The Sword Of Angels eog-3

by John Marco

  ‘My lord. .’

  ‘Wait,’ he ordered.

  The chips continued to fly. Mirage’s anxiety crested. What she had decided would upset him, she was sure. He might not even allow it. She thought of turning back yet managed to remain, watching as Raxor avoided her eyes, pretending that all the wood he chopped was so much more important.

  At last King Raxor lowered his axe, breathing hard as he rested the blade on the massive tree stump. A peculiar looked crossed his sweaty face. He stared at Mirage.

  ‘My son. .’ The king shrugged. ‘He died and I couldn’t save him. They butchered him.’

  Mirage shuddered. ‘You couldn’t save him, my lord.’

  ‘I didn’t try. I didn’t even know what was happening.’ Raxor tossed his axe aside. ‘Do you hear? I didn’t know! I’m so old and stupid I couldn’t see the obvious trap!’

  ‘No,’ said Mirage, hurrying toward him. ‘Prince Roland died like all the others. In battle.’

  ‘And where was I?’ the king railed. ‘I didn’t see battle. I was hiding like a woman behind my troops.’

  ‘You were commanding them.’

  Raxor slumped. Slowly he dragged his weary body down to sit upon the tree stump. ‘That’s why you were brought to me, Mirage. To be kind to a useless old man. Years ago I would never have fallen for a ruse like that. Baron Glass played me and I let him. And now. .’

  His voice choked off as emotion strangled his words. Mirage stood before him, pitying him. Finally he looked up at her.

  ‘You are leaving.’

  Mirage nodded. ‘Yes.’

  Raxor smiled sadly. ‘I have thought on what Aric Glass said to me. He was right. You are a free woman, and all I’ve done is make a pretty cage for you. But I tried, you see. I wanted you to be happy here.’

  ‘And I have been, my lord. At times.’ Mirage looked at him fondly. ‘You have been kind to me. I did not expect such tenderness from you. You are not what the rest of the world says you are, King Raxor. In Liiria they remember you the way you were.’

  Raxor scoffed. ‘When I was young and strong, you mean.’

  ‘When you were cruel in battle. That’s what they say and that’s why I feared you. I found instead a good man who tries very hard to do what’s right.’

  King Raxor grinned at this. ‘You know, you look very much like my wife, but she would never have spoken the way you do, Mirage. You are really not like her. Oh, she was saintly. There was no better woman alive. But she was simple and unworldly. Not like you. You are wise. I will miss your counsel.’

  ‘Will you?’ asked Mirage, surprised. ‘Thank you, my lord.’

  ‘It is good that you leave,’ sighed Raxor. ‘There are terrible days ahead. Go north, far from Reec and Liiria. Or go home to Jerikor. Anywhere is better than Reec now.’

  Mirage hesitated. She could lie, she supposed, but she still needed a bit of help from the king. ‘My lord,’ she began, ‘I’m not going north. I’m going back to Koth.’

  Raxor looked up, his self-loathing flying from his face. ‘What?’

  ‘I’m going back to Koth. I’m going back to Thorin.’

  ‘What?’ sputtered Raxor again. He rose in disbelief. ‘You can’t do such a thing!’

  ‘I must, my lord. You’re not the only one who has thought about the things Aric Glass said. He was right about me. I have been nothing but selfish for years. You don’t even know the woman that I am, not really.’

  ‘I have tried,’ said Raxor. ‘But you’re a mystery still. Now tell me more about this madness. Why must you go to Glass?’

  ‘To reach him, my lord. To try and get him to stop his madness. He loved me once. He might still love me. He’ll listen to me.’

  Raxor shook his head. ‘He won’t. That’s what Aric thought, Mirage, but when he saw what a demon his father had become he rode back to the line. He knew he couldn’t reach Glass, and neither can you.’

  ‘I’m a woman, don’t forget,’ Mirage reminded him. ‘Love is powerful, my lord.’

  ‘You’re a beauty, true,’ Raxor laughed. ‘But no, I cannot allow this. If you go to Koth there is no telling what will happen to you, and I could not bear you being harmed. Not now, not after what happened to Roland.’

  ‘I’m a free woman,’ Mirage told him. ‘You said so yourself. Unless you go back on your word to me, I may go where I wish.’ She looked at him harshly. ‘Are you going back on your word, King Raxor?’

  Frustrated, Raxor towered over her. ‘Don’t play games with me, child. You have no idea of the danger you’d face. You did not see Baron Glass or the carnage he occasioned.’

  ‘How can I make you understand?’ Mirage wondered aloud. She thought for a moment before seizing on Roland. ‘It is like your son, my lord. You grieve because he is dead, but you also grieve for the things you thought you could have done differently. You think you could have saved him, and no matter how I argue otherwise you will always think that.’

  ‘I should have tried,’ said Raxor. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘That’s right,’ countered Mirage. ‘That’s what you think. It is the same for me. I must try, King Raxor. I must.’

  ‘But why? I do not understand.’

  How could she explain it to him? She had kept such secrets from him already, and there was still no way for her to reveal the truth. The magic of Grimhold was not to be shared, and he might not believe her anyway.

  ‘There are things I cannot tell you, my lord,’ Mirage said gently. ‘Things about myself and where I came from. Secret things.’

  ‘Things about Baron Glass?’ asked Raxor.

  ‘In a way. We share the same secrets, my lord.’

  ‘That’s why you think you can make him listen?’

  Mirage sighed. ‘Maybe. At least I have to try. Will you let me? I will need passage to Koth.’

  King Raxor considered her words, looking around at the trees and the blue sky. The pretty day shined on his face but did not hide his melancholy. He licked his lips as if stalling, not wanting her to go.

  ‘You are not the selfish girl you think, Mirage,’ he said finally. ‘You have helped me more than I can tell you. For a while I felt young again when I was with you.’

  ‘You can thank me, then, by letting me go.’

  ‘If that’s the only way,’ said Raxor regretfully, ‘then you may go to Koth. But not alone. Corvalos Chane will go with you. He will see that you make it safely, at least.’

  Mirage at last relaxed, letting out a long breath. ‘I would like that. It’s a long way to Koth and Chane would be welcome.’

  ‘He’ll protect you, Mirage. But once you are with Baron Glass. .’

  ‘I know,’ said Mirage. ‘I’ll be on my own.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said the king. ‘But you will always have a place here, if ever you want to return.’

  His words comforted Mirage. She had never felt at home anywhere, not even in Grimhold. It was good to think she had a place in the real world that would welcome her. ‘You mean like home, my lord?’ she asked.

  ‘Home is the best place, Mirage,’ he said. ‘Everyone needs a place to call home.’

  38

  A flash of distant lightning lit the open doors to the library, bringing the murky interior to light. Jazana Carr, wet from rain, stared down the maw of the corridor, noting the vast emptiness. A clap of thunder rang in her ears, spooking her horse. Somewhere far away an owl hooted. Library Hill stood starkly in the moonless night, cluttered with abandoned equipment and the tools of workmen. The long, meandering road up the hill coursed with muddy rainwater. Jazana Carr shook the rain from her face and stared into the library. Thorin had not lied to her about the progress. An enormous amount of work had already been done. The grand interior, once collapsed by Norvan catapults, was gradually returning to life.

  ‘Let me come with you, Jazana,’ said Rodrik Varl. ‘It’s dark and unsafe. You don’t even know where he is.’

  ‘I know where he is,’ Jazana replied. There could only be
one place. ‘Just wait for me. I don’t know how long I’ll be.’

  Rodrik looked up into the threatening sky. So far the worst of the storm had missed them, but the clouds were rolling south toward the hill. Rodrik pulled up his collar, soured by her decision. He had argued against coming so late, but Jazana had insisted.

  ‘Come back in the morning,’ Rodrik suggested. ‘If Thorin hasn’t returned by then, I’ll take you back.’

  ‘How long should I wait?’ Jazana retorted. ‘I want to see him. Tonight.’

  ‘When there’s a monster in the wardrobe, a wise man waits till morning, Jazana. He won’t take well to this intrusion.’

  Jazana stiffened, trying to look brave. She wasn’t afraid of Thorin, at least not completely, but she didn’t blame the others for being so. Since the fall of the Kryss she had seen him only sparingly, but he had been shocking to behold. Drenched in blood, he had returned to Lionkeep like a madman, followed by tales of his unbelievable carnage. Two days later, Jazana had ridden out herself to the river to see the stacks of corpses. Some said the Kryss would never be clean again.

  ‘He’s avoiding me,’ Jazana confessed. ‘And he made me a promise.’

  Varl smirked. ‘A promise from a devil is no promise at all.’

  ‘He’s not a devil,’ Jazana shot back. ‘You should all know better than to talk that way of him.’

  ‘I know what I know, Jazana. And I know what I saw with you at the Kryss.’ Varl scoffed. ‘Ah, but what use is it? You see none of it, only your love for him.’

  ‘Stop now,’ Jazana urged. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Then go.’

  ‘He needs me,’ Jazana tried explaining.

  ‘Norvor needs you, Jazana. But go on. . go to him. I’ll wait.’

  They had endured this argument a hundred times. Jazana surrendered, slipping down from her horse and standing at the library’s threshold. Through the twin oak doors she saw a handful of candles along the walls, lighting a path. Listening, she heard nothing. The workmen reconstructing the library had all quit for the day, long ago. So had the painters and sculptors and all the other artisans Thorin had brought to Koth for his grand obsession. His projects and passions had bled Jazana’s coffers nearly dry. And still he dwelt here, slipping day by day deeper into the grip of his magical armour.

  Jazana hesitated.

  ‘Are you going?’ Varl asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then go.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Jazana snapped, then crossed the threshold without looking back. The vast hallway swallowed her down its inky throat. The walls swam with shadows. Overhead, a mural of intense looking scholars spied Jazana as she followed the candles down the hall. Most had burned down to nubs, providing only enough light for her to grope her way along, helped by an occasional blast of lightning through the stained glass windows. Jazana glanced over her shoulder and barely saw the outline of Rodrik Varl and the horses standing in the rain. She took a breath to steady herself. The catalogue room was a the other end of the library. A long walk, especially in the dark, but as she continued through the halls Jazana noticed that the candles continued guiding her along, perfectly placed to lead her to the hidden chamber. She moved quietly, listening to her shallow breathing, noting the rows and rows of empty book shelves and the small, lonely reading rooms.

  ‘The Cathedral of Knowledge.’

  Her whispered voice carried through the dusty hall. She smiled, enchanted by the memory of what the place had once been. It would be like that again, Thorin had promised, but his vow had taken on ominous proportions. Jazana’s smile quickly faded. So many dreams. . what had gone wrong?

  She continued through the maze of chambers, amazed to find each one lit for her and realizing that Thorin had no need for any of the other rooms. He was only interested in one, and needed only one route to it. Her pace quickened, spurred on by the terrible silence. Her feet padded eagerly across the dusty floor. She turned down a corridor lit like all the others, and finally saw her quarry at the other end of the hall.

  Jazana paused. The catalogue room was always locked, but tonight its metal door stood open. A strong glow of candlelight flooded its threshold. Jazana held her breath a moment, not wanting to be overheard. Inching forward, she leaned ahead to listen, surprised to hear Thorin’s voice. His tone was gravely, almost strained, and she knew he was talking to himself. Again she hesitated. Coming here suddenly seemed like the worst of ideas, but she knew she could not turn back. Thorin needed her. Whatever had happened to him at the Kryss had changed him.

  ‘I can’t,’ said his distant voice, reaching her across the hall. ‘I can’t make it work.’

  His voice sounded desperate. Jazana had never heard such weakness in him. She tiptoed closer, careful not to make a sound as she approached. The light wavered in the catalogue room as Thorin spoke, disturbing the candles. A clap of thunder shook the hall. ‘I have tried everything,’ came Thorin’s angry voice. ‘Do not tell me to try again! The boy will make the machine work. We must wait for the boy!’

  Jazana paused. Was he alone? She heard no one else reply to him, yet his words seemed two-sided. She went ahead, finally coming to the threshold of the chamber. Peering inside, she saw the vast room lit by the candles on the walls and on the tables, filling the place with a reddish glow. Along the floor stretched the machine, the arcane invention of the dead genius Figgis. Jazana had never seen it lit so well, with every rod and armature exposed. Its sprockets glistened with oil. Its unmoving wheels rose to the ceiling. At the front of the machine sat Thorin, slumped over the simple wooden desk, his face buried in his armoured arm, his chest rising and falling with laboured breaths. His clothes hung limply from his powerful body, drenched in filthy sweat. The stench of him reached Jazana like a hot wind. He muttered to himself incomprehensibly, shaking his head. The machine — his obsession — sat mutely before him.

  Jazana trembled, forcing herself to speak. ‘Thorin,’ she whispered. ‘Look at me.’

  Startled, Thorin bolted up in his chair. He turned his wild eyes on her, wide with dread. Jazana stepped back, shocked by his face. The bones of his cheeks stood out from his swollen eye sockets, flushed an unhealthy red. His lips drew back, thin and purple. His burning gaze fixed on her, bloodshot. When his dried tongue moved to speak, she could hear his thirst.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he rasped.

  Though his visage stunned her, Jazana tried to stay calm. ‘Thorin? Are you all right?’

  ‘Why are you here?’ he asked again, his voice rising. ‘I am working!’

  Jazana looked around the room. ‘Who were you talking to?’

  Thorin reared back. His face twisted. ‘You were listening to me?’ He chuckled, covering himself. ‘Have you come to spy on me, Jazana?’

  ‘Thorin, I was worried about you.’ Jazana chanced a step toward him, studying his bizarre face. ‘You’ve been here for days. You haven’t come to Lionkeep or spoken to anyone in almost a week. Look at you! You haven’t even eaten.’

  The baron turned away as if nothing were wrong. ‘I. . have work to do, Jazana. And you should not have come. Go, please. You’re disturbing me.’

  ‘Thorin, no,’ Jazana insisted. ‘I won’t go, not until I know you’re all right. Why are you working so hard with this contraption? Why don’t you come home?’

  ‘I don’t need a wife,’ Thorin grumbled. ‘Or a mother.’

  The insult riled the Diamond Queen. She went to him, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to face her.

  ‘Talk to me,’ she insisted. ‘Something is wrong with you. Something has happened to you, Thorin.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ he laughed, removing her hand.

  ‘It’s the armour, Thorin,’ said Jazana. ‘It’s changing you. Since the battle at the Kryss-’

  ‘No, no,’ Thorin warned, holding up a finger. He shook his head as though speaking to a child. ‘There’ll be no talk of that. Don’t speak of the armour, Jazana.’

  ‘Why? Why are you afraid t
o talk about it, Thorin? What’s it done to you?’

  ‘It’s made me strong! Gods, woman, isn’t that enough for you?’

  ‘No, it’s not enough! If it keeps you from me, no.’

  Thorin steadied himself. He smiled. ‘You are right,’ he sighed. ‘I am sorry. I have neglected you. I should spend more time with you, Jazana. And I will, I promise.’

  Jazana moaned in frustration. ‘Thorin, no! You’re not understanding at all. I’m not here because I miss you. I’m here because something has happened to you. The armour, Thorin. . it’s killing you!’

  ‘It is not,’ said Thorin. He struggled to contain his fury. ‘It gives me power.’

  ‘It takes power! Have you seen yourself? You look like a shadow!’

  ‘Jazana, enough,’ Thorin warned her. ‘I have work to do.’

  ‘What work? This thing?’ Jazana waved her arm toward the machine. ‘Why, Thorin? What’s so important about this thing?’

  ‘It is a thinking machine, Jazana.’

  ‘I know what it is! I don’t care any more. You’re obsessed with it, Thorin. Why?’

  ‘I. .’ Thorin stopped himself, looking away. ‘I cannot tell you.’

  Jazana checked her growing rage. The urge to shake him felt overwhelming. ‘You’re lying to me,’ she said. ‘You’re keeping secrets from me. And you’re ruining us, Thorin. You’ve spent almost all our gold rebuilding this library. All your people are terrified of you. They do nothing but talk about you and the things you did to the Reecians. That’s what going on outside these walls!’

  Thorin leaned back his head. ‘You exhaust me, woman. Let me be.’

  Jazana glared at him. ‘You’re becoming demented. The armour has maddened you.’