The Devil's Armor

by John Marco

  Minikin rode up to the gate and dismounted her kreel along with the giant Trog. The warriors that had escorted her remained on their mounts. The little mistress said nothing as she approached the gate. She looked around to see what great calamity had befallen her home, and seeing none was relieved. Still, Lariniza’s anxious silence drove her forward. While Greygor and the other Inhumans greeted her at the gate. She passed them without a word as she beelined toward White-Eye.

  “Tell me what’s happened,” she demanded.

  White-Eye crouched on one knee before the tiny lady, taking her small hand. Her expression was grave as she explained, “The Devil’s Armor has been stolen, Minikin.”

  Minikin thought she had prepared herself for the news. She did not expect hearing it to be so shocking. “By whom?”

  The blind kahana hesitated. “Baron Glass.”

  Minikin pulled her hand free of White-Eye’s and clenched it angrily. “Thorin.”

  “Last night, while the rest of us slept.” The girl’s blank eyes were remorseful. “We didn’t know, Minikin.”

  “Nor could you have stopped him had you known,” said Minikin. “There’s only one man to blame for what’s happened, and that’s Baron Glass. And perhaps myself as well, for trusting him. He has all the armor? Not even a piece remains?”

  “Once we realized what had happened we went down to check on it. It’s all gone, Minikin. The helmet, the mail, everything.”

  “How did you know what had happened, child? Did someone see him?”

  “We discovered the armor missing after . . .” White-Eye paused. “Minikin, perhaps I should show you.”

  “Show me what?”

  “Baron Glass needed a horse to flee Grimhold. He took one from the stables in the village.”

  “And?”

  The girl girded herself. “There was a stablehand sleeping with the horses. An old man named Denik.”

  “I know Denik,” said Minikin. All the people of Grimhold were known to her, even the villagers. “He saw Thorin?”

  “He did. There was a fight. A stableboy with Denik told us what happened. I’m sorry, Minikin—Denik is dead.”

  Minikin’s hand went instinctively to her amulet. “No . . .”

  “Denik tried to stop Baron Glass, that’s what the boy said. He was afraid and ran off after Baron Glass killed Denik. The boy’s father came to the keep to tell us what had happened.”

  “The boy saw the armor?”

  White-Eye nodded. “He described the man who’d killed Denik. I knew it was the Devil’s Armor. When I went down to the armory, the armor was gone. And so was Baron Glass.”

  Minikin clasped her amulet. Already Thorin had killed a man. Already Kahldris was coaxing out the worst of the baron’s nature. They were military men, both of them, and she knew Kahldris would use that against Thorin.

  “I should have seen this,” she groaned. “I should have known the power Kahldris would have over Thorin.” She turned toward the gate where the others waited for her. Outside the great expanse of desert hid Baron Glass and his new, dangerous weapon.

  “He took the horse and rode off, but that was hours ago,” said White-Eye. “We did not know what to do, so we waited. I knew you would come, Minikin. Faralok told me you were coming.”

  White-Eye’s Akari was a sensible spirit. He had counseled her correctly.

  “There was nothing for you to do,” said Minikin. “You were right to wait for me.”

  White-Eye grimaced. “I am sorry. If I could have done more . . .”

  “You would have been killed, just like Denik. There’s nothing to be done now but wait.”

  “Wait?”

  “For Amaraz to arrive,” Minikin explained. “Once Lukien brings the amulet, Amaraz will know what to do.”

  23

  AMARAZ

  Lukien stood in the middle of the small chamber, smelling the sweet incense burning on the altar. A dozen candles flickered in sconces along the stone walls. In this small prayer chamber of Grimhold, silence reigned, punctuated by Minikin’s rhythmic breathing. On her knees before the altar, Minikin prayed. Lukien had only just arrived, and she had brought him to the unassuming room at once.

  It had been night again by the time he’d reached Grimhold. His own horse had exhausted itself along the way, expiring amid the formidable desert sands. From that point on he had shared the back of Sharjal with Karcon. The kreel had gotten them to Jador quicker than any horse, and from there had rushed him to Grimhold. Together he and Gilwyn and Karcon had gone on to the ancient fortress, and had at last heard the desperate news from Minikin.

  The Devil’s Armor was gone. And Thorin with it.

  At first Lukien had been unable to believe the news. Gilwyn, too, had come to the baron’s defense. It was unthinkable that Thorin could betray them, murdering an innocent in the process. But the evidence was obvious, and though the news was shattering it was also undeniable. Even Gilwyn, now enjoying a long-delayed reunion with White-Eye, had been forced to admit the truth.

  Lukien’s mind reeled with regrets as he stood before the altar. Thorin had needed him, but he had neglected his old friend. His eyes moved curiously around the candlelit chamber. He had never been in Minikin’s private prayer room, but he knew that she came here sometimes to commune with the Akari. Now, there was only one Akari that could help them.

  It surprised Lukien that he felt afraid. Amaraz was his Akari, the one that kept him alive despite mortal wounds. But he was not like other Inhumans. Amaraz had never spoken to him before, not even coming to him in dreams. Alone with Minikin, he wondered what Amaraz would say, and how the Akari might help them.

  He steeled himself. As patiently as possible, he waited for Minikin to rise from her prayers. The mistress had wasted no time in bringing him to the chamber. He had not even seen Meriel yet, though it surprised him that the girl had not hurried to see him.

  Don’t think of her, he told himself. She was a distraction he didn’t need.

  As he cleared his mind he felt the Eye of God around his neck begin to thrum. Glancing down he saw that Minikin’s own amulet pulsed, too. The light from the gems mingled with the candle glow, turning their faces orange.

  “Clear your mind, Lukien,” said Minikin suddenly.

  “I have.”

  “No, you are thinking of Meriel. You will see her when we are done here. Think only of Amaraz.”

  It was not wholly possible for him to think only of Amaraz, for he knew so little of the being. He tried gamely though, closing his one eye and taking a deep breath. Minikin rose from her knees to stand before him. She placed her little hand on the altar.

  “Do as I do, Lukien.”

  Lukien placed his palm down on the smooth stone of the relic. It was cool, like marble.

  “You are ready?” asked Minikin.

  “To meet Amaraz? I’ve been ready since you gave me this bloody amulet.”

  “Then relax. Keep your hand on the altar.”

  Lukien nodded. “All right.”

  “Close your eye . . .”

  “Yes . . .”

  “And trust me.”

  It was easy to trust Minikin. She had never spoken anything but the truth. Lukien released his fears, preparing himself to meet his great benefactor.

  He knew from speaking to Gilwyn what it might be like, but nothing prepared him for the sense of wonder. At first he felt soaring, as if the world had fallen away beneath his feet. The blackness of his closed eye gave way to a swelling light—the chamber expanding impossibly around him. The walls rose to tower higher, the ceiling yawned upward. The bricks beneath his feet shimmered and came alive, and suddenly it was the prayer chamber no longer.

  He was in the world of the Akari.

  He could see them everywhere, beautiful, ethereal beings drifting through the air, leaving trails of light in their wake. Some waited along the walls, standing without feet, watching him with shining faces. High above in the rafters of the roof he saw them looking down on him
, their voices soft and pretty as they chattered in their dead language. The chamber, which had magically expanded into a grand theater, echoed with their pleasing noise.

  Lukien took his hand from the altar. Was it really his hand? He looked at it and wondered. Like the room and everything in it, it too had become translucent. But the sight of Minikin heartened him.

  “The Akari?” he asked, gesturing to the spirits all around them.

  “We are in their realm now,” replied the mistress. Her face was serene, as if she felt completely at home.

  “Which one is Amaraz?”

  “None of these,” Minikin replied. She pointed with her chin behind the altar. “Look there.”

  Lukien turned his gaze back to the altar. Behind it, the wall had fallen away, exposing a cascade of blue light. A figure moved in the light, a face that was the very light itself. Two ancient eyes blinked at him. Lukien’s heart froze.

  “Amaraz?” He could barely speak the name. Squinting for a better view, the visage of the great Akari grew clearer until his magnificence collected into an unmistakable face. Alive in every way, the countenance of light regarded him. Not knowing if he should bow or greet the being, Lukien merely stood before the altar, stunned by what he was seeing. Then, the spirit’s eyes left him, fixing instead on Minikin.

  “Long since you have come to me, dear friend,” said Amaraz. Lukien had never heard a voice like it. To listen to Amaraz was to hear a god speak. “I have missed you.”

  Minikin favored the spirit with a warm smile. In his gentle gaze she seemed to melt. “Too long as always, great Amaraz,” she said. “A year at least, since giving you over to this one.”

  The oblique reference to himself made Lukien uncomfortable. The Eye of God—or what looked like it in this strange world—still hung around his neck.

  “Greetings to my sister. She fares well for you still?”

  Minikin slipped her tiny fingers over the jewel in her own amulet. As if speaking, the red gem pulsed a reply. “Lariniza sends her greetings as well. Often does she speak of you, Amaraz, and urges me to seek you.”

  Amazingly, sadness infused the ethereal face. “The amulets serve their purposes, dear Minikin. We have always known this.”

  The reply confused Lukien until he remembered what Minikin had once told him. The Eyes of God held the essences of the sibling Akari. It gave each of them great strength in the living world, strength enough to make men—or women—immortal. But it also kept them apart.

  “The amulets do us great service, Amaraz,” said Minikin. “We are grateful.”

  Not knowing if he should speak, Lukien nodded his agreement. Amaraz did not look at him. The spirit’s expression grew serious.

  “Kahldris has awakened. You have come because of his armor.”

  “Yes, Amaraz. Tell us, please—where is Baron Glass?”

  The great face wrinkled in thought, revealing all its ancient folds. “The one called Glass rides through the desert. He makes his way to Ganjor now.”

  “He still wears the armor, then?” probed Minikin.

  “He will not remove the armor until Kahldris allows it. Kahldris is powerful, Minikin. I have warned you—he has subdued the Baron’s mind.”

  The news didn’t seem to surprise Minikin, but it alarmed Lukien at once. At last he spoke.

  “Great Amaraz, I am Lukien,” he said, uncertain how to address the being. “Baron Glass is my comrade. He is strong. He can resist—”

  Before he could finish Minikin touched his arm to quiet him. “Amaraz, is Baron Glass on his way to Liiria?”

  “To Liiria, yes. To his homeland. To avenge it.”

  “Avenge it?” asked Lukien. “Against who?”

  Amaraz replied directly to Minikin. “The Diamond Queen.”

  Lukien froze. He glanced at Minikin, who glanced at him in sympathy.

  “Amaraz, please explain this.”

  “The one called Jazana Carr has moved against the country of Glass. Kahldris has revealed this to your comrade. The baron rides for vengeance.”

  Minikin’s firm grip kept Lukien from launching a hundred questions. He was agitated, and angry at being ignored by the Akari.

  “What will happen to Baron Glass, Amaraz?” asked Minikin. “What will the armor do to him?”

  The Akari replied, “Kahldris will rape his mind.”

  “No,” snapped Lukien. He shook off Minikin and stepped closer to the enormous face. “I won’t allow it. Tell me how to fight him, Amaraz. Tell me how to defeat the Devil’s Armor.”

  Amaraz hesitated for a moment, fixing Lukien in his alien glare. When he answered, though, he spoke again to Minikin.

  “Always eager to fight. Will you send him after the baron?”

  “Talk to me, Amaraz,” Lukien demanded. “You’re my Akari. Don’t you dare ignore me!”

  “Lukien, stop,” Minikin ordered. She took his sleeve and dragged him back. “You are here because you have the amulet. Do not address Amaraz. Let me speak.”

  Frustrated, Lukien pointed at Amaraz. “I’m the one who’s going after Thorin. Is he going to help me or not?”

  “Lukien, that is enough.” Minikin’s eyes narrowed like a cat’s. “You will not speak again.”

  The steel in her voice quieted Lukien. Annoyed, he stepped back from the altar.

  “Amaraz, there is truth in what Lukien says. Will you help him in his quest?”

  “I am always with him, Minikin.”

  “And the armor—can it be defeated with your help?”

  “Not with my help, no,” said Amaraz.

  The answered perplexed Minikin. “How, then, if not by you?”

  “The Bronze Knight will find the way.”

  “Amaraz, please . . . if there is an answer you must tell us,” implored Minikin.

  “I cannot.”

  Minikin blinked at him. “Cannot? Why not?”

  The storminess that had been there before fled Amaraz’ astonishing face. With great softness he said to Minikin, “There are things even you may not know until the time has come, dear Minikin. You are in the mortal world. To reveal the workings of everything would destroy the life you know.”

  The little woman thought for a moment, then nodded. “You are right, Amaraz. I understand.” She took a rueful breath. “Lukien will ride for Liiria. If there are secrets to be discovered along the way, he will find them.”

  “I will be with him, have no doubt,” said Amaraz. “I will protect him as I can.”

  Then, to Lukien’s surprise, the face of Amaraz swirled into the blue light and was gone. One by one the Akari in the chamber began to fade. The walls that had so grandly expanded became as they once were, and were soon replaced by the darkness of his own closed eyelid. Lukien unsteadily opened his eye. He was exhausted from what had happened. His legs felt rubbery beneath him. Miraculously, his hand was still where it left it—palm down on the altar.

  “Lukien?” Minikin asked. She pulled her own hand from the altar and smiled at him. “How do you feel?”

  “I feel . . . astonished.”

  “It is like that the first time,” said Minikin, then added, “and every time afterward.”

  “Is that all?” asked Lukien. His eyes darted around the prayer room. “I mean Amaraz—has he nothing else to tell us?”

  “He has told us enough. You must go after Baron Glass, Lukien.”

  “Yes, but I would have done that anyway. Minikin, there must be something more, surely! Why will Amaraz not speak to me?”

  Minikin’s impish face was serene. “I do not know, Lukien. I am sorry. But Amaraz will tell us no more. Remember, there is a way to defeat the armor . . .”

  “He didn’t say that,” retorted Lukien. “All he gave us was riddles.”

  “There is a way,” Minikin repeated. “Amaraz merely said that he was not the way. It is out there for you to discover.”

  “Minikin, I—”

  “Shh,” urged the mistress. She put up a tiny finger but could not reach hi
s lips. “There is nothing to argue over. You must go after Baron Glass, Lukien. You must go to Liiria and try to stop him.” Then she smiled at him oddly.

  “What?” he asked. “Something else?”

  “Lukien, you won’t be going to Liiria alone,” said Minikin. She took his hand and began leading him out of the chamber. “Come. There is someone I want you to meet.”

  By the time Lukien reached the main level of Grimhold his head was still reeling from his remarkable encounter with Amaraz. Part of him felt lighter than air, as if his mind had been liberated from some steel cage. But he was also exhausted. The long ride to Jador and then Grimhold had left him sleepless for almost two days. He no longer wanted to fret over Thorin or talk about strategy. He simply wanted sleep. Seeing this, Minikin led him to one of the keep’s countless chambers. It was near the stairwell to the underground and had a cot and a few crude chairs. At first Lukien protested, because he had his own bedchamber in Grimhold and desperately wanted to go there, but Minikin insisted that he wait for her in the sad little room.

  Too tired to argue—and curious about her strange proclamation earlier—Lukien collapsed onto the cot and waved her away, begging her to bring this strange new comrade to him quickly, whoever he was. Minikin shut the door to the chamber, leaving Lukien alone. There was no window in the room and the only light came from an oil lamp on a nearby chamber. Reaching over, Lukien trimmed the wick to darken the room, then closed his tired eye and sighed. He supposed Minikin was fetching one of the Inhumans to help him. Like Ghost, it would probably be someone with an amazing magical ability, and wondered who it might be. By now he knew most of the Inhumans, didn’t he?

  He settled into the cot and relaxed. It would be good to have help, he decided. Finding Thorin would be difficult. And if he had to fight him . . .

  Before he could finish his thought, he was taken by sleep. His slumber was short, however, interrupted by a sudden rap on the door. Lukien shook his head and sat up on the cot.