The Devil's Armor

by John Marco

  The two men stared at each other for an awkward moment.

  “You do good work,” said Lorn.

  Van glanced at his uneven mortar line and shrugged. “Trying.”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  The request vexed Van. After a moment he said, “I need a break anyway,” then put down his trowel and sat himself on the grass. The sun struck his eyes, and he squinted as he looked up at Lorn. “You want to sit? Oh wait! Maybe I should be standing. You’re a king, after all.”

  Lorn remained on his feet. “You’ll get no apology from me. I did what was required to protect my daughter. And we all have secrets . . . don’t we, Van?”

  “Ah, is that why you’re here? Because I didn’t tell you about Grimhold? I was wondering when you’d come about that.”

  “Eiriann and the other Believers are leaving soon, probably in a day or two. I have to make a decision whether or not to go with them.”

  “I thought you made that choice already. Breck told me you planned to go with them.”

  “I’m not sure what to do,” said Lorn. “Or what to believe. You were in Jador. You must have seen something.”

  “You mean magic?” asked Van. “No. Not with my own eyes, at least.” He glanced down at the ground, shading his eyes from the sun. “I never got to ride to Grimhold with the others. My company stayed behind in Jador. After we took the city General Trager ordered it secured.”

  “But there is a Grimhold? It really exists?”

  “Oh yes,” said Van. “It exists.”

  Lorn hovered over him. “Tell me what happened. It might be your last chance.”

  “Sure,” Van laughed. “Why shouldn’t I? It’s no worse than anything you’ve done in your life.” He shifted over so Lorn could sit with him. When the older man was settled he began, “Jador was a beautiful city. I don’t know what it looks like now, but it was really something when we got there. King Akeela was out of his mind, of course, and General Trager was no better. We’d hunted the Bronze Knight across the desert and there was no way the general was going to let him get away, but the Jadori put up a good fight. They’re a fierce bunch, I’ll tell you.”

  “But you defeated them,” said Lorn.

  “That’s right. We had too many men with us; the Jadori never really had a chance. After we battled them on the desert we rode into their city. By then they didn’t have many fighters left, but they still wouldn’t surrender.”

  “So you slaughtered them.”

  “Worse than that,” said Van. “They didn’t have a chance but we fought them anyway. We killed most of them in the fight, but those we captured . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “What?” Lorn pressed.

  “We crucified the ones we captured. Trager had us build crosses outside the city, facing Grimhold. Kind of a warning to them, I suppose. We took the prisoners and hung them there.” Van’s face paled as he recalled the grisly task. “My company was given that duty.” He shook his head in disbelief. “And I did it, that’s the worst part. Some mad general gave me an order and I obeyed. He wasn’t so different from you, Lorn. And he had all of us puppets dancing, doing his dirty work for him.”

  “War,” said Lorn. “That’s what happens. I know. When I was king I expected my orders carried out, no questions.”

  “I tried that excuse,” said Van. “It didn’t work. I still think of those people we hung out there. I think of them every day. I don’t think they’ll ever leave me. Sometimes I think they’re with me, haunting me.” He laughed, dark and miserable. “Like magic, you might say.”

  “What do you know about the other magic? What do you know about Grimhold?”

  “Like I said, I never went there. When we got word that General Trager was dead I was so happy. Akeela was already dead by that point. We all scattered, all us so-called Royal Chargers. You know about that already. But I heard stories from some of them that came back, about the people there. They’re not like the Jadori. They’re a different race. They’re magical beings for sure.”

  “Your companions told you that?”

  “Aye. Some of them don’t even look normal. They look like monsters. But they can do things, weird things with their minds. One of them fought General Trager in the city. Disappeared, right while they were battling! Just blinked right out of sight. That’s a true story, mind you, not some tavern babble.”

  “Ah, but can they heal people?”

  Van shrugged. “Could be. If they can make themselves disappear I suppose they can do anything. All I know for certain is that Grimhold exists. And I know that Lukien lives there still. Aric Glass’ father, too.”

  “The baron?”

  “Aye, Baron Glass.” Van’s voice dipped an octave. “We were hunting him as well, not just the Bronze Knight. Maybe Aric knows that already. It’s not for me to say either way. But just listen to me, Lorn—if those two scoundrels have holed up there, it must be some kind of special place.”

  “Yes,” Lorn agreed, nodding. “And if they can help Poppy . . .”

  “Like I said, maybe the Grimhold dwellers can heal folks, maybe they can’t. But Eiriann and all those others seem to believe it, and whatever those people are they’re not human.” Van sighed. “But then, what does being human really mean? I don’t think it means nailing men to crosses.”

  “Stop pitying yourself,” chided Lorn. “Being a man means making mistakes. And it means following orders, even ones you don’t like.”

  “You say that so easily. You see? That’s why people think you’re a beast. You can order a man crucified and have your breakfast while you watch. Norvor’s better off with you, Lorn. Jazana Carr was right.”

  “Humph, yet here you are, ready to fight her,” scoffed Lorn. “Just like I said you should be.”

  “One tyrant at a time,” said Van, but there was affection in his face. “I’ve got a place here now. Maybe I do have you to thank for that. I’m grateful to be here, I’ll admit. So? What about you? You going?”

  “Eiriann and her father need me,” he said. “I don’t think any of those fools they’re travelling with have any idea what they’ll face on the way. Half of them are crippled and the other half are just plain stupid.”

  Lorn realized how hot he was suddenly and reached over for Van’s waterskin. He took a long drink to refresh himself. In the distance he watched the grounds of the library buzzing with activity. He longed to be part of its defense. In his heart he was a soldier, born to fight. But Poppy needed him, and if there was any hope for her to lead a normal life . . .

  He capped the skin and was about to dismiss himself when he noticed a commotion at the bottom of the hill, way down where the winding road began and the land was obscured by trees. At first he saw a lone horsemen coming around the bend, then another and a half-dozen more, and when he stood he noticed there were scores of men behind them, many lagging back on foot.

  “What’s that?” he queried. To his eyes they looked Liirian soldiers, but that was impossible. Yet when Van stood to study them he confirmed the strange suspicion.

  “Chargers. They’re Royal Chargers!”

  Lorn looked around in confusion. Only now had anyone else noticed the odd brigade. Around the grounds people began dropping their tools and milk stools. At the bottom of Library Hill the sorry-looking soldiers gazed up in tired awe.

  “Van,” said Lorn haltingly, “I think the fence can wait.”

  An hour later, Lorn was once again in the great reading room of the library, just as he was that first day he had come to Koth. As before, the room was filled with Breck’s aides, who were all in turn filled with questions. Breck himself sat quietly at the head of the polished table. This time, however, it was not Lorn who was being interrogated. Instead a pair of Liirian officers, both shabbily dressed in dust-caked uniforms, bore the brunt of the questioning. Their names were Nevins, a cavalry major, and Aliston, a captain of archers. And the tale they told made Lorn white with dread.

  They had come from Andola, now fal
len, leading their men across Liiria over the past week in a desperate bid to reach Koth. Baron Ravel, their former employer, was dead, as was their commander, a man named Colonel Bern, whom Breck seemed to remember personally. They had put up a great struggle against Jazana Carr, but the Diamond Queen had amassed such a force that not even Ravel’s considerable fortune could best her. Andola was now in her hands. Amazingly, she had conquered her first Liirian city. And she had done it in a day.

  Major Nevins had come to Koth with more than three hundred men. Some had come with him all the way to the library, others were still at the outskirts of Koth, too exhausted to make the last leg of the journey. They were all famished and the servants of the library were already hard at work feeding them. Nevins and Captain Aliston ate as they talked, devouring the food they were brought and draining takards of beer. Nevins took long pauses while he told his story, sating his hunger at the same time and talking with his mouth full of food. Breck listened to the major with amazing patience, interrupting only occasionally. Mostly, though, he considered the heavy news the Liirians had brought. Lorn could see his mind working behind his passive expression.

  Remarkably, there was no animosity in Breck. Nevins and his men were to have been their enemies. Eventually, had Ravel lived, the two leaders would have faced each other in battle. Now, that possibility had disappeared.

  “Bern wanted us to come,” Nevins explained between swigs of beer. “He wouldn’t come himself because he gave his word to Baron Ravel, that pig-eyed fox. I didn’t want to come either, truth be told. I wanted to stay and fight that slut Jazana Carr.”

  Captain Aliston nodded gravely. “We all wanted that.” The captain was considerably younger than the major and spoke with sincerity. “Bern was a good man, Commander Breck, whatever you think of him.”

  “He was a Liirian in the end,” said Breck. “That’s what matters.”

  His aides seemed to concur. Lorn himself sat apart from the officers, at a separate nearby table. Aric Glass was among them, as was Murdon. Vanlandinghale was there as well, sitting nearest to Lorn but still with his fellow soldiers. There was hardly a whiff of mistrust in the air. The men from Andola recounted their battle with the Norvans proudly, and Lorn listened with rapt attention. He could barely believe his luck. At last, Jazana Carr was coming.

  “We bloodied their noses good,” said Captain Aliston.

  “But that’s all we did,” added Nevins. At last he pushed away his plate. “You’ve never seen anything like it. Jazana Carr’s rallied men from all over Norvor. Rolgans, men from the twin cities, men from Harn . . . they’ve all come to her banner.”

  “Because she pays them,” said Van. “I know; I was one of her men once. Don’t mistake their vigor for loyalty, major.”

  Van’s confession made Nevin’s expression sour. “So, you were one of her lot, eh? That’s disheartening.”

  “We could all point fingers at each other,” warned Breck. “Forget the past. Remember what your colonel told you—we’re all Liirians now. We’re going to protect this library. The rest of the city, too. With your men we really have a chance now, major.”

  “And you’ve been kind to take care of us,” replied Nevins. “I thank you for that.”

  “No need for thanks. Just so you know one thing, major—you may have outranked me when King Akeela was alive, but no more. This is my command. As long as you and your men are here you’ll do as I say. Here at the library we speak with one voice. Mine.”

  “Of course. Sir Breck, but my men—”

  “Your men will be reassigned as needed,” said Breck. “So will you. Most of them will still report to you, don’t worry. I have the need of good commanders. But you’ll report directly to me. You’ll do what I say. Do you understand?”

  Nevins gave no argument. “I understand.”

  “Good.” Breck seemed relieved, even pleased by the man’s acquiescence. “Then you and your men are welcome here. You’ve given us a fighting chance, major. With your men and mine, we might just be able to hold off Jazana Carr.”

  Nevins and Aliston gave each other doubtful glances. Nevins replied, “That’s a tall task, Sir Breck.”

  “Aye, but a worthwhile one. Your colonel thought so.”

  “He did,” said Aliston. “If he were here now he’d say the same thing.”

  “Then rest,” said Breck, “and when you’re ready bring all your men to the library. We’ll find lodging for them if we can, if not on the hill than in some of the nearby homes. Aric, get a detail together to see to it.”

  Aric Glass, who’d been sitting silently the whole time, affirmed the order before leaving the room. Breck was about to rise himself when Lorn interrupted.

  “Wait,” he said, getting out of his chair. “Breck, there’s other questions that need asking.”

  “Not now. There’s time yet for that.”

  “No, there’s no time. Not for me.” Lorn went to stand before the two former mercenaries, who looked up at him from the table with suspicion. “We need to find out everything they know.”

  “And we will,” warned Breck, “just as soon as they’ve rested. In the morning you can talk to them.”

  “That’s not good enough. I have a decision—”

  “Excuse me,” Breck interrupted, “but we are done here.” His eyes became like burning coals. “In the morning. All right?”

  Nevins and Aliston watched Lorn curiously. So did Van and the other officers. For a moment Lorn remained still, refusing to yield, but noting Breck’s seriousness he nodded.

  “Very well.”

  Nevin’s eyes sharpened on him. “You have the accent of a Norvan, sir.”

  “That’s a high royal tongue you detect, sir,” replied Lorn. “And you and I have business to attend on the morrow. Excuse me, now . . .”

  Furious, Lorn turned and left the chamber without waiting for Breck to dismiss him. He was still a king, despite the loss of his throne, and having his wishes curtailed irked him. There wasn’t time to wait until tomorrow. By tomorrow he needed to decide.

  Outside the chamber he paused in what was once a grand hall, now bland and stripped of finery. His mind was on fire with questions. The news Nevins had delivered was awesome. To Lorn, it changed everything. Finally, he had another chance to battle Jazana Carr. And not with treacherous men, either, but with stout-hearted defenders of their own homes. Men who would die before betraying their country. Lorn leaned against the stone wall of the hall to organize his thoughts. He could hear Breck and the others murmuring in the meeting chamber, but otherwise the hall was quiet. What would he tell Eiriann, he wondered? She had such faith in him . . .

  “Lorn,” called a voice. It was Van, coming down the hallway alone. “Guess what they’re talking about in there?” he asked.

  “I know. I made an ass of myself. What are you doing here?”

  “I left so I could talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “About what you’re thinking. I know you well enough to read that look on your face. I’m here to talk you out of staying.”

  Lorn smirked at this companion. “You’re very clever. But I have to stay now. Didn’t you hear what those two said in there? Jazana Carr is in Liiria. This is my chance.”

  “No,” said Van. “This is your chance to do something right for a change. Eiriann and the other Believers need you. Poppy needs you. If you stay here and fight you’ll lose that chance and Poppy will die with the rest of us.”

  “Gods, this is agonizing! Why can’t I make any of you understand? I have to fight Jazana Carr! She took my country, she took my manhood, she took everything from me!”

  “Did she take your brains as well? You fled with Poppy to protect her, didn’t you? How do you think she’ll fare in a siege?”

  “But we can win this time . . .”

  “Stop, now. You saw Nevins’ face. You know what we’re up against, if you stay here you’ll be killed, and Poppy with you.” Van shook his head with a sneer. “But that’s
all right with you, isn’t it? You’ll risk that little girl just to get one more chance at Norvor. You’re a greedy old reptile, Lorn.”

  “Don’t talk to me,” Lorn hissed. He turned his back on Van and started down the hallway.

  “You know I’m right!” Van called.

  The taunt echoed after Lorn, chasing him down the hall. He did his best to ignore it, flipping an obscene gesture over his shoulder before losing Van around a bend. He was glad his friend didn’t pursue him; his argument was pointless. It was impossible to ask him to go now, when Jazana Carr was so close.

  “Ask me to stop being a man,” Lorn growled as he prowled through the library. “Ask me to give up everything. For what? Damn fool.”

  His decision made, he knew that now was the time to break the news to Eiriann. She would no doubt wail and weep like a woman, but he would be steeled for that and have none of her sobs.

  “She will not manipulate me,” he vowed. “Not with a flood of tears.”

  It no longer mattered to him that Eiriann had grown so attached to Poppy, or that he had shamelessly used her to look after the infant. Guilt was the emotion of weaker men. He would battle it now, he decided, while his determination remained. He left the hallway and exited the library. From the main door of the place he pointed himself to the yards where the women worked, mending and washing clothes. Eiriann always took Poppy with her during chores, constantly protecting her from harm. There were other children under her care, too, but Poppy was special to Eiriann and so got special attention, never wanting for affection or milk. As he’d hoped, Lorn found Eiriann in the south yard with some of the other Believers, two women and a man whose name he didn’t know. The man sat on a stool tanning tack leather. The two women had carried a spindle outside and were convivially spinning thread in the sunlight. Eiriann, however, was not so hard at work. Lorn halted mid-stride.