The Sword Of Angels (Gollancz S.F.) (8 page)

‘I have already murdered for you, demon.’

‘And I have given you so much!’ Kahldris came to stand before the baron, his strange body rifling through angry colours. ‘Not just your arm, not just your manhood. A kingdom I have delivered you!’

‘You will not harm Gilwyn,’ said Thorin evenly.

‘Bah! He is already harmed.’ Kahldris turned his frightening face away, staring absently into the darkness. The long days of effort had made him sullen. ‘He holds the secret of this thing, Baron Glass – the only means to find my brother. I cannot stretch myself far enough to find him. Wherever Malator hides, it is beyond me.’ He came closer again, this time touching Thorin’s arm, the arm that had been missing for decades. Now encased in the fabulous armour, the arm held life again. ‘I will give you everything your heart desires. You worry about the enemies on the border but you must trust me. They are nothing. They cannot even nick you. But my brother can bring an end to everything, Baron Glass. You must not let fondness weaken you.’

Thorin stared into Kahldris’ imploring gaze. It was not like looking at a man. If one could see heaven and hell, that was Kahldris.

‘I will make Gilwyn understand,’ Thorin promised.

At last, Kahldris nodded. He surprised the baron by showing something
like grief. ‘You do not know what it is like to be betrayed by a brother, Baron Glass,’ he said in a sanguine voice. ‘We could have saved our whole world.’

Thorin sympathized with the demon. It was why Kahldris hated the Jadori so much, and why he hated his brother, too. He wondered why the other Akari had feared him, when his motives seemed so pure.

‘But,’ added Kahldris, ‘we will not let the same thing happen to Liiria. We will save Liiria, Baron Glass. You and I together.’

‘Yes,’ Thorin agreed. Again he felt that inexplicable bond. ‘If this machine really works as promised, we’ll find Malator.’

Before he could return to his chair, a knock at the door intruded. Thorin hesitated before answering, watching as Kahldris dissolved from view. Suddenly alone, he went to the door, turned the lock and opened it a crack, just enough to see a trio of Norvan soldiers waiting there. The men looked nervous, as if they knew the stupidity of interrupting him.

‘What is it?’ Thorin asked.

The young man in the lead spoke up. ‘News, my lord, from Lionkeep. Jazana Carr has arrived. She awaits you at the keep.’

Thorin opened the door all the way, pleased at the news. ‘Then why look so gloomy? That is excellent news!’ He laughed delightedly. ‘Fetch my horse at once. Tell the queen I’m on my way.’

Happy to be dismissed, the three Norvans scurried off to do the baron’s bidding. Thorin waited in the threshold for them to go, then turned back to the catalogue machine. Tonight, at least, his work would have to wait.

The woman?

It was Kahldris again, this time speaking in his mind. Thorin felt his growing appetite.

‘I’m going to her,’ said Thorin. ‘We can return here tomorrow.’

The demon filled Thorin with lusty energy. Indeed, Baron Glass, he crooned. We are men, after all.

Jazana Carr waited more than an hour for Thorin to arrive, standing under a wall of torches near Lionkeep’s ancient gate. She had rested, briefly, but had not eaten or changed her clothes. She was too anxious to see her lover and nothing could keep her inside, not even the promise of food and a warm bed. Rodrik Varl waited with her in the quiet courtyard. The mercenary had already made arrangements for the fifty men that had accompanied the queen from Andola, and Jazana herself had dismissed Garen and her other protectors, preferring instead to wait for Thorin alone with Rodrik. Her stomach tripped like a school girl’s at the prospect of seeing him. It had been almost a month, corresponding through letters
and the occasional messenger, promising each other in love notes that they would soon be together.

Interestingly, Lionkeep was much as Thorin had described it. When Thorin had been a true nobleman of Liiria – nearly twenty years ago now – he had spent countless hours in the keep, arguing with King Balak and later his son, Akeela. Once it had been grand, like everything else in the old city, but time had eroded its vaunted beauty, leaving a kind of sad ghost behind. Still, the keep impressed Jazana Carr, for despite neglect and the recent fire it remained oddly stupendous, a lovely relic of a bygone age. Now, Lionkeep would be Thorin’s home. When he was not with her in Andola or Hanging Man or Carlion or any other of a dozen conquered cities he would rule from this ancient edifice, the way he had always dreamed.

Jazana looked up into the sky and saw the moon struggling through the clouds. The courtyard echoed with the sounds of night and the constant groans of the city. The keep itself was on the outskirts of Koth, overlooking the city and braced by rows and rows of gardens and orchards. Jazana tried to see the gardens from the courtyard, peering through the gloom and oily torchlight. Tomorrow she would walk through them, she resolved, and tell Thorin about the troubles plaguing Norvor. So far, she had not even confessed these things to Rodrik Varl. She stole a glance at him, standing a pace or two away from her, quietly keeping her company as he puffed on a fragrant pipe. He smiled, sensing her eyes on him.

‘He’ll be here,’ quipped the mercenary.

‘I wasn’t thinking that,’ replied Jazana peevishly. ‘I was thinking of—’

She stopped herself, but too late.

‘What?’ Varl asked, turning toward her. He took the pipe out of his mouth, waiting for her answer.

‘Home,’ said Jazana. ‘The way you’re standing there reminds me of it.’ She felt childish suddenly, as if she’d just confessed something ridiculous. ‘This isn’t our home. We belong in Norvor.’

Varl looked troubled. ‘Now that surprises me. What will you tell Thorin? He expects—’

A call from across the yard cut off Varl’s words. He and Jazana twisted to see a horseman riding quickly toward them. Jazana’s heart leapt at the sight, so beautiful in the orange glow. Moonlight dappled Thorin as he rode, playing off his armoured arm, glistening with unholy blackness. He had come alone, without a single bodyguard. His smile beamed at Jazana, then shrank when he noticed Rodrik Varl. Varl put his pipe back in his teeth and bit down hard as Thorin rode up, jerking back his horse and staring at Jazana. She gazed up at him, and for a moment could not speak. He simply looked magnificent, much younger, with a confident vigour that hadn’t been in him a month ago. His eyes dazzled her, mesmerizing
her with their magic, and for the briefest moment the Diamond Queen felt afraid, for she knew it was Jadori sorcery that animated her lover, born of his strange armour. But then, when he spoke, her fear fled.

‘Jazana,’ he sighed. ‘My love.’

She stepped up to him, leaving Varl behind, staring into his strong face. Her hand reached out to touch him, and when he lowered his own hand she grabbed it, putting it to her face.

‘My love,’ she echoed. Overwhelmed, she tried not to weep, closing her eyes against the flood of emotion. From atop his snorting horse, he bent to stroke her cheek.

‘Great Fate, how I have longed for you,’ he whispered. ‘So beautiful . . . you have haunted my dreams, Jazana!’

‘Come down,’ she urged, pulling his hand. ‘Come inside with me now.’

Thorin glanced around the courtyard. His eyes came to rest on Rodrik Varl. He grimaced, then shook his head. ‘No. I want to be alone with you.’

Jazana laughed, confused. ‘We are alone, Thorin! At last we are together! Come down and greet me properly . . .’

Her lover grinned, and at first Jazana did not recognize the strange look in his eyes. He pulled her powerfully toward him, lifting her from her feet then using his other arm to scoop her body up. Jazana cried in alarm, then found herself looking up into Thorin’s shadowed face. And then she knew what it was in his eyes – strapping, unbridled lust. Unable to stop herself, she felt her body yield to him, wilting in the cradle of his grasp. Her arms wrapped around his neck as his head bowed to kiss her. The world fell away as their lips met.

He held her like that for a long moment. Jazana trembled in his arms. She saw Rodrik Varl watching her in shock, the pipe slack in his mouth.

‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked Thorin.

‘Away,’ was all he would answer. He lowered her to the saddle, allowing her to sit in front of him on the beast. She leaned back to nest against his chest. She didn’t even bother waving to Rodrik Varl as Thorin sped off, spiriting out of the courtyard toward the dark gardens. At once blackness blanketed her eyes. She strained to see in the feeble moonlight, catching glimpses of tangled vines and misshapen trees as they bounded down a narrow lane. Thorin moved with ease, unencumbered by the darkness. Confident that he would not harm her, Jazana allowed herself to relax. The cool night air struck her face and made her hair blow back against Thorin. He stuck his nose into it and took a deep breath, smelling her lilac scent and growling.

‘Thorin, tell me now,’ she goaded. ‘Where are we going?’

Thorin laughed, ‘You are dressed for riding, my lady! I am taking you for a ride!’

‘I have ridden all day,’ she cried. ‘I want to rest. I want to see you, Thorin!’

‘Wait, my dear,’ he crooned in her ear. ‘We shall see all of each other soon.’

She knew what he meant and it thrilled her. The sweet air made her pulse race. The horse continued deeper into the gardens, letting Lionkeep fall far into the distance. Up ahead, Jazana spied long lines of apple trees as they neared an orchard, spread out like a huge, rolling blanket. The perfectly spaced trees let the moonlight seep between them, lighting the loamy earth. At last Thorin drew back the reins to stop his horse. And all fell silent.

Jazana waited, hardly breathing, spying their bare surroundings. Even in the darkness the orchard was beautiful, overgrown now but still like a sliver of heaven. She could feel Thorin’s heart pounding against her back. His hand – the one of flesh – touched her neck.

‘Thorin . . .’

‘Hush.’

He kissed her neck, nearly biting her tender skin. His hard breathing reached her ear, full of thirst.

‘We should get down from the horse, at least,’ she joked, her own appetites quickly rising. Thorin tossed himself down from the steed’s back, then reached up and took her by the waist as she slid into his arms. He led her away from the horse, near the stand of trees. The damp earth glistened. Thorin tore the cape from his shoulders and laid it over the grass, then pulled her down onto it.

His armoured hand worked her buttons, snapping the threads as he pulled open her riding shirt. His face thrust itself against her, searching for her breasts. Jazana’s fingers clawed his back. She became lost in him, smothered by his strong body. The cool air braced her naked skin as he peeled free her clothing. His own shirt came off in a grunt of lust. Tossing it over his shoulder, once again he fell on her.

For a month now Jazana had craved this moment. Her body opened to it like a flower.

Exhausted, Jazana opened her eyes.

For a moment she had been dreaming of drowning in cold water. But it was only the rain, which had begun again to fall in cool drops. She felt warm in Thorin’s embrace, wrapped in his cape and sheltering arms. He was already awake and turned his eyes on her. His smile spoke of his satisfaction, but he did not say a word. The orchard remained dark. Jazana Carr did not know how long they had slept or how many times they had made love. Her hair drooped over her wet face, matted with rain water and bits of grass. Shreds of her shirt covered her shoulders, and her
riding trousers were soaked, laying an embarrassing distance away. The apple tree they lay under shielded some of the rain. Jazana thought she should be cold, but wasn’t. Thorin’s body warmed her like a hearth.

‘It will be morning soon,’ she whispered. Then she puzzled. ‘I think.’

Thorin put her head down on his chest. Wiry hairs tickled her cheek. ‘We can watch the sunrise.’

It seemed an absurd notion, so romantic and unlike him. Jazana barely stirred. Part of her wanted to return to Lionkeep, to get dry or take a hot bath. More powerfully, though, she wanted to lie with him forever. At last they were alone, completely, without spies or bodyguards to bother them. They could be silly and whisper like children to each other.

‘Thorin, I’m happy,’ she said softly. She kept her head on his warm chest, her hand tucked beneath him. ‘I want it to be like this forever.’

‘It will be, my love.’ Thorin bent to kiss her hair. ‘Now that you’re here, everything is perfect.’

Jazana hesitated. She had planned to speak with him at Lionkeep, perhaps over supper, but she would never have a better time, with no one around and Thorin already in a fine mood.

‘I can’t stay,’ she said.

Thorin stopped breathing for a moment, then lifted himself off the ground a little. She looked at him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

‘You can’t?’ he asked. ‘Why not?’

‘There’s no good time to tell you this, but Norvor needs me, Thorin. There’s trouble back home and I need to be there.’

‘What trouble? Rebellion?’ Thorin laughed, trying to ease her worry. ‘I have heard these stories already, my love. It is as I have told you – these skirmishes happen always. Men are ambitious.’

Jazana sat up to confront him, pulling the wet cape over her bosom. ‘No, Thorin, it’s worse than you think. I get reports from Andola every week. They say that in Carlion men are following Elgan now. My own capital! They wait for Lorn to return. They say I am not their queen. I need to return, Thorin. My people need to see me.’