The Sword Of Angels eog-3

by John Marco

  ‘I believe it’s more than that, Your Grace. I believe the Sword of Angels exists and that Lukien will find it. That’s why all the others have disbanded. They’re waiting for Lukien to return.’

  ‘Or they’ve lost faith,’ Daralor suggested. He waited for Aric’s reaction. ‘Hmm?’

  ‘No,’ said Aric. Then he shrugged. ‘Or maybe.’ Admitting the truth to Daralor was difficult. ‘Some of them have lost faith, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll wait until Lukien returns with the sword, and if only the two of us have the courage to fight my father then so be it.’

  ‘And what will you do? Kill your father? This is your father, Aric Glass. Am I to believe you hate him so much?’

  ‘I loved my father once, Your Grace. But that thing on the throne of Liiria isn’t my father. I’m doing this to save my father.’

  Prince Daralor leaned back in his throne, considering Aric’s words. The fat advisor who had asked for Aric’s dismissal came forward again, but before he could speak the prince waved him off.

  ‘You are a boy of great faith, to have undertaken this mission,’ sighed Daralor. ‘I am moved by you, Aric Glass.’

  ‘Thank you, Your Grace,’ said Aric, astonished.

  ‘Tell me again — what did King Deborba say to you?’

  ‘Very little,’ Aric replied, recalling the arrogance of the Marnan king. ‘He granted me an audience once he knew who I was, but mostly he just wanted to gloat. I think he likes what’s happened to Liiria.’

  ‘Of course he does. Deborba is a pig. That is why we have no use for Marnans. But Reecians are another story entirely. They are good people. Tell me what you’ve heard on that front.’

  ‘The Reecians?’ Aric shrugged. ‘Not very much. They’ve placed an army on their border with Liiria, near the river Kryss. They’re determined to defend themselves.’

  Daralor nodded. ‘We hear the same. But old King Raxor is not well. They say he is demented. I wonder if he is sharp enough still to avoid a war with Liiria and Norvor.’ The prince put his head back against his throne and sighed. ‘A brave man.’ He looked at Aric. ‘Have you gone to Reec yet?’

  ‘No, Your Grace. It was easier for me to head southeast. I thought I would find more friends this way, but even Farduke turned me down.’

  ‘Farduke,’ Daralor scoffed. ‘More fops and cowards. You should have gone to Reec. They would have listened to you.’

  Aric smiled hopefully. ‘I came to Nith instead, Your Grace.’

  ‘But these others you’ve gone to — they will never join in this alliance you seek, not until they are threatened directly. Until Baron Glass and his mercenaries are at their doorstep, they won’t lift a finger to help you, or to help Reec.’

  ‘And you? What will you do, Your Grace?’

  ‘We are Nithins. We are not afraid of anything. But we’re not fools, Aric Glass. Even if the Bronze Knight finds this magic sword, we haven’t the men to charge against Liiria. Not alone.’

  ‘But if no one joins us. .’

  ‘The Reecians,’ said Daralor. ‘They are the only ones. They are the first ones to feel the threat of your father, and so they will accept our help if offered.’

  Aric brightened. ‘So you’ll fight with them?’

  ‘Not yet. Not until they need us. And they must ask for our help first. If you want to make this alliance, you must ask them.’

  ‘You mean go to Reec?’

  ‘Of course. Or you may wait here for the Bronze Knight to return. The choice is yours.’

  ‘But Your Grace, you could march men to Reec now. Perhaps the show of force-’

  ‘No. Any show of force will only provoke your father. We have heard that the armour has maddened him. He is suspicious and afraid.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Aric, knowing it was so. ‘Then what?’

  ‘Go to Reec, Aric Glass. Tell them that we of Nith are ready to stand with them. When the Bronze Knight returns, we will march with him into Liiria, and together we will battle Baron Glass and his Diamond Queen.’

  Aric stood staring at Prince Daralor. ‘Your Grace? You’re really going to help?’

  ‘You’re young,’ Daralor said with a laugh. ‘It’s not your fault you went to cowards first. But you’re not in Deborba’s throne room this time, boy. There are no cowards in Nith.’ He put his hands together, rubbing the stumps of his missing fingers. ‘Whenever my hand aches, I think about my unfinished business with Liiria.’ He gave a sardonic smile. ‘Do you understand me?’

  Aric smiled. ‘I think so, Your Grace.’

  ‘Good. It’s not vengeance, boy. Just a need to right some old wrongs, and do the world a favour at the same time. Now, you look hungry. Are you?’

  ‘Starving, Your Grace.’

  ‘Then eat, Aric Glass. Eat your fill and rest. You have a long road ahead of you to Reec.’

  Aric went to the dais, then knelt before Prince Daralor. ‘Thank you, Your Grace.’ His voice crackled with relief. ‘Thank you.’

  Prince Daralor rose from his throne and stepped down off the dais, putting his maimed hand atop Aric’s head. ‘Liirians are brave, too,’ he said, then walked slowly out of the chamber.

  20

  Jazana Carr looked into the freckled face of the child on her lap and smiled. Like all the children, she sat cross-legged on the grass of the yard, enjoying the sunlight of the long awaited Spring. In one hand Jazana balanced a storybook full of pictures she had salvaged from the ruins of the library. In the other hand she kept the little girl from bowing over. The girl with the red scraggly hair listened intently as Jazana read, as if she was the only child in the world and the twenty others in the yard had simply disappeared, leaving her alone to enjoy the Diamond Queen’s attention. Wide-eyed, the girl rubbed her runny nose, staring at the hand-painted picture in the book, a fabulous, page-filling illustration of a dragon. Her sticky finger reached out to trace the creature, laughing in delight.

  ‘Monster,’ she declared.

  The children in the yard waited for Jazana Carr to show them the page.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Jazana. She held the book up for all the children to see. ‘And what do we do with monsters?’

  ‘Kill them!’ chorused the children.

  Jazana Carr proudly beamed. ‘Good.’

  She went on with her story, dramatically turning the pages, slowly telling of the dragon and the band of heroes sent to slay it. It was one of Jazana’s favourite stories and she read it often to the orphans of Koth, reading it always in the same theatric voice. From the corner of her eye she watched the children, rapt with attention. Their bellies full from a meal in Lionkeep’s kitchen, it was their minds and hearts that hungered now. There were hundreds of children like them in Koth, orphaned by the civil strife or abandoned by parents too desperate to keep them. Living in burnt-out husks of homes or in the city’s elaborate sewers, Jazana had rescued them from the horrors of the streets, housing them in orphanages she built and staffed with her own great fortune. Too numerous to count, the orphans of Koth had gradually come to trust her, the queen who had conquered their country, and had been brought to Lionkeep in small groups like this one to feel Jazana’s love.

  ‘Then Barkin the Black snuck up on the sleeping dragon,’ said Jazana. She held up the new page. ‘Look!’

  The children stared, barely breathing.

  ‘And Barkin took out his sword and ran the dragon through!’

  A boy in front shrieked, ‘No!’

  ‘Yes!’ said Jazana. ‘The dragon roared and roared, and Barkin the Black fell back against the cavern wall, frightened by what he had done.’

  Jazana turned the page, and the red-haired girl in her lap began to cry. She pointed at the new picture, this one of a dead dragon.

  ‘Poor monster,’ said the little girl.

  Jazana laughed. ‘No, Anala, not poor monster. Bad monster! Don’t you remember? He killed people.’

  Little Anala chose not to be consoled, but rather turned her head away. ‘Good dragon. Bad people.�
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  The boy in the front also lamented the dragon’s death. At only five years old, he was full of questions. Raising his hand, he asked, ‘Is there more?’

  Jazana closed the book. ‘No. That’s how it ends.’

  ‘Can you read another?’ asked a dark-haired girl named Vivia. Jazana remembered her because of her contused face, abuse she had taken from a man who had put the six year-old to work. He was dead now, that man, dealt with by Jazana’s swift justice.

  ‘No more today,’ said the queen, shooing Anala off her lap. ‘It’s a sunny day. Go and play now.’

  Reluctantly the children got up from the grass, then quickly ran off across the lawn, playing under the watchful eyes of Jazana’s guards. Jazana rose and stretched her aching back, smiling at the scene of the children against the backdrop of the apple orchard. The day was lovely, one of the best since Spring had come, and Jazana thrilled at the warm sun on her face. Slowly, she and Thorin had been rebuilding Koth. One at a time, merchants were returning and the old, ruined constructs were being repaired, returned to the glory they had enjoyed in Koth’s heyday. It had taken enormous resources to make the city whole again and lure people back, but the diamonds from her Norvan mines had paid for the reconstruction, and Thorin’s powerful glamour assured the populace that they were safe. For Jazana, she could not remember a time when she was happier. Thorin had been the perfect lover, attentive and kind to her even though troubles plagued him. And though Jazana suspected the demon in his armour of triggering his rages, he was always gentle with her, always forgetting his worries when he laid in her arms. She chose not to see the things others saw in Thorin, the way he obsessed over the library’s reconstruction and the fabulous thinking machine. When she looked at him, she saw only the man she loved, imperfect but worthy of her loyalty.

  Jazana watched as the children made teams and kicked a ball between each other, happily shouting on the sun-drenched lawn. She had become their saviour and they adored her, nuzzling in her lap as though she were their mother. Jazana had never produced her own children, a fact that had long plagued her, but now she no longer felt the need for offspring. The orphans of Koth were her children, just like the orphans of Norvor had been. Just as Thorin had promised her, they were bringing good to the world. She was glad she had stayed with him.

  ‘My lady?’

  Jazana turned from her day-dreaming, finding her man Garen approaching. The mercenary’s look told her something good had happened.

  ‘Garen?’

  ‘My lady, I have news. Rodrik Varl has returned.’

  ‘Rodrik?’ Jazana’s smile widened. ‘When?’

  ‘Just now, my lady, a few minutes ago. He’s taking a meal inside. I told him I’d come find you.’

  Jazana Carr nodded quickly. ‘Look after them, will you?’ she asked, gesturing to the children.

  Garen blanched at her request. ‘Uhm, I’m not really the one for this. .’

  ‘Oh, they’re just children, Garen. Fate above!’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’ Garen sighed. ‘Varl’s in the kitchen.’

  Famished from his long ride from Norvor, Rodrik Varl had gone straight for food upon arriving in Lionkeep. He had been gone from Koth for almost a month, and Jazana was anxious to see him. She was not surprised at all that her red-headed bodyguard had chosen food first over her, because he had an appetite like a horse and very little patience for children. Jazana hurried toward the kitchen, nearly gliding in her good mood. She had sent Rodrik to their homeland to find out about Elgan’s rebellion, and she expected good news from him.

  When she arrived in the kitchen, she found Rodrik still in his dusty riding coat, seated at the wooden cooking table hunched over a plate of chicken. His greasy hands and mouth picked at the bones, his tongue eager for every morsel. A pitcher of beer stood next to his plate without a tankard. As Jazana walked into view, Rodrik Varl sat up quickly, wiping chicken bits from his face with his sleeve.

  ‘Jazana. .’

  Longing shined on his bearded face. His smile broke like a gentle wave. Jazana paused before stepping closer, admiring her handsome bodyguard. They had been too long apart and the emotion of their reunion charged them both.

  ‘Were you so hungry you couldn’t come to greet me first?’

  Rodrik nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I forgive you.’ Jazana went to the soldier and kissed his ruddy cheek. ‘I’m glad you’re back.’

  Varl nodded, offering his queen one of the uncomfortable chairs. ‘Will you sit?’

  With no staff around to bother them, Jazana took a chair opposite Varl, eager to hear his news. He offered her some of the beer from the pitcher.

  ‘I can get you a tankard. .’

  ‘No,’ said Jazana. ‘Just talk to me.’

  Varl pushed his plate away and sighed. ‘All right.’

  ‘I don’t like your face, Rodrik. If you have something bad to tell me, say it quickly.’

  ‘You haven’t heard anything from Norvor, my lady?’

  Jazana felt a flutter of panic. ‘Not for weeks.’

  ‘Not about Carlion?’

  ‘Rodrik, tell me, damn you.’

  Varl had to force himself to look at her. ‘I can hardly say it. It’s gone, Jazana. It’s fallen.’

  It took a moment for his words to reach her. Jazana stared at him. Her voice dropped to a gasp.

  ‘What’s fallen?’

  ‘Carlion. Jazana, it’s fallen to Elgan.’

  Jazana opened her mouth to speak, not knowing what to say. ‘No. .’

  ‘It’s true. Elgan and his men killed Gondoir. They took the old castle three weeks ago.’

  ‘And you had to eat before telling me this?’ Jazana took his plate and flung it against the wall. ‘You had to fill your big stomach first?’ The queen stood up and slapped Varl hard across the mouth. ‘How dare you.’

  Varl sat very still, but his temples pulsed with rage. ‘What could I have done? Garen told me you were with those children. .’

  ‘You could have told me you lost my capital!’ Jazana railed. ‘I sent you there to protect things!’

  ‘I didn’t lose it, it was lost when I got there. Three weeks ago, Jazana. That’s how long Lord Gondoir’s been dead.’

  ‘And what about Manjek? That useless toad — couldn’t he have helped?’

  ‘Manjek and the others didn’t move against Elgan because they don’t have the men.’ Varl finally got out of his chair, facing his irate queen. ‘I told you that already, but you wouldn’t listen.’

  ‘But you could have helped. .’

  ‘I’m only one man!’ Frustrated, Varl backed off. ‘Jazana. .’ He put up his hands. ‘I don’t want this. I’m telling you what’s been happening. There are more loyalists around Carlion then any of us realized. They’ve heard that Lorn is still alive and they’re waiting for him to return. They follow Elgan because he’s one of them. He’s the old rule. I don’t think Gondoir even knew what was happening.’

  ‘And what about the other cities? What about Rolga? What about Vicvar?’

  ‘They’re secure. For now. I don’t think Elgan has any plans to move against them. He doesn’t have that kind of reach, and he doesn’t have the men to mount any kind of attack.’

  ‘But the capital,’ Jazana sputtered. ‘He has the capital?’ She put her hand on the table to steady herself against the unbelievable news. Not even a year ago, she had marched into Carlion, driving Lorn out of the city. The people had welcomed her as a saviour then. ‘Why?’ She looked at Varl desperately. ‘Rodrik, why?’

  ‘You know why, Jazana. I told you why months ago.’ Varl pulled out a chair and guided his queen into it, hovering over her. ‘I told you Norvor needed you. They needed to see you, to believe you haven’t forgotten them.’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten them!’

  ‘But you’ve taken all your fortune and spent it here in Liiria! Not in Norvor where the people need it. They think you’ve abandoned them, Jazana. And sometimes. .’

 
The bodyguard stopped himself.

  ‘What?’ Jazana asked. ‘Whatever you’re thinking, say it.’

  ‘Sometimes I think so, too.’

  Varl’s confession crushed Jazana. ‘How can you say that? You! You of all people know my heart.’

  ‘I know, my lady. I do,’ said Varl. He pulled his chair close to Jazana’s and sat down, leaning forward to confront her. ‘But you’ve fallen under Thorin’s spell. You don’t see the truth about him.’

  ‘What truth?’ spat Jazana. ‘You’ve been gone, Rodrik. You haven’t seen all the good that Thorin’s done.’

  ‘I know that he’s declared himself King. I heard about it in Norvor.’

  ‘And the people follow him. They love him!’

  ‘They’re terrified of him! He’s a-’ Varl quickly stopped himself, glancing around. ‘He’s a madman, Jazana,’ he whispered. ‘The people all know it. Garen knows it, or haven’t you asked him?’

  ‘You’re jealous,’ Jazana sniffed. ‘You’ve always been jealous of Thorin.’

  ‘And you’re blind. Because you love him you refuse to see the truth about him. He’s bleeding Norvor to death, Jazana, just to protect Liiria. Just to rebuild that library of his. That’s where he is right now, isn’t he? I bet he’s hardly left that place since I left here.’

  Jazana had to look away. Everything he’d said was true, and too stinging for her to face. ‘There are threats against Liiria. Thorin has to protect it.’

  ‘You mean the Reecians?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘The ones on the border? The ones who haven’t made a single move against Liiria for weeks?’

  ‘How do you know they’re not planning an invasion?’ asked Jazana.

  ‘Is that what Thorin believes?’

  Jazana refused to look at him. ‘It could be.’

  ‘Or it could be that they’re afraid of us. They’re just protecting themselves, Jazana. It’s the right thing to do.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Jazana. ‘It’s the right thing to do. We have to protect ourselves, too. We didn’t fight for Liiria to have it taken away from us.’

  ‘And to hell with Norvor, is that it?’ barked Varl.