by John Marco
Aric felt the hope drain out of him. ‘I beg you not to do this, my lord. Don’t fight my father unless you have a death wish.’
‘I should be insulted by that,’ Raxor warned. ‘But I assure you, I want to live and go back to Hes to see my woman again. I’ve brought an army to secure that future, and I don’t think any man – demon driven or not – can stand against an army.’
‘My father can,’ said Aric. ‘The Devil’s Armour can.’
‘Tantalizing hints,’ growled Raxor. ‘That’s all I hear about this armour. I will find out for myself if that’s what it takes.’
‘I wish I could tell you more. All I know is what I’ve seen.’ Aric held his breath a moment. ‘Except for one more thing, my lord.’
Raxor stopped fidgeting. ‘What?’
‘There is something else I haven’t yet told you, another reason for you to wait. There may be a way to defeat my father and his armour.’
‘Then tell me what it is!’
‘It’s nothing you can do, my lord. It’s a sword. A special sword called the Sword of Angels.’
Raxor rolled his eyes. ‘More magic?’
‘Lukien is questing for it, my lord. It is said to be the only way of defeating the Devil’s Armour.’
‘I know Lukien,’ drawled Raxor. ‘Too well. You’re asking me to trust another enemy.’
‘I’m asking you to wait, my lord. Just wait. If Lukien finds the sword—’
‘It’s nonsense, Aric Glass! There is not a suit of armour in the world that can save a man from a thousand knives. The Bronze Knight wastes his time. He should find himself an army instead of searching for a sword.’
‘He had an army, my lord,’ Aric reminded him. ‘I was part of it.’
‘And you lost. I know. But I cannot wait. It won’t be magic that saves us from Baron Glass, young Aric. It will be Reecian blood.’
The king was done talking. Aric could hear his finality.
‘So I’ve come this way for nothing,’ said Aric wearily.
‘You did what you were supposed to do. You have delivered your message.’
‘To no good at all,’ keened Aric. He shook his head in defeat. ‘I’m sorry for you, my lord. Prince Daralor was right – you are a brave man. The Chargers at the library were brave too.’
‘You mean to frighten me, boy? I am already frightened.’ Raxor eyed his quiet pavilion. ‘I’m tired. I want to sleep now. You have a decision to make, Aric Glass. What will you do now?’
‘I can’t go back to Liiria, my lord. If you will have me, I would rather stay and wait for my father’s reply to you.’
‘And then?’
‘That’s up to you,’ Aric told him. ‘It’s all up to you, my lord.’
Alone in the firelight, the two men fell silent. A mastiff snuffled its fleshy jowls, looking questioningly at its master. King Raxor searched his pocket for a treat, forgetting it was empty. The dog barked unhappily. Raxor snapped at it to be quiet and tugged his coat around his neck. He told Aric to have the guards find him shelter for the night, then turned and walked toward his lonely pavilion.
28
In the years they had spent together in Norvor, Thorin had made love to Jazana hundreds of times. But in those days she had always exhausted him, because she had the appetite of a woman many years younger and because Thorin had no magic to keep his manhood at attention. They had been well-matched lovers, though, and had enjoyed each other, and seldom spoke of their growing age.
For Thorin, those days were gone now. In the influence of his Devil’s Armour, he was so much younger than he’d ever been, and never tired of love making. With the spirit of Kahldris firing his loins, he could bed the beautiful Jazana over and over without tiring, proving his prowess to her each night in their grand bed. Tonight, Thorin listened to her moans, watching her breasts in the moonlight as her eyes rolled backward into her head. Cradled in his armoured arm, her neck pulsing with breath, she had yielded like a flower to his yearnings. Outside, a storm had rolled southward, rattling the windows with rain. Thorin listened to the thunder. In his mind he felt the pleasure of the demon Kahldris, like a good friend sharing his conquest. Through his eyes the demon watched the woman in the bed, adoring her. From the first time he had seen her, Kahldris had lusted for Jazana. And unknown to her, two lovers put their flesh against her.
Thorin held his passion, governing it, savouring it. His rigid body moved like a instrument over Jazana. His hand took her head, lifting it from the torn pillow, and her whole body came off the bed. She cried out, not in pain, and let his kisses pelt her neck. She was naked, twisted in the sheets, her hair wildly splayed, her fingers clawing his back. Kahldris trembled at the sensation, loving the way her nails bit Thorin’s flesh. Dawn was coming quickly, but tonight the lovers barely slept. On the eve of battle, Thorin’s hungers knew no end. Soon his armies would march. Soon the Kryss would be his again. The memories of former glories charged his body, exciting him.
‘Look at me,’ he groaned. He grasped Jazana’s hair. ‘Jazana, look at me.’
Her eyes fluttered open. Panting, she could barely speak. She smiled, her voice shaking. ‘I love you, Thorin. I love you.’
‘Jazana, I love you. You belong to me.’
‘Yes . . .’
‘You’re mine.’
‘Yes!’
Hearing her laments broke the dam of his control. Kahldris loosed a silent scream as the passion convulsed Thorin’s body. He cried out just as thunder shook the tower. Slowly, slowly, his muscled tensed and then relaxed. The burning in his loins subsided. Still cradling Jazana, he lowered her to the mattress. Her body rose and fell with heavy breaths. Her eyes filled with him. Kneeling, Baron Glass leaned back and put his armoured arm across his chest, feeling the burning metal. Kahldris spoke to him. His words came like a syrupy dream.
Thank you.
Thorin nodded, catching his breath. It had been Kahldris that had pushed him, Kahldris who had wanted one more go before the sun rose. The demon laughed the way a comrade might patting Thorin’s back. Together they looked down at the woman, pleased with themselves.
‘Sleep now,’ moaned Jazana.
To Thorin, it sounded like a plea. She always did so much for him, never arguing, never refusing him. To others, she was made of steel. But sometimes, Thorin thought her weak.
‘Yes,’ he agreed, and lowered himself down next to her, draping his arm of flesh across her chest and putting his nose close to her cheek. As Jazana stared up at the dark ceiling, exhausted, Thorin eyed the window and the dark night beyond. At once his thoughts turned to battle.
In the city and the hills around it, his army waited, bivouacked in tents or housed in the old barracks of the Royal Chargers, enduring the rain and the long wait to fight. They were mercenaries mostly, seasoned troops who had long been part of Jazana’s world, but there were Norvan regulars as well, those who had not marched back to Norvor after Koth fell. Baron Glass supposed he had three-thousand men in the city ready to fight. A goodly number, surely, though not all he had hoped. The troubles in Norvor had prevented Demortris and Manjek and the others from sending troops, leaving Thorin to make do with his mercenaries. He knew that Raxor had come with almost as many men, and that the Reecians were all regulars, with not a single mercenary in their ranks. He was sure that his old enemy had brought only the best with him, and his scouts had confirmed the Reecian war machines and mastiffs. They would not be easy to defeat, but Baron Glass felt confident. In his fabulous armour, he alone could slay an army. He was convinced of that now. It would be no harder than taking a woman.
‘Your eyes are open,’ Jazana whispered. ‘Close your eyes.’
Thorin took a breath, smelling Jazana’s perfume and musk. He had not lied to her during their love-making – he loved her truly. She was more faithful than anyone had ever been to him.
‘I don’t deserve you,’ he told her.
Jazana laughed. ‘No more sweet talk. I’m tired. Go to sleep.’
&
nbsp; ‘I cannot sleep.’
‘You’re thinking too much. Close your eyes and relax.’
But Thorin was like a little child, too excited to sleep. He had still not answered Raxor’s letter, and enjoyed the thought of the old king twisting and afraid. Like the marvelous painting in the library, he had battled Raxor many times in his youth, when they both were virile. Raxor was old now, but Thorin was young again. He wondered what Raxor would think when at last they met.
‘He’s afraid of me,’ said Thorin. ‘That’s why he wants to talk.’
Jazana said nothing, for she did not like speaking of the matter. For too long she had lived with war. Now she wanted only peace.
‘I am thinking of speaking to him,’ Thorin went on, ‘in a day or so. When the weather clears.’
Jazana opened her eyes. ‘Are you? That’s good.’
‘We should speak. I want to see him. I want him to see me.’
‘Oh.’
Jazana rolled over.
Thorin admired her naked back. He traced a finger over her smooth skin. She was like a sculpture, beautifully timeless. Age had given her experience without robbing her looks. It was easy to tell when she was troubled, and Thorin knew she was troubled now.
‘They come to harm us, Jazana. I did not invite them here.’
‘You said you would talk to them. I misunderstood.’
‘To make him see what he is up against!’
‘To make yourself feel like a man. Now I understand. Go to sleep, Thorin.’
‘You try me sometimes, Jazana, do you know that? I have explained this to you.’
‘And I have accepted it.’
Still she gave him her back. Thorin grimaced.
‘I had a fine time tonight. Thank you, my love.’
The Diamond Queen chuckled. ‘Good.’
‘You have to understand, Raxor tasks me. He has brought his army here to challenge me. To challenge us, Jazana.’
‘So why talk to him? You’ve already made up your mind, Thorin. You’re going to take back the Kryss. I know you well enough, Thorin Glass. You want this war, so please don’t tell me you don’t.’
‘The Kryss is ours,’ muttered Thorin. He glared at the ceiling. ‘It was ours until Akeela gave it away.’
Jazana’s back rose with a sigh. ‘Promise me one thing, Thorin. Promise me that you’ll keep your promise to me.’
‘Eh?’
‘About Norvor!’ Jazana swiveled to face him. ‘Remember?’
‘Of course I do! When I have dealt with Raxor I will deal with Norvor,’ Thorin assured her. ‘Just as I promised.’
‘Norvor needs us, Thorin. It can’t wait forever.’
‘Have I not promised?’
She looked sceptical. Her lips twisted. ‘I worry, that’s all. We’ve lost Carlion . . .’
‘I have told you, I will deal with it. When this business with Raxor is done, I’ll ride to Carlion myself to kill Elgan. You will have his head, my lady, and any other part of him you wish for your shelf.’
Jazana closed her eyes and was quiet for a moment. ‘War. I am sick of it. You should talk with Raxor.’
‘I will.’
‘No, I mean really speak to him. See what he wants.’
Before Thorin could reply, he felt Kahldris push his way forward, to the front of Thorin’s mind.
She speaks like a woman, the demon jeered. Raxor has come to test you, Baron.
Thorin tried ignoring the Akari. ‘Jazana, do not worry. We are stronger, stronger than Elgan. Stronger than anyone. Elgan’s days in Carlion are numbered. Soon you will return. But not yet. Please, not while I need you.’
Do not beg her! said the demon with disgust.
‘You should talk to him, Thorin.’ Jazana finally turned to look at him again. ‘Will you talk?’
No.
Thorin put the demon from his mind. ‘We have enough men to defeat them. I do not need to talk, Jazana. It will only make us look weak.’
‘That’s not what Rodrik says. He says the Reecians have come to defend themselves, because they’re scared of us. Scared of you, Thorin.’
‘Varl’s council clouds your mind, my love. Why is he here anyway? He should be back in Norvor.’
‘He is a good soldier, Thorin. Won’t you use him in your battle?’
‘No.’ Thorin grinned. ‘He stays to protect you from me, Jazana. He loves you.’
The accusation made Jazana uncomfortable. She draped her arm across his chest and, as usual, changed the subject. ‘We have Liiria, my love.’ She kissed his cheek. ‘That’s all you ever wanted. And I have Norvor, and that’s all I ever dreamed of having. Let the Reecians have their river. Talk to them and send them away.’
‘Jazana . . .’
‘Talk to them for me. Show your love for me, will you? Have I not done much for you?’
Thorin had to nod. ‘You have. And I am grateful.’
Kahldris began to seethe. No, Baron.
‘Will you at least answer Raxor’s message?’ asked Jazana. She watched her lover carefully. ‘Say you will, Thorin.’
He could not say no to her. Because he loved her, because she had given so much to him, he relented.
‘All right,’ he grunted, pulling away from her lips. ‘For you, I will talk. Just talk.’
‘My big bear,’ Jazana purred. ‘I’m happy.’
‘Wonderful,’ drawled Thorin. He closed his eyes. ‘Now let me sleep.’
But Thorin could not sleep, for the promise he made haunted him, and the demon Kahldris screamed angrily in his mind. He felt betrayed, the Akari told Thorin, and refused to let his hope escape into slumber. Thorin lay naked in the bed with his eyes open, listening to Jazana’s soft breaths as he argued with Kahldris, finally tossing his feet over the side. There was a robe on a peg near the bed. Thorin grabbed it quietly, hurried it around his shoulders, then left his sleeping lover, going into the adjoining dressing room. He turned the key on a oil lamp along the wall, lighting the room gently and squinting against its brightness. Rain continued pelting the window and tower walls. The wind tore at the bricks. It would be an ugly day when dawn finally came.
Dress yourself, Kahldris commanded.
‘What?’
Walk with me, Baron Glass.
‘I’m tired, demon, and in no mood to fence with you.’
To Kahldris, there was no room for discussion. In a voice like ice he repeated his order.
Get dressed.
Instead of arguing, Thorin relented to the spirit’s command. In the room he found clothes for himself, quickly dressing in trousers and a wrinkled shirt. The shirt had only a right sleeve. The left one had been torn off to accommodate his armoured arm. He pulled boots onto his feet, found his leather cloak draped over a chair, and left the room by gently closing the door behind him. Out in the hall he heard only silence. Lionkeep and its servants slept. Thorin waited for Kahldris’ direction. Like a leash he felt the tug, dragging him onward, dragging him toward the stairs descending the tower. Man and demon were silent as they walked the halls, finally coming to a door leading out toward the stable. Thorin paused here, standing in the threshold and looking at the teeming sky.
‘I’m not going out there,’ he declared.
Sometimes he could see Kahldris’ face. Other times, like now, he could not, yet he could still feel the Akari’s sinister smile.
I have something to show you, Baron.
‘Something out there?’
Come with me.
Thorin hesitated a moment, then cinched the collar of his cloak tight around his neck before stepping into the night. At once the mud of the grassy earth sucked at his boots. Cold rain pelted his face. Unable to see clearly without the aid of his helmet, he looked around at the shadowed trees and buildings, wondering what possible lesson could be found in such a dismal place. Like the library, Lionkeep had been brought back to life after the battle of Koth. At least mostly. With him and Jazana Carr calling it home, the former palace of Liirian kings had
been rebuilt, staffed with Liirians and Norvans alike and guarded by Jazana’s ubiquitous mercenaries. But in this part of the keep there were no guards, only empty stables and dilapidated buildings begging for repair. The wind made the broken hinges of the buildings sing. Leaves tumbled down from the trees, striking Thorin’s face.
‘So? Why are we here?’ he asked.
As he finished the question, he watched the air before him start to shimmer. Out of it stepped Kahldris, his body glowing, his face drawn with anger. This time, he wore the garb of the general he’d been in life, with a gleaming black breast plate and bare, muscular arms. A ghostly sword hung at his side. His eyes glimmered with unnatural light, turning to slivers when they locked on Glass.
‘Just walk,’ he told the baron, then turned and proceeded through the rain.
Thorin followed, confused by his appearance. Kahldris walked like a living man, but his feet made no impression in the muddy earth. His long hair trailed down his back, untouched by the rain, and there was no sound when he moved, only the noise of the breeze passing through him. He led Thorin past the old buildings and the broken corrals, into a field dotted with twisted trees. Shadows crawled across the rolling ground. In the east, the first blush of sunlight struggled up the horizon.
‘Where are you taking me?’ Thorin asked.
Kahldris extended his arm. ‘Come,’ he bade. ‘Walk beside me.’
‘I’m wet and cold, Kahldris. Tell me where we’re going.’
‘To a place far away, Baron Glass. A place long ago.’ Kahldris put his arm around Thorin. ‘Keep watch, and listen to my story.’
‘Story?’
‘A lesson, Baron Glass.’ Kahldris let his arm slide off Thorin as he walked. ‘Listen.’
‘Be quick, please,’ Thorin quipped. ‘I—’
He stopped, not just talking but walking, too. From out of the darkened trees he saw a rider approach, thundering toward him. Dressed like Kahldris, the man was clearly Akari, garbed in the same elaborate armour and bearing a long spear. His horse snorted as it tore up the ground. Thorin drew back as the beast bore down, dodging its gallop. Without regard the rider hurried past them. Thorin watched as he disappeared behind the curtain of rain. The wind swallowed the hoofbeats.
