The Devil's Armour (Gollancz S.F.) (78 page)

The statement truly frightened Van. Looking at the baron suddenly made him shrivel, as if every word he said was true, as if every skill Van possessed was impotent. He had fought in Jador and known the power of the people there. Those they protected in Grimhold were said to be beyond the touch of man. Now, here had come a god into his midst. He looked over at Breck, who looked reassuringly calm in the face of Glass’ boast.

‘Koth has changed, Baron Glass, but we are not weak,’ he said. ‘We have a thousand men under arms here, ready to defend this city, and if Jazana Carr comes she’ll have this hill to contend with. We’ve gotten supplies from Reec too, and a promise from King Raxor for more help if we need it.’

‘Raxor?’ Glass interrupted. ‘He is King of Reec now?’

‘His brother Karis died a year ago,’ Breck explained. ‘He’s been keeping an eye on Norvor like the rest of us. What I’m saying to you is that I do not think I want your magic here. Maybe we need it, maybe we don’t. But you stole that armour. You say that Lukien is after you, but won’t tell me why. I think you’ve brought poison into my library, Baron Glass.’

For the first time, anger flashed in Glass’ eyes. ‘This isn’t your library, Sir Breck, nor does Liiria belong to you any more than it does me. I have come to defend my country, with your help or without it.’

‘Oh?’ said Breck with a nasty smirk. ‘Then where have you been for the past twenty years, Baron? You let Liiria
collapse while you were in the bed of that slut Jazana Carr, and when war came to tear us apart you were hiding across the Desert of Tears, keeping safe while the rest of us fought.’

‘I never forgot Liiria,’ Glass flared. ‘Do not presume to know my heart.’ He slammed his fist against his breastplate. ‘Every night and every day I thought of Liiria, wondering if Jazana Carr had come to rape her, or if her spies had found my family. Yes, you remember that threat, don’t you, Breck?
I’m
the reason she’s come to Liiria – to hurt and humiliate me. To kill my family if she can find them. And now I am here to stop her!’

Van held his breath. Breck said coolly, ‘Maybe your family has moved on since you left them. Have you ever considered that?’

‘I don’t know where they are,’ said Glass. ‘I haven’t been good to them, I know. They think I’m dead, and that’s how it should be. But at least I can protect them from Jazana Carr, by protecting Liiria.’

‘Is that what they think?’ pressed Breck. ‘That you’re dead?’

Glass nodded shamefully. ‘I never sent them word I was alive. I wouldn’t even know where to find them.’

It was hard for Van to hold his tongue, to watch the baron grieve over a family, at least one of whom was somewhere in the library, oblivious to his father’s homecoming. Breck surprised him by changing the subject.

‘Tell me, Baron – what will happen when Lukien comes here for you? Will you go with him? Abandon us again? Or is he coming to help us fight as well?’

‘He is coming because I have come,’ said Glass.

‘You know this for certain?’

‘Yes,’ said Glass, and did not elaborate.

‘Because you stole the armour?’

‘The Devil’s Armour belonged to Grimhold. Now it belongs to me. When Lukien comes I will make him see the truth of that, and how things have changed.’

Breck folded his arms over his chest. ‘And what if he
doesn’t like your explanation? He’ll fight you for it. That’s trouble I don’t need.’

‘You have troubles already, and Lukien is the least of them. It is spring. That means Jazana Carr will be moving against Koth. My guess is that you have only a few weeks left.’ Baron Glass stood up tall. ‘I can help you. I can defeat her army.’

Breck thought for a very long moment, not even flinching against Glass’ muscle-flexing. He no longer examined the astonishing armour. Instead he studied the baron’s face.

‘You’ve changed, Baron Glass. There is something in your eyes I don’t like, something that wasn’t there two years ago.’ Breck leaned in closer. ‘I think I see a touch of madness there.’

‘What you see,’ said Glass in a growl, ‘is determination. I
have
changed, Sir Breck. I have chosen not to live as a slave any more. And I will fight Jazana Carr, if not here at the library then somewhere else. You can join me or refuse me. But you cannot stop me.’

There was no denying it. Breck shook his head as if he no longer had answers. ‘Will you be our saviour?’ he wondered. ‘Or the death of us? You may stay, Baron Glass, at least for a while. There’s still much I want to know about you, but you’ve already given me enough to think about.’

A huge smile splayed across Glass’ face. ‘You have made the right choice, Sir Breck. Together we will keep Koth safe, then take back Andola, too.’

‘Maybe, Baron Glass, maybe. But now I have something for you to think about.’

Thorin Glass had two sons and two daughters he had not seen in almost two decades. There was also a wife, Romonde, whom he had deeply loved and who, regardless of the nights he’d spent in Jazana Carr’s bed, he had never truly forgotten. Thorin had long ago lost hope that Romonde was alive and supposed that she, at least, would not have to endure Jazana Carr’s promised revenge. Still, Thorin worried often over his sons and daughters. After his imprisonment the world had thought him dead, and so Thorin believed his children had scattered to the winds, especially in the aftermath of Liiria’s demise. Despite all the magical things he had seen in Grimhold, he never really had faith in seeing any of his children again. And that was why, more than any other reason, Breck’s news had shocked him so.

At first Thorin felt nothing at all. He was simply numb. Breck had told him that Aric was well and living in the library, and all Thorin could do was stare dumbly with his mouth agape. His son was nearly twenty now and an asset to their army, Breck pointed out. He had remained in Koth his entire life, and when the call had gone out for men to defend the city, Aric had volunteered. The statement made a lump rise in Thorin’s throat, the first of many emotions that would dazzle him over that night and coming day. Neither Breck nor Vanlandinghale could offer him more
information, however. Aric, they told him, was notoriously tight-lipped about the rest of his family.

‘He’s embarrassed because you abandoned them,’ Breck had explained. ‘He’s known since meeting me that you are alive.’

That night, Baron Glass had gone to a shabby little chamber in the library and had not emerged again till morning. There were not many rooms left within the building, most already occupied by soldiers or staff, but the men who gave it up for him did so gladly once they discovered his identity. His arrival was too big a thing to keep secret, Breck warned him. Aric would find out very soon.

Thorin hardly slept at all that night as he waited for his son to knock on his door. He had taken off the Devil’s Armour finally, wearing only the components of his missing arm. Thorin never removed those pieces now. To do so not only rendered him with one arm again; it also severed his powerful link with Kahldris. There were two cots in the room, across one of which Thorin gently laid his armour. The other he kept for himself, resting his tired body as he waited for Aric to arrive.

Aric never did.

The only visitor was Vanlandinghale, who brought some clothes for him and some plain food, leaving it on the table before departing. Thorin could not help but wonder what the young lieutenant thought of him, or what the rest of them were saying now. Mostly, though, he thought of Aric. He had a picture in his mind of the last time he had seen his son, a tot of three years with a fresh face and unkempt hair that no amount of spittle could keep in place. His brother Nial was the older of the two; the twin girls older still. Aric was the youngest, and the perfect picture of him had not faded from Thorin’s memory.

Remarkably, Kahldris did not speak to Thorin the entire night. Though Thorin could feel the Akari’s presence, Kahldris was strangely silent, letting him brood without
advice or judgement. Thorin was grateful for the spirit’s silence. Day by day, the creature Minikin had warned him against was becoming more and more his companion. He was even trustworthy. It seemed to Thorin that only Kahldris truly grasped his angst and pain. Perhaps it was because Kahldris himself had been a military man, and had probably lost his own family to war. Kahldris, Thorin decided, understood him.

By the next morning, Thorin had tired of his cramped quarters and his own dismal company. Attiring himself again in his armour – mostly because he feared it being stolen – he went down to the yards where the horses were kept, leaving shortly before sunrise so he wouldn’t be seen. A handful of boys slept in the hay, but when he bellowed for them they came running, hurrying to ready his horse and watching him with awe. Thorin could not help that other soldiers had already seen him, and as he passed them in the yards he wondered if any of them were Aric. Still, he made no attempt to speak to any of them. He simply rode out of the yards and down Library Hill, into the waiting heart of Koth.

Purposely avoiding the busy avenues along Capital Street, Thorin rode instead around the shops and taverns into Chancellery Square. Just as he had seen it from the hillside, he noticed again how much it had changed. In the distance rose Lionkeep, where he had spent hours arguing with King Akeela and his father before him. An eerie quiet palled the square, long abandoned now. Thorin trotted slowly along the parade grounds, pitted by horse hooves and littered with broken bits of lances and spears. The great government buildings had long been left to ruin, and if Thorin listened hard enough he could hear the ghosts of his long-gone friends, the noblemen of Liiria who had made their country great. Once, the square had been filled with busy civil servants and scheming bankers. Now all of them were gone, and the void they left was like the sudden emptiness in Thorin’s heart.

Finally, he neared the House of Dukes. Most of the grand building still stood, though it was badly decayed. This was the place he had missed the most, where he had led his fellow landowners and where his voice held sway. Thorin stared up at the beautiful tower of grey stone and tarnished silver leaf, and for a moment could not move. His horse fidgeted beneath him. The quiet of the parade ground unnerved him . . .

Until he heard a sound.

Another horse was approaching. Following him. Thorin did not turn around. He knew without looking who had trailed him and why. A sweat broke out on his brow. Even the armour could not protect him from this confrontation.

‘Easy,’ he whispered, patting the neck of his mount. He waited in the shadow of the House of Dukes as the rider drew nearer. What would Aric look like, he wondered?

At last the rider drew up next to him. Thorin hesitated before turning, but the corner of his eye confirmed his suspicion. Aric Glass – his son – wore the uniform of a Royal Charger, complete with hat and cape. Though he had never seen him as a man, he was easily recognisable.

‘I followed you,’ said the young man finally. His voice was calm but sad. ‘The others told me you had ridden off. I should have guessed you’d come here.’

Thorin Glass looked at his son and was pleased. Aric had grown into a handsome young man, with the same dark, cowlicked hair.

‘I waited for you last night,’ said Thorin. ‘You didn’t come.’

‘I needed time to think on what I’d say to you.’

‘And now you’ve had your time.’ Thorin nodded at his son. ‘Speak.’

Aric Glass had an innocent face, the kind more suited to a poet than a soldier. There was a remarkable lack of anger in his expression, but tremendous confusion, too. He said, ‘I can’t believe you came back. After all these years I can’t believe it.’

‘I came back because I finally could,’ said Thorin. ‘And to protect you.’

‘You didn’t even know I was alive,’ sneered Aric. ‘And the only reason you came back is because you missed having Liiria under your thumb. Well, those days are gone,
Father
.’ He looked Thorin up and down. ‘I know about your special armour. Breck told me about it. You think it makes you strong. Maybe it does. But I know the truth. I know you would have never come back without it.’

‘Aye, the armour makes me strong. And yes, I was weak before I found it. Too weak to come back for you and the others . . .’

‘Damn it, stop now,’ blasted Aric. ‘You were alive all those years. You could have come back any time, but you preferred the bed of that harlot, Jazana Carr.’

‘I could not come back,’ Thorin argued. ‘Not while Akeela was alive. If he had ever known I still lived he would have found you all and killed you. By the time he was dead I was an old man, and I didn’t know where any of you were, or even if you were still alive.’ Thorin looked at Aric hopefully. ‘Will you at least tell me that?’