The Devil's armour

56

It was not until a week after conquering Koth that Thorin finally returned to the library. A grey night surrounded him and he, driven mad by Kahldris’ insistence, could not sleep in his camp near Lionkeep, where he had set up his command. Taming the city had taken days longer than he’d expected, but Kahldris would no longer be mollified — he demanded to see the machine.

A large company of Rolgans had been left at the library, to salvage what they could from the ruins and begin planning its reconstruction. With Jazana’s fortune, Thorin knew they could rebuild. They must rebuild, he had convinced himself. He would not be the lord of a ruined city, and the library had been Koth’s greatest landmark. It would be better than ever, as would Koth.

By the time he reached the library it was well past midnight, but Demortris’ men were everywhere on the ground and recognised him at once. They granted him entrance to the place and offered him guidance, which Thorin refused. Kahldris insisted on being alone. Thorin let the guards give him a taper, however, to light his way through the damaged halls.

Remarkably, the catalogue room had been unscathed by the bombardment. The old librarian Figgis had built the room in a particularly strong segment of the structure, without windows and well buttressed against any damage. Situated at the end of an unremarkable hall, the catalogue room had a plain wooden door with a single stout padlock. At Thorin’s orders, the room had been left undisturbed by Demortris’ men. It was even unguarded. Thorin shivered with anticipation to see it. He had been able to shun Kahldris for a week, but now the demon’s presence in his mind felt overwhelming. He could feel Kahldris walking next to him, almost see the outline of his ghostly form in the gloom.

Open it.

With his armoured arm, Thorin reached out for the padlock. His gauntlet felt the metal for a moment, then twisted the lock violently, snapping it. As the lock hit the floor the door creaked open. Thorin stepped inside, holding out his taper, and saw the vast catalogue machine, stretching out like a silver-limbed monster, a dusty collection of armatures and rods filling the huge chamber. At the head of the beast was a single wooden chair, laid out before a console. At the console were metal plates, the use of which Thorin could not begin to guess. It was a marvellous thing, and seeing it thrilled him, and Kahldris. For the first time in weeks, the demon came into view beside him, glowing like a wraith in the almost complete darkness.

Thorin regarded the spirit and was unafraid. Kahldris had given him so much. Kahldris had made him whole again. He had decided long ago not to fear the Akari. With his immortal eyes, Kahldris looked upon the machine with satisfaction. He appeared as he had that first time, dressed in the armour of a general.

‘Your machine,’ said Thorin, as if presenting a gift. ‘But I cannot use it. I don’t know how.’

‘We must use it,’ replied Kahldris. This time his voice was real. ‘There is a means in the world to stop us, Baron Glass. We must use the machine to find it, before our enemies do.’

Thorin did not understand. He looked at the confounding machine, unsure how to please the Akari. ‘Figgis is dead. Only he knew how to use the machine.’

Kahldris seemed undisturbed. ‘There is another. Already he comes to help us.’

The promise troubled Thorin, for he knew who Kahldris meant. Yet he could not bring himself to protest. The image of the demon beguiled him.