The Sword Of Angels eog-3

by John Marco

  Horatin nodded. ‘Corvat is gathering the others, my lord.’

  ‘Good. Then there is time. Grenel, see to their needs. Horatin, all of you, rest now.’ Raxor sidled up to Aric and put his arms around the young man. At last, Aric could smell the heavy liquor on his breath. ‘You and I will talk first, boy.’

  ‘My lord?’

  ‘Come with me,’ said Raxor, turning Aric toward the adjoining chamber. ‘It is private this way. We can talk.’

  Horatin surprised Aric by not saying another word. Instead he herded the Reecians back toward the main chamber, telling them to feel at ease while Raxor and Aric disappeared. Aric glanced over his shoulder as Raxor guided him away, not sure what the drunken king wanted from him. His Nithin companions, relieved to be out of the rain, seemed unperturbed as they began removing their wet coats and heading for the hearth. In the next chamber, Aric saw a table and a handful of plain wooden chairs. On the table sat a bottle of wine and an iron goblet, half-filled. Food had been prepared for the king, also half-consumed. A map and a few other documents lay across the table. Most striking of all, though, was the other occupant of the room, an attractive young woman dressed in a plain frock, her blonde hair brushed straight down her shoulders. She was collecting dishes off the table, but stopped when she saw Raxor reappear.

  ‘That’s fine, Alena,’ said Raxor. ‘Leave it. Go and bring some hot food.’

  The woman — a girl really — made sure not to meet their eyes completely. ‘Yes, my lord,’ she answered curtly, then scurried past Aric to leave the room. Aric watched her go, confused.

  ‘Who’s that?’ he asked.

  ‘Alena lives here,’ said Raxor. He motioned toward the chairs. ‘Sit, Aric.’

  Aric began taking off his coat, laying the sodden garment over one of the chairs. His whole person was similarly soaked, and the little fire built for Raxor in the corner of the room felt fine on his wet skin.

  ‘I’ll have dry clothes brought for you,’ said Raxor. Seeing Aric’s predicament, he dragged two chairs close to the fire and sat himself down.

  ‘I’m soaked to the bone,’ said Aric. Taking his chair, he started pulling off his boots, freeing his icy toes. ‘My lord, I’m not sure I understand your meaning. That girl lives here?’

  ‘This is her home, along with her mother and younger brother. There’s no father.’

  ‘They didn’t flee? When they saw you coming, I mean?’

  ‘Some did,’ Raxor recounted. ‘Others saw no need. We’re not mistreating anyone here, Aric. They’re taking care of us and that’s all. We needed a place to stop and this was as good as anywhere.’

  ‘But they’re Liirians.’

  ‘So? They hate your father as much as we do, I think. It’s as I said, boy; we’ve had no resistance. And I’ll wager your Prince Daralor has none either. We’re on the march toward Koth now. That’s where your father is making his stand.’

  ‘We heard that,’ said Aric. ‘Horatin told us. He’s holding up at the library.’

  ‘Just as you did last time,’ said Raxor with a grin. ‘A good enough tactic, though. He doesn’t really care about the rest of Liiria anyway. Just Koth. And that blasted library.’

  Aric sat back. ‘That’s a painful thing to hear, my lord.’

  ‘It’s like a plague that’s swept the whole world. Liiria is dispirited, Aric. And Reec, too. We are all ruined. And only tiny Nith has come to save us!’

  ‘But I don’t understand,’ Aric protested. ‘Why are you here at all? You were going to wait until you had word from us. Why make war before you even knew the Nithins were coming?’

  ‘Because it is the time for war, Aric. Because it is forced on us. On me.I knew you would be wondering, that’s why I wanted to speak with you.’ King Raxor paused, then sat back to prepare himself. ‘Your friend Mirage. She is dead, Aric.’

  The confession seemed to tear the old king apart. His words trembled. ‘Horatin told us,’ said Aric. ‘I’m sorry. For her and for you, my lord.’

  ‘I know what your father is like, Aric,’ said Raxor. ‘I let her go to him even so. That is shame enough.’

  ‘Is that why you’re here to fight him? Because of Mirage?’

  ‘No. Some people think that but they’re wrong. It is not just Mirage that brings me here. Not even Roland. Oh, I want my vengeance, yes, but it is Reec whose heart is broken. The people demand this war, Aric, and I cannot resist them.’

  Raxor poured himself more of the wine and began to drink. His hands shook as he held the goblet. Looking at his eyes, Aric could see how bloodshot they were.

  ‘The world has gone mad,’ Raxor went on. ‘These men that follow me — they know what carnage they’re up against. It’s hopeless yet they yearn for it.’

  ‘They yearn for death?’

  ‘Aye, because they have nothing else! Your father took a thousand sons at the Kryss. Have you ever heard the wailing of a thousand mothers, Aric? No one can stand against that kind of noise. So now they send their husbands with me.’ King Raxor looked blackly into his wine. ‘I’m sure their fate will be the same.’

  ‘Not this time,’ said Aric. ‘My lord, I have good news. It’s not just the Nithins who’ve come to join you. Lukien comes with them.’

  Raxor smiled. ‘Ah. And what about that fairy tale you told me? About the sword?’

  ‘It’s no fairy tale, my lord. The sword is real and Lukien has it. He’s come to fight my father again. This time he can win.’

  Raxor scoffed, ‘No one can win against your father.’

  ‘You don’t believe that,’ said Aric. ‘If you did you wouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Look into my eyes, Aric.’ Raxor opened his eyes wide. ‘Tell me what you see there.’

  Aric looked, and to his deep regret saw nothing, not a hint of the twinkle he had always found there.

  ‘Do you see hope in me?’ asked Raxor.

  ‘No,’ admitted Aric. ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Nor will you.’ Raxor leaned back again, annoyed. ‘Only a fool would believe that Baron Glass can be beaten. I’m not a fool, Aric. I’ll fight him gladly. I have no use for hiding in Hes any longer. But no one will beat him. We will all die. Even your vaunted Lukien.’

  Raxor’s certainty riled Aric. He was about to speak when the girl named Alena returned, this time bearing a tray full of hot food. The temptation of the food distracted Aric, but only half as much as the pretty girl. Alena quietly floated into the room, setting down her tray and waiting for Raxor’s orders.

  ‘Alena, this is Aric,’ said the king. ‘We’ll need clothes for him and a place to sleep.’

  Alena looked surprised. ‘He’ll sleep here, my lord?’

  ‘Yes. Make a place for him.’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ agreed the girl, then turned and left the room. Raxor waited until she was gone before speaking again, keeping his voice low.

  ‘Aric, your father means to keep Koth at any cost. He’s already forsaken the rest of Liiria. Norvans are pouring over the border to help him because even they know how strong he is.’

  ‘You don’t know, Lukien, my lord,’ said Aric icily. ‘He’s strong, too.’

  ‘Yes, I know you think that,’ said Raxor. ‘But do not forget what you saw that day at the river. Remember?’

  Aric remembered. He remembered far more than he could ever forget. It was the stuff of nightmares.

  ‘My father may not exist any more,’ he admitted, ‘but he is still just a man behind all that armour. Surely you see that, my lord. You must, or you wouldn’t be here yourself.’

  Raxor glanced thoughtfully at his wine. ‘Aric,’ he said softly, ‘I do not believe we will best your father. For most of us, this will be the end.’ He looked at Aric, emphasizing his meaning. ‘I have crossed into Liiria now. I will not be going home this time.’

  The admission hit Aric like a thunderbolt. For a moment he was speechless. He saw the certainty in Raxor’s eyes and did not know how to counter it.

  ‘No, my lord,’ he
said cheerfully. ‘You will live! Don’t think such black thoughts. Believe what I tell you — Lukien has the Sword of Angels.’

  ‘Bah!’ Raxor pushed his goblet aside. ‘An army of angels with an army of swords — that’s what we need to defeat your father.’

  ‘No, my lord,’ Aric insisted. ‘You can’t go into this fight thinking that way. You need to lead! Where’s that bear-hearted king we all remember? That’s the Raxor that will make my father tremble!’

  ‘That Raxor is old,’ groaned the king. ‘Old and afraid.’

  ‘Not so afraid.’ Aric gently poked him. ‘He’s brave enough to face death.’

  ‘Death is what old people have to look forward to,’ laughed Raxor. ‘But all right, boy, you’ve made your point. I wouldn’t have come here to face your father if I wasn’t ready.’

  ‘Good,’ Aric pronounced, ‘because I’m ready to face him too.’

  The king got to his feet. ‘I’m glad to hear that, because we’ll need you. I won’t keep you from the battle this time, Aric. Now eat and get some rest. Soon we’ll be marching again.’

  As always happened when the king left the room, a great emptiness swept in after him. Aric glanced around, stunned by everything that had happened. Exhaustion began to creep over his body, but the pull of the food on the table was greater than the pull of sleep and so he dragged his chair to the table and began to eat, slowly at first, then ravenously. As he reached for the wine, the girl named Alena reappeared, this time bearing an armful of clothing. She paused in the doorway, waiting for Aric’s invitation. Aric stopped eating and stared at her.

  ‘Come in,’ he said clumsily.

  The girl’s face was stern but pretty. She avoided looking at Aric as she came forward. ‘I did not want to disturb you.’

  ‘This is your house,’ said Aric.

  Alena seemed amazed. At last she met his eyes directly. ‘It is.’ Catching herself, she held out the clothes. ‘These are for you.’

  Aric stood up. ‘Thank you.’ He took the offering with a smile. ‘I’m truly grateful for this. I think I’ll have to burn what I’m wearing!’

  Alena didn’t laugh. ‘If you don’t need anything else. .’

  ‘No.’ Aric hesitated. ‘I’m fine. Just a question — why are you still here?’

  The question surprised the girl. ‘My lord?’

  ‘I’m a Liirian,’ said Aric. ‘I know this is your home. But these men are Reecians. Your mother and you. .’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘King Raxor’s men have not been cruel to us,’ said Alena. ‘They have taken nothing from our home, only our food and service, and have paid us for both.’

  ‘But they’re invaders,’ said Aric, still not understanding. ‘They mean to kill your king, you know.’

  ‘What king?’ spat Alena. ‘Baron Glass? He is king in name only. And we will all be better off when he is gone.’ She made a face at Aric that was almost pitiful. ‘You must have been gone from Liiria a very long time not to know this.’

  ‘Yes,’ admitted Aric. ‘I have been.’

  Alena laughed, not unkindly. ‘Then you will see what I mean. There is no love in Liiria for Baron Glass. We welcome the Reecians. Anything would be better for Liiria.’

  Without another word, the girl turned and left the room. Aric sat and watched her go, sure that his world was upside down.

  77

  At the edge of Koth, on a ridge of hills overlooking the sleeping city, Lukien paused amidst the rolling fog to ponder the place he had long called home. The rain that had plagued them for days had finally stopped, leaving the night sky clear and star-filled. A great, bare-faced moon hung overhead, shining with milky light. Down in the valley, tucked safely away from the Nithin army, Koth rested uneasily as it waited for the morning. The armies ringed the city like vultures, but old, enduring Koth seemed unafraid. The streets of the ancient city yawned with quietness. High on its hill, the great library loomed above the homes and shops. In the yards around the hill, Lukien could see the unmoving brigades of Norvan soldiers, still asleep as morning neared, their numerous war machines and horses poised for the coming battle. They were so far away, and yet like a great dragon Lukien could hear them breathing. Lights gleamed in the tower of the library. Inside, Thorin waited with his demon, and the sword at Lukien’s side pulsed with unease.

  Far behind him, the army of Prince Daralor slept, too. It was hours yet until dawn, when all of them would march for Koth. Amazingly, the coming battle had kept only handfuls of them awake. The rest of them — exhausted from the long trip north — slept soundly in their bedrolls. The dogs slumbered in their makeshift kennels while their keepers slept just outside, the keys to the long leashes jangling at their belts. Horses clopped at the earth, snorting in the cool night air. Like the armies of the Norvans occupying Koth, Daralor’s army stretched deeply into the darkness, lit by smouldering campfires and torches. The Nithin flag snapped in the breeze, standing tall atop Daralor’s distant pavilion.

  Tonight, it seemed to Lukien as though the whole world had gathered at this one place, for on the other side of the city, barely visible even through the clear sky, glowed the pinpricks of another army. Raxor’s forces had marched for Koth, too. Two days ago they had arrived. Daralor and the Reecian king had already sent emissaries to each other, sharing what they knew about the forces poised against them. Just like the Nithins, the Reecians had met no resistance either, marching effortlessly toward the Liirian capital. Now, though, the numbers of their foes showed themselves at last. Lukien paled as he considered them.

  I can feel him, said Malator in his silent voice. He directed Lukien’s gaze back toward the library. Your baron is restless tonight, Lukien. My brother speaks with him.

  Lukien was immediately intrigued. ‘What are they saying?’

  Malator thought for a moment, then replied, They are together. That’s all I can tell.

  ‘Well, then, they’re not the only ones who are restless.’ Lukien put his hand on the sword, as if to put his Akari at ease. ‘They can plan all they want. It won’t change what’s going to happen tomorrow. They should never have let us get this far.’

  And yet we are still far away, Malator reminded him. My brother is not stupid, Lukien. Look how he protects himself in the library.

  ‘Even the library isn’t impregnable, Malator. They can’t hide in there forever.’

  Get us to Baron Glass. That is all you need to do.

  Lukien nodded, but the task was daunting indeed. They were outnumbered, and would have to fight their way through the streets and the all the ranks of Norvan soldiers first. As he looked over the city, a thousand memories — happy and unhappy — flooded over Lukien. He had a been a boy in those streets, struggling to survive, and later he had risen to knighthood, though never to nobility. Those had been good days, when Koth had been at peace. When Koth had been great. She was not great anymore. Now she was an old cripple, groping her way through the world, decrepit and soiled, spoiled by war and corruption. And she had been torn apart by battles. Thinking of that, Lukien remembered that time not so long ago when last he had stepped foot inside the city. The memory made him shudder.

  Do not think of it, Malator advised.

  But it was impossible for Lukien not to remember, and he could not pull his eyes from the city or forget the faces of those he had fought with there. Breck and all his other friends, dead or scattered to the winds, and all because of Thorin’s mad designs. And then, without wanting to, Lukien thought of Meriel.

  His throat tightened. A grimace of pain gripped his expression. Malator eased closer to him, sensing his loss.

  Listen to me now, Lukien. It’s not your fault.

  Lukien nodded. ‘Right. I know. But. .’

  She is gone. Remember what Horatin told you. She went to him of her own accord.

  ‘Yes. I know,’ Lukien sighed. ‘It’s just. .’ He considered Meriel and all the others. ‘There are so many who might still be alive if not for me.’
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br />   Malator started to speak, then stopped himself. His alarm jolted Lukien into turning around, revealing a figure coming toward him through the mist. At first he thought it was Lorn, but then he noted the royal garb and the confident gait and realized with surprise that it was Daralor. The prince paused a moment, regarding him.

  ‘May I come ahead?’ asked Daralor.

  Startled, Lukien did not know what to say, so he waved the prince forward. ‘Yes,’ he bumbled, ‘of course.’

  Prince Daralor glided soundlessly to the edge of the hill, standing beside Lukien and taking the time to look out over Koth. Lukien eyed him curiously, not sure why the prince had come at all. So far, Daralor had never bothered to speak with Lukien alone. He had a thousand other things to do, and dozens of advisors to deliver his messages. Through the long ride north he had treated Lukien with respect, but that was all, preferring to get close to Aric. Now, though, Daralor Eight-Fingers didn’t wear his usual, unapproachable air. He seemed calm, which was normal, but also oddly melancholy.

  Neither man spoke for a few long minutes. Daralor, preoccupied by Koth, imbibed every tiny detail of the city. Then, at last, he turned away from the scene, anxiously rubbing the stump of his missing fingers.

  ‘When it’s near time for battle I walk among my men.’ Daralor smiled strangely. ‘It’s been a very long time since I’ve been in battle.’

  Lukien was unsure of his meaning. ‘Your men are brave,’ he offered. ‘They’ll make you proud, I’m sure.’

  Daralor nodded in thanks, then looked out past the city toward the faraway lights of Raxor’s army. Tomorrow, probably, they would join the Reecians and lay siege to the library. And then the real battle would begin.

  ‘Even with the Reecians we are not as many as the Norvans,’ said Daralor. ‘How will they fight, do you think?’

  ‘They’re mercenaries, mostly,’ said Lukien, ‘but they’re loyal enough.’

  ‘Loyal to Baron Glass, or loyal to his gold?’

  ‘To his diamonds,’ Lukien corrected mildly. ‘They’re afraid of him, and they know no one can defeat him. He’s not just the ruler of Liiria. He’s the lord of Norvor now and they know it.’