by John Marco
Lukien and Mirage had made themselves at home in the library. Lukien bunked with the other officers, while Mirage had become comfortable with Breck’s own wife and family, who shared a large chamber with some other civilians. It was not an unpleasant arrangement for Lukien, who had long ago become accustomed to quartering with soldiers. He quickly began to enjoy their company, and the excuse it gave him to avoid Mirage. Since coming to the library they had spent very little time together, and when they did, mostly at meal-time, Lukien tried very hard not to sit with her or encourage her in any way. He had hoped that coming to Koth would somehow convince her that he did not love her and never would, and that she would see the truth of this and leave on her own. She did not. There was, Lukien supposed, nowhere for her to go.
On the morning of their sixth day in Koth, Lukien awoke while many of his new comrades were still asleep. Aroused by a disturbing dream that he could not remember once his eyes opened, he quickly dressed and left the chamber, hungry for some fresh air. A chill in the air made him grab his cloak, which he fixed hurriedly around his shoulders as he went through the quiet library. As he suspected, the sun was just coming up, burning off the haze of dawn. A handful of hearty people had already risen and started their day’s work, and as he passed them Lukien greeted them with polite smiles. As he made his way out of doors, he suddenly remembered bits of his dream. The unpleasant images drove him into the courtyard, which was completely deserted and wonderfully silent.
Lukien paused and considered the rising sun creeping above the city. Library Hill was surprisingly high. This morning, it seemed to tower over the whole world. As the sun spread its warmth Lukien let it touch his face. He smiled, glad to be awake and out of his cramped chambers. He had dreamed of Grimhold and of all the friends there he’d left behind. He had dreamed that the raiders had conquered Jador and taken Gilwyn prisoner, and no one knew if the boy was alive or dead, not even Minikin.
“Just a dream,” Lukien whispered, calming himself. He drew his cloak closer around his shoulders, surprised by the nip in the air. He began to walk, not really caring where he was going, hoping to exorcise his dark thoughts. Since coming to the library, he had never seen the courtyard abandoned, and realized suddenly how long it had been since he had truly been alone. The solitude relaxed him. It seemed like forever since he’d been free, since he’d not been obliged to anyone else, since the Eye of God ruled his life . . .
He paused. Glancing down, he touched the amulet beneath his clothing and felt the round outline of its pulsing ruby. If he removed it, he would die. Not quickly, perhaps, though Cassandra had died quickly. But die he would; Minikin had promised it. Just for a moment, he wanted to remove it.
Just for a moment. . .
There was a world beyond the one he knew. There was a realm where spirits like the Akari dwelt, and life did not just end the way a candle flame died when snuffed out. Life went on, Minikin had told him, in some strange world beyond this one. What did it matter then if he wore the amulet or not? What difference would his death make?
What difference had his life made?
It was not a question Lukien enjoyed. For now, at least, his life had a purpose—to save Thorin from the Devil’s Armor. And according to Amaraz—his own Akari—the means to do so existed. Somewhere.
“So Amaraz? Are you listening to me? Can you hear my thoughts?”
Lukien kept his hand on the amulet. He felt its warmth and knew it was alive with Amaraz’s power. Still, he felt nothing from the spirit, not even the smallest acknowledgment.
“Will you ignore me forever?” he asked.
The Akari gave no reply.
“You are a hateful creature and I despise you,” said Lukien. “And when I am done with this quest I will rip you from my throat and toss you into the ocean. Oh, I might die, yes, but so will you, Amaraz, in a way. You’ll have to live on forever encased in this blasted thing, maybe in the belly of a shark or stuck in the mucky sea bottom. How will you like that, I wonder?”
Perhaps the Akari was accustomed to his curses, for again he spoke not at all. Lukien sneered and took his hand from the amulet.
“Damn you forever, Amaraz.”
He continued walking, leaving the main yard and rounding the west side of the building, the side farthest the city where the civilians quartered. Like the rest of the grounds the west side was quiet, still darkened by the long shadows of the library. A series of walls had been built across the grounds here to protect the civilians from attack. They were short walls, good for archers and crossbowmen and staggered to make them difficult to breach. A fair amount of planning had gone into their construction, impressing Lukien’s military mind. What surprised him most, however, was the unexpected sight of someone near them. Lukien stopped and looked across the yard, wondering why the man had awoken so early. He had a pile of stones near him and a barrow full of mortar and was hard at work on one of the walls, carefully laying stones then stepping back to check his work. He wore the uniform of a Royal Charger, but without the long, formal coat. Instead he had his shirt sleeves rolled up and stains on his trousers. His intense expression kept him from noticing Lukien even as Lukien came closer.
“Good morning,” Lukien offered, coming to a stop not far from the man. Startled, the fellow turned to reveal his young face. He did not seem perturbed by the interruption, only curious. “You’re up early,” Lukien continued. “I thought I was the only one.”
The man lowered the stone in his hand and studied Lukien. It was the kind of look Lukien was used to, especially from younger Chargers. “You’re the Bronze Knight,” he said.
“You surprised me,” said Lukien. “I don’t see any others eager to work this early.”
The man shrugged. “It has to get done, that’s all.” He turned his attention back to his wall, which was roughly the height of his shoulders. Carefully he laid down the stone he was holding, setting it firmly into the mortar. “I heard you were here, Sir Lukien.”
“But you didn’t come to see me. I thought I’d seen everyone by now.” Lukien rubbed his hands together. “Cold. Why don’t you wait till it warms up a little?”
“I like working on the walls. It’s important.”
“They won’t keep out Jazana Carr’s army,” said Lukien, thinking it best he tell the man the truth. “Not for long, anyway.”
“I know about Jazana Carr’s army,” replied the man. He turned to look at Lukien. “I was part of it once.”
Lukien smiled. “You’re Vanlandinghale,” he said, understanding. “Breck told me about you. You were with Jazana in Norvor. One of her mercenaries.”
“That’s right. For almost a year.” Vanlandinghale smiled back. “I’m not an expert on her, though. Not like you or Baron Glass.”
“Hmm, I hear challenge in your tone, fellow. Go on—say whatever’s on your mind. You won’t offend me.”
“No, Sir Lukien, I have no argument with you—or with Baron Glass. I just have a wall to build, that’s all.”
“Then you should know it won’t work,” said Lukien. “You know how strong she is—these walls can’t protect us.”
“Maybe not,” said Vanlandinghale. “But you should know how stupid it was for Baron Glass to go see the queen. Everybody should know that, but they don’t. Instead they’re waiting around, hoping for Baron Glass to make things right. Sometimes I think I’m the only one who realizes what danger we’re still in. That’s why I’m building the wall, Sir Lukien.”
Lukien couldn’t help but admire his candor. He already knew a fair amount about the young lieutenant. Breck had told him that Van had come from Norvor with King Lorn, and that he was driven to prove himself. Guilt did that to men, Lukien knew. He supposed he had much in common with Van.
“You’ve done a good job here, Vanlandinghale,” said Lukien. “These walls—they’re tight and well laid out. If it does come to war—”
“It will, Sir Lukien, it will.” Van began mixing his barrow full of mortar distractedly, muscling
the shovel. “You should know that. You know how devious Jazana Carr is, how determined.”
“Aye, I know that,” said Lukien. “But you underestimate Baron Glass, I think.”
“Do I?” Van stopped mixing and stared at him. “Then where is he? He left almost a week ago.”
Lukien grimaced. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m worried about him.”
Van grinned and went back to mixing. “I thought as much. Maybe you don’t know your friend as well as you think.”
“What does that mean?” asked Lukien, his ire rising.
“It means that you’re a fool if you think he’s got any chance at all against Jazana Carr. Oh, I know all about his famous armor; I’m not impressed. He walked into a hornet’s nest with a hat on, that’s all. If he’s not dead already he will be soon, just as soon as the queen gets what she wants out of him.”
“Fellow, that’s my friend you’re talking about,” Lukien rumbled. “Just a warning—watch your tongue.”
Van sighed and pushed aside his shovel again. Leaning against the stone wall, he looked at Lukien. “I know he’s your friend. So what are you doing about it? Breck told me you came here looking for him. He said you wanted to help him.”
“I do,” said Lukien. “That’s why I’m here, waiting.”
“Waiting won’t do your friend any good,” said Van.
“Neither will building a wall.”
The soldier shrugged. “At least I’m doing something.”
There was logic in the statement, Lukien supposed. While everyone else was simply waiting, Van at least was active. But what could be done, Lukien wondered? Waiting was his only option now. His anger diminished, he went to the tall pile of stones and ran his hand over them, not sure what to say. Vanlandinghale watched him curiously.
“Want to help me?” he asked.
Lukien nodded. “I should. At least I’d be doing something.”
Van smiled. “You’re probably right about it, though. It probably won’t help. But we have civilians to protect. We have to try, at least.”
Maybe that’s all it’s about, thought Lukien. He picked up a stone and weighed it in his hand. “Maybe that’s all there is to life,” he said. “Trying.”
“I think so,” said Van. He surveyed the walls he had built with a gleam of sadness. “I’ve had time to think while I’ve been here. I don’t think my life is just about staying alive. I think it’s about standing up for something I desperately believe in, like this place.” Then he laughed. “That sounds silly, I suppose.”
“It doesn’t,” said Lukien. “I think it sounds just right.”
“Do you? King Lorn the Wicked taught me that.” The soldier shook his head. “Of all people to teach me a lesson about life. But he was right, about that at least. I owe him a lot. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here.”
“About to die,” added Lukien good-naturedly.
“Probably,” Van admitted.
A long silence rose between them. At last Van went back to working on his wall.
“The others have been talking about you,” he said. “They say you promised Breck to stay with us.” His eyes flicked toward Lukien. “Is that right?”
“That’s what I told him,” said Lukien.
“Hand me a stone, will you?”
Lukien hefted a stone from the pile and handed it to Van. As the soldier buttered it with mortar, he said, “We always talked about you, us Royal Chargers. Even after Akeela died when I was in Norvor—all the Chargers with me talked about you.” He turned and fixed the stone into position. “We’re glad you’re back.”
Lukien said nothing, but took another stone from the pile and handed it to Vanlandinghale.
By the time evening had come, Lukien was famished. He had spent almost the entire day with the enigmatic Van, and was eager for the evening meal. The main mess—a giant, converted reading room with long tables and benches—was always a place of good conversation, even when the food was meager, and Lukien sat himself down at the table with the other officers to enjoy the company and fare from the kitchens. When the sun went down the mess always filled up, and tonight it was particularly crowded. Most of Breck’s inner circle were at his table, including the former mercenaries Nevins and Aliston. Aric Glass was there as well, sitting beside the gruff Murdon, a loyal Royal Charger whom Lukien had not yet gotten to know well. Vanlandinghale had not yet come for the meal—an oversight that plainly irked Breck—but the other tables were packed with his men, all the horsemen and archers and infantry fighters that had spent the day idle yet had somehow worked up an appetite. Besides the military men there were civilians at the tables as well, the men and women and even children who kept the library vital. Except for the formidable kitchen staff, who took their meals after everyone else had been fed, it seemed to Lukien that everyone in the library was in the mess tonight, including Mirage.
Mirage sat at a table across the mess, chattering with Breck’s wife Kalla and some of the other women of the library. As Lukien ate and talked with his own comrades, she occasionally glanced toward him and smiled. Striving to be polite, Lukien always returned her smiles, maybe adding a nod but never being too encouraging. Mirage looked beautiful, he realized, and found himself stealing glances at her between dunking bits of bread into his stew of venison. More importantly, she looked happy, something she had never been in Grimhold. But his long day with Van had given Lukien much to think about, and he knew that soon Mirage’s happiness would end. Perhaps unintentionally, Van had convinced Lukien of the hopelessness of their plight. Knowing he would soon confront have to Mirage, Lukien nevertheless smiled as he ate his meal, determined to at least enjoy part of the gathering.
To Lukien’s pleasure, the talk at the table was not of war or Baron Glass’ mission or Jazana Carr’s enormous wealth. Instead, Captain Aliston the archer told a good story about growing up in a small Liirian village and how he had nearly drowned in a creek when he was a boy. The tale opened the door to a plethora of similar near-disasters, and by the time it was Breck’s turn to talk he brought Lukien into the story.
“Do you remember, Lukien?” asked Breck, smiling with a mouthful of food. “That time you almost fell off one of the catwalks in Lionkeep?” Breck turned to his men and laughed. “He wasn’t a boy, mind you—he did it as a dare!”
Lukien grinned, though the memory wasn’t all pleasant. “I remember hanging from by my fingertips waiting for you to pull me up.”
“We were always doing stupid things like that,” said Breck. “When you’re young it’s easy to be dumb.”
Murdon messed up Aric’s hair and said, “Hear that, boy? Don’t be dumb.”
Aric had been particularly quiet the entire meal. Lukien guessed he was thinking about his father. “Stop calling me boy,” he hissed, pulling away from Murdon.
Murdon plucked a chunk of meat from Aric’s plate and popped it into his mouth. “Sour-face.” He looked around the table. “So? Where’s Van tonight, eh?”
Breck frowned. “I’ve talked to him about this. He’s supposed to be here for evening meals.”
“He’s got an independent mind,” said Murdon. “Always did. Likes to go his own way, Van.”
“I’ve noticed,” said Breck, and went back to eating.
“He’s working on the walls,” Lukien volunteered. “The ones at the west wing.”
Breck nodded. “I noticed you working with him today. They coming along?”
“Well enough. Did you give him that assignment?”
“I had him help with some mason work months ago,” said Breck. “He took it on himself to build those fortifications. If battle comes I’m putting him in charge there.”
Murdon looked up with some alarm. “In charge where? The west wing?”
“To protect the civilians, yes,” said Breck. “He can do it. He’s got the heart for it.”
“I’m not arguing about his heart,” said Murdon. “It’s his head that bothers me.”
Lukien had alr
eady noticed how easily Murdon got away with things. Breck was indeed easy with him. And he knew there was truth in Murdon’s suspicions; Breck had already told Lukien about Van’s checkered past. But they all had checkered pasts now, didn’t they?
“I think Van will do fine,” Lukien spoke up. He looked around the table. The men had been surprised by his statement. He met their gazes one by one. “And I think Van’s right. Everyone’s just sitting here, dancing around the truth.”
“What is the truth, Lukien?” Breck challenged. “That we’re in danger? We’re all facing it, don’t fret. Every day we stare it in the face.”
It was plain that Breck didn’t want to talk about it. Lukien backed off. Wiping his face, he stood up and politely excused himself from the table. He wasn’t angry with Breck, just embarrassed, and knew he shouldn’t have said anything at all. But he had made his decision, and knew also that someone else was owed an explanation. Crossing the mess, he went to Mirage’s table. Breck’s wife Kalla was the first to spot him. When she did, the conversation among her women stopped. Lukien tilted his head toward her, for she was something like a queen among these ladies.
“Excuse me,” he said. He looked at Mirage. “Can we talk, please?”
Mirage’s expression was hopeful as she glanced at her friends. She pushed her plate forward and stood. “Yes, of course,” she said, her voice a bit shaky. Her anxiousness reminded Lukien of how young she really was. It was unseemly to interrupt the way he had, but something inside Lukien told him not to wait anymore. There was a table near the entrance that was empty. Lukien pointed toward it.