The Sword Of Angels

20

Jazana Carr looked into the freckled face of the child on her lap and smiled. Like all the children, she sat cross-legged on the grass of the yard, enjoying the sunlight of the long awaited Spring. In one hand Jazana balanced a storybook full of pictures she had salvaged from the ruins of the library. In the other hand she kept the little girl from bowing over. The girl with the red scraggly hair listened intently as Jazana read, as if she was the only child in the world and the twenty others in the yard had simply disappeared, leaving her alone to enjoy the Diamond Queen’s attention. Wide-eyed, the girl rubbed her runny nose, staring at the hand-painted picture in the book, a fabulous, page-filling illustration of a dragon. Her sticky finger reached out to trace the creature, laughing in delight.

‘Monster,’ she declared.

The children in the yard waited for Jazana Carr to show them the page.

‘That’s right,’ said Jazana. She held the book up for all the children to see. ‘And what do we do with monsters?’

‘Kill them!’ chorused the children.

Jazana Carr proudly beamed. ‘Good.’

She went on with her story, dramatically turning the pages, slowly telling of the dragon and the band of heroes sent to slay it. It was one of Jazana’s favourite stories and she read it often to the orphans of Koth, reading it always in the same theatric voice. From the corner of her eye she watched the children, rapt with attention. Their bellies full from a meal in Lionkeep’s kitchen, it was their minds and hearts that hungered now. There were hundreds of children like them in Koth, orphaned by the civil strife or abandoned by parents too desperate to keep them. Living in burnt-out husks of homes or in the city’s elaborate sewers, Jazana had rescued them from the horrors of the streets, housing them in orphanages she built and staffed with her own great fortune. Too numerous to count, the orphans of Koth had gradually come to trust her, the queen who had conquered their country, and had been brought to Lionkeep in small groups like this one to feel Jazana’s love.

‘Then Barkin the Black snuck up on the sleeping dragon,’ said Jazana. She held up the new page. ‘Look!’

The children stared, barely breathing.

‘And Barkin took out his sword and ran the dragon through!’

A boy in front shrieked, ‘No!’

‘Yes!’ said Jazana. ‘The dragon roared and roared, and Barkin the Black fell back against the cavern wall, frightened by what he had done.’

Jazana turned the page, and the red-haired girl in her lap began to cry. She pointed at the new picture, this one of a dead dragon.

‘Poor monster,’ said the little girl.

Jazana laughed. ‘No, Anala, not poor monster. Bad monster! Don’t you remember? He killed people.’

Little Anala chose not to be consoled, but rather turned her head away. ‘Good dragon. Bad people.’

The boy in the front also lamented the dragon’s death. At only five years old, he was full of questions. Raising his hand, he asked, ‘Is there more?’

Jazana closed the book. ‘No. That’s how it ends.’

‘Can you read another?’ asked a dark-haired girl named Vivia. Jazana remembered her because of her contused face, abuse she had taken from a man who had put the six year-old to work. He was dead now, that man, dealt with by Jazana’s swift justice.

‘No more today,’ said the queen, shooing Anala off her lap. ‘It’s a sunny day. Go and play now.’

Reluctantly the children got up from the grass, then quickly ran off across the lawn, playing under the watchful eyes of Jazana’s guards. Jazana rose and stretched her aching back, smiling at the scene of the children against the backdrop of the apple orchard. The day was lovely, one of the best since Spring had come, and Jazana thrilled at the warm sun on her face. Slowly, she and Thorin had been rebuilding Koth. One at a time, merchants were returning and the old, ruined constructs were being repaired, returned to the glory they had enjoyed in Koth’s heyday. It had taken enormous resources to make the city whole again and lure people back, but the diamonds from her Norvan mines had paid for the reconstruction, and Thorin’s powerful glamour assured the populace that they were safe. For Jazana, she could not remember a time when she was happier. Thorin had been the perfect lover, attentive and kind to her even though troubles plagued him. And though Jazana suspected the demon in his armour of triggering his rages, he was always gentle with her, always forgetting his worries when he laid in her arms. She chose not to see the things others saw in Thorin, the way he obsessed over the library’s reconstruction and the fabulous thinking machine. When she looked at him, she saw only the man she loved, imperfect but worthy of her loyalty.

Jazana watched as the children made teams and kicked a ball between each other, happily shouting on the sun-drenched lawn. She had become their saviour and they adored her, nuzzling in her lap as though she were their mother. Jazana had never produced her own children, a fact that had long plagued her, but now she no longer felt the need for offspring. The orphans of Koth were her children, just like the orphans of Norvor had been. Just as Thorin had promised her, they were bringing good to the world. She was glad she had stayed with him.

‘My lady?’

Jazana turned from her day-dreaming, finding her man Garen approaching. The mercenary’s look told her something good had happened.

‘Garen?’

‘My lady, I have news. Rodrik Varl has returned.’

‘Rodrik?’ Jazana’s smile widened. ‘When?’

‘Just now, my lady, a few minutes ago. He’s taking a meal inside. I told him I’d come find you.’

Jazana Carr nodded quickly. ‘Look after them, will you?’ she asked, gesturing to the children.

Garen blanched at her request. ‘Uhm, I’m not really the one for this. .’

‘Oh, they’re just children, Garen. Fate above!’

‘Yes, my lady.’ Garen sighed. ‘Varl’s in the kitchen.’

Famished from his long ride from Norvor, Rodrik Varl had gone straight for food upon arriving in Lionkeep. He had been gone from Koth for almost a month, and Jazana was anxious to see him. She was not surprised at all that her red-headed bodyguard had chosen food first over her, because he had an appetite like a horse and very little patience for children. Jazana hurried toward the kitchen, nearly gliding in her good mood. She had sent Rodrik to their homeland to find out about Elgan’s rebellion, and she expected good news from him.

When she arrived in the kitchen, she found Rodrik still in his dusty riding coat, seated at the wooden cooking table hunched over a plate of chicken. His greasy hands and mouth picked at the bones, his tongue eager for every morsel. A pitcher of beer stood next to his plate without a tankard. As Jazana walked into view, Rodrik Varl sat up quickly, wiping chicken bits from his face with his sleeve.

‘Jazana. .’

Longing shined on his bearded face. His smile broke like a gentle wave. Jazana paused before stepping closer, admiring her handsome bodyguard. They had been too long apart and the emotion of their reunion charged them both.

‘Were you so hungry you couldn’t come to greet me first?’

Rodrik nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘I forgive you.’ Jazana went to the soldier and kissed his ruddy cheek. ‘I’m glad you’re back.’

Varl nodded, offering his queen one of the uncomfortable chairs. ‘Will you sit?’

With no staff around to bother them, Jazana took a chair opposite Varl, eager to hear his news. He offered her some of the beer from the pitcher.

‘I can get you a tankard. .’

‘No,’ said Jazana. ‘Just talk to me.’

Varl pushed his plate away and sighed. ‘All right.’

‘I don’t like your face, Rodrik. If you have something bad to tell me, say it quickly.’

‘You haven’t heard anything from Norvor, my lady?’

Jazana felt a flutter of panic. ‘Not for weeks.’

‘Not about Carlion?’

‘Rodrik, tell me, damn you.’

Varl had to force himself to look at her. ‘I can hardly say it. It’s gone, Jazana. It’s fallen.’

It took a moment for his words to reach her. Jazana stared at him. Her voice dropped to a gasp.

‘What’s fallen?’

‘Carlion. Jazana, it’s fallen to Elgan.’

Jazana opened her mouth to speak, not knowing what to say. ‘No. .’

‘It’s true. Elgan and his men killed Gondoir. They took the old castle three weeks ago.’

‘And you had to eat before telling me this?’ Jazana took his plate and flung it against the wall. ‘You had to fill your big stomach first?’ The queen stood up and slapped Varl hard across the mouth. ‘How dare you.’

Varl sat very still, but his temples pulsed with rage. ‘What could I have done? Garen told me you were with those children. .’

‘You could have told me you lost my capital!’ Jazana railed. ‘I sent you there to protect things!’

‘I didn’t lose it, it was lost when I got there. Three weeks ago, Jazana. That’s how long Lord Gondoir’s been dead.’

‘And what about Manjek? That useless toad — couldn’t he have helped?’

‘Manjek and the others didn’t move against Elgan because they don’t have the men.’ Varl finally got out of his chair, facing his irate queen. ‘I told you that already, but you wouldn’t listen.’

‘But you could have helped. .’

‘I’m only one man!’ Frustrated, Varl backed off. ‘Jazana. .’ He put up his hands. ‘I don’t want this. I’m telling you what’s been happening. There are more loyalists around Carlion then any of us realized. They’ve heard that Lorn is still alive and they’re waiting for him to return. They follow Elgan because he’s one of them. He’s the old rule. I don’t think Gondoir even knew what was happening.’

‘And what about the other cities? What about Rolga? What about Vicvar?’

‘They’re secure. For now. I don’t think Elgan has any plans to move against them. He doesn’t have that kind of reach, and he doesn’t have the men to mount any kind of attack.’

‘But the capital,’ Jazana sputtered. ‘He has the capital?’ She put her hand on the table to steady herself against the unbelievable news. Not even a year ago, she had marched into Carlion, driving Lorn out of the city. The people had welcomed her as a saviour then. ‘Why?’ She looked at Varl desperately. ‘Rodrik, why?’

‘You know why, Jazana. I told you why months ago.’ Varl pulled out a chair and guided his queen into it, hovering over her. ‘I told you Norvor needed you. They needed to see you, to believe you haven’t forgotten them.’

‘I haven’t forgotten them!’

‘But you’ve taken all your fortune and spent it here in Liiria! Not in Norvor where the people need it. They think you’ve abandoned them, Jazana. And sometimes. .’

The bodyguard stopped himself.

‘What?’ Jazana asked. ‘Whatever you’re thinking, say it.’

‘Sometimes I think so, too.’

Varl’s confession crushed Jazana. ‘How can you say that? You! You of all people know my heart.’

‘I know, my lady. I do,’ said Varl. He pulled his chair close to Jazana’s and sat down, leaning forward to confront her. ‘But you’ve fallen under Thorin’s spell. You don’t see the truth about him.’

‘What truth?’ spat Jazana. ‘You’ve been gone, Rodrik. You haven’t seen all the good that Thorin’s done.’

‘I know that he’s declared himself King. I heard about it in Norvor.’

‘And the people follow him. They love him!’

‘They’re terrified of him! He’s a-’ Varl quickly stopped himself, glancing around. ‘He’s a madman, Jazana,’ he whispered. ‘The people all know it. Garen knows it, or haven’t you asked him?’

‘You’re jealous,’ Jazana sniffed. ‘You’ve always been jealous of Thorin.’

‘And you’re blind. Because you love him you refuse to see the truth about him. He’s bleeding Norvor to death, Jazana, just to protect Liiria. Just to rebuild that library of his. That’s where he is right now, isn’t he? I bet he’s hardly left that place since I left here.’

Jazana had to look away. Everything he’d said was true, and too stinging for her to face. ‘There are threats against Liiria. Thorin has to protect it.’

‘You mean the Reecians?’

‘That’s right.’

‘The ones on the border? The ones who haven’t made a single move against Liiria for weeks?’

‘How do you know they’re not planning an invasion?’ asked Jazana.

‘Is that what Thorin believes?’

Jazana refused to look at him. ‘It could be.’

‘Or it could be that they’re afraid of us. They’re just protecting themselves, Jazana. It’s the right thing to do.’

‘Exactly,’ said Jazana. ‘It’s the right thing to do. We have to protect ourselves, too. We didn’t fight for Liiria to have it taken away from us.’

‘And to hell with Norvor, is that it?’ barked Varl.

‘No! I haven’t forgotten about Norvor. I never could.’

‘Then prove it, Jazana,’ Varl implored. ‘Tell Thorin to send troops back with me to Norvor. Tell him to stop spending so much Norvan treasure in Liiria.’

‘He will,’ Jazana insisted. ‘He’s already told me that. Once he’s dealt with Reec he’ll go to Norvor himself and take care of Elgan. He’s promised me that.’

‘You’re willing to wait?’ Varl looked disgusted. ‘You’re afraid of him. You’re afraid he’ll leave you again.’

‘That’s enough,’ said Jazana, getting out of her chair. ‘I won’t listen any more.’

‘You won’t listen? I just told you the capital fell! How can you ignore that?’

‘I’ve heard you!’ railed Jazana. ‘But there’s nothing I can do, not yet. First Reec, then Norvor. Thorin has promised me!’

‘And you believe him?’ Rodrik Varl looked at his queen in disbelief. ‘Jazana, I never thought you could be this way. I never thought a man could make you so weak.’

Jazana had to stop herself from leaving. She closed her eyes, wondering what she could say to explain herself.

‘Rodrik,’ she sighed, ‘I’m happy. For the first time in my life. Thorin loves me. He takes care of me. I’ve been taking care of myself for so long, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to just be like a child.’

‘I love you too, Jazana. You know that.’

Jazana nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘And I wouldn’t lie to you just to get my way. Norvor needs its queen. Someone has to explain that to Thorin.’

‘He won’t listen to you,’ warned Jazana. ‘He listens only to the armour.’

‘He would listen to you if you made him listen,’ said Varl. ‘But you won’t do that, will you?’

Jazana thought for a moment, not wanting to admit the answer that came so quickly. Finally she said, ‘No. I won’t.’

Rodrik Varl, her loyal man, seemed profoundly hurt. He took his beret off the table, slapping it onto his head. ‘Is Thorin at the library?’

‘Don’t. .’

‘Excuse me,’ said Varl, pushing past his queen. ‘I have business to attend.’

Jazana watched him impotently as he left. She sat herself down again in the empty kitchen, her good day ruined.

Baron Glass stared up at the painted ceiling, mesmerized. For nearly an hour he had studied it, loving its colours and intricacies, marvelling at the talent of the man who had created it. The scene Lucio had painted stretched across the vaulted ceiling, jumping the beams to continue unbroken on a series of panels, each one effortlessly blending with the others. Amid the torchlight of the giant chamber, Baron Glass could see the hundreds of tiny figures the artist had brought to life, some on horseback, others laying dead on the bloodied field while the racing river threaded through the landscape. The opposing armies of Liiria and Reec appeared as they had that long ago day, repeating the way that had clashed for ages, charging each others mounded defenses with snorting horses and wind tearing at the banners. On the furthest panel, the Reecian King sat atop a golden maned stallion, peering across the river as his soldiers stormed the Kryss. King Karis had been bold that day; Thorin remembered him perfectly, young and confident, prepared to prove himself through the blood of others. He had come to the river with two-thousand men, determined to seize the waterway. Thorin heard the shouts of the soldiers as they battered the defenders, his own Liirians, outnumbered but unafraid, waiting for reinforcements with their swords drawn.

It had been a great and bloody day. Thorin felt its memory stirring though his body. The distant sounds of workmen fell away as he stared up at the magnificent ceiling, lost in its complexity. He was like a shadow suddenly, barely moving in the darkened room, his armoured arm tingling with excitement. Through his eyes, the demon Kahldris studied the ceiling too. Thorin could feel the spirit’s impression. Amid the noise of hammers ringing through the library, the man and his Akari were silent. Baron Glass let his gaze slip once again to a middle panel, where he himself had been painted on horseback. Like Karis of Reec, he was young again, with both arms made of flesh and thick hair sprouting from his head. His mouth opened wide with a shout, rallying his men. His sword pointed high and skyward.

Baron Glass smiled, pleased with the depiction of himself. Lucio had captured him perfectly. In one of the library’s only undamaged chambers, Lucio had worked tirelessly for months, creating a gift for all of Liiria. He was an old man now but he had worked with vigour, speeding through the panels miraculously, helped by a team of talented youths who had come to the library with the master to rebuild its glory. Like other artisans, Lucio and his acolytes had heeded Thorin’s call, eager to remake the library they had all so beloved. Now, seeing Lucio’s masterwork, Thorin knew his efforts had not been wasted.

‘It will be better than it ever was,’ whispered Thorin. Pride swelled his chest. ‘Just as I promised.’

So far, he had spent a large part of Jazana’s fortune rebuilding the library, with still much left to do. It would take years to make the place over and repair the damage his own men had wrought, but Baron Glass was determined. Liiria needed the library. If she was ever to be great again, the symbol of Koth had to rise again. Some said he was obsessed, and Thorin supposed there was truth to their claims. But he knew that only obsessed men accomplished great things, and that men like Lucio shared his obsession. Seeing the ceiling, Thorin thrilled at what he had so far accomplished.

‘We are great,’ he said, his smile growing. His voice echoed in the giant room. Long ago emptied of its scrolls and manuscripts, the chamber magnified every tiny sound, even his own breath. Soon, the workmen could return the books to the chamber. And one day the library would once again call scholars from across the world.

You are proud? asked Kahldris.

Thorin nodded. ‘I am.’

He was one with the Akari now. He flexed his fleshless, armoured arm to feel the connection. The rest of the Devil’s Armour lay safely locked away in Lionkeep, but Baron Glass never removed the enchanted parts that made up his left arm. With them he was whole again, able to move the digits of his gauntlet as if real fingers filled the metal.

Then, Kahldris came to life beside him, shimmering in the dim chamber. Sometimes he came in armour, like the soldier he was in life. Most often though he came in the wizard he had been, the summoner who could commune with the dead, and that was how he appeared to Thorin now, in a simple shirt with flowing sleeves and breeches of silken fabric that made no sound when he moved. His translucent form glowed with unholy light, but the smile on his face comforted Thorin. His eyes burned with dark fire as he spied the ceiling. An ancient finger raised to trace the painted battle.

‘I am reminded of my own days of war,’ said the Akari. ‘And how it was against the Jadori. These Reecians — they have plagued your people like the Jadori plagued my own. Now they come again to plague you.’

There was empathy in the demon’s tone. Thorin considered his words, finding truth in them. He did not fear Kahldris the way he had once, and the spirit’s presence in the room no longer made him stare in awe. Their alliance calmed Thorin.

‘You should be proud,’ said Kahldris. ‘You have done much. You are king now. Men like Lucio have gathered to your flag. There are no rebellions inside Liiria. No one starves here.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Thorin.

‘But remember — it can yet be taken from us,’ the spirit reminded him. ‘Not by the Reecians — they can never harm you.’

‘I have not forgotten your brother, Kahldris.’

‘When the boy comes. .’

‘When he comes he will help us,’ said Thorin sharply. ‘He will.’

So far, they had waited months for Gilwyn to come, and while they waited the catalogue machine lay dormant, collecting dust along its armatures and miles of metal rods. Even Kahldris with all his ancient knowledge had been unable to work the intricate tool, baffled by its arcane design. Still, the Akari brooded constantly about the thing he called ‘the thinking machine,’ sure that somehow it could tell him where his brother hid.

‘Time is not our friend,’ said Kahldris. His ghostly face grew drawn. ‘The boy takes too long in coming here.’

‘At least he is alive,’ Thorin pointed out, relieved that Kahldris had once again been able to feel Gilwyn’s presence in the world. For a time, the Akari had been unable to sense Gilwyn, even with all his strength. Now, though, Kahldris was sure Gilwyn was alive. Very faintly, he could feel the boy growing closer. ‘And he’s crippled, remember. He cannot travel quickly.’

Kahldris grinned at his host. ‘Look at you. Your face changes when you speak of him. Like a proud father.’

‘Why shouldn’t I be proud of him? He comes to save me from you, demon.’

‘That is what you think?’

Baron Glass regarded the image of Kahldris, wondering at his meaning. ‘Is there another reason?’

‘Do you think you should be saved from me?’

‘I am strong enough to deal with you,’ said Thorin confidently. ‘Gilwyn worries because he loves me.’

The shimmering face of Kahldris darkened in disappointment. ‘When the boy arrives he will tell you something. It is something you should have figured out yourself by now. He is not coming merely to help you resist me, but to have his vengeance on me.’

‘Vengeance? For what?’ Thorin looked demandingly at Kahldris. ‘What have you done?’

‘I have put the wheels in motion.’

‘Tell me what you’ve done,’ growled Thorin.

‘I have struck at him,’ said Kahldris, ‘in the only way to make him move. At the girl he cares for.’

‘What are you saying?’ Thorin asked. ‘Be clear, damn you!’

‘The kahana, Baron Glass. The girl that Gilwyn loves.’

‘White-Eye. .’ Thorin braced himself. ‘What have you done to her?’

‘I have taken her Akari,’ said Kahldris. He did not flinch as he spoke. ‘She is blind again.’

The words unbalanced Thorin. He stared mutely at the spirit, horrified. ‘You what?’

‘Be strong, Baron Glass,’ Kahldris commanded. ‘We have need of the boy and his skills. It was the only way to lure him here.’

‘By attacking a girl?’ Thorin hissed. ‘When she’s done nothing to you?’

‘She is Jadori,’ retorted Kahldris, folding his arms across his chest. ‘That should be enough reason to harm her. But I did so for far better reasons, Baron Glass, and you must see the truth of that. I warned you not to be weak.’

‘But to harm White-Eye. .’

Thorin fell back, staggered by the news. For the first time in weeks, he felt a pang of regret.

‘You are weakening, Baron. .’

‘No,’ said Thorin. ‘I am stronger than you think, demon. And a man who is strong does not blind little girls.’ He looked away, disgusted with Kahldris and with himself for what the spirit had done. ‘There could have been another way to get Gilwyn to help us. There must have been.’

Kahldris glided closer to him. ‘You still don’t understand, do you? To the world you left behind, I am a monster. Why? Because I do the ruthless things that must be done. In Kaliatha I was a madman because I wanted to save my people. Now your friends say I am evil, but I am the only one willing to help you rescue your country. Where were your friends when Liiria was suffering? Did they come to help you defend her?’

‘No,’ Thorin admitted. ‘They did not.’

Kahldris’ glowing face nodded. ‘To rule is hard, Baron Glass, but it is what you wanted. I will teach you these things you need to know.’

Thorin gazed up at the ceiling. High above, he saw his past glories depicted in brilliant colours, but his heart sank at the news of White-Eye’s maiming. Suddenly it was obvious to him why Gilwyn was heading north. Kahldris’ brutality had lured him, not love.

‘You’ve given me much already,’ said Thorin. ‘I am grateful to you, Kahldris.’

‘I can give you much more,’ said the Akari. ‘But I hunger, Baron Glass.’

Thorin turned to him. He looked straight into the spirit’s burning eyes and saw the bloodlust there.

‘No.’

‘I must feed to be strong,’ Kahldris argued. ‘To keep you strong.’

‘I have seen you feed, Kahldris. It is nothing that I wish to see again.’

‘Blood is life, Baron Glass, and life is what I have given you. I cannot go on without blood.’

‘Why not? The Akari in the Eyes of God do not crave blood. Why are you so different?’

‘Because my armour is a thing of war,’ Kahldris thundered. ‘And the Eyes of God are not indestructible. Why do you think no blade may nick you? You have wakened me from a great sleep, and now I must feed!’

‘Quiet,’ grumbled Thorin. ‘We’re not alone, remember.’

‘The workmen cannot hear me because I do not wish for them to hear me,’ said Kahldris. ‘Hear me, Baron — the armour must drink if you wish to stay strong. It has been much too long since Nith.’

‘Don’t.’ Thorin turned away, not wanting to be reminded of the man they’d murdered. ‘You have told me too many things already today. Don’t speak to me more. I don’t want to hear your bad news.’

But Kahldris would not be ignored. He floated over to Thorin, wrapping his ethereal arm around the baron and putting his dead lips to his ear.

‘Feed me, Baron,’ he warned. ‘Or watch your nation fall again.’

There was no escaping the demon. Everywhere Thorin turned, Kahldris moved to face him. At last Thorin put up his hands.

‘Stop!’

Kahldris retreated, then smiled. ‘Listen.’ He cocked his ear toward the entrance. ‘Someone nears.’

A moment later Kahldris vanished, leaving Thorin alone beneath the vaulted ceiling.

Rodrik Varl walked through the darkened corridors of the library, guided by the light of distant torches. It was an enormous structure, unsafe now due to the bombardment, but the workmen were busy in another wing entirely, leaving Varl to search for Glass alone. The smell of paint filled the air, making him light-headed. Up ahead, he saw the entrance to the great, round reading chamber glowing with orange light. His boots scraped quietly across the tiled floor, not wanting to alarm Glass but not wanting to surprise him, either. Along the walls of the corridor, haunting reminders of the library’s glory stuck him by their absence, for where once grand portraits had hung there were now only faded spots of brick. The defenders of the library had sold almost everything of value in the place, all but the books which still lay everywhere in mammoth, unloved piles.

Varl had come to the library alone, without Jazana’s blessing. He had waited until nightfall, unsure what he would say to the Black Baron. The library had been mostly deserted, but a few intrepid craftsmen still worked on the front fac?ade, where the bombardment Varl himself had unleashed had been the hardest. Their progress had impressed Varl, who had stopped within the library’s enormous entry hall to tell them so. With weary eyes the workmen nodded, not saying a word, then returned to work. Varl left them, sure of where he would find Baron Glass.

It had not been a secret that the great artist Lucio had come to Koth to paint a masterpiece. By the time Varl had left the city for Norvor, Lucio and his team had just arrived, eager to meet the challenge Baron Glass had laid before them. Though the carpenters and bricklayers worked out of fear, the great Lucio saw only the chance to create something grand, and that was why he had heeded Glass’ call. The ancient artist had seen the turmoil of the last twenty years bring his beloved country to its knees. And had no love for Baron Glass, whom he had openly called a tyrant. Yet his love for Liiria empowered him enough to overcome his prejudices, and give one last gift to his homeland.

Varl was eager to see what Lucio had created, and he knew that Baron Glass would be there still, admiring Lucio’s handiwork. As he neared the round chamber, Varl listened for any sound of Thorin, but the chamber up ahead was silent. He paused, noting the flickering torchlight. An ugly sense of fear twisted through him. Each time he saw Glass, the baron was different. Slowly, the Devil’s Armour corroded more and more of the good man he had once been. Gathering his courage, Varl went to threshold of the chamber, swallowed instantly by its dark enormity. Overhead, the fresco created by Lucio and his novices came breathtakingly to life, animated by the light and smoke from the torches. Directly below the masterpiece, in the dead centre of the chamber, stood Glass. He had his back to Varl, but he slowly turned to face him, his armoured left arm glowing unnaturally with black light. The baron’s appearance startled Varl. He seemed younger, full of vigour, his jaw strong and squared, his shoulders broader. The skin of his face stretched tight across his cheekbones, pulling out the wrinkles Varl knew had been there months before. Glass’ eyes shone like gemstones. His hair looked lustrous. He reached out with his enchanted arms, using the magic fingers to beckon Varl inside.

‘Come in and look,’ said Glass. ‘Isn’t it marvelous?’

Varl let his eyes scan the ceiling as he stepped inside. It was indeed marvelous, depicting one of Liiria’s many battles against Reec. Not a student of Liirian history, Varl could not determine the particulars, but he easily recognized the river Kryss and the flags of the opposing armies.

‘That is me,’ said Glass, pointing toward a panel directly overhead. ‘At the Battle of Sandy Ridge. See me? With the sword?’

Varl squinted to better see the painted figure. ‘You don’t look much different these days, Baron.’

Glass smiled as if it had been meant as a compliment. ‘Lucio has a miraculous talent. It’s not done yet, but mostly. Some details to work on or some such nonsense. But I will unveil it soon so that the people can see.’

‘The library is hardly safe enough for that,’ argued Varl.

‘And whose fault is that, eh?’

It was the old argument. Varl had never been sorry he’d attacked the library. His action had saved lives.

‘Thorin, I have been to see Jazana,’ Varl said, changing the subject. ‘I have brought her news from Norvor.’

‘Good news, I take it.’

‘No, Thorin, not good news. Not at all.’

Thorin grunted and turned away. ‘Bad news? I have had my fill of that today, Varl. I don’t want to hear it.’

‘But you must hear it,’ said Varl, stalking after him. ‘Norvor is in peril. Thorin, Carlion has fallen.’

Baron Glass stopped pacing. He lowered his head to his chest, muttered a curse, then looked up again.

‘When?’

‘Three weeks ago.’

‘Elgan?’

Varl nodded. ‘He and his men took the castle. Gondoir is dead.’

‘And the others?’

‘The others are safe. Elgan’s men have not moved beyond Carlion. They’re digging in, waiting for an attack. Manjek hasn’t moved against him, and neither has Demortris. Rolga looks safe.’

‘So it’s quiet?’

‘For now.’ Varl looked sharply at the baron. ‘But maybe not for long. Elgan and his men are waiting for Lorn to return. They know he’s alive, Thorin. There are a lot more people loyal to Lorn the Wicked then we thought. And they think Jazana has abandoned them.’

Thorin turned his face away. ‘Do they?’

‘Yes. Because you’ve kept her here, in Liiria. And because you’ve taken all the diamonds, too, to rebuild Koth and the library.’

‘I’m protecting Koth.’ Glass looked up at the ceiling and sighed. ‘Haven’t you noticed? We have enemies.’

‘The Reecians? They’re on your border because they fear you, Thorin. They’re the ones protecting themselves.’

‘You’re an idiot for thinking that, Varl. Look at this painting! Do you know how long we battled the Reecians for the river Kryss? It was ours! It was always ours until Akeela gave it away.’

‘And made peace with Reec,’ Varl argued.

‘There is no peace with wolves,’ said Thorin. ‘Wolves are always hungry. The Reecians have the Kryss by right of treaty, yet still they mount on our borders? And you say that is because they are afraid?’ The baron flexed his metal arm. ‘Well, they should be afraid. Soon I will deal with them, and take the Kryss back for Liiria.’

Varl’s jaw fell open. ‘Another war? After all that’s happened?’

‘Yes!’ barked Thorin. ‘What would you have me do? Let them spit in my face? The Reecians are coming to fight us. There’s no other reason for their buildup. But they do not know that Baron Glass is not an old man any more! And I have all the resources of Norvor to help me.’

‘Yes, our resources,’ said Varl. ‘Norvan diamonds and Norvan blood. Didn’t you hear what I said, Thorin? Carlion is gone!’

‘It will be ours again,’ said Thorin. ‘Once I have taken apart Raxor and his pathetic son. Once the river Kryss is taken back for Liiria.’

‘Jazana told me you’d say that,’ said Varl. ‘She believes you, Thorin. She loves you.’

Slowly Baron Glass turned his frightening face toward Varl. ‘And you? Do you believe in me, Varl?’

‘No.’ Rodrik Varl stared into Thorin’s fiery face. ‘I think you’re demented. And I don’t think you care at all about Norvor. Oh, you love Jazana, I’m not denying that. But what you really want is her gold and diamonds, so you can feed your vanities.’

‘Rodrik Varl, you have stones of steel to speak to me that way!’ laughed Thorin. ‘Good, I say. Be honest with me, I don’t mind.’ Thorin took a step closer, smiled, then quickly brought up his gauntlet, seizing Varl by the throat. ‘And let me be honest with you.’

Varl felt the metal fingers closing off his windpipe. His hands went up to pry loose the grip. At once his face began to swell as the pressure built in his skull.

‘I won’t have you questioning me,’ said Thorin softly. ‘Do you hear? I won’t have it.’

Varl worked desperately to pull off Thorin’s grasp. The steely hand kept clamped around his throat. Speaking was impossible; only a wheeze issued from his throat.

‘Stay out of my way, Rodrik,’ Thorin warned. ‘Liiria is mine, and so is Jazana. If you ever speak against me again I swear I will kill you.’

Thorin held Varl by the throat until the mercenary could no longer breathe. Then, with Varl’s eyes rolling backward, he at last let go, watching as the man fell gasping to his knees. Varl coughed as he found his breath, coughing up spittle and massaging his aching neck. He looked up into Thorin’s angry face and saw the mask of a madman.

‘Go to Norvor and fight if you wish,’ said Thorin. ‘I have no use for you here. I keep you around only because Jazana cares for you. But take no one else with you. They’re needed here.’

It took effort for Varl to rise to his feet. Checking his rage, he held back the insults dangling on his tongue, looking hatefully at Thorin. Killing him was impossible. He knew that even as his hand went to his dagger. Thorin saw his hand and shook his head.

‘Don’t,’ he suggested.

Varl let his hand fall away. His breathing steadied. ‘I can’t stop you. I can’t kill you and I can’t stop you from ruining Norvor.’

‘I don’t intend to let Norvor fall to ruin, Rodrik. But I will save her in my own time.’

Varl hesitated, then slowly backed away. Thorin quickly turned his attention back to the ceiling. Instantly mesmerized, the baron seemed to quickly forget his row with Varl. Seeing this, Varl moved to the door, more certain than ever that Glass was insane.

Worse, Jazana was in danger. Her love for Glass had made her blind, and though he claimed to love her too, Varl could easily imagine his mood changing. Violently.

As he left the chamber, Varl decided he would not go back to Norvor. Jazana needed him, more than ever. He would stay with her, and if he could, protect her from her mad lover.