The Devil's Armor

by John Marco

  But it was Vanlandinghale whom Breck confided in, and Van was not sure why. At the end of tiring days they would share a drink together, the lieutenant always eager to please the man he had come to call a hero. Van loved Breck because Breck trusted him and had given his life meaning again, something it had not had in years. He did his best to tell the commander all he knew about Jazana Carr, and in turn Breck listened intently and filed the information quietly in his calculating brain, sure to pull it out when needed. Van supposed Breck appreciated his candor. Perhaps that was why the commander always asked Van—and no one else—to ride with him to the villages.

  The day was exceptional, warm and bright with sunlight. Koth was busy as always, the fields around the city being prepared for planting by hopeful farmers. Soldiers walked the avenues or returned from patrols, scouting the countryside that had remained blessedly quiet. And Breck, as he was apt to do on pleasant days, had chosen to patrol the city himself, as much to enjoy the fresh air as to check on Koth’s security. He had asked Van to accompany him and Van had obliged, happy to leave his other duties aside for a while. Together they had ranged the villages around Koth, leaving in late morning and not returning until mid-afternoon.

  Breck was exceptionally closed-mouthed during the ride. At first Van wondered why, then realized how heavily the coming spring was weighing on his commander. Despite their many talks, he still knew surprisingly little about Breck, or about the family he sheltered in the library, a wife and son that, like Breck, kept mainly to themselves. But Van had become good at reading the commander’s mood, and knew that today he brooded. It would not be long now before word reached them of movement out of Andola. They had all dreaded the spring for that reason, preferring instead the cold but predictable terrors of winter.

  Van decided not to press Breck about it. Today, Breck merely wanted company and not conversation.

  By the time they returned to the heart of the city Van was purely famished. Not expecting to have been gone so long, they had only brought drink with them, and not even a hard biscuit to chew on. As they neared Library Hill, Van decided to break the silence.

  “Past time for midday meal, you think?”

  They were at the foot of the hill with the long road winding upwards ahead of them. The lulling clip-clop of their horses was the only sound. Breck shrugged as if he hadn’t really heard the question.

  “Don’t know. Maybe.”

  “The other officers probably waited,” said Van, knowing that was the custom. No one wanted to start eating before Breck sat down. “Good too, because I could eat a mule.”

  Again Breck didn’t answer, but this time for a reason. Another horseman, coming toward them from the opposite direction, had caught his attention. Van took cautious notice of the big man. Others had, too. Heads in the distance turned in his direction. Breck reined in his horse, signaling Van to do the same. The horseman rode slowly toward them. He was a stranger, certainly, a military man in a kind of armor Van had never seen before. Unworldly looking, jet black and shining, the armor covered the big man’s body, all but his head. His eyes met Breck’s and Van’s, his expression serious. Not a young man, he nevertheless carried an aura of power around him. In his armor and determination, he was frightening to behold.

  “Commander . . .”

  “I see him.” Breck sat motionless atop his horse as the man drew nearer. Then, “Great Fate Almighty . . .”

  Van glanced at him. “What?”

  The commander waited for the rider to face them, eventually drawing his horse to a halt. Now that he was closer, Van could see the age in his face, and the intricate patterns of his strange armor. He did not look at Van, but rather stared almost knowingly at Breck. The two men studied each other, oddly quiet.

  “In all my life I never thought to see you again,” said Breck.

  “You’re Breck,” said the man. “I remember you.”

  Breck’s face was fierce. If this was a friend he greeted, he did not act like it. “It hasn’t been so long, Baron. Just long enough for Liiria to fall apart.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” declared the stranger. “To bring her back to glory.”

  The answer left Van confused. He cleared his throat to remind Breck he was there. Breck looked at him sideways.

  “Van, have you ever met a man of infamy before?”

  Van didn’t know how, but in that instant he knew the man’s identity. He looked at the stranger, awed by the possibility as Breck confirmed his guess.

  “This is a living legend, Van,” said the commander with some contempt. “This is Baron Thorin Glass.”

  Van and Breck did not go to their midday meal as planned. Instead they rode up to the library in secret, letting Baron Glass trail behind them. When they got to the yard, Breck barked to a young man to take away all of their horses. Not surprisingly, Baron Glass took the unusual helmet off his saddle and kept it with him as Breck led him into the library. There were curious stares as they entered, all of which Breck waved off, ordering his men to keep quiet and not ask questions. None of them knew who their odd guest was, and Breck seemed relieved by that. He offered no explanation as he took the baron and Van to the old study, the place that had once belonged to the dead librarian, Figgis. Breck did not call any other officers to the meeting. Instead he closed the door quickly behind him, ordering his underlings not to disturb them, not even if the place caught fire. Baron Glass remained quiet throughout. He placed his helmet down on a tall stack of dusty books. As he stood there waiting, the horned thing stared at Van.

  Baron Thorin Glass was more than Van expected. He had imagined the old man to be withered by now, maybe toasted brown by his days in the desert, his skin a wrinkled saddlebag. Baron Glass was none of those things. He was tall, and glowing with good health. His eyes glistened with youth that should not have been there. More importantly, he had both arms, and everyone knew that Baron Glass had lost his left arm years before. Just as Breck had not mentioned anything of Glass’ son, Aric, he pretended not to notice the miraculous appendage, though the sight of it disconcerted Van. Could the wizards of Grimhold grow back arms?

  Breck had said almost nothing to Glass. Now, neither of them sat in the study’s chairs. They simply stood and looked at each other.

  “I have a million questions,” said Breck. His tone was miserable. “And I don’t know where to start.”

  Baron Glass replied, “I did not expect you to welcome me back to Koth, Sir Breck. I only expect you to listen to me.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I’ve come to help you.”

  The answer intrigued Van and Breck both. Like his commander, Van had countless questions, but decided to hold his tongue and let Breck do the interrogating.

  “You’ve come all the way from Grimhold?”

  The baron nodded. “Indeed I have.”

  The next question surprised Van. Breck paused for a moment, then asked, “How is Lukien? Does he still live?”

  Amazingly, Baron Glass smiled at the inquiry. “Lukien is well. If he knew I was coming here he would have sent his regards, I’m sure.”

  “What do you mean?” Realizing his voice was carrying, Breck glanced at the door a moment. “Lukien doesn’t know you’ve come here? Why not?”

  “Because I had to come and he would not have wanted me to. Because he has his hands full with his own problems.” Glass looked at Breck seriously. “Because I have brought you something he did not want me to bring.”

  Unable to stop himself, Van asked, “That armor?”

  Baron Glass regarded him. “That’s right. And before I say another word, please tell me who you are.”

  “Lieutenant Vanlandinghale,” replied Van. “A Royal Charger. I worked for Jazana Carr, after you left her.”

  The mention of the Diamond Queen made Glass’ face tighten horribly. “Jazana Carr is the reason I’ve come. I know she is moving against Koth soon. I’m here to help you stop her.”

  “With that armor?” asked B
reck. He took a small step closer and surveyed Glass up and down. Like Van, he was clearly puzzled by its construction. It seemed to give the baron no trouble at all. It barely made a sound when he walked. Its mirror brightness was like looking at the sun, if the sun was black as hell. “This is a thing of Grimhold,” said Breck, “a magic thing.”

  “It is,” said Glass. “An amazing thing.”

  Finally Breck said, “And your arm? Is that a magic thing as well?”

  “It is the armor,” said Glass. “It has healed me.”

  “Severed arms do not heal, Baron Glass. Specifically, now—explain it to me.”

  “I cannot explain it,” said Glass. “Nor would you believe me if I could. The magic of Grimhold is still a mystery to me. But it is powerful, Sir Breck. It is enough to defeat Jazana Carr.”

  Breck’s eyebrows shot up. “That, sir, is a very tall claim. And I think you know nothing about Jazana Carr these days, or the army she has massed against us.”

  “Respectfully, Baron Glass, Breck is right,” said Van. “It has been almost two years since you have seen Jazana Carr. She is more powerful now. She has defeated King Lorn . . .”

  Van stopped himself suddenly, remembering Lorn. He looked at Breck, who nodded.

  “You are not the only one to have come here claiming to know how to beat her, Baron Glass. King Lorn himself was here to try and aid us.” Breck’s eyes narrowed. “But you must know that already.”

  Glass frowned at the notion. “Why would I know that? Is King Lorn not dead yet?”

  Breck and Van glanced at each other. “Apparently,” said Breck, “the magic of Grimhold isn’t powerful enough to tell you everything. King Lorn left us for Grimhold some months ago, Baron. He took many others with him, people who wanted to go there to be healed.”

  The news fell heavily on Glass. “There are many who come to Grimhold these days,” he sighed. “Lorn was only one of a flood. And I could have easily missed him, or left Grimhold before he made it there.”

  “Or perhaps he didn’t make it all,” surmised Van, not liking that idea at all.

  Breck rubbed his neck, which was turning red in all the confusion. “Baron Glass, none of this makes sense to me. You say Lukien doesn’t know you’ve come here? And this armor—what is it?”

  “It is a relic of Grimhold,” said Glass. “And no, Lukien did not know that I was coming here. He does now, no doubt, and is probably on his way after me.” The baron finally leaned back against the wall, as though about to make a confession. “This armor is called the Devil’s Armor,” he said softly. “It is very ancient, very powerful. There is no one who can defeat me while I wear it, for it has a great spirit that protects me. If you took out your dagger and tried all day and night to scratch it, Sir Breck, you could not. But I stole the armor, so that I could come here and help you.” He looked at Van this time. “So you see, my friend, you are wrong about Jazana Carr. No matter how many men she has made her whores, there is not one of them that can defeat me now.”

  The statement truly frightened Van. Looking at the baron suddenly made him shrivel, as if every word he said was true, as if every skill Van possessed was impotent. He had fought in Jador and known the power of the people there. Those they protected in Grimhold were said to be beyond the touch of man. Now, here had come a god into his midst. He looked over at Breck, who looked reassuringly calm in the face of Glass’ boast.

  “Koth has changed, Baron Glass, but we are not weak,” he said. “We have a thousand men under arms here, ready to defend this city, and if Jazana Carr comes she’ll have this hill to contend with. We’ve gotten supplies from Reec, too, and a promise from King Raxor for more help if we need it.”

  “Raxor?” Glass interrupted. “He is King of Reec now?”

  “His brother Karis died a year ago,” Breck explained. “He’s been keeping an eye on Norvor like the rest of us. What I’m saying to you is that I do not think I want your magic here. Maybe we need it, maybe we don’t. But you stole that armor. You say that Lukien is after you, but won’t tell me why. I think you’ve brought poison into my library, Baron Glass.”

  For the first time, anger flashed in Glass’ eyes. “This isn’t your library, Sir Breck, nor does Liiria belong to you any more than it does me. I have come to defend my country, with your help or without it.”

  “Oh?” said Breck with a nasty smirk. “Then where have you been for the past twenty years, Baron? You let Liiria collapse while you were in the bed of that slut Jazana Carr, and when war came to tear us apart you were hiding across the Desert of Tears, keeping safe while the rest of us fought.”

  “I never forgot Liiria,” Glass flared. “Do not presume to know my heart.” He slammed his fist against his breastplate. “Every night and every day I thought of Liiria, wondering if Jazana Carr had come to rape her, or if her spies had found my family. Yes, you remember that threat, don’t you Breck? I’m the reason she’s come to Liiria—to hurt and humiliate me. To kill my family if she can find them. And now I am here to stop her!”

  Van held his breath. Breck said coolly, “Maybe your family has moved on since you left them. Have you ever considered that?”

  “I don’t know where they are,” said Glass. “I haven’t been good to them, I know. They think I’m dead, and that’s how it should be. But at least I can protect them from Jazana Carr, by protecting Liiria.”

  “Is that what they think?” pressed Breck. “That you’re dead?”

  Glass nodded shamefully. “I never sent them word I was alive. I wouldn’t even know where to find them.”

  It was hard for Van to hold his tongue, to watch the baron grieve over a family, at least one of whom was somewhere in the library, oblivious to his father’s homecoming. Breck surprised him by changing the subject.

  “Tell me, Baron—what will happen when Lukien comes here for you? Will you go with him? Abandon us again? Or is he coming to help us fight as well?”

  “He is coming because I have come,” said Glass.

  “You know this for certain?”

  “Yes,” said Glass, and did not elaborate.

  “Because you stole the armor?”

  “The Devil’s Armor belonged to Grimhold. Now it belongs to me. When Lukien comes I will make him see the truth of that, and how things have changed.”

  Breck folded his arms over his chest. “And what if he doesn’t like your explanation? He’ll fight you for it. That’s trouble I don’t need.”

  “You have troubles already, and Lukien is the least of them. It is spring. That means Jazana Carr will be moving against Koth. My guess is that you have only a few weeks left.” Baron Glass stood up tall. “I can help you. I can defeat her army.”

  Breck thought for a very long moment, not even flinching against Glass’ muscle-flexing. He no longer examined the astonishing armor. Instead he studied the baron’s face.

  “You’ve changed, Baron Glass. There is something in your eyes I don’t like, something that wasn’t there two years ago.” Breck leaned in closer. “I think I see a touch of madness there.”

  “What you see,” said Glass in a growl, “is determination. I have changed, Sir Breck. I have chosen not to live as a slave anymore. And I will fight Jazana Carr, if not here at the library then somewhere else. You can join me or refuse me. But you cannot stop me.”

  There was no denying it. Breck shook his head as if he no longer had answers. “Will you be our savior?” he wondered. “Or the death of us? You may stay, Baron Glass, at least for a while. There’s still much I want to know about you, but you’ve already given me enough to think about.”

  A huge smile splayed across Glass’ face. “You have made the right choice, Sir Breck. Together we will keep Koth safe, then take back Andola, too.”

  “Maybe, Baron Glass, maybe. But now I have something for you to think about.”

  37

  REUNION IN KOTH

  Thorin Glass had two sons and two daughters he had not seen in almost two decades. There was also a
wife, Romonde, whom he had deeply loved and who, regardless of the nights he’d spent in Jazana Carr’s bed, he had never truly forgotten. Thorin had long ago lost hope that Romonde was alive and supposed that she, at least, would not have to endure Jazana Carr’s promised revenge. Still, Thorin worried often over his sons and daughters. After his imprisonment the world had thought him dead, and so Thorin believed his children had scattered to the winds, especially in the aftermath of Liiria’s demise. Despite all the magical things he had seen in Grimhold, he never really had faith in seeing any of his children again. And that was why, more than any other reason, Breck’s news had shocked him so.

  At first Thorin felt nothing at all. He was simply numb. Breck had told him that Aric was well and living in the library, and all Thorin could do was stare dumbly with his mouth agape. His son was nearly twenty now and an asset to their army, Breck pointed out. He had remained in Koth his entire life, and when the call had gone out for men to defend the city, Aric had volunteered. The statement made a lump rise in Thorin’s throat, the first of many emotions that would dazzle him over that night and coming day. Neither Breck nor Vanlandinghale could offer him more information, however. Aric, they told him, was notoriously tight-lipped about the rest of his family.

  “He’s embarrassed because you abandoned them,” Breck had explained. “He’s known since meeting me that you are alive.”

  That night, Baron Glass had gone to a shabby little chamber in the library and had not emerged again till morning. There were not many rooms left within the building, most already occupied by soldiers or staff, but the men who gave it up for him did so gladly once they discovered his identity. His arrival was too big a thing to keep secret, Breck warned him. Aric would find out very soon.