon out of the chamber. He was not sure how quickly word would spread of his identity, and he was too weary to argue with anyone else. In the morning he would deal with Vanlandinghale and try to convince him of his worthiness. Tonight, though, he wanted only to sleep and keep up the pretense that had kept him anonymous so long. He was grateful that the halls of the library were mostly empty now. At last, the soldiers and citizens calling the place home had retired to bed. Lorn took the time to study the library as they walked, noting its stout construction. The architects of the library had unwittingly built Koth a fortress, a formidable perch from which to defend the city. There was a good chance that they could hold off Jazana Carr’s forces here and hold Koth indefinitely. Given time, maybe they could rally other Liirian cities to their defense. The odds were terrible, but from here they just might be able to turn the tide against the Diamond Queen.

  But those were concerns for the morrow, and Lorn decided not to keep himself awake with them. In the morning he would strategize with Breck, and for that he needed rest. He was glad when Murdon finally led him up one of the library’s towers, supposing he would discover his sleeping quarters there. As he stepped out into a new hall of brick and torchlight, an air of peace and silence seized him. Murdon walked more quietly here and led the former king to a room at the end of the hall. Murdon paused a few paces from the threshold. There was no door to the room, just a rounded arch of stone. Lorn could see candlelight emanating from inside. A woman’s voice spoke softly, but he could not make out the words.

  “In there,” whispered Murdon. “Your daughter.”

  It didn’t occur to Lorn to ask if this was where he’d be sleeping. Knowing Poppy was inside he went to the room with a hasty goodnight, leaving Murdon and entering the soft-lit chamber. Cautiously he peered inside, spying the walls filled with books and the floor lined with chairs of different sizes, some so small they were obviously for children. Blankets and pillows draped much of the furniture, all of which was smoothly worn with overuse. A single window graced the room. Cut into the farthest wall, it let in soft moonlight. The white light struck the face of a young woman in a chair near the window, cradling Poppy in her arms and whispering to her, oblivious to Lorn’s presence. There was a book in her hand, propped up while she held Poppy. Her eyes were wide and dramatic as she read from the book. As though she could hear the story being told, Poppy’s expression was serene. Lorn stopped breathing for a moment. The simple beauty of the sight was like a hammer-blow. The woman’s honey-colored hair reminded him of Rinka, his dead wife. Mesmerized, Lorn watched the young woman. The smoothness of her skin and poetry of her voice enraptured him. She was young, perhaps eighteen, perhaps a little older. Was this Garthel’s daughter? Had she nursed Poppy? Lorn looked around the room and realized there was no bed, just chairs and books and blankets. Not wanting to frighten the woman, he softly cleared his throat.

  She looked up and smiled at him. Her green eyes gleamed from across the room.

  “Akan?”

  Lorn nodded. “Yes,” he replied. He took a step closer. Poppy’s eyes drooped with sleepiness.

  “She’s tired,” remarked the woman. “Such a good girl. A good eater.”

  “You fed her?” Lorn asked. It was the first time he noticed the towel beside the woman’s chair.

  “My father asked me to,” said the woman. “He brought Reena to me, told me you were meeting with Breck.”

  “I thank you, madam,” Lorn said. He went close enough to see Poppy’s face, but not so close that the woman felt compelled to hand the child over. Seeing his daughter so at peace heartened him. “Your father, Garthel . . . he told me not to worry about her. I see now that he was right. You have a way with her.”

  The woman’s smile turned melancholy. “It is easy to care for such a little creature,” she said. “Look . . . see how contented she is?”

  It was true. Poppy had obviously eaten her fill and now seemed blissful.

  “She is a good child,” agreed Lorn. “But not all women have your skill with her. I’m grateful to you, madam. It’s only luck that brought you and I here together. I’m fortunate that you have your own child.”

  The woman’s face darkened. “No, sir, you are mistaken.”

  “No?” Lorn looked at her in puzzlement. “But you are nursing . . .”

  “Because there are other infants here that I care for,” said the woman. “I wet-nurse them.”

  Lorn didn’t know everything about women, but he knew for sure that a woman without a child couldn’t nurse. “Madam, forgive me, but you say you have no baby of your own? How can that be? Your father told me you had a child.”

  “Did he tell you also that my child is dead?”

  The casual question made Lorn start. He cursed his stupidity.

  “Apologies, madam. It’s late and I’m tired. I should have realized what you were saying.”

  “Do not be sorry,” said the woman. She hefted Poppy in her arms, then started rocking her. “You were right to think as you did. I had a child recently, a boy. But he died an hour after birth.” Amazingly, she kept a soft expression as she explained herself. “He was my third, you see. All born the same. All dead out of my cursed womb. But I’m of some use here, at least. Until we leave for Mount Believer, I can be a help.”

  “Mount Believer? What’s that?”

  The woman glanced up at him. “You mean you don’t know?”

  “No, I’ve never heard of that place. It is somewhere in Liiria?”

  The woman laughed, but it was a pretty laugh and without offense. “Sir, Mount Believer is the healing place! It’s where my father and I are going soon. We’re travelling across the desert with the others. My father’s sick. I’m sick, too. In Mount Believer I will be cured of my poisoned womb.”

  “Cured? Madam, I’m sorry, but you make no sense to me.”

  But then he remembered the rumors he’d heard of Jador. He had been far too busy with his war against Jazana Carr to pay the tales much credence, but suddenly he recalled them. It was where Lukien had gone, the Bronze Knight of Liiria. It was said that the city held the secret of eternal life.

  “The city where blind men see,” he whispered.

  “That’s right,” said the woman. “Then you know why we’re going there. To be healed. Forgive me, but when I saw your baby was blind I assumed you had come here to join us. We’ll be leaving soon, my father and I. And everyone who’s coming with us is gathering.”

  “Madam, this place you speak of—it’s a myth, surely.”

  “Oh, no, sir,” said the woman. “Not at all. Mount Believer exists. Our Liirian soldiers who returned from there saw it with their own eyes! It’s
Grimhold, Akan. Mount Believer is Grimhold.”

  “I know about Grimhold,” said Lorn, “and I’ve heard the stories. The place of monsters.”

  “But they aren’t monsters,” said the girl. “They’re wizards! Healers of great power.” A remarkable sureness lit her face. “They’re going to heal my father. He’s got the bone tremors, sometimes so bad he can’t stand up straight. But in Mount Believer he’ll be whole again. We all will.”

  The story was outrageous, yet this beautifully naïve girl seemed to believe it.

  “Madam, what’s your name?” asked Lorn.

  “Eiriann,” the woman replied. “Apologies. I should have told you sooner.”

  She was so kind it was hard for Lorn to dissuade her. He said as gently as he could, “Eiriann, this place you call Mount Believer—it’s nothing but a legend. How could there be a place like that? A city where the blind can see? No . . .”

  “Yes, Akan, yes,” Eiriann insisted. “It does exist. Even Breck believes.”

  “Impossible. He can’t believe in such a thing.”

  “But he does. Breck knows many things, Akan. He knows the men that returned from Jador after the war. They told him the truth about Grimhold. Even the Bronze Knight lives there still. An amulet keeps him alive! There’s magic there, for all of us!”

  “But I came here with a man who was in Jador. He never told me anything about magic. He never told me anything of the kind.”

  “Yes,” sighed the woman. Her face grew suddenly dark. “There are those who won’t speak of it. They are too damaged by what they did there. Tell me Akan, this friend of yours—he was a soldier?”

  “That’s right,” said Lorn. “A Royal Charger. His name is Van.”

  “And did Van see many horrible things in Jador? Did he kill people, destroy things?”

  “Yes,” Lorn admitted. “Yes, he did.”

  “Then your friend has been harmed,” said Eiriann. “He does not believe in the magic because he cannot, and if you asked him about it he would deny it. So many of our men who came back are like that. They are so guilty. They believe in nothing.”