The Devil's armour eog-2

by John Marco

  The name Lukien made the young soldiers start. Those who had been sitting now quickly stood to stare at the strangers. The one who had greeted them let his mouth fall open. Breck laughed at them.

  ‘Take a good look, whelps,’ he needled. ‘Here’s a Royal Charger we can all look up to.’

  They still seemed not to understand. The one called Aric looked at Breck in disbelief. ‘Is this really Lukien?’

  Lukien said, ‘Boy, I’m nothing to brag about these days, but I am Lukien. And I’ve come a long way to talk to your commander. Now will you let me see him?’

  The joke made the young man wilt. ‘Sir Lukien, I’m sorry,’ he stammered. ‘I mean, how could I have known?’

  Breck slapped the fellow’s shoulder. ‘Aric, he’s fooling with you. Gods, don’t encourage him.’

  Aric wiped his hands quickly and thrust one out for Lukien. ‘Sir Lukien, I’m truly honoured. My father told us you’d be coming, but I didn’t believe him.’

  ‘Your father?’ Lukien shook the young man’s hand warily. ‘Breck, is this your boy?’

  ‘My boy? No, Lukien. This is Aric.’ Breck’s expression grew peculiar. ‘Aric Glass.’

  Before Lukien realised what he’d said, Mirage spoke up. ‘Aric Glass? You mean you’re Thorin’s son?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ declared Aric proudly. ‘The baron is my father.’

  ‘Then we’ve come to see you as well,’ said Lukien. ‘Aric, your father — is he near?’

  ‘I think,’ interrupted Breck, ‘that we should all go inside and talk.’

  ‘Baron Glass is gone,’ said Breck, ‘and I don’t know what’s happened to him.’

  His tone was matter-of-fact, his expression plain but troubled. He slumped a bit in his chair, as if delivering the news was a terrible burden. Lukien leaned back in his own chair and stared at his friend across the table. He had half expected the statement; Aric’s expression had been easy enough to read. Now the young man nodded as he sat next to his commander, confirming Breck’s words with the same troubled grimace. They had left behind the curious stares of the yards, retreating instead to the privacy of one of the library’s reading rooms. Breck had ordered drinks brought for them, but Lukien had left his tankard untouched. Mirage sat beside him, transfixed by Breck. Young Aric had been allowed to stay for obvious reasons.

  ‘He left to speak to Jazana Carr four days ago,’ Breck continued. ‘We’ve heard nothing from him since.’

  ‘He went alone?’ asked Lukien incredulously. ‘Why?’

  ‘When you were in Norvor did you ever know a man named Count Onikil, Lukien?’

  The name was vaguely familiar. ‘A Rolgan,’ said Lukien. ‘A nobleman. He was no friend of Jazana’s.’

  ‘Well he is now. Count Onikil came here to deliver a message from the Diamond Queen, asking us to surrender. He said Jazana Carr was ready to attack but wanted to give us one more chance. But when he found out Glass was here he got another idea.’

  ‘What idea?’ asked Mirage.

  Aric spoke up. ‘Peace,’ he spat. ‘That was Onikil’s great plan. He convinced my father to go and speak to Jazana Carr. He was sure he could convince her to stop this madness.’ His face darkened. ‘They were lovers.’

  ‘Don’t get the wrong notion, Lukien,’ said Breck. ‘Glass didn’t go there because he missed Jazana Carr. He went there to kill her. This armour of his — he said it makes him invincible.’ Breck regarded Lukien curiously. ‘What about that, eh?’

  ‘Just tell me about Thorin, Breck — what happened then?’

  ‘Like I said, he rode off with Onikil. At first I didn’t think it was a good idea, but then Onikil’s words began to make sense. We can’t stand up to Jazana Carr, Lukien. We’ve done our best to secure this place but she’s too powerful. This seemed like hope.’

  ‘He went alone?’ pressed Mirage. ‘You sent no men of your own with him?’

  ‘Aye, he went alone,’ Breck muttered. ‘I’m sorry, madam, but that was his choice. Please don’t look at me that way. You knew the baron well enough, I can tell. I blame myself for letting this happen to him. He was captured, surely. We’ve been waiting for a ransom demand.’

  Mirage’s pretty face turned white with worry. Lukien slipped a hand over hers.

  ‘Don’t fear for him,’ he told Mirage. ‘Jazana loves Thorin. It’s a sick love, but true enough. She won’t harm him. And he has the armour to protect himself.’

  ‘Armour,’ Breck scoffed. ‘Gods, if it wasn’t for that bloody armour I would never have let him go! He was so certain of himself, sure that his damned armour would protect him. It doesn’t look to me like it’s as magical as you all seem to believe.’

  With that Lukien felt the hot flare of his amulet beneath his riding coat. He had yet to show the relic to Breck, and wasn’t at all sure that he would. They were old comrades, he and Breck, Royal Chargers from the glory days of the outfit. But Breck’s disdain for Grimhold was plain enough. There even seemed to be resentment in him over Lukien’s long absence.

  That will have to be remedied, thought Lukien sadly. He owed a lot to Breck.

  ‘You’re punishing yourself,’ said Lukien. ‘Don’t. Thorin knew what he was doing. And I know Jazana Carr — she’s not a madwoman. She’s probably holding Thorin, trying to win back his love.’ Lukien laughed at the ridiculous notion. ‘She’s desperate. Sometimes when a woman loves a man. .’

  Next to him he felt Mirage bristle. She looked away. Catching himself, Lukien cleared his throat.

  ‘Anyway, the armour will protect him. Have no doubt about its power, Breck. It is what Thorin claimed. It’s invincible.’

  Both Breck and Aric seemed unconvinced. Lukien saw in both of them the same slight bitterness at being abandoned.

  ‘You don’t believe me,’ Lukien said. ‘I shouldn’t expect you to. But we have both been to Grimhold, Mirage and I. We’ve spent enough time there to know about their magics.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Mirage offered. ‘Sir Breck, you should believe Lukien. The magic of Grimhold is very real. I have experienced it myself.’ Her eyes flicked momentarily toward Lukien, as if warning him not to reveal her secret. ‘The armour Thorin wears is very powerful.’

  ‘Yes, so he told us,’ said Breck. He pushed aside his own tankard crankily. ‘It doesn’t seem to have done him much good, though.’

  ‘He told you we’d be coming,’ said Lukien, reminded of what Breck had said earlier. ‘What did he say exactly?’

  ‘Just that you didn’t want him having the armour. He was very closemouthed about the whole thing.’

  ‘He said he could help us,’ added Aric. The young man looked crestfallen. ‘With his armour, he said we could defeat Jazana Carr. Sir Lukien, if what you’re saying is true than maybe Jazana Carr has taken the armour from him. Maybe we don’t have a chance at all now.’

  ‘Easy, Aric,’ Breck warned. ‘We don’t know what’s happened to your father. He might even be on his way back here as we speak. And even if you’re right, one bit of armour couldn’t possibly make that much difference.’ His gaze fixed on Lukien. ‘Could it?’

  It was a dreadful question, and Lukien didn’t know how to respond. How could he answer without imparting aeons of Akari history? He himself was still mostly in the dark about Akari magic, mostly because his own damned Akari chose not to speak to him.

  ‘Breck, there’s so much to tell you,’ he said finally. ‘We should talk.’

  Always sharp enough to take a hint, Breck turned to Aric and said, ‘Aric, I think the lady looks tired. Be kind to her and find her a place to rest.’

  Aric rose quickly and offered a hand to Mirage, but Mirage shot daggers at Lukien.

  ‘I want to stay,’ she rumbled.

  ‘And I want to talk to Breck alone,’ replied Lukien. ‘Go and rest. Breck’s right — we both need it. I’ll see you soon enough.’

  ‘Lukien. .’

  ‘Just go.’

  The harshness of his tone sent her off in a huff. Not
waiting for Aric Glass, she was out of the room in an instant. Young Aric apologised to his commander and hurried after her. Breck watched them go, clearly amused.

  ‘Your woman, she’s a hot-headed one.’

  ‘She’s not my woman,’ Lukien corrected him. ‘She’s just someone I’m travelling with who wanted to leave Grim-hold.’

  The answer only piqued Breck’s interest. His grin reminded Lukien of the old days, and what a rascal he could be.

  ‘Pretty though, isn’t she? And she has an eye for you, Lukien. Are you sure you’re telling me everything?’

  ‘There’s so much to tell, Breck.’ Lukien wrapped his hands around his mug and stared down into the beer. ‘It feels like forever since I’ve been here, like I don’t belong here any more. And the things I’ve seen! You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

  ‘All right, no more joking. Seriously now, Lukien. You’ve come back just to find Baron Glass?’

  ‘Aye, that, and maybe to see the city again.’ Lukien shrugged. It all sounded silly suddenly. ‘You’ve done a fine job here, Breck. You should be proud of yourself.’

  ‘I am proud, Lukien. I didn’t have much help, you know.’

  The dig didn’t bother Lukien. ‘I know. I was off with other things. But I never forgot about you, Breck. I always asked what was happening in Liiria whenever anyone from these parts came across the desert. I kept my tabs on you.’

  ‘So you knew we were in trouble. You knew we needed help. Still you didn’t come?’ There was real pain in Breck’s voice. ‘You know, I thought you would come. I thought once all those people started flooding into Jador that you’d hear about us and you’d come to help. But you never did, Lukien. Not until now. I’m not even sure why you’re here. Let Baron Glass have his bloody armour. That’s enough to rouse you all the way back here?’

  Stung by the words, Lukien didn’t know how he could possibly apologise. ‘I’m here now,’ he offered. ‘I’ve come to bring Thorin back, it’s true. But if you need another sword against Jazana Carr. .’ He smiled. ‘I mean, if you’ll have me.’

  Breck rubbed his stubbly chin. ‘My wife asks about you sometimes, Lukien. She’s here in the library with me. She’s always wondering if you’ll ever come back to help us. Now I’m going to tell her you’re back, but what else should I say? You see what I’m saying, Lukien? It’s hard to trust you.’

  ‘I brought my armour with me,’ said Lukien. ‘I’m prepared to fight.’

  ‘You were always prepared to fight, Lukien. I’m asking you what I ask all my men — I’m asking if you’re prepared to stay.’

  Lukien blinked hopelessly at Breck. Didn’t this man understand? He had commitments back in Grimhold. Jador was in peril. He had a new life across the desert, new friends. And all of them — old friends and new — wanted something from him. He was being pulled in a hundred directions, and not sure which way to go.

  But in Breck he saw something he couldn’t ignore, a kind of haunted expression he had never expected to see in a man that had once been so jovial. A hardness forged by duty had rubbed off his cheery veneer. To say it simply, Breck had grown up.

  ‘I came to bring Thorin back,’ said Lukien. ‘I came to help him, and I will if I can.’

  Breck looked at him, wanting more.

  ‘But I’m still a Liirian,’ he continued. ‘Koth is still my home. If Jazana Carr comes to take it, you won’t see me running back to Grimhold, Breck. I’ll be here with the rest of you. And I’ll take down as many of her mercenary horde as I can.’

  43

  Dark as Daylight

  Grimhold was more than a mountain keep. It was also a village, tucked happily into a mountain valley, basking safely in the shadow of its ancient namesake. While the Akari had built the first Grimhold, it was the Inhumans who had built the village, escaping from the confines of the dark keep to enjoy the warmth of the desert and its surprising bounty. They had thrived in their village, too, building homes and digging wells and birthing healthy children who did not require the aid of Akari spirits to see or walk. For all Inhumans save one, the sunny village was a welcome oasis. Only White-Eye with her aversion to the sun could not fully appreciate the joys of the place.

  Still, White-Eye did venture to the village on occasion, travelling with Minikin under the safety of darkness to avoid the great pains to her blind eyes. Since the devastating battle in Jador, Minikin had kept mostly to herself. It was White-Eye who had finally convinced her to leave behind her lonely chambers and venture to the village. Under the pretence of visiting old friends, White-Eye had gone along with Minikin and together they had stayed for two days in the home of an Inhuman named Longshort. As his name implied, Longshort had one leg longer than the other and a predominant limp that made walking painful for him. He also had a brood of children so lively that visiting with them took Minikin’s troubles away. The medicine had worked as White-Eye had hoped, and although she could not play outside with the children in daylight she could nevertheless hear their happy cries through the windows, which were all shuttered tight to keep her safe from the sun.

  White-Eye did not miss her chamber in the keep. For her, coming to the village was a rare treat, and she intended to enjoy every bit of it. Her only grievance was that Gilwyn had not come to join her. She knew, however, that he could not, for the battle had left Jador in worse shape than ever, and he was sorely needed now that Lukien was gone and Minikin’s mindset had soured. Instead of pining for Gilwyn, White-Eye spent her time making sure that Minikin was amused and that she spent little time musing over the murder she had committed. It seemed not to matter to Minikin that Aztar and his raiders had deserved their fate, or that it was they who had started the war. For Minikin, the horror of what she had done rang in her mind, driving her depression. Thankfully, Longshort and his children had done wonders for her. After two days with them, the little mistress had at last rediscovered her infectious smile.

  That night, White-Eye slept peacefully. Because the home was modest, Longshort’s wife had made up a bed for her in the main living area near the hearth. It was mostly just the floor covered with pillows, but it was comfortable for White-Eye, who had decided not to go to bed until very late so that she could enjoy the outside. Starlight was blessedly harmless to White-Eye, and the desert night was full of stars. Long after the children had been put to bed and Longshort, his wife, and Minikin retired, White-Eye had remained out in the night. The fresh air exhausted her, though, and when she did finally sleep it was deep and sound. .

  Until a terrible vision seized her.

  She awoke while it was still night. The fire in the hearth had died to embers. Darkness crowded around her. Silence filled the tiny home, but in her head White-Eye heard the most determined screams, thundering in her mind, threatening to crack her skull. She sat up gasping, trying hard to catch her breath. Through Faralok she could ‘see’ the room, but the screams in her head crowded out his calming, constant voice.

  ‘Gilwyn. .’

  Somehow, the sound was Gilwyn. The screams were his; she knew they were. He was very near, calling for her. Her heart began to pound.

  ‘Gilwyn, I hear you,’ she said, not really hearing her own voice. The world around her became a dark and hazy hall, not at all the clear vision Faralok provided. Still, only one thought consumed her foggy mind — helping Gilwyn.

  She threw the covers off her nightgowned body and jumped to her naked feet. It did not occur to her to call for Minikin or the others. Almost nothing occurred to her. She briefly wondered if she were really awake, but the cold floor beneath her toes told her the truth. Groping through the darkness, she stumbled toward the door and opened it. When she did the screams in her head grew louder. Gilwyn was outside, just outside and calling for her.

  ‘I’m coming,’ she told him, trying to shout but unable to raise her voice. She was enormously tired, moving as if drunk. Her own sluggishness put a question in her mind, but that too was quashed by the need to help Gilwyn. Panicked, she stepped out
side the house and looked around the gloomy night. All the homes nearby were dark. Everyone slept. White-Eye took another cautious step. Where was he? Where was Gilwyn?

  ‘Gilwyn, I can’t find you!’ she cried. ‘Help me. Tell me where you are!’

  Again the cries collided in her mind. Again she tried to fix on Faralok. The Akari was there, but just out of reach. She could almost see him, grasping for her. He looked desperate.

  ‘Faralok, I have to find Gilwyn! Stay with me — help me find him!’

  Did he hear her? Did anyone? White-Eye didn’t know, but Gilwyn was very near and needed her.

  So she ran.

  She did not feel the stones cut her feet or the wind tear at her gown. She saw only the looming village and the great desert beyond, and driven on by Gilwyn’s calls she ran to the desert, bumbling blindly through the avenue. Within a mile she was out of breath and well into the desert now. She went on, not really feeling her exhaustion or the burning in her lungs. She began to cry, completely confused, wondering how to make the terrible screams stop.

  Only finding Gilwyn, she decided, and pressed on.

  White-Eye lost her sense of time. Her mind and body moved but were severed from each other. The cries went on, unabated. An hour passed, and then another. By now she was deep within the desert, not really sure where she was or where she was going. She had the notion that the village was only a few yards away, but when she turned around she could not see it at all, not its torchlight or even the slightest outline of a building.

  White-Eye stopped and became afraid. The fog that had seized her began to lift. Suddenly the haze was gone. She could almost feel Faralok again. She wondered briefly what had happened, thinking it all a terrible dream. But she was alone, nearly undressed, and all around her was the desert. She turned to see the sky overhead, swallowing her.

  ‘Gilwyn?’

  Her voice was meek and feckless. Gilwyn was nowhere near her. She realised he had never been near, nor had he screamed for her at all.