The Devil's Armour (Gollancz S.F.) (84 page)

‘It doesn’t matter now,’ he replied.

Another hour, even another day – neither would keep them from facing Thorin.

‘You just don’t want to see him,’ quipped Mirage. ‘You’re afraid.’

‘A little.’ Lukien rode on, not bothering to look at her. ‘You should be afraid, too.’

‘I’m not afraid of Thorin, Lukien. He loves me.’

Was that a jibe, Lukien wondered? Love had not been a topic between them since their night in Marn. Now that they had reached Koth, however, that would surely change – unlike Lukien’s feelings for Mirage.

He paused again and noticed a dark and empty field ahead. His eyes fixed on it horribly. Bent and tangled trees, looking dead from the long winter, struggled out of the gloom. The field went on for miles, stretching off into the countryside. Lukien took a deep breath, remembering the scent of apple blossoms.

‘What’s that?’ asked Mirage.

‘It
was
an orchard,’ Lukien replied. He smiled in secret pleasure.

Mirage shook her head. ‘Forget it. I’m not going in there.’ When Lukien didn’t reply, she took notice of his strange expression. ‘What are you thinking about?’

Lukien turned his horse around. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Something you wouldn’t understand.’

The orchard held a memory he had never shared with anyone. It was there, lost among the apple trees, that he had first made love to Cassandra. Like children they had run off to be bad, but it had been so sweet that even the crushing aftermath of the act couldn’t dull its beautiful memory. As Lukien crossed back across the yard, he considered Cassandra and all she had meant to him. That was
love
, he realised.

‘Well, we’re here,’ he said crossly. He didn’t relish the duty, but knew the time had come. ‘After we find Thorin you’ll need to tell me what you want to do.’

Mirage became pensive. They had spoken very little of her plans, for she still held out hope that they could remain together. It seemed not to matter to her that she had failed to win his love during their journey. Her persistence irked Lukien.

‘It’s time for you to decide,’ he told her. ‘We’re going on to the library. You know what that means, don’t you?’

‘Let us speak to Thorin first,’ Mirage suggested. ‘He may not be eager to return with you, Lukien.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I want this thing between us settled. Will you stay in the library? Or will you return to Grimhold with me?’

Mirage refused to answer.

‘I don’t love you, girl!’

Her face cracked with emotion.

‘Don’t,’ he warned her. ‘You’ve manipulated me enough. I brought you here. I kept you safe. I did my part!’

She nodded hurriedly, catching her breath. ‘Yes, I know,’ she said. ‘But I have time yet, Lukien. You won’t be able to leave me. I know you won’t. I know you love me.’

‘I do not!’ Lukien stopped his horse roughly. ‘Why must
you go on with this? Because I care for you? Because I was kind when you were scarred? That is not enough!’

‘It can be,’ Mirage said hopefully. ‘It can grow if you let it.’

Lukien shut his eyes in frustration. ‘I love another, Mirage. You are beautiful, I admit it. But I am cursed. I can love no other.’

When he opened his eyes she was looking at him. She was smiling, though she looked profoundly sad. ‘We belong together, Lukien. I love you, and I will not deny it or be afraid. I can help you if you’d let me.’

‘No,’ said Lukien. ‘It will never be that way.’

Mirage turned from him and started riding off. ‘When the time comes, you won’t leave me, Lukien.’

This time it was she who led the way, riding off toward the great library.

In less than an hour they had reached the hill. Mirage quickly fell back into her silent state, too anxious and awed to speak. Where Lionkeep was desolate, the soaring library and its surroundings teemed with activity, and no one seemed to notice the two meagre-looking strangers straggling up the hill with a donkey. Though the argument with Mirage had soured Lukien’s mood, he brightened immediately when they reached Library Hill, happy to see it vital again, albeit drastically changed. The Cathedral of Knowledge no longer was a place of learning. Instead Breck and his Royal Chargers – who were everywhere – had transformed the structure into a fortress. Even before the full library came into view, Lukien could see the transformation. Breck had done an admirable job, better than he had imagined. Heartened, he rode on with a new sense of optimism.

As they crested the hill they came at last to the main yard of the library. Though the sun had set, the yard was still alive with activity. Huge braziers had been set up on the ground, allowing the men, women, and even children to
work by their warm light. Folks who were clearly from the surrounding villages hammered at weapons or groomed horses or fed livestock, all preparing for the coming war with Jazana Carr. Children ran through the yard, yelling excitedly as they played under the watchful gaze of older siblings, most of whom worked at some tedious yet enormously necessary task. Amid the activity soldiers rode horses and practised swordplay, most in the uniforms of Royal Chargers. None, however, took any notice of Lukien or Mirage.

‘They don’t even see us!’ Mirage laughed. Like Lukien, she had expected at least some resistance. She looked around the yard for Baron Glass. ‘I don’t see Thorin . . .’

‘Can you imagine Thorin shoeing horses?’ Lukien asked, sure that his old comrade was inside the library with Breck and the officers. ‘Come on; we’ll ask around.’

Driving his mount toward a group of young soldiers, Lukien hailed them. They looked up from their work mending bowstrings with some annoyance.

‘You need something?’ asked one of them, not unpleasantly. He was perhaps the youngest of the group, not quite twenty, Lukien supposed. His hazel eyes and light colouring made him look more like a boy than a Charger, even a bit like Gilwyn. His companions kept working as he regarded Lukien and Mirage.

‘We’re looking for someone,’ replied Lukien, unsure how much to divulge. ‘We heard there’s a man in charge here named Breck. We’d like to see him.’

‘Just like that?’ asked the young man. His friends looked up from their mending to chuckle. ‘Fellow, Breck is very busy. But if you’re looking for shelter or something to eat, I can probably help you. You from the villages?’

‘No,’ said Lukien. ‘We’re from the south. We really need to speak to Breck. It’s important.’

‘The south?’ The soldier put down the bow he was stretching and sharpened his gaze on them. ‘No one sees
Breck without a good reason. If you tell me who you are maybe—’

‘Aric?’ called a voice suddenly. The youngster paused and turned quickly. Lukien looked to see another man coming quickly toward them. When his eyes met Lukien’s he halted. ‘By all the hells,’ he gasped. ‘I can’t believe it . . .’

‘Sir?’ the soldier questioned. ‘I’m sorry, these people—’

The man held up his hand. ‘Don’t say anything, Aric. Just . . . stop.’

He smiled at Lukien, looking for all the world like a long-lost friend. Lukien could barely speak. It had been almost two years since he’d seen Breck and his old comrade looked older than he should have. Yet he was unmistakable in his uniform, and unmistakably happy to see him.

‘I was told you’d come,’ said Breck. He came up to them, stepping between Lukien’s horse and the confused soldier. Now the other soldiers were looking too, suddenly wondering just who had gotten their commander’s attention. But Breck chose all his words carefully, as if not wanting to reveal Lukien’s identity. ‘You look well,’ he said with a grin that masked some sadness. ‘At least as well as could be expected.’

Lukien hurried down off his horse, almost ignoring the troubled Mirage. There were no words in him; all of them just blew away. He went to Breck and hugged him hard, the way soldiers do. Breck laughed and patted his back.

‘Ah, it’s good to see you!’ Breck bellowed. ‘Welcome home, my friend. Welcome home!’

Lukien peeled himself away and gestured toward Mirage. ‘Breck, I want you to meet someone. This is Mirage.’

‘Mirage?’ Breck beamed at her. ‘Such an exotic name. Please, come down off your horse, woman. You are welcome here.’

‘You’re Breck?’ Mirage asked. Her gaze darted to Lukien.

‘Come on down,’ Lukien told her. ‘This is he.’

Breck’s smile widened. ‘You’ve told her about me, then? You’re a skunk. You always did get the beauties.’

Mirage coloured at the compliment. With Breck’s help she got down from her horse. ‘It’s been a long ride, Sir Breck. And when Lukien talks it’s mostly of his old days.’

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.