The Sword Of Angels

55

Thorin rode throughout the night, riding a horse he had commandeered from the dead assassins sent to kill him. He left behind the burning ruins of Richter, heading south along the valley road toward Koth, a journey that would take him days but which also allowed him the time he needed to grieve. Haunted by his memories of Meriel, he took no time at all to rest or eat or drink from the river. Instead, Thorin brooded over what had happened and the great stupidity of it all. Still fully garbed in the Devil’s Armour, he did not even try to make contact with Kahldris. Sensing his grief, the demon stayed far away from Thorin’s mind. Thorin remained strong as he rode, refusing to give way to the sobs threatening to break him. His mind reeled with questions, but mostly he thought about Meriel and how his vanity had killed her.

Finally, when morning broke, Thorin found himself beside a placid lake. Birds sang their songs of dawn, and the trees filled with gentle light as the sun peaked its orange head above the hills. His exhausted horse would go no further, and Thorin guided it to the lake, dismounting and letting it drink. He took the helmet of the armour off his head, holding it in the crux of his arm and gazed out over the waters. Without food his horse would not take him all the way to Koth, but it didn’t really matter. In the armour he could walk forever and never tire. Such was the power of the Devil’s Armour.

‘But it does not give wisdom,’ Thorin whispered.

The rage he could no longer control boiled over, and he slammed the armour into the dirt. His metal fingers came up, clawing his face, and the sobs he had tried so hard to stifle overcame him in a torrent, shaking his body and driving him to his knees. There in the mud of the lakeside he cried, weeping, unable to stop himself until he felt Kahldris’ cold touch on his soul.

‘Why?’ he groaned, lifting his face skyward. ‘You could have saved her!’

Kahldris’ voice was filled with sympathy. I could not. I could only save you.

‘You lie!’ Thorin sneered. ‘I know how powerful you are! You could have saved her but you hated her! You wanted her to die, you jealous shit-eater!’

No, Baron, you are wrong. I know how happy she made you. That is why I left her to you. I could have harmed her any time, but I did not because she pleased you.

‘And now she’s dead,’ said Thorin, his hands in the dirt. He shook his head, wanting to blame someone. ‘Why’d they kill her? Who were they?’

They were mercenaries. You know that.

‘Who sent them?’ demanded Thorin. ‘Tell me, Kahldris!’

Baron Glass, you think too much of me. I cannot be everywhere at once. I do not know who sent them. The demon paused as if he wasn’t telling everything. Who do you think sent them?

Thorin looked up. ‘What are you saying? Damn you, Kahldris, tell me clearly.’

Kahldris’ tone grew annoyed. Who has mercenaries to kill the woman you cared about? Who knew you would be in the house alone with her? Who hated the girl because you loved her? Who, Baron Glass? Who?

Thorin thought for a moment, but the idea seemed impossible. ‘Jazana would never do such a thing!’

Would she not? After how you’ve treated her?

‘She would not!’

You stupid toad of a man. What is a woman but a warm place to lay? You have no need of any of them, yet you protect and believe their words. Why would Jazana Carr not want her dead, and you rotting next to her? Who else would send filthy mercenaries to burn you both alive?

It was unthinkable, too much for Thorin to get his mind around. He got to his feet, feeling faint and feeling angry. The demon’s words were relentless, his logic cold and true. Meriel’s tortured face muscled into his memory, and suddenly it made sense.

‘Would that bitch do such a thing? Would she do it to me?’

What have you given her that she did not have herself? She wants to return to Norvor, Baron. She despises Liiria.

Thorin felt helpless. ‘What shall I do?’

You can act like a man. These women — they are a distraction to you. Jazana Carr does nothing but hinder you. We needed her once. But no longer.

‘No,’ said Thorin desperately. ‘What are you asking of me? Ask me to tear the flesh off my bones, but do not ask me this. .’

She has killed the woman you loved, Baron Glass.

‘No!’

Thorin hurried away, running along the edge of the lake, trying to escape. But Kahldris clung to him, refusing to let go.

Why do you run? Will you let that diamond-crusted bitch beat you? Listen to me, Baron Glass — you are a man! I have made you whole again!

His words drove Thorin back to his knees. Collapsing into the mud, he put his hands to his ears trying to silence the Akari. He hated Jazana suddenly, and hated himself for doing so. But the logic seemed so clear to him. How could he ignore it?

‘She is a bitch and a whore and I hate her!’ he cried.

Good! Now have your vengeance on her!

Thorin closed his eyes as tightly as he could, wishing for a better way. Killing Jazana would be a horror. He would see her in his dreams for the rest of his life. But he would also see Meriel, lovely, helpless. She had been like a flower, totally innocent, so very fragile. And Jazana had murdered her. He saw that plainly now.

‘She is a woman who must be taught a lesson,’ he rasped. ‘When I return to Koth, she will feel the hand of Baron Glass.’