The Sword Of Angels eog-3

by John Marco

  What would happen to her, she wondered? She looked furtively over her shoulder, wondering if Raxor had sent unseen chaperones with her, but all she saw were workmen and children in the streets and lovers too occupied to pay her much attention. Satisfied, she went back to the lane with the tiny houses and made her way south, until the lane widened and the pastel homes gave way to grand buildings of stone and darkly painted wood. Here the avenue curved into a circle hidden with tall, official looking structures and crowds of people and animals, all shuffling through the street with carts of wool, fruit and timber. Mirage avoided the crowd, picking her way to the other side of the street where a sidewalk guided her further toward the cathedral’s tower, still visible over the crenulated tops of the buildings. On a corner she paused to get her bearings, then heard a noise in the distance. Like cheering, or the roar of a river, the sound leapt over the buildings and into the street. Curious, Mirage followed the noise. Rounding the corner, she came suddenly to a flat, gigantic parade ground. And on the ground were horsemen — hundreds of them — drilling on their proud mounts to the precise music of trumpeters. Under the shadow of the lofty cathedral, the field waved with flags and shook with pageantry, burdened with rows of carts piled high with supplies and stable boys shoeing horses, ordered about by men in armour and elegant uniforms. Among the teams of horses marched throngs of foot soldiers, while others practiced with pikes or fenced with swords under the critical gaze of officers. Not knowing what she had stumbled upon, Mirage scooted back around the corner, peering out her head for a better view. Pleased that none of the Reecian soldiers had noticed her, she watched in awe as they drilled, preparing for some unknown war.

  ‘Kirsil, do you see?’ she whispered.

  Her Akari replied with alarm. What is this?

  ‘I don’t know. .’

  Mirage tried counting up the troops. There were at least five hundred of them, most on horseback but all similarly garbed in the armour of Reecian fighting men. Like the ones she had seen when she’d crossed the border into Reec, the soldiers seemed to be making ready.

  But for what? asked Kirsil, reading her thoughts. Is Reec in trouble?

  Mirage thought for a moment, wondering about the warning Raxor had given her. He had said that Baron Glass was plotting against Reec; he’d been so sure of it. Unable to see clearly, Mirage stepped out from behind the corner, sure that she was in no danger from the troops. She was Raxor’s woman, after all. The parade ground enthralled her, its soldiers beautiful. Their frenzied noise filled the field. Sunlight from the blue sky played off their shining, armoured bodies and polished weapons. Galloping past her came a team of thundering horsemen, their heads bowed as they circled the enormous field. Mirage stepped back from the field as the horses blew by, awestruck by their power. At the head of the team rode a man in silver armour with a crimson plume sprouting from his helmet. A sword slapped against his leggings. He had led his team past Mirage and for a moment kept on riding, but fifty yards later he reined his horse to an abrupt halt, wheeling about to face her. The dozen horsemen he led fell into place behind him, but the man — his face hidden behind his helmet — ordered them to go. His metal face leered at Mirage. Then, he snapped the reins of his chestnut steed and stalked toward her.

  Mirage pressed herself against the corner. She thought of running but couldn’t make her feet obey. Instead she watched as the grand horseman trotted closer, coming to a stop a few feet away. Atop his snorting beast he towered over Mirage, looking down on her through the eyeslits in his metal mask. Gripping his reins, he leaned back comfortably, nodding.

  ‘You’re the one,’ he said. The young voice echoed beneath his helmet. Finally he raised a gauntlet to lift his faceplate, revealing his sharp nose and piercing green eyes. A red goatee covered his chin, partially hidden by a veil of chainmail. ‘You’re my father’s new plaything.’

  The accusation stunned Mirage. ‘I am no one’s toy, sir,’ she spat at the knight, but she already knew the man’s name. So far she had avoided meeting Raxor’s children, the two daughters and one grown son who lived in Castle Hes. According to Laurella they were a selfish lot, accustomed to taking from their father and giving little back. The knight laughed at Mirage’s tartness.

  ‘I recognize you,’ he said. ‘I have seen you at the castle. My father spoke of you to me when you came.’

  ‘You’re Roland,’ said Mirage, not backing down. ‘I see you do not have your father’s manners.’

  ‘Or his luck with women,’ laughed the knight. ‘To have such a pretty young thing to share his bed with! I do envy my father sometimes.’

  Roland the Red was a major in Reec’s army, an accomplished cavalryman with a streak of arrogance that made his men dislike him. Mirage only knew what Laurella had told her about Roland.

  ‘Is that why you came? To accuse me? I should think a prince would know better how to introduce himself.’

  ‘You are fiery,’ said Roland. ‘And you do look like my mother.’ He waved his gauntlet at her. ‘Step out. Let me look at you.’

  ‘Shall I open my mouth for you, too? Let you check my teeth? I’m not a horse for you to inspect.’

  ‘No,’ said Roland, his smile greasy. ‘You’re hardly a horse. But my father has bridled you.’

  ‘I’m his prisoner,’ Mirage shot back. ‘I don’t wish to be here at all.’

  Roland spun his horse to the other side, keeping it expertly in check. ‘I know that,’ he said. ‘And believe it or not I am sorry for you. In case you haven’t figured it out yet my father is demented. He mourns for my mother like a little boy.’

  ‘He loved her,’ said Mirage, unsure why she was defending Raxor. ‘And if you loved your father you would not speak of him so.’

  ‘I loved the man he used to be,’ said Roland, ‘the man Corvalos Chane thinks you can make him again. Oh, yes, we’ve all heard the story! I admit you could have been my mother’s twin, but you can’t replace her, woman, and you can’t make a sick old man whole again.’

  ‘I don’t intend to,’ said Mirage icily. ‘As soon as your father realizes that, he will send me on my way.’

  ‘He won’t,’ laughed Roland. ‘You are here to stay. You should know that. Don’t make yourself mad with thoughts of escaping. My father is already obsessed with you. He will never let you go.’

  Mirage cursed herself for blundering into this argument. ‘What is all this?’ she asked, hoping to change the subject. ‘You’re preparing for war?’

  ‘Indeed, pretty lady, for war is upon us! Your man, the Black Baron — he has forced us to the march. I’m leading these men to the Liirian border, along the Kryss river. We leave in a few days.’

  ‘Baron Glass has attacked?’

  Roland shook his armoured head. ‘Not yet, no. But he will, and when he does we will be ready for him.’ With his icy eyes, Roland glared at Mirage. ‘You haven’t told my father anything about Glass yet, have you?’

  ‘But you have secrets. Asher has said so, and he is never wrong about such things.’ Roland sighed, sounding almost pitying. ‘You should tell the truth, woman, and spare yourself the agony. I tell you the truth when I say Asher isn’t done with you.’

  ‘I speak to your father, and what I tell him is between he and I,’ said Mirage. ‘I am not afraid of Asher. And you are wrong about Baron Glass — he has no interest in Reec. I’ve already said that a hundred times.’

  ‘Ah, and do you speak for the Diamond Queen as well, lady? That insatiable bitch?’ Roland waited for Mirage to answer. ‘Eh?’

  ‘No,’ Mirage admitted.

  ‘No. So please, do not pretend to know the threats we face. We have burdens enough.’ Roland hoisted a thumb over his shoulder toward the parade ground. ‘These men are riding into battle, but the battle cannot come until my father joins it. They won’t follow me, not without the king. So you see? You have a difficult task.’

  Mirage was puzzled by him. ‘What task?’

  ‘Take care of my father. Will you do that? No
one else can make a man of him again.’

  ‘I am no whore, Sir!’

  Roland held up his hands. ‘And I am not calling you one. I’m just saying the obvious. You’re a beautiful woman and you were brought here to service him. If you haven’t figured that out yet. .’

  ‘You’re a disgusting troll,’ sneered Mirage. ‘I’m not a prostitute your father hired out of the gutter, and I’m not surprised these men won’t follow you. Better to follow a crazy old man than an arrogant young bastard.’

  Roland smiled at her from his high perch. ‘Good luck to you, Mirage. For the sake of Reec I hope you are happy with my father. You have no choice but to stay with him. The sooner you understand that the better your time here will be.’

  He didn’t wait for her to reply. Roland the Red simply spun his horse away and rode off toward his waiting cavalry, leaving Mirage stunned and speechless. With just a few words he had shredded her meagre peace. The bright day felt suddenly cold, and all she wanted was to run back to Castle Hes and lock herself in her chambers. Turning slowly from the field, she went back around the corner and started walking the long way home. But before she took even five steps a figure startled her.

  ‘You’ve met Roland.’

  Mirage jumped at the sound of the voice. Blocking the sidewalk stood Corvalos Chane, tall and lean in his leather armour, his arms folded over his chest. The sight of him made Mirage instantly angry.

  ‘You’ve been following me!’ she railed, emotion flooding her voice. ‘How long?’

  ‘All day.’

  She felt like a fool, doubly so now. She shook her head and thought she might cry from frustration. ‘I thought he trusted me.’

  ‘He does. I don’t,’ said Chane. He stepped closer, putting his long hand on her shoulder and leading her away from the parade ground. ‘You shouldn’t have come here,’ he told her.

  ‘Then you should have stopped me!’

  Chane hurried her away so that none of the soldiers could see her. When they were safely hidden from the field by the stone wall of a soaring building, Corvalos Chane faced her with a scowl.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘But Laurella warned you about Roland. He is a whelp, and not accustomed to holding his tongue. Don’t take his words to heart. I’m the one his father trusts, not him.’

  ‘He’s going to the border,’ said Mirage. ‘He’s going to war.’

  ‘Aye, to be with the others. But he’ll do nothing until his father joins him.’

  ‘Joins him? You mean Raxor is going too?’

  ‘In time,’ said Chane. ‘But not now, not until he is ready. You must make him ready, Mirage. The men will not follow Roland. He is too ambitious and they know it. They’ll follow only Raxor, because he was great once and because they love him. Especially the officers. Roland knows this.’

  ‘I don’t know what to think,’ Mirage lamented. ‘The way Roland spoke of his father — does he hate the man or love him?’

  ‘He is jealous of him, I think. Even Roland knows what a great man his father once was.’

  ‘And I must make him great again,’ sighed Mirage. ‘You’re all mad.’

  ‘Just give him confidence,’ said Chane. ‘Let him feel like a man again. Once he does, he will ride to the border to defend us.’

  Mirage laughed at the order. ‘That’s all? Just make a man out of him? Fate above, listen to yourself.’ She began walking away. ‘I’ll tell you what I told Roland, Corvalos Chane — I may be a prisoner, but I am no whore. Now, take me back to the castle.’

  With Chane hurrying after her, Mirage began walking the long way back. In her mind she heard Roland’s hateful words again and again, taunting her. She was not a slave or a harlot, and they would never make her one. But she pitied Raxor and worried about what he was to do, for there was no way the old man could ever stand against Thorin Glass in battle. With his Devil’s Armour, Thorin would tear Raxor to shreds.

  And for that she was truly, deeply sorry.

  *

  Late the next afternoon, Corvalos Chane surprised Mirage again.

  She had spent the morning and the whole day before alone in her chambers, miserable over the things Roland had said to her and unwilling to rekindle her curiosity about the city. Laurella had spent some time with her, mostly ranting about Roland, and then had sent the young maids Sela and Meleni to cheer her up. With their effervescent smiles, the girls managed to pull Mirage from the worst of her doldrums, but like Laurella they could not convince her to ignore Raxor’s son or the cruel things he had said to her. Mirage told the maids about what she had seen on the parade ground. When she did, Laurella simply nodded as if she already knew.

  ‘It’s why you’re here,’ the old woman had said gently.

  But Laurella did not try to make her see the logic in her imprisonment the way Corvalos Chane had, and she did not condone what her beloved king had done to her. Laurella was becoming a friend, and Mirage cherished her counsel. She brought Mirage her meals, told her the idle gossip around the castle, and generally comforted her when she was morose, cheering her with simple talk about her family and what it was like to get old. It was strange for Mirage to be growing so attached to the maids, because she was a royal woman now in the eyes of the castle and she had noticed how the others of rank within the castle treated the servants. To Roland and his siblings, Laurella and her ilk were far less than equals. As she spoke to the maids, Mirage remembered her childhood with her parents, and how they had once been wealthy.

  Before the fire.

  By late afternoon the next day, however, Mirage had tired of talking and wanted only to be alone. She sat in a hard wooden chair near the window, looking out over the city and wondering if Roland the Red had left yet for Liiria. From her place in the tower Mirage could not see the parade ground or the steeple of the grand cathedral, but she could see the border of Hes and the rolling hills of farmland beyond. She smiled mournfully at the pretty sight. Would she ever go into the hills again, or ride through forests the way she had with Lukien? Would she ever see Lukien again.

  ‘No,’ she muttered. Roland’s words came back to haunt her. ‘I’m here forever.’

  As she stared out the window, she hardly noticed the shadow creep into the room over her shoulder. Thinking it was Laurella, she did not turn around.

  ‘Yes?’ she asked, staring out the window. When Laurella didn’t answer, Mirage turned to see Corvalos Chane standing in the room. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked sourly.

  Chane wore his usual expression, both arrogant and inscrutable. It amazed Mirage that she had not heard his heavy boots against the floor. He had shaved the stubble from his rugged face, looking almost handsome in the sunlight through the window.

  ‘The king has sent me to collect you,’ he said.

  ‘To collect. .? No, not today,’ said Mirage.

  Chane laughed. ‘You’re mistaken if you think you have a choice. The king has summoned you, girl.’

  ‘Summoned me where?’

  ‘I cannot say,’ Chane replied. ‘It is to be a surprise.’

  The statement puzzled Mirage. She got out of her chair, looking past Chane toward the adjacent room. There she saw Laurella, waiting dutifully and quietly. She had obviously been unable to stop the intrusion.

  ‘If Raxor wishes to see me why didn’t he come himself? Why did he send you?’ Mirage scowled at the man. ‘Why are you always popping up?’

  Chane shifted. ‘Because I’m supposed to protect you,’ he sighed. ‘The king has ordered it, and so I am here. Now please, will you come?’

  ‘Protect me?’ Mirage found the notion delicious. ‘From what?’

  ‘From anything. From a hangnail. Enough questions, girl. Now come along!’

  She loved getting under Chane’s skin, and was finding it easier all the time. He didn’t like being her chaperone, she could tell.

  ‘All right,’ she relented. ‘Are we going outside? If so I’ll need a coat.’

  ‘Then bring one,’ drawl
ed the spy. ‘There’s a carriage waiting for you.’

  Inside the splendid carriage, Mirage watched as the city rolled by through her gilded window. With no one inside the conveyance to accompany her, Mirage had no distractions, and could not even see Corvalos Chane as he led the carriage through the streets on horseback. She had asked the spy why he did not accompany her inside the carriage, but Chane had not answered, not even with a shrug. He had simply helped her into the vehicle, ordered the coachman to follow him, then mounted his tall stallion and led them away. Mirage’s mind raced with possibilities, not all of them pleasant. She feared the worst from Raxor’s surprise, wondering if at last he would demand more from her than just conversation. She had learned that the old war hero had a sweet side, but he was also suffering some kind of depression that made him unpredictable, and fighting him off would not be an option.

  What would Chane do if Raxor came at her? What if she screamed for his help? She supposed Chane was too loyal to Raxor to lift a finger to help her, and that sickened her. If she was to be raped, she certainly didn’t want an audience.

  The carriage moved slowly through the streets, rocking gently back and forth. At last it came to a stop. Mirage peered expectantly out the window and saw they had parked in front of a large edifice of stone with a pair of rounded wooden doors, already opened wide like a mouth. The street in front of the building seemed empty. The utilitarian building frightened Mirage, who knew at once that it was not a residence at all but more like a concert hall, vast and echoing. She waited for the coachman to open her door. He did so silently, bidding her to step out then taking her hand and guiding her down the carriage’s two steps. She stood gaping at the giant building as Corvalos Chane dismounted. The spy handed the reins of his horse to the young coachman.

  ‘Remain,’ he ordered the driver, then smiled teasingly at Mirage. ‘Come along, girl. The king is waiting.’