by John Marco
Mirage nodded, because she knew the story. When he had gone through Nith, King Akeela had ravaged the principality. ‘Thorin has days on us, that’s all I’m saying.’
‘We’re going as quickly as we can,’ said Lukien, blowing on a forkful of stew. ‘Anyway, I should think you’d want to take your time. There’s no rush for you to get to Liiria, is there?’
Mirage stopped chewing and stared at him. ‘I am not a child, Lukien, despite what you think. If you were not here I would make it to Liiria on my own.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Lukien. ‘But to what end? What is there for you in Liiria these days? If it wasn’t for Thorin, I wouldn’t be going at all.’
‘And if it wasn’t for Minikin I wouldn’t be with you. Is that what you’re saying?’
‘All right, I shouldn’t tease you,’ said Lukien. ‘I don’t resent you being with me, Meriel.’
‘Mirage,’ she said crossly.
‘I just want us to understand each other. We won’t be on the road much longer. A week, maybe, and we’ll be in Liiria. You should think on what you mean to do when we get there.’
The girl turned her wounded face from the fire. She was quiet for a long moment before replying, ‘It’s obvious to you what I want, Lukien. And now you make me feel a fool for it.’
‘No,’ said Lukien gently, ‘but you have to understand. I did this as a favour, both for you and for Minikin. She was worried about you, and I was going north anyway. That doesn’t mean I wanted you to come with me.’
Mirage lowered her plate sadly. ‘I understand. When we get to Liiria I’ll be on my own.’
‘Unless you want to come back with me to Grimhold, yes?’
‘Or unless you want to stay with me in Liiria.’
She glanced back at him, but Lukien slowly shook his head.
‘No, Mirage.’
She gave a flirtatious shrug. ‘We’ll see. I know you, Lukien. You care about me. You won’t be able to leave me in Liiria.’
Lukien put down his fork. ‘Do not bait me, girl. I’m going to Liiria to find Thorin and save him from that cursed armour. And after I do that I’m going home — with or without you.’
His tone made Mirage retreat. ‘All right, but what about that? If we’re so close to Liiria now, you must at least have a plan.’
‘For what?’
‘For saving Baron Glass! He’s not just going to take off his armour and come home with you. You don’t know the Akari, Lukien. Once they bind with a person they can be very powerful. And an Akari like Kahldris won’t just let go. He wants to control Thorin.’
The statement ruined Lukien’s appetite. ‘I know. But there is a way. Amaraz said so.’ He looked down at his amulet. ‘I have to trust him.’
‘Trust him? He won’t even speak to you.’
‘True,’ said Lukien bitterly. ‘But I trust Minikin, and if she tells me Amaraz is wise and knows what he’s doing, then I have to believe.’
‘That’s it?’ asked Mirage. ‘That’s your plan?’
‘Have you a better one?’ snapped Lukien in annoyance.
‘No,’ Mirage admitted. ‘Except to hope that Thorin will listen to us. If we appeal to him, perhaps we can reach him.’
Lukien grinned. ‘That might work. After all, you’ve always appealed to Thorin.’
Mirage nodded as she picked up her plate again. ‘I know. He’s a good man. He always cared about me.’
‘Yes, he did,’ Lukien reminded her. ‘Even before you changed your appearance.’
‘Why are you talking this way to me tonight, Lukien?’
Without looking at her Lukien returned to his meal. ‘Forget it,’ he said softly.
They stayed like that for a half-hour more, neither of them speaking, Mirage toying with her food while Lukien devoured more than one plateful. As time progressed the moon got larger, bathing their camp in eerie light. Mirage stared into the sky, counting the stars through the thickening clouds. She was never afraid of the darkness or what it might bring.
Because she has been through so much, Lukien supposed, stealing a glance at her. He tossed his empty plate aside and leaned back to rest his stomach.
‘Might be a bad night,’ he said, breaking the silence at last. ‘Might rain.’
‘I suppose,’ replied Mirage without interest.
‘Might attract garmys.’
At last she looked at him. ‘No. Do you think?’
Lukien didn’t think so really, but he liked teasing her about the creatures, the mention of which always made women cringe.
‘Hard to say.’ Lukien looked around, as if on guard for the manlike reptiles. ‘They like the woods and the wetness. And they’ll eat anything.’
‘Stop playing with me,’ said Mirage. ‘There aren’t garmys this far south. Besides, the fire would keep them away if there were.’
‘You’re probably right. Still, I’d be careful sleeping if I were you.’
‘Lukien, stop!’
The knight laughed and smiled at the girl. ‘I’m jesting, girl. There aren’t garmys around here.’
‘How do you know? Oh, I wish you hadn’t even mentioned them!’ Mirage wrapped her arms around her body and slid closer to the fire. ‘Disgusting creatures.’
‘Have you ever seen one?’
‘No, and I don’t care to, thank you very much.’ She looked at him. ‘Have you?’
‘As a matter of fact, yes,’ said Lukien. It was almost two decades ago now, but he remembered the day well.
‘Really?’ said Mirage, instantly intrigued. ‘Tell me about it. Was it very ugly?’
‘Ugly? Grotesque would be a better word. And when I saw them there were three of them.’ His eyes narrowed in thought. ‘At least I think there were three.’
‘Three? Great Fate, what happened? Did you fight them?’
Lukien hesitated. ‘I don’t think we should talk about this, Mirage. The circumstances were. . strange.’
She looked at him curiously. ‘Oh?’
‘It was a long time ago. We were heading back to Liiria from Reec.’
‘Reec? Ah, you mean with Cassandra.’
Lukien nodded. ‘I was taking her to be married to Akeela. I don’t think you want to hear the rest.’
‘No, Lukien, I do,’ Mirage insisted. ‘I want to know.’
‘About the garmys?’
‘Don’t play games. About Cassandra.’ She looked at him gently. ‘We never finished our talk about her. Do you remember? We were down in the prayer chamber. You told me she was beautiful.’
‘Yes,’ said Lukien sadly. ‘Very beautiful.’ His mind filled with a picture of her, raven-haired and smiling, kept forever young by the same damned amulet he wore now. He still blamed himself for killing her. ‘I don’t know what you want me to say. I miss her. In all my life I never found a woman like her, not before or since.’ Catching himself, he grimaced. ‘Forgive me. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.’
Mirage stayed very still as she stared at him. ‘And you don’t think you ever will?’
Lukien refused to look at her. ‘I cannot. She haunts me, and that is how I want it.’
‘You waste all your life then, Lukien,’ said Mirage. ‘You will never be happy. But I can make you happy. I know I can.’ She slid closer to him. ‘If you would just forget her for a moment.’
Her body felt warm, warmer than the fire. So close was she that he could smell her hair. But all it did was steel him. He could never forget Cassandra. To Lukien, forgetting was betrayal.
‘No, Mirage. You don’t understand. .’
‘I do,’ Mirage insisted. ‘I know you pine for her. You love her memory. But that’s all she is, Lukien — just a memory now, and I’m here for real, in the flesh.’
She put her face up to his, then moved her lips ever closer. Lukien felt the brush of them. Their hot sweetness lured him forward. .
And then repelled him.
‘I’m tired,’ he said without emotion. He stood and brushed the dirt and leaves
from his backside. ‘We’ll keep the fire going. By morning it will be out and we’ll be ready to ride.’
Ignoring Mirage’s disappointment, Lukien went to his bed roll and did not speak again that night.
34
Nith
Atop a pretty little valley on a cold spring morning, Baron Glass paused in his relentless ride northward, surveying the land below him with an uncommon sense of dread. Birdsong filled the air. His horse waited quietly for orders. In the valley was a town, and in the town was a castle atop a small tor, the modest home of Prince Daralor. Baron Glass had never been to Nith. Even riding south a year ago he had avoided the principality. Now, as he sat atop his horse and stared, he wondered about the wisdom of his choice.
In the weeks since leaving Grimhold he had travelled ceaselessly, almost without rest, bolstered by the inhuman strength the armour gave his old body. Five horses had been exhausted from the pace, ridden almost to death by Thorin’s zeal to reach Liiria. The first horse — the one he had stolen from Grimhold — had taken him as far as Ganjor before the poor beast perished, baked and battered by the desert sun. From there he had had gone north, through ugly Dreel and the forests of Lonril, stealing horses and sleeping under the stars only when sleep was absolutely necessary. Without company or conversation, Baron Glass had only Kahldris for comfort. But he had his arm again, animated by the dark angel’s magic, and for Thorin that was enough. Kahldris had given him something no one in Grimhold ever had — a reason to live.
‘It’s very quiet,’ said Thorin.
He spoke more to himself than to Kahldris, who was always in his mind and body, just below the surface. Thorin held the armour’s horned helmet in the crook of his arm. Like the rest of the magical suit, it was feather-light and not at all a bother to wear or carry. Even when he slept, Thorin kept part of the armour on his person. Never once had he taken off the chainmail covering his left arm — the arm that no longer had flesh. As long as he wore that much of it, he was a whole man.
Kahldris did not answer Thorin. Instead the Akari pushed on his mind, urging him toward Nith. Thorin resisted. Travelling through Nith had not been his first choice. Though a quiet people, the Nithins were fiercely territorial and never welcomed strangers. It was why all travellers avoided the tiny nation, and Thorin, even in his armour, was loath to encounter them now.
It is the quickest way.
The words belonged to Kahldris, shouldering into Thorin’s mind.
‘I know.’
There is nothing for you to fear.
‘I’m not afraid,’ said Thorin angrily.
You are, but you must learn there is nothing that can challenge you now, Baron Glass. Not while you wear my armour.
The voice of the demon — if indeed he was a demon — stroked Thorin’s mind. So far Kahldris had never lied to Thorin or led him into danger. Thorin trusted Kahldris. He supposed it was this way with all the Inhumans and their Akari.
‘Why make trouble?’ Thorin asked aloud. ‘In a day I can ride around.’
Kahldris did not answer him, yet Thorin could feel the spirit’s disappointment. He still did not know very much about Kahldris or the man he had been in life, but he was learning the spirit’s many moods.
‘They will notice the armour,’ he said. Many others had already. ‘Yes, we should go around.’
Do as you wish, Baron Glass.
The voice was almost sullen.
‘I’m not afraid of them, demon,’ Thorin insisted. ‘But Prince Daralor abides no outsiders in his land, especially since Akeela cut off his fingers.’
You are on your way to battle an army, yet a princeling with missing fingers dissuades you. You have armour that no blade has ever nicked, you have both your arms. . You are fearful, I say.
Thorin growled back, ‘I am not afraid, damn you. I will have my breakfast in Nith if that is all that will appease you!’
It was hunger at last that finally made Thorin drive his dapple-grey down the hillside and into the valley. Though he no longer needed food or sleep the way a normal man might, he had not eaten properly for days and his stomach roared to be filled. Angry at being thought a coward and mad with hunger, Thorin punched his heels into the sides of his horse and led the beast toward the waiting town.
Nith itself was not a large town. Like the sunken valley surrounding it, the town was quaint and pretty, with the typical trappings found everywhere this far north. It could have been a Liirian town with its dominating castle and offshoot streets and buildings, all huddled close as if for warmth. The avenues were narrow and hilly, filled with stairs and archways and gentle bends revealing tiny gardens. Thorin reached the town quickly, finally slowing as he made his way through its central street. He had slung the armour’s helmet over his saddle horn and was glad to see the streets mostly empty. His unusual attire always attracted unwanted stares, and here in Nith he knew such stares were dangerous.
Trotting across the cobblestone street, he turned a corner and saw a tavern nearby. A flame flickered in the dusty window. Hoping it open, Thorin steered his mount that way and peered inside the window. A man he supposed was the proprietor was at the bar, hurriedly wiping it down. A few other murky figures sat at tables near the hearth. The sign outside advertised food and drink. Thorin dropped down off his horse, eager to go inside, then wondered what to do with his things. His bed roll and other belongings were safe enough, he guessed, but the helmet was another matter entirely.
‘I should have taken off this damn armour,’ he chided himself. ‘They will think me riding off to war!’
Leave the helmet, Kahldris said. It will not be harmed. Go and get your food.
Thorin hesitated a moment, then took off the gauntlet from his right hand — his real hand. Rummaging through his saddlebags he pulled out a few bronze coins he had gotten in Dreel, enough to pay for a hearty breakfast. Unsure what he would find inside the tavern, he steeled himself, and in that instant Kahldris was with him, flooding him with his unholy strength. The anxiousness left him at once.
Pushing open the tavern door, he stepped inside the rustic place. Beside the barkeep there were five men in the place — all of whom looked up in alarm at his entrance. Thorin paused on the threshold and stared back at them. Three of them sat at one table having food by the fire. They were tradesmen by the looks of them, and when they noticed Thorin staring back their eyes scurried to their plates. The other two, however, were not so quick to look away. They too had taken a table by the hearth, but they were not tradesmen or farmers — they were soldiers. Dressed in tunics and green capes, they were no doubt men of rank in Daralor’s army, come to slake an early thirst. The pair watched Thorin as he entered the tavern. Thorin felt an inexplicable, bubbling hatred. Brushing past the bar he took a table not far from the soldiers.
‘Food,’ he declared, snapping his bare fingers at the barkeep. ‘Bring me eggs. Meat if you have it, too.’
The barman looked at him for a moment, confused by the stranger. Thorin slapped the coins down on the table.
‘Don’t make me wait, man. I have a need for speed.’
He didn’t know where the words came from, but they sent the proprietor scurrying into the back room. Thorin felt the eyes of the soldiers on him. He bit his lip, not with fear but with anger. It was Kahldris, he decided. The Akari presence in his mind made his brain burn.
No fear! the spirit chided. You must learn. .
Thorin tried clamping down on the spirit, pushing him back. He realised suddenly that Kahldris had dropped him into this situation.
If they challenge you, what will you do?
Thorin struggled not to turn around. All at once he hated the Nithins. Because they stared at him? Because. . why?
You are playing with my mind, demon! he silently roared. His legs twitched, threatening to get up and leave.
Will you flee in the face of Jazana Carr? taunted Kahldris. Tell me now and I will waste no more time on you.
The effort within Thorin became enormous. H
e shut his eyes against the flood of tangled feelings.
You brought me here to fight? he asked.
I need blood to make you strong, Baron Glass.
The answer sickened Thorin. His appetite fled in an instant. ‘Oh, no. .’
Before he could get up to leave he heard the chairs behind him sliding backward. The two soldiers got to their feet and stood on either side of him. He looked up, to one and then the other, and could not control the sneer twisting his lips. Both men were younger than him, barely thirty he supposed. The one at Thorin’s left hooked back his cape to show his sword and dirk.
‘You’re a stranger,’ said the man. ‘A soldier.’
See how he challenges you? You are old and he hates you for it!
Thorin fought to ignore the spirit. His jaw clenching, he said, ‘Just on my way home.’
‘Where’s home, then?’ pressed the man.
For a moment it occurred to him to lie, but then something snapped in Thorin. The arrogant gait, the pulled-back cape — all conspired to make him hate the man.
‘Liiria.’
The man’s face loss all pretence. Glancing at his comrade, he stepped back from the table and looked Thorin over. The tradesmen at the nearby table stopped eating. From the corner of his eye Thorin saw the barkeep retreat back into the other room.
‘What is this you wear?’ said the soldier, flicking his fingers at Thorin’s shoulder. ‘That’s not Liirian armour. I’ve seen Liirian armour, when your pig of a king came to conquer us.’
Baron Glass, who had never any use for King Akeela, smiled at the man. ‘You are right,’ he said. ‘You have never seen armour like this. The world has never seen armour like this, or a man like me.’ He rose to his feet. Then, taking the table in his fleshless hand, tossed it aside. The soldier who had challenged him stepped back. Thorin stalked after him. ‘I am Baron Glass of Liiria,’ he declared, ‘returning to reclaim my homeland. And I will walk through Nith or walk through fire to take back what is mine, and all the seven hells will not stop me!’