The Sword Of Angels eog-3

by John Marco

  ‘You mean your brother?’

  ‘I feel him, Baron Glass. He is in the world again.’

  Thorin sat up. ‘No.’

  ‘The Bronze Knight is with him.’

  ‘Lukien?’ The news stunned Thorin. ‘Why are you keeping this from me?’

  Kahldris shimmered just of reach. ‘The Bronze Knight has found my brother and brings him here to destroy us. Do you see, Baron Glass, how many hate us?’

  ‘Even Lukien.’ Thorin leaned against the tree, contemplating the problem. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He comes across the great desert. He bears a sword. I have seen it.’

  ‘This sword — can it break your armour?’

  The demon darkened. ‘I do not know.’

  They were words Kahldris rarely spoke, and the admission shook Thorin. They were in danger. Malator was more of a threat than Reec or any other of their enemies. ‘How did Lukien find this sword?’ he wondered aloud. Nothing made sense to him anymore.

  ‘There is another thing,’ said Kahldris. ‘Another secret I have kept from you.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘The boy, Gilwyn Toms. He has come for you, Baron Glass. He is here in the city.’

  ‘Gilwyn?’ Thorin leaned forward excitedly. ‘The boy is here? In Koth?’

  ‘At last, yes,’ drawled the demon. ‘Now he nears Lionkeep.’

  Thorin leapt to his feet. ‘Why do you keep these things from me? I must know these things, Kahldris!’

  Kahldris smiled. ‘To protect, my sweet friend. We must protect each other.’

  ‘Yes,’ Thorin agreed, ‘but-’

  ‘The boy comes to save you from me, Baron Glass. Just as all the others have tried.’

  Thorin bristled at the hint. ‘We will not harm him. I will not have it, demon. I love that boy.’

  ‘No, we will not harm him,’ said Kahldris. His grin was impish. ‘We will keep him and adore him. Then he will use the machine and he will help us defeat my brother and the knight.’

  ‘All right,’ said Thorin, relieved. He looked around for his clothes, excited by the thought of seeing Gilwyn. ‘We must get back to Lionkeep before he arrives. I want to see that boy at once!’

  By the time Gilwyn reached Lionkeep, he was exhausted once again. Overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of Koth, the sickness from the rass venom had made his skin clammy and his eyes too blurry to see clearly. The sun was going down past the keep. Soldiers milled along the avenues, dressed in uniforms Gilwyn knew weren’t Liirian. In his day, when King Akeela had been alive, Royal Chargers had paraded around the residence, but those days were long ago and only faintly echoed by the current occupants of Koth. Gilwyn kept his head down as he approached Lion-keep, careful to avoid eye contact. His whole body ached. His head split with the effort of riding. Triumph, smart enough to sense his master’s distress, trotted carefully along the cobblestones, letting Gilwyn lean against his neck. Ruana lingered at the back of Gilwyn’s mind, remaining quiet but plainly enthralled by the sights. Lionkeep, though damaged and neglected, remained an impressive structure, replete with sculpted figures and catwalks that tied together the many towers. In the courtyard of the keep, Gilwyn could see a handful of soldiers taking notice of him. He kept to the road, approaching unthreateningly, his clubbed hand barely holding the reins of his mount. Behind the men stood the main entrance to the keep, a big bronze portcullis crowned with spikes. The portal slowly began ascending as Gilwyn approached, a curiosity that puzzled Gilwyn. Alarmingly, the soldiers pointed at him.

  ‘Ruana, they see us,’ said Gilwyn weakly. Suddenly he was afraid. He began to shiver. ‘I think I have a fever.’

  Soon you can rest, said Ruana in her soothing voice. Gilwyn, protect yourself.

  ‘What? Why?’

  It is Kahldris. I can feel him.

  The soldiers began coming toward him. Gilwyn slowed his horse. ‘What do you mean? Where is he?’

  He is coming, said Ruana.

  The portcullis rose to reveal the inner darkness. Gilwyn strained to see. The soldiers were waving to him, calling out. Ruana braced herself. Gilwyn’s skull began to throb as his heart raced. A mercenary hurried up to him. He was in the courtyard now, his eyes fixed on the open walkway.

  ‘You boy,’ said the mercenary. ‘Are you Gilwyn Toms?’

  Hearing his name surprised Gilwyn. He nodded, staring with blurry eyes. ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Get down,’ the man ordered. He had stopped the horse and offered Gilwyn a hand. ‘Let me help you. You don’t look well.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Gilwyn haltingly. He began to shake. ‘No, I’m ill.’

  As he slid off Triumph’s back he kept his eyes on the keep, waiting dreadfully for Kahldris to appear. His legs turned to jelly when his feet hit the ground.

  ‘You’re lame,’ the mercenary commented. Other soldiers had gathered now. The man looked at Gilwyn oddly. ‘How can you ride with such a hand? And what’s that boot you wear?’

  ‘Stop with your questions!’ thundered a voice. ‘That boy is twice your better and more!’

  The men stepped away, leaving Gilwyn to gape. Out of the portcullis stepped a figure, big and terrifying and barely a man. His face was familiar, as was his voice, but it was a demon visage that came out to greet him, and Gilwyn weakened in his fiery gaze. Like a serpent, the man’s left arm twisted with life, enchanted by some unholy metal. A grim smile upturned his thin white lips. He was the shadow of a man Gilwyn had once known, speaking with a voice stolen from another time. Stepping out into the courtyard, the wraith that was Thorin opened his arms wide.

  ‘Gilwyn!’ he cried. ‘My boy, it is good to see you!’

  Overwhelmed by the sight of him, Gilwyn fainted.

  61

  The moment Gilwyn awoke, he knew the bed was unfamiliar. The heaviness in his head began to lift. His eyes opened slowly. In his chest he felt the grip of panic, but the chains of his own lethargy kept him pinned to the downy pillow. As his blurred vision focused, he saw the ceiling, dark and tiled with ornate metal. Wood and velvet covered the walls. A window on the other side of the room revealed the blackness of night, draped with open, scarlet curtains. Gilwyn took a breath and held it, his eyes darting around the chamber. Very slowly his memory returned. He remembered the gate rising and the figure coming from the shadows.

  Thorin!

  Ruana’s gentle touch was on him instantly. She whispered into his troubled mind. You are safe, Gilwyn. Don’t be afraid. And then she told him, He is with you.

  The room was dark but for small candle burning on a distant table. Gilwyn’s eyes went to it, then saw a figure seated near it, its two big hands clutching the arms of a high-backed chair. The face met his, the red eyes softened, and the grimacing smile animated the mask, bringing the visage to life. Gilwyn stared, mesmerized, his heart galloping. A gleaming hand of living metal rose to gesture.

  ‘You’re awake, my boy?’

  It was Thorin’s voice, and yet it was not. Gilwyn broke down when he heard it.

  ‘Gods above,’ he moaned. ‘What’s happened to you, Thorin?’

  Thorin Glass rose from his chair and took two big strides to Gilwyn’s bedside. His face was wraith-like, shadowed by the night and lit by his two burning eyes. His brows lifted in concern.

  ‘You have slept long,’ he said. ‘How do you feel?’

  Gilwyn stared at him in dread. ‘Where am I?’

  ‘You are in Lionkeep. You came here, remember? You fainted.’

  ‘Yes,’ groaned Gilwyn, ‘I remember.’ He licked his dried lips, still in disbelief. ‘Thorin?’

  ‘It is me, Gilwyn,’ assured Thorin. ‘Do not be afraid of me. I beg you, please.’

  Behind the crimson eyes, Gilwyn saw a spark of love, a tiny of hint of Thorin’s humanity locked behind the madman’s mask. He recognized it unmistakably. Wearied, he could not help the tears from falling.

  ‘It is you,’ he choked. He looked away and brought up his hands. ‘I didn’t believe it. They told me
but I didn’t believe.’

  ‘Don’t look away from me, Gilwyn, please.’

  ‘But I see madness in you!’ Gilwyn cried. ‘Oh, Thorin, what’s happened?’

  Thorin knelt beside the bed. ‘You have come to save me. My appearance is too much for you. I know I have changed. But I am Thorin, my boy, and it gladdens my heart so much to see you that I could weep.’

  Gilwyn struggled to control his sobs. The thousand challenges of his long journey caught up to him at last. He felt like a little boy suddenly, lying sick in some huge bed. And Thorin, like a father he’d never known, gazed down at him helplessly. Gilwyn forced himself to look at Thorin, studying his twisted features. The Devil’s Armour had poisoned him.

  ‘It has maddened you, Thorin,’ Gilwyn groaned. ‘I had heard it but I didn’t believe. Look at yourself!’

  ‘I have seen myself, Gilwyn,’ said Thorin gently. ‘I am fearsome to behold, I know. I have done things, horrible things. But you must look at me. I am begging you to see me!’

  ‘I’m looking, Thorin,’ said Gilwyn, holding his gaze. ‘And what I see scares me.’

  Thorin keened as though his heart was breaking. ‘See me as I was, not as I am. Remember who I was, Gilwyn, when I was your friend.’

  ‘It’s the armour,’ said Gilwyn. ‘The armour did this to you.’

  Thorin nodded. ‘I am one with Kahldris now. This is the price of it.’

  ‘You can fight him.’ Gilwyn struggled to sit up. ‘You can beat him, Thorin.’

  ‘Hush.’ Thorin put a hand on Gilwyn’s shoulder. ‘Lie back.’

  ‘No. .’

  ‘Lie back, boy,’ Thorin ordered. ‘You are sick. Rest and tell me what has happened to you.’

  Gilwyn took a breath. Fighting was no use, so he sank back against his pillow, feeling the pain of an enormous headache. ‘It was a rass,’ he said. ‘When I first left Jador. It found me in the desert. Its venom did this to me.’

  ‘You’re very weak. Has it been this way since then?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Sometimes worse. When I get worn out it comes back. It was such a long ride home, Thorin.’

  Thorin smiled, faintly reminiscent of his old, fatherly grin. ‘And all for me. You are too good, boy. I am not worth your efforts.’

  ‘I didn’t come just for you,’ confessed Gilwyn. ‘I came because of White-Eye.’

  Thorin avoided the subject, saying, ‘How long were you on the road? It has been months and months since I left Jador.’

  ‘Months,’ sighed Gilwyn. ‘It seemed like forever.’ He closed his eyes to beat back the nausea. ‘I should have made the trip faster.’

  ‘A lame boy like you?’ Thorin laughed. ‘No.’

  Gilwyn opened his eyes. ‘Where is Kahldris, Thorin?’

  Thorin hesitated. ‘He is part of me. As your own Akari is part of you, Gilwyn.’

  ‘He came to me, Thorin,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Weeks ago, when I was in Roall. He goaded me here. That’s why he hurt White-Eye, to make me come here.’

  Again Thorin shifted the conversation. ‘You must rest now, Gilwyn. You are here now and have nowhere else to go. We will take care of you here.’ He smiled. ‘How good it is to see you.’

  ‘Thorin, tell me what happened to you,’ said Gilwyn. He was full of questions and refused to let Thorin avoid them. ‘When I was in Marn I heard what happened with the Reecians. They say you slaughtered them and that you killed their prince.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Thorin, his face darkening. ‘Sit back, Gilwyn.’

  ‘Tell me,’ said Gilwyn.

  Thorin sighed distractedly. He rose from his place at the bedside, then went and dragged his chair closer. Sitting down again, he watched Gilwyn with his enigmatic gaze, as if sifting through all his horrible history.

  ‘It will be morning soon,’ he said. ‘And the things I’ve done would take longer to tell than that. I’ve heard the same stories as you, Gilwyn. What do they say in Marn? That I am a tyrant? Very well. If tyranny is what it takes to throttle Liiria back to greatness, then I am proudly guilty. Yes I killed the Reecians. In the armour I was like a god! No man could stop me. And I won the Kryss back for all of us. Did they tell you that in Marn?’

  ‘Thorin?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You’ve gone mad.’

  Thorin smiled then and nodded. ‘I have.’

  Silence. The two friends stared at each other. Could a madman know such a thing about himself, Gilwyn wondered? Suddenly, he no longer feared Thorin. Rather, he was grief-stricken. Tears came again to his eyes.

  ‘No, do not weep for me,’ Thorin counseled. ‘I am well enough to know the choices I have made. I do not regret taking the armour, Gilwyn. Liiria needed me. She still needs me! She is weak, but I am strong. I have beaten nearly all my enemies. Kahldris has been good to me.’

  ‘Good for you? How can you say such a thing when you know that you are mad?’

  ‘Because I have chosen,’ said Thorin. ‘All of this was my own design. Did you see the library when you rode into Koth. I have rebuilt it! And when you are better you can take your place there, my boy, and you can run it and bring all the scholars to your side. You will make it great again.’

  ‘Thorin, stop.’ Gilwyn pushed himself up again. ‘Kahldris did not lure me here to run the library and you know it. Tell me why he wanted me here.’

  Thorin’s face saddened. ‘It was necessary.’

  ‘So then, you know what he did to White-Eye? He blinded her, Thorin.’

  ‘I did not know this until it was over,’ Thorin insisted. ‘Believe me, please. Kahldris needed you, and how else could he have got you here? But I swear I would not let him hurt you, Gilwyn. I will never let him hurt you.’ Thorin leaned forward earnestly. ‘I will protect you.’

  Amazingly, his promise heartened Gilwyn. After so many months of loneliness, of fending off animals and running from highwaymen, the thought of Thorin’s protection was like a warm blanket.

  ‘He hurt her,’ he said. ‘And you let him. Why, Thorin? Tell me.’

  ‘I will tell you,’ said Thorin. He leaned back. ‘But not yet.’

  Frustrated, Gilwyn looked around the room. ‘Where are my things? I had saddle bags with me.’

  ‘They’re here,’ said Thorin. With his chin he gestured to the other side of Gilwyn’s bed. ‘And your horse has been taken care of too.’

  Gilwyn leaned over the bed and saw that his bags were indeed there, lying just out of reach. ‘I need them,’ he said, too weak to get them. ‘Please, Thorin, will you get them for me?’

  Thorin rose with a sigh. ‘You should rest, Gilwyn. We can speak again in a few hours.’

  ‘Thorin, please. .’

  ‘All right,’ lamented the baron, then went to the bedside and stooped down to retrieve the bags. ‘Which one?’

  ‘That one,’ said Gilwyn, pointing weakly to the smaller of the two leather bags. They were both badly worn and sun-bleached, but that one in particular bag held an item of great value. ‘Look through it. You’ll see what I want.’

  Thorin looked puzzled but did as Gilwyn asked, setting the bag down on the bed at Gilwyn’s feet. He began rummaging through the few items within it, stopping quickly as his eyes seized on the item.

  ‘What is this?’ said Thorin, pulling it out and holding it up for inspection.

  ‘That ring belongs to King Lorn of Norvor,’ Gilwyn said. He watched Thorin’s face for a reaction. ‘He came to Jador. He helped me, Thorin. When he knew that I was coming here he gave that ring to me to show to Jazana Carr.’

  Thorin’s face went suddenly white. ‘Jazana.’

  ‘Lorn’s still alive, Thorin. I promised him I would give that ring to Jazana Carr to prove to her he would be back for her. He wants Norvor back.’

  Thorin sighed peculiarly. ‘Does he so?’ Then he shook his head and placed the ring in Gilwyn’s lap. ‘You may keep this ring, Gilwyn.’

  ‘No. No, I have to give it to her. I made a promise, Thorin.’

 
; ‘It’s a promise you can’t keep, boy,’ said Thorin darkly. ‘I. . have something to tell you.’

  He moved away from the bed and stalked toward the window, staring out blankly at the dark night. Gilwyn could tell at once something terrible was on his mind. He picked up the ring at his lap, rolling it anxiously in his fingers.

  ‘Thorin? What happened?’

  ‘You can’t give that ring to Jazana,’ said Thorin. ‘Jazana’s dead. She died last night. She killed herself.’

  The ring fell out of Gilwyn’s hand. ‘What?’

  ‘She was plotting against me, Gilwyn. That’s something you need to understand. You’re going to hear things while you’re here. True things, about how I beat her and drove her to it. But she tried to kill me.’ Thorin struggled with the story. ‘I am sorry for her death. She was good and loyal until she turned on me. I loved her.’

  ‘Thorin, I don’t understand. What happened?’

  ‘I was in Richter. Do you know that place?’

  Gilwyn nodded. Most Liirians knew of the royal estate. ‘I know it, yes.’

  ‘I was with another woman, and Jazana took the chance to have me killed. She sent mercenaries there to burn me alive. They locked the doors of the house and set in on fire, but I escaped. The woman I was with did not.’ Thorin turned from the window to look at Gilwyn. ‘The woman was Meriel, Gilwyn. From Grimhold.’

  ‘Meriel?’ Gilwyn bolted upright. ‘She came here with Lukien.’

  ‘She did. And I battled Lukien and nearly killed him. After that she wandered for months before coming back to me. She loved me, Gilwyn, just as she did in Grimhold.’

  The story made no sense. Gilwyn urged Thorin to go on. ‘What happened to Lukien? Where is he?’

  ‘Meriel seldom spoke of him. He left her to go and find a sword to defeat me. He abandoned her, Gilwyn, and she came to me!’

  ‘Thorin, I don’t care,’ Gilwyn shouted. ‘Tell me what happened to Lukien!’

  ‘Bah! Have you not heard what I’ve said, boy? I have lost two women who loved me in less than a week!’

  Gilwyn shrank back. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, knowing he had to tread carefully. ‘You’re right, it’s terrible news.’