The Sword Of Angels eog-3

by John Marco

  ‘They’re waiting in the courtyard,’ said Gravis nervously. ‘They’re asking for you.’

  ‘Alsadair is with them?’ asked Aric as they walked briskly together through the hall.

  ‘Alsadair is with them!’ pronounced Gravis happily. He laughed, hardly believing it. ‘That wily bastard — he found them!’

  Aric could barely contain his glee. How many months had it been since he’d parted with Lukien? It seemed a lifetime ago, and more than once he had doubted to ever face his friend again. He had a thousand things to tell Lukien, but right now all he wanted was to see the knight and embrace him. As a curious crowd began gathering around the main hall, Aric and Gravis pushed their way toward the courtyard, at last stepping through the castle’s portcullis into the cobblestone yard. At least a dozen Nithin soldiers were already there, all of them chattering as they crowded around the centre of the yard where — presumably — Lukien and his cohorts waited. Aric craned his neck for a better view, but all he could see over the heads of the people were a group of horses, their saddles empty. He cleared his throat to no avail, asking politely for the soldiers to move aside. Annoyed, Gravis made no such attempt.

  ‘Out of the way!’ barked the minister, grabbing one man by the shoulder and shoving him aside. ‘Clear off!’

  Whatever magic his voice held, the soldiers parted when they heard it, moving to the sides of the courtyard to reveal a foursome of bewildered men. Aric grinned when he saw them, his eyes falling immediately on Lukien, who looked around with confusion. At last the knight’s probing gaze fell on Aric, and all at once a giant smile lit his face.

  ‘Aric!’ he cried. Gleefully he bolted forward, arms outstretched. Behind him, the Nithin soldier Alsadair was laughing. Lukien rushed to Aric, grabbing him in both hands. ‘Aric! Gods above, it’s you!’

  ‘It’s me, Lukien,’ laughed Aric. He let Lukien’s strong arms encircle him. ‘I can’t believe you’re here!’

  The two men embraced for a long moment, each of them choked with surprising emotion. To Aric, Lukien looked like a changed man, wearied by whatever quest had taken him away. When at last they pulled apart, Aric stole a glance at Lukien’s weathered face. The knight nodded solemnly.

  ‘It’s been a hard road,’ he said.

  Aric sighed and touched his shoulder. ‘You’re here now. You can rest.’ He smiled at Lukien’s companions. ‘All of you.’

  Alsadair pushed the other two forward. One was an older man, big and fierce looking. The other, smaller man, wore desert wrappings around his face and gloves along his wiry hands. Only his two grey eyes peered out from his scarves, jumping with excitement. Aric studied them both, thinking them equally peculiar.

  ‘Welcome,’ he told them. ‘I’m Aric Glass.’ He gestured toward Gravis, still beside him. ‘This is Minister Gravis. He runs things here for Prince Daralor.’

  Gravis bowed to them slightly. ‘Welcome to Nith,’ he said smoothly. ‘We have been waiting for you.’

  Alsadair stepped up to them, bowing to Gravis and losing his giddy grin. ‘Gravis, this is Lukien of Liiria. These others are his companions, from Jador.’

  Gravis smiled at him. ‘Well done indeed, Alsadair. We have waited for you as well. We are proud of you.’

  Alsadair swelled at the compliment. ‘I should like to take them to Prince Daralor myself,’ he said.

  Gravis shook his white head. ‘The prince is in Yaroo province,’ he said, ‘and won’t be back until the morrow.’

  The news deflated Alsadair. ‘Oh. .’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Aric cheerfully. There was nothing that could spoil his good mood. ‘You’re here now, that’s what matters.’ His gaze dropped to Lukien’s belt. ‘And you found the sword.’

  As though they all knew what Aric meant, the crowd fell quiet. Lukien gently patted the weapon at his side, a great blade resting in a threadbare scabbard. ‘I have found it, Aric.’

  Aric felt a charge. ‘The serpent kingdom?’

  ‘It exists,’ said Lukien. ‘The sword was there, waiting for me.’

  ‘Amazing,’ Aric sighed. ‘I must see it. But first. .’ He gestured for the others to come closer. ‘Introduce your friends, Lukien.’

  ‘I am Ghost,’ said the one with the head scarves. He bounded forward like a child. ‘And I am not a Jadori.’

  ‘No?’ said Aric, confused. ‘What are you, then?’

  ‘I am an Inhuman,’ pronounced the man, who Aric guessed was young. ‘Do you know what that means?’

  ‘Easy,’ counseled Lukien.

  Ghost laughed. ‘Oh, let me show them, Lukien. These brave people are helping us! Let them see that we are not ourselves helpless.’

  Lukien sighed as though he had seen the young man’s performance before. ‘Very well,’ he said with a wave. ‘Watch him closely, Aric.’

  Aric puzzled over the young man, waiting. The rest of the crowd did the same.

  ‘They call me Ghost,’ declared the stranger, ‘because I can simply disappear.’

  And then he was gone. Aric gasped. Astonished, the crowd stepped back. The stranger’s laugh bounced through the courtyard.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Gravis. His serious face turned red with anger. ‘What’s this trickery?’

  ‘No trick,’ said the young man’s disembodied voice. ‘Magic!’

  The astounded soldiers looked at Alsadair, but the Nithin merely smiled. ‘It’s what he does,’ he offered sheepishly. ‘Amazing, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s witchery!’ said Gravis.

  Lukien rolled his eyes. ‘Show yourself, Ghost,’ he ordered.

  The stranger popped back into view, this time standing right beside Aric, who jumped as he felt his arm around his shoulder.

  ‘What?’ Aric blurted. He looked at Lukien then back at the stranger. ‘What is this?’

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ said Ghost with an audible smile. ‘I’m an Inhuman. Surely Lukien has told you what that means.’

  Aric had only a vague idea. Uncomfortable, he squirmed out of the man’s grasp, then looked at the older man. ‘And what do you do?’ he asked. ‘Fly?’

  The crowd laughed, even Minister Gravis. But the man with the fierce eyes merely shrugged. ‘Nothing so extravagant,’ he said. His answer left

  mystery in the air. Lukien stepped between the man and Aric.

  ‘This is Lorn,’ said Lukien. ‘I’ll tell you about him later.’

  ‘Alright,’ agreed Aric. He laughed again, too pleased from seeing his old friend to let anything worry him. ‘Let’s go inside. You need to rest.’

  ‘And to eat,’ said the one called Ghost. ‘We’ve had nothing but Lorn’s cooking for months.’

  Two hours later, Lukien found himself seated at a long table beneath a chandelier lit with glowing candles. The table had been set with fine silverware and crystal goblets full of wine and beer. Platters of steaming food and breads covered the linen tablecloth. Lukien and his cohorts had rested, the Nithin servants falling over themselves to make the strangers comfortable. Alsadair had said his goodbye’s to them, rushing off to see the family he had left behind so many months earlier. While Lukien and the others refreshed themselves, Aric disappeared until their supper was ready, reappearing in the splendid banquet hall to unveil the treasures the kitchen had cooked up for them. Minister Gravis, sure that the old friends wanted to be alone, excused himself from the feast, leaving just the four of them — Lukien, Ghost, Lorn and Aric — to enjoy the meal and catch up on all the news they had for each other.

  Lukien revelled in the meal and Aric’s company. After so many weeks on the road, just having a roof over his head was a treat. The banquet room itself was an elaborate confection, full of expensive artwork hung on its mahogany walls and lit by a trio of wrought iron chandeliers that made the chamber glow with warmth. The long, striking table seemed to reach from wall to wall, surrounded by a collection of high-backed chairs, all of them richly upholstered in red velvet. The servants that darted in and out of the c
hamber paid no attention to the conversation, doing their best to keep the wine flowing and the good food hot. Ghost flirted with the prettiest servants, flashing his wolfish grin as he held out his tankard for more beer. Because they were inside and out of the sun, he had removed the cowl from around his face, smiling flirtatiously to any girl who would pay him attention.

  Lorn, meanwhile, listened cagily to everything that Aric told him, breaking a mutton joint in his hands and eating slowly, never saying a word. Like Lukien, he sat diagonally across from Aric, who had placed himself at the head of the table. Lukien glanced at Lorn occasionally, taking in the sly way the old king hung on every word. So far, none of them had told Aric about his true identity, and Lorn didn’t seem to mind the pretense. With endless patience, he listened to Aric tell his story, relating every detail about his life since he had parted with Lukien in Koth a year earlier. Lorn chewed his food carefully, never making too much noise, always waiting for any mention of Norvor or his hated nemesis, Jazana Carr. Lukien knew this and did not mind. He would have to tell Aric the truth about Lorn, he realized, but saw no hurry in ruining their reunion.

  Lukien leaned back in his chair, sipping on his wine as he listened to Aric tell of his days with Raxor of Reec. In years gone by, old Raxor had been an enemy of Lukien’s. More than once had the two of them met on the battlefield, but that was long ago, before the peace between Liiria and Reec. Lukien hardly knew Raxor at all now, but listening to the story of his son’s slaughter made the knight wistful.

  ‘And then I went to the bridge and saw my father,’ said Aric. His face grew dark, the memory of the day souring his mood. Young Aric lowered his eyes to stare into his wine goblet. ‘They told me he wasn’t a man any more,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking when I rode to the front. At first I couldn’t even see anything. It was all just a black swarm. And then I saw him on the bridge. I tell you, Lukien, he looked like a demon, sitting there on his horse. And the river was choked with bodies. Choked.’ Aric shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe what he’d seen. ‘After that I rode back to Raxor and begged him to retreat.’

  The men around the table fell silent. Ghost had stopped grinning, and Lorn had pushed his plate aside. Lukien groped for the right thing to say, but nothing could erase what Aric had endured.

  ‘What happened then?’ Lukien asked. ‘You went back to Reec with him?’

  Aric nodded. He hesitated, as though he were hiding something. ‘I didn’t stay with him long,’ he said. ‘By then he knew about Nith and wanted me to come back here and wait for you. He said that he’d be ready if the time ever came, and that he’d stand with us when we returned.’

  Lukien was intrigued. ‘Do you believe him, Aric?’

  ‘I do, Lukien. I tell you, I have seen such strange things this last year! Raxor is a good man. He’s nothing like I’d thought he’d be. He’s as crusty as an old loaf of bread, but his heart is good and I trust him. He’ll be ready for us when we return, I know it.’

  ‘We’ll need him,’ said Lukien. ‘You say Daralor has only a few thousand men to bring with us?’

  ‘I don’t even think it’s that many, really,’ said Aric.

  ‘And Raxor? He’s already been beaten by Thorin. He can’t have that many men, either.’

  ‘Reec is still strong,’ said Aric confidently. ‘But it’s not about numbers, Lukien. Raxor could have thrown everything he had at my father, it wouldn’t have mattered. I’m telling you, you had to have seen him!’

  ‘I did see him,’ Lukien reminded Aric. ‘I fought him, remember.’

  Aric grimaced. ‘I remember. But he’s changed even since then. He’s much worse now, Lukien.’

  ‘And he’s had time,’ said Lorn, finally breaking his silence. The big man looked at all of them seriously. ‘Without Reec to bother him he’s had all the time he needs to build up his forces, to call up reserves from Norvor. Tell me, Aric, what about that? You have hardly mentioned Norvor or Jazana Carr.’

  Aric shrugged. ‘I have no news, not since leaving Liiria. Travelers don’t come here to Nith.’

  ‘Then we must assume the worst,’ Lorn concluded. ‘Baron Glass will be waiting for us, and Jazana Carr’s dogs will be surrounding him.’

  Lukien nodded at the deduction. ‘When Daralor returns, we should speak to him, ask him just how many men he can muster for this.’

  ‘Lukien, it won’t matter,’ Aric insisted. ‘Three thousand men or a hundred thousand, my father could take them all if he wanted. Everything he told me about his armour is true — he’s invincible in it. Only your sword can stop him now.’

  Leaning against Lukien’s chair rested the sword. If he listened very closely, he could almost hear its rhythmic humming. The awesome responsibility for bringing down Thorin rested with the sword now, and with the man who would wield it. Aric didn’t need convincing. He was sure that only Lukien and his magical sword could save them.

  ‘I think,’ said Lukien, ‘that I should like to speak with Daralor when he returns. Sword or not, I will still need to get to Thorin, and that will take men. He’s not just going to come out of Lionkeep and fight me this time.’

  ‘Then we’ll draw him out,’ said Lorn, ‘and his bitch-queen with him.’

  Aric bristled at his tone. ‘Sir, it’s time you did explain yourself. .’

  ‘No,’ said Lukien. He smiled. ‘Forget him, Aric. I want to know more about what happened to you. Where did you go after I left?’ He paused, hoping Aric would take his meaning. ‘Where did everyone go?’

  Young Aric blanched. ‘Oh. I think I see what you mean.’ He glanced at the others uncomfortably. ‘How much do you want me to say, Lukien?’

  It was plain that Aric had bad news. Lukien braced himself. ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘Lukien, I haven’t told you this yet. I don’t know if I should.’

  ‘Tell me, Aric,’ Lukien insisted. ‘What happened to Meriel?’

  Aric shifted. ‘She’s in Reec, Lukien. With Raxor.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I know it’s hard to believe. I didn’t even believe it myself at first! She was captured, Lukien. She meant to go to my father as she threatened, but Raxor’s spies in Koth found her and brought her to him in Hes. When I went there, I saw her.’

  Lukien’s mouth hung open in shock. ‘Aric, you left her there?’

  Aric nodded, looking ashamed. ‘I had no choice. I spoke to her. We argued. I don’t know if she’s still there with him, but he wouldn’t let her go and I don’t think she would leave him, either.’

  ‘So you left her there.’ Lukien fought to still his anger. ‘Like she was just some harem girl, you left her behind.’

  ‘I had to, Lukien. I had to get back here, to tell Daralor what had happened and to wait for you!’

  ‘You should have demanded Raxor let her go!’

  ‘I did!’ snorted Aric. ‘But he loves her, Lukien. And I’m not sure, but I think she loves him, too. He’s a broken man. She’s all he has.’

  ‘She’s not a slave,’ Lukien rumbled. ‘She’s being kept as a prisoner.’ He pounded his fist on the table. ‘You should have stayed with her, Aric. You should have made Raxor let her go!’

  ‘You weren’t there!’ Aric shot back. ‘You went off without her, remember? You’re the reason she wanted to go to my father in the first place!’

  Both Ghost and Lorn shrank away as Lukien got to his feet. With a face like thunder, Lukien said, ‘I brought her across the desert because she wouldn’t make a move without me. She hung around me like death because she loved me. I never wanted her love, but I never wanted her discarded, either.’

  Aric remained seated, staying as calm as he could. ‘It’s not like that, Lukien. Raxor is good to her. He doesn’t treat her like a slave or plaything. He’s kind to her. Kinder than you were, probably. And you know what else? She was happy there!’

  Lukien was about to erupt, then stopped himself. He reached for his chair as he stared at Aric — and at A
ric’s accusations. ‘I’m supposed to trust Raxor now?’ He laughed. ‘I’m surrounded by men like that!’ He looked with disdain at Lorn. ‘Tell him who you are, Lorn. Let Aric have a good laugh.’

  Lorn got up from his chair. ‘Sit down, Lukien. You’re drunk.’

  ‘Drunk! Yes!’ cackled Lukien. ‘All my enemies are here to help me. And why? To kill my best friend!’

  ‘What enemies, Lukien?’ said Ghost. ‘We’re not your enemies.’

  ‘Raxor is my enemy!’ roared Lukien. He picked up the sword, and with a swipe of his arm sent the plates and glassware near him flying off the table. The crash of dishes brought the servants running, but Lukien ignored them, pointing his sword — still in its sheath — at Lorn. ‘And this hideous pig of a man — he’s my enemy. He’s everyone’s enemy! I’m just Minikin’s messenger boy, bringing him back to Norvor!’

  ‘Lukien, that’s enough,’ hissed Ghost.

  Aric stood puzzled, looked between Lukien and Lorn. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Lorn?’

  Lorn, staring down Lukien’s sword, declared proudly, ‘I am Lorn, the rightful king of Norvor. I’m going home to reclaim my throne.’

  ‘You’re not,’ sneered Lukien. ‘I won’t have it.’

  Lorn looked almost serene. His expression infuriated Lukien. ‘I’m the rightful king,’ he said. ‘You know I am, Lukien.’

  ‘You are a butcher and a tyrant,’ spat Lukien. ‘Minikin must be out of her mind to let you go.’

  ‘Minikin owes me. I lived up to my part of our bargain.’

  ‘Bargain?’ Aric piped up. ‘Lukien, I don’t understand this.’