The Devil's armour

47

In the week since Baron Glass had gone, the library fell into a time of quiet waiting. Though spring had arrived, there was no sense of celebration among the many who called the library home, and though the children were happy to play in the yards around the hill, the soldiers that manned the transformed fortress had slackened in their haste to build defences. The air of the place — which had once been hopeful — had become muddied by the frightening idea that Baron Glass might never return at all. Breck spent less time in planning meetings or inspecting his troops. The entire library was less busy in general.

Lukien and Mirage had made themselves at home in the library. Lukien bunked with the other officers, while Mirage had become comfortable with Breck’s own wife and family, who shared a large chamber with some other civilians. It was not an unpleasant arrangement for Lukien, who had long ago become accustomed to quartering with soldiers. He quickly began to enjoy their company, and the excuse it gave him to avoid Mirage. Since coming to the library they had spent very little time together, and when they did, mostly at meal-time, Lukien tried very hard not to sit with her or encourage her in any way. He had hoped that coming to Koth would somehow convince her that he did not love her and never would, and that she would see the truth of this and leave on her own. She did not. There was, Lukien supposed, nowhere for her to go.

On the morning of their sixth day in Koth, Lukien awoke while many of his new comrades were still asleep. Aroused by a disturbing dream that he could not remember once his eyes opened, he quickly dressed and left the chamber, hungry for some fresh air. A chill in the air made him grab his cloak, which he fixed hurriedly around his shoulders as he went through the quiet library. As he suspected, the sun was just coming up, burning off the haze of dawn. A handful of hearty people had already risen and started their day’s work, and as he passed them Lukien greeted them with polite smiles. As he made his way out of doors, he suddenly remembered bits of his dream. The unpleasant images drove him into the courtyard, which was completely deserted and wonderfully silent.

Lukien paused and considered the rising sun creeping above the city. Library Hill was surprisingly high. This morning, it seemed to tower over the whole world. As the sun spread its warmth Lukien let it touch his face. He smiled, glad to be awake and out of his cramped chambers. He had dreamed of Grimhold and of all the friends there he’d left behind. He had dreamed that the raiders had conquered Jador and taken Gilwyn prisoner, and no one knew if the boy was alive or dead, not even Minikin.

‘Just a dream,’ Lukien whispered, calming himself. He drew his cloak closer around his shoulders, surprised by the nip in the air. He began to walk, not really caring where he was going, hoping to exorcise his dark thoughts. Since coming to the library, he had never seen the courtyard abandoned, and realised suddenly how long it had been since he had truly been alone. The solitude relaxed him. It seemed like forever since he’d been free, since he’d not been obliged to anyone else, since the Eye of God ruled his life. .

He paused. Glancing down, he touched the amulet beneath his clothing and felt the round outline of its pulsing ruby. If he removed it, he would die. Not quickly, perhaps, though Cassandra had died quickly. But die he would; Minikin had promised it. Just for a moment, he wanted to remove it.

Just for a moment. .

There was a world beyond the one he knew. There was a realm where spirits like the Akari dwelt, and life did not just end the way a candle flame died when snuffed out. Life went on, Minikin had told him, in some strange world beyond this one. What did it matter then if he wore the amulet or not? What difference would his death make?

What difference had his life made?

It was not a question Lukien enjoyed. For now, at least, his life had a purpose — to save Thorin from the Devil’s Armour. And according to Amaraz — his own Akari — the means to do so existed. Somewhere.

‘So, Amaraz? Are you listening to me? Can you hear my thoughts?’

Lukien kept his hand on the amulet. He felt its warmth and knew it was alive with Amaraz’s power. Still, he felt nothing from the spirit, not even the smallest acknowledgment.

‘Will you ignore me forever?’ he asked.

The Akari gave no reply.

‘You are a hateful creature and I despise you,’ said Lukien. ‘And when I am done with this quest I will rip you from my throat and toss you into the ocean. Oh, I might die, yes, but so will you, Amaraz, in a way. You’ll have to live on forever encased in this blasted thing, maybe in the belly of a shark or stuck in the mucky sea bottom. How will you like that I wonder?’

Perhaps the Akari was accustomed to his curses, for again he spoke not at all. Lukien sneered and took his hand from the amulet.

‘Damn you forever, Amaraz.’

He continued walking, leaving the main yard and rounding the west side of the building, the side farthest from the city where the civilians quartered. Like the rest of the grounds the west side was quiet, still darkened by the long shadows of the library. A series of walls had been built across the grounds here to protect the civilians from attack. They were short walls, good for archers and crossbowmen and staggered to make them difficult to breach. A fair amount of planning had gone into their construction, impressing Lukien’s military mind. What surprised him most, however, was the unexpected sight of someone near them. Lukien stopped and looked across the yard, wondering why the man had awoken so early. He had a pile of stones near him and a barrow full of mortar and was hard at work on one of the walls, carefully laying stones then stepping back to check his work. He wore the uniform of a Royal Charger, but without the long, formal coat. Instead he had his shirt sleeves rolled up and stains on his trousers. His intense expression kept him from noticing Lukien even as Lukien came closer.

‘Good morning,’ Lukien offered, coming to a stop not far from the man. Startled, the fellow turned to reveal his young face. He did not seem perturbed by the interruption, only curious. ‘You’re up early,’ Lukien continued. ‘I thought I was the only one.’

The man lowered the stone in his hand and studied Lukien. It was the kind of look Lukien was used to, especially from younger Chargers. ‘You’re the Bronze Knight,’ he said.

‘You surprised me,’ said Lukien. ‘I don’t see any others eager to work this early.’

The man shrugged. ‘It has to get done, that’s all.’ He turned his attention back to his wall, which was roughly the height of his shoulders. Carefully he laid down the stone he was holding, setting it firmly into the mortar. ‘I heard you were here, Sir Lukien.’

‘But you didn’t come to see me. I thought I’d seen everyone by now.’ Lukien rubbed his hands together. ‘Cold. Why don’t you wait till it warms up a little?’

‘I like working on the walls. It’s important.’

‘They won’t keep out Jazana Carr’s army,’ said Lukien, thinking it best he tell the man the truth. ‘Not for long, anyway.’

‘I know about Jazana Carr’s army,’ replied the man. He turned to look at Lukien. ‘I was part of it once.’

Lukien smiled. ‘You’re Vanlandinghale,’ he said, understanding. ‘Breck told me about you. You were with Jazana in Norvor. One of her mercenaries.’

‘That’s right. For almost a year.’ Vanlandinghale smiled back. ‘I’m not an expert on her, though. Not like you or Baron Glass.’

‘Hmm, I hear challenge in your tone, fellow. Go on — say whatever’s on your mind. You won’t offend me.’

‘No, Sir Lukien, I have no argument with you — or with Baron Glass. I just have a wall to build, that’s all.’

‘Then you should know it won’t work,’ said Lukien. ‘You know how strong she is — these walls can’t protect us.’

‘Maybe not,’ said Vanlandinghale. ‘But you should know how stupid it was for Baron Glass to go see the queen. Everybody should know that, but they don’t. Instead they’re waiting around, hoping for Baron Glass to make things right. Sometimes I think I’m the only one who realises what danger we’re still in. That’s why I’m building the wall, Sir Lukien.’

Lukien couldn’t help but admire his candour. He already knew a fair amount about the young lieutenant. Breck had told him that Van had come from Norvor with King Lorn, and that he was driven to prove himself. Guilt did that to men, Lukien knew. He supposed he had much in common with Van.

‘You’ve done a good job here, Vanlandinghale,’ said Lukien. ‘These walls — they’re tight and well laid out. If it does come to war-’

‘It will, Sir Lukien, it will.’ Van began mixing his barrow full of mortar distractedly, muscling the shovel. ‘You should know that. You know how devious Jazana Carr is, how determined.’

‘Aye, I know that,’ said Lukien. ‘But you underestimate Baron Glass, I think.’

‘Do I?’ Van stopped mixing and stared at him. ‘Then where is he? He left almost a week ago.’

Lukien grimaced. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘I’m worried about him.’

Van grinned and went back to mixing. ‘I thought as much. Maybe you don’t know your friend as well as you think.’

‘What does that mean?’ asked Lukien, his ire rising.

‘It means that you’re a fool if you think he’s got any chance at all against Jazana Carr. Oh, I know all about his famous armour; I’m not impressed. He walked into a hornet’s nest with a hat on, that’s all. If he’s not dead already he will be soon, just as soon as the queen gets what she wants out of him.’

‘Fellow, that’s my friend you’re talking about,’ Lukien rumbled. ‘Just a warning — watch your tongue.’

Van sighed and pushed aside his shovel again. Leaning against the stone wall, he looked at Lukien. ‘I know he’s your friend. So what are you doing about it? Breck told me you came here looking for him. He said you wanted to help him.’

‘I do,’ said Lukien. ‘That’s why I’m here, waiting.’

‘Waiting won’t do your friend any good,’ said Van.

‘Neither will building a wall.’

The soldier shrugged. ‘At least I’m doing something.’

There was logic in the statement, Lukien supposed. While everyone else was simply waiting, Van at least was active. But what could be done, Lukien wondered? Waiting was his only option now. His anger diminished, he went to the tall pile of stones and ran his hand over them, not sure what to say. Vanlandinghale watched him curiously.

‘Want to help me?’ he asked.

Lukien nodded. ‘I should. At least I’d be doing something.’

Van smiled. ‘You’re probably right about it, though. It probably won’t help. But we have civilians to protect. We have to try, at least.’

Maybe that’s all it’s about, thought Lukien. He picked up a stone and weighed it in his hand. ‘Maybe that’s all there is to life,’ he said. ‘Trying.’

‘I think so,’ said Van. He surveyed the walls he had built with a gleam of sadness. ‘I’ve had time to think while I’ve been here. I don’t think my life is just about staying alive. I think it’s about standing up for something I desperately believe in, like this place.’ Then he laughed. ‘That sounds silly, I suppose.’

‘It doesn’t,’ said Lukien. ‘I think it sounds just right.’

‘Do you? King Lorn the Wicked taught me that.’ The soldier shook his head. ‘Of all people to teach me a lesson about life. But he was right, about that at least. I owe him a lot. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here.’

‘About to die,’ added Lukien good-naturedly.

‘Probably,’ Van admitted.

A long silence rose between them. At last Van went back to working on his wall.

‘The others have been talking about you,’ he said. ‘They say you promised Breck to stay with us.’ His eyes flicked toward Lukien. ‘Is that right?’

‘That’s what I told him,’ said Lukien.

‘Hand me a stone, will you?’

Lukien hefted a stone from the pile and handed it to Van. As the soldier buttered it with mortar, he said, ‘We always talked about you, us Royal Chargers. Even after Akeela died when I was in Norvor — all the Chargers with me talked about you.’ He turned and fixed the stone into position. ‘We’re glad you’re back.’

Lukien said nothing, but took another stone from the pile and handed it to Vanlandinghale.

By the time evening had come, Lukien was famished. He had spent almost the entire day with the enigmatic Van, and was eager for the evening meal. The main mess — a giant, converted reading room with long tables and benches — was always a place of good conversation, even when the food was meagre, and Lukien sat himself down at the table with the other officers to enjoy the company and fare from the kitchens. When the sun went down the mess always filled up, and tonight it was particularly crowded. Most of Breck’s inner circle were at his table, including the former mercenaries Nevins and Aliston. Aric Glass was there as well, sitting beside the gruff Murdon, a loyal Royal Charger whom Lukien had not yet gotten to know well. Vanlandinghale had not yet come for the meal — an oversight that plainly irked Breck — but the other tables were packed with his men, all the horsemen and archers and infantry fighters that had spent the day idle yet had somehow worked up an appetite. Besides the military men there were civilians at the tables as well, the men and women and even children who kept the library vital. Except for the formidable kitchen staff, who took their meals after everyone else had been fed, it seemed to Lukien that everyone in the library was in the mess tonight, including Mirage.

Mirage sat at a table across the mess, chattering with Breck’s wife Kalla and some of the other women of the library. As Lukien ate and talked with his own comrades, she occasionally glanced toward him and smiled. Striving to be polite, Lukien always returned her smiles, maybe adding a nod but never being too encouraging. Mirage looked beautiful, he realised, and found himself stealing glances at her between dunking bits of bread into his stew of venison. More importantly, she looked happy, something she had never been in Grimhold. But his long day with Van had given Lukien much to think about, and he knew that soon Mirage’s happiness would end. Perhaps unintentionally, Van had convinced Lukien of the hopelessness of their plight. Knowing he would soon have to confront Mirage, Lukien nevertheless smiled as he ate his meal, determined to at least enjoy part of the gathering.

To Lukien’s pleasure, the talk at the table was not of war or Baron Glass’ mission or Jazana Carr’s enormous wealth. Instead, Captain Aliston the archer told a good story about growing up in a small Liirian village and how he had nearly drowned in a creek when he was a boy. The tale opened the door to a plethora of similar near-disasters, and by the time it was Breck’s turn to talk he brought Lukien into the story.

‘Do you remember, Lukien?’ asked Breck, smiling with a mouthful of food. ‘That time you almost fell off one of the catwalks in Lionkeep?’ Breck turned to his men and laughed. ‘He wasn’t a boy, mind you — he did it as a dare!’

Lukien grinned, though the memory wasn’t all pleasant. ‘I remember hanging by my fingertips waiting for you to pull me up.’

‘We were always doing stupid things like that,’ said Breck. ‘When you’re young it’s easy to be dumb.’

Murdon messed up Aric’s hair and said, ‘Hear that, boy? Don’t be dumb.’

Aric had been particularly quiet the entire meal. Lukien guessed he was thinking about his father. ‘Stop calling me boy,’ he hissed, pulling away from Murdon.

Murdon plucked a chunk of meat from Aric’s plate and popped it into his mouth. ‘Sour-face.’ He looked around the table. ‘So? Where’s Van tonight, eh?’

Breck frowned. ‘I’ve talked to him about this. He’s supposed to be here for evening meals.’

‘He’s got an independent mind,’ said Murdon. ‘Always did. Likes to go his own way, Van.’

‘I’ve noticed,’ said Breck, and went back to eating.

‘He’s working on the walls,’ Lukien volunteered. ‘The ones at the west wing.’

Breck nodded. ‘I noticed you working with him today. They coming along?’

‘Well enough. Did you give him that assignment?’

‘I had him help with some mason work months ago,’ said Breck. ‘He took it on himself to build those fortifications. If battle comes I’m putting him in charge there.’

Murdon looked up with some alarm. ‘In charge where? The west wing?’

‘To protect the civilians, yes,’ said Breck. ‘He can do it. He’s got the heart for it.’

‘I’m not arguing about his heart,’ said Murdon. ‘It’s his head that bothers me.’

Lukien had already noticed how easily Murdon got away with things. Breck was indeed easy with him. And he knew there was truth in Murdon’s suspicions; Breck had already told Lukien about Van’s chequered past. But they all had chequered pasts now, didn’t they?

‘I think Van will do fine,’ Lukien spoke up. He looked around the table. The men had been surprised by his statement. He met their gazes one by one. ‘And I think Van’s right. Everyone’s just sitting here, dancing around the truth.’

‘What is the truth, Lukien?’ Breck challenged. ‘That we’re in danger? We’re all facing it, don’t fret. Every day we stare it in the face.’

It was plain that Breck didn’t want to talk about it. Lukien backed off. Wiping his face, he stood up and politely excused himself from the table. He wasn’t angry with Breck, just embarrassed, and knew he shouldn’t have said anything at all. But he had made his decision, and knew also that someone else was owed an explanation. Crossing the mess, he went to Mirage’s table. Breck’s wife Kalla was the first to spot him. When she did, the conversation among her women stopped. Lukien tilted his head toward her, for she was something like a queen among these ladies.

‘Excuse me,’ he said. He looked at Mirage. ‘Can we talk, please?’

Mirage’s expression was hopeful as she glanced at her friends. She pushed her plate forward and stood. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, her voice a bit shaky. Her anxiousness reminded Lukien of how young she really was. It was unseemly to interrupt the way he had, but something inside Lukien told him not to wait any more. There was a table near the entrance that was empty. Lukien pointed toward it.

‘We can talk over there,’ he said to Mirage. ‘It won’t take long.’

The girl’s magically made face deflated. ‘Oh. Well, what is it then? If it won’t take long you might just as well tell me here.’

Lukien’s lips twisted in a plea. ‘Mirage. .’

She relented and awkwardly went toward the little table, her face reddening. Despite Lukien’s protests, everyone in the library still thought them spatting lovers, and Mirage had really done nothing to dispel the notion. And though he was more than twice her age, Lukien admitted liking the attention, especially from Breck’s younger soldiers. He followed Mirage to the table, ignoring the temporary stares of those around them, and waited for her to seat herself. Instead of taking the place beside her, he sat down on the other side of the table. At first Mirage regarded him coolly, but when she saw his troubled face she touched his hand.

‘Lukien? What is it?’

Lukien reached out and took her hand. It would be the last time he would explain this to her, perhaps the last time he would speak to her tenderly.

‘I want you to go,’ he said.

Mirage hesitated. ‘Go? What do you mean?’

‘It isn’t safe here any more. I thought it was but I was wrong. You can’t stay here any more, Mirage.’ Lukien lowered his voice. ‘It’s time for you to leave.’

A peculiar expression came over the girl’s face, as though she had been preparing for this conversation all along. ‘Lukien, where will I go?’ she asked. ‘There is nowhere for me except here. I belong with you. We came here together.’

‘Aye, but we can’t stay together. That was never part of our bargain. I brought you with me because I was heading north and you insisted on coming. I kept you safe, but I can’t keep you safe any longer.’

‘Why? What’s happened?’

‘Nothing has happened, not yet! But don’t you see the danger? Mirage, Thorin isn’t coming back. You and I might have thought so, but we were wrong. It was wrong of us to wait so long. He’s in danger, or dead. Maybe captured, I don’t know. But he’s not coming back and that means Jazana Carr is coming.’

Mirage shook her head. ‘No. I’m not leaving.’

‘Listen to me, girl. I’m talking about war. Do you know what happens to women in war? They don’t get the luxury of dying in battle.’

‘Stop trying to frighten me, Lukien.’

‘God’s above, I’m trying to make you listen. Just once, Meriel, listen to me.’ He let go of her hand and hardened his expression. ‘I do not love you.’

‘You do,’ the girl insisted. Tears struggled in her eyes. ‘I see it when you look at me.’

‘No, not that way. I care about you, yes, but you want a man to take you to his bed and make you his forever. I will never do that. My heart belongs to another and always shall.’

Mirage could not bring herself to look around the room, though they both knew others were watching. Her lower lip shuddered.

‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I do not believe you. You have not even tried to love me. You would rather go on pitying yourself.’ She looked at him sharply. ‘How long will you do that, Lukien? Forever? Until you die? And mark me — that will be a very long time yet, as long as you wear that amulet.’ She sat back. ‘Well, I have time too, and I will not leave here. I have nowhere to go and no one else who cares about me. I would rather die here than leave.’

‘Great Fate, you are made of iron,’ lamented Lukien. ‘How can I make you bend? You need to see the truth, and I cannot make you see.’ He looked at her, as closely as he could, but there was not a single flaw in her mask, nothing to reveal the frightened girl beneath her magic veil. He realised sadly that the mask blinded not just others, but her as well. ‘I have not told you everything yet,’ he said softly. ‘If you will not leave and I cannot convince you, then at least you must know what I’ve planned. I am leaving, Meriel, and where I’m going you may not follow.’

The girl’s face went ashen. ‘Leaving?’ She glanced around to make sure no one overheard. ‘Lukien, how can you? You promised Breck-’

‘Wait, you don’t understand. I’m not going back to Grimhold, Meriel.’

‘Mirage,’ she insisted. ‘Do not call me that old name!’

‘I’ve played your game long enough,’ Lukien snapped. ‘You are Meriel, no matter what you call yourself. These others may not know you but I do, girl. I know what you were before this magic changed you.’

The girl eased back from the table. ‘Lower your voice,’ she implored. ‘Please, Lukien — you must call me Mirage. It is the bargain I struck with Minikin so that I could remain this way.’

‘Yes, so you could lure me into a love trap.’

‘So I could be whole,’ Mirage insisted. ‘Where are you going? After Thorin?’

Lukien nodded. ‘I have to.’

‘Oh? And what about your promise to Breck?’

‘Breck knows why I came here,’ said Lukien. ‘To find Thorin, to help him if I can. I’m not leaving them. I’m just doing what I came here to do. I’ll fight Jazana any way I can.’

The girl rolled her pretty eyes. ‘Is that what you’re telling yourself? It’s a lie, Lukien. You’re just running away.’

‘I am not running! If I can reach Thorin then maybe I can save everyone here. Even you, you ignorant girl.’

‘Lukien, listen to yourself. What makes you think you can save him all by yourself?’

‘I have the amulet,’ said Lukien. He was extra careful to moderate his voice, for he had not told anyone about the amulet, though he knew there had been rumours about him and his magical existence. ‘Minikin told me there was a way for me to reach Thorin and defeat the armour. No one here can do it. If I can reach him before it’s too late. .’ He shrugged, because he knew how hopeless it sounded. ‘I have to try, Meriel. Can you understand that?’

The girl’s young face softened. ‘I do understand. But what will you tell Breck?’

‘The truth. He’ll understand. If I can come back I will. And if I succeed I’ll have spared him a terrible fate. All of you, really.’

‘And if you don’t return?’

Lukien paused. They both knew the answer.

‘Then I will be dead,’ he said.

Meriel. He called her that because he remembered her still as the sad young woman he’d first met, hiding her face from the world in an ugly wool cloak. He had not wanted to anger her by using her name — he had wanted to reach her.

‘Forgive me,’ he said softly. ‘If I have hurt you. .’

Quickly she shook her head. ‘It does not matter. Return to me, Lukien. No matter where you go, make sure of that.’

He smiled, because her love for him knew no logic at all. He was about to leave her when he noticed her raise her eyes across the room.

‘What’s this?’ she asked, frowning suddenly.

Lukien turned toward the entrance, noticing only now that the conversations in the hall had halted. Breck was standing. Like everyone his eyes were on the man on the threshold. Vanlandinghale had entered the mess, his face disturbed and drawn. In his arms he held a metal case, a cubical strongbox riveted with iron and heavy from the look of it. He looked at Breck helplessly, lost for words.

‘Van?’ Breck stepped closer to him. ‘What is it, man?’ His eyes went to the box. ‘What’s that?’

‘A coach brought it,’ said Van, his voice thin. He licked his pale lips. ‘A coach without a driver.’

‘What? Make sense, man. What coach?’

‘A carriage,’ said Van. ‘I was outside with some of the others, some stableboys. The coach drove up the road and stopped in the courtyard. Without a driver! The horses just. . I don’t know, they just stopped.’ He held out the iron box. ‘This was inside the cab.’

Breck looked at Lukien, who went to stand beside him. Mirage went with him, and soon others began circling around, curious about Van’s peculiar story. Everyone stared at the chest in his arms.

‘It was Onikil’s coach,’ he croaked.

Breck blanched. ‘Count Onikil?’

Van nodded slowly.

‘And there was no one else? No rider, nothing?’

‘No,’ Van replied. ‘Nobody.’

‘How do you know it’s Onikil’s coach?’ asked Murdon.

‘I’m sure it is,’ said Van. ‘I remember seeing it when Baron Glass left.’ He pointed out of the chamber. ‘It’s still in the courtyard. I can show you.’

‘Wait,’ said Breck. He gestured to the chest. ‘Put it down.’

Van did so then stepped back, glad to be away from it. While the onlookers gawked, only Lukien went closer. He hovered over the metal chest, sure there was nothing good inside it. Mirage grasped his arm.

‘Thorin,’ he whispered, dreading the thing’s contents. Was Jazana that ruthless? he wondered.

‘It’s not locked,’ offered Van.

‘How could the horses have brought the coach up here by themselves?’ wondered Captain Aliston.

The question made Lukien’s jaw drop. He had the answer in an instant. Suddenly he knew it wasn’t Thorin’s head inside the box.

‘Magic,’ he declared. He looked dreadfully at Breck. ‘The magic inside the armour.’

Confused, Breck studied the box. ‘How’s that possible?’

‘It’s possible,’ said Mirage. ‘Believe me.’

‘Then what’s in the box?’ asked Aric Glass anxiously. ‘Sir Lukien, if it’s not from my father.’

‘You misunderstand me, boy,’ said Lukien. ‘It’s from your father, at least in a way. It was Onikil’s coach that brought it here, but it was your father that sent it.’

Breck nodded his agreement. He knelt down before the chest and undid the simple latch holding closed its metal lid. When the mechanism sprang he paused before opening it. He looked in the box for only an instant before turning away in disgust.

Count Onikil’s bloated, unmistakable face glared back at him, eyes bulging, tongue swollen and pulled out of his mouth. Through his tongue was a pointed metal rod, skewering a paper to the dead, red muscle. The women in the room shrieked when they saw it, hiding their children’s eyes and hurrying them out of the room. More than one of Breck’s men retched. Lukien stared at the head, horrified by it.

‘Onikil?’ he asked.

Breck nodded. ‘Yes.’ He reached into the box, pulled the spike from the tongue to release the note, then quickly closed the gory package. He read the note in silence, which only took him a moment. His face grave, he handed it to Lukien. ‘It’s for you,’ he said. ‘And it’s for all of us.’

With Mirage looking over his shoulder, Lukien read the shocking letter.

Tongues will wag, and traitors always suffer. Surrender the city or share the traitor’s fate.

Two bold names ran along the bottom.

Jazana Carr, Queen of Norvor

Baron Thorin Glass

It was Thorin’s handwriting; Lukien recognised it easily. He had even signed Jazana’s name.

‘What does it mean?’ asked Mirage.

‘It means we’re too late,’ said Lukien. ‘It means I’m not going anywhere.’ He stared at Breck, who already seemed to understand everything.

‘It means,’ said Breck to his officers, ‘we have a fight on our hands.’