John Marco - The Devil's armour

Jazana agreed. She waited until the girl Faruna arrived to help her dress, then went out among her men to celebrate the fall of King Lorn.

For the next day and a half, Jazana Carr’s army snaked its way south toward Carlion. Along the way they passed Rolga, where they rested and met with Count Onikil, the man who had taken control of the city after Rihards’ death. Onikil told the Diamond Queen that his city was quiet and that he had heard nothing of King Lorn’s whereabouts. Jazana Carr left Rolga satisfied that her new nation was taking shape. As she continued south, word reached her that Poolv and Vicvar had also quieted, and that the populations of those two strongholds were gradually adjusting to the idea of their new queen.

Still, Jazana brooded. Until she had the loyalty of Carlion, she could not be certain of her rule. The road to the capital was hard and treacherous, but she was accustomed to riding and so did not complain. She had always ridden her own horse, disdaining carriages as the purview of weaker women. Lost in her own thoughts, she took the lead as her mercenary cavalry crossed the bleak valleys of stone and stunted forests, her bodyguard Rodrik Varl always close. They were nearly a thousand strong, and providing for an army so large had cost Jazana dearly. More, the gifts they bore for Carlion on the backs of pack animals had also depleted her funds, but Jazana didn’t care. Her many diamond mines provided her with nearly inexhaustible riches, and now she had the taxes of Norvor’s barons to help pay her accounts. She only hoped the people of Carlion would be grateful for her gifts. She was bribing them, surely. But she had long ago learned that loyalty wasn’t earned — it was purchased.

Rodrik Varl, who had been talking to one of his companions, a jet-haired mercenary from Reec, noticed the pensive expression on his mistress’ face and abruptly broke off his conversation. He sidled his brown gelding up beside Jazana’s own splendid horse and smiled.

‘Ah, my lady, is it not a beautiful day to ride into your new capital?’

Jazana nodded. She had hardly noticed the day. ‘It is that. But Carlion won’t be my home, Rodrik.’

‘Mmm, I’d been wondering about that,’ said Rodrik. His grin vanished. ‘Eager to keep your promise, then?’

The promise was something Rodrik periodically mentioned. He drew great pleasure in needling her about her former love, Thorin Glass. She had vowed that she would kill his family someday, the one he had left behind in Liiria, and conquer that great country for her own. It was to be done as soon as she’d vanquished Lorn and claimed Norvor. Thinking about her bleak promise made Jazana uneasy. It was an ugly boast, but Thorin had broken her heart. And she had never reneged on her vow, but rather kept it deep inside her, quietly brewing, waiting for its day. When she didn’t answer, Rodrik prodded her again.

‘We have our own nation to quell first, Jazana,’ he reminded her. ‘It won’t be easy.’

‘Nor do I think it will be easy.’

‘But you will return to Hanging Man?’

‘I just said so, didn’t I?’

‘So that you can be closer to Liiria?’

‘That’s right.’

‘All in its time, my lady.’ Rodrik lowered his voice so that others couldn’t hear him. ‘Norvor is yours, but she’s a restless prize to be sure. Liiria can wait.’

‘I will wait until there is order, until our strength has returned,’ said Jazana. ‘Then we will have our ease to march on Liiria.’

‘You are queen, Jazana. Norvor is yours. Why is that not enough for you? When will you finally stop brooding over Baron Glass?’

Jazana Carr turned her dazzling smile on the man. ‘Sweet Rodrik, do you not think I hear your counsel? Do not fear for Norvor. She is shattered now, but I will heal her. And do not torture yourself over Thorin’s memory. I will deal with my promise to him in my own time.’

‘Not too soon, I hope.’

‘When I am ready.’

‘When you are ready? Or when Norvor is ready? Those may be two different things.’

‘Enough,’ said Jazana. She did not want to discuss it so she said nothing as they rode, allowing Rodrik to fall back a little. The dark sky that had hampered them recently had given way to a rare sight in Norvor — a bright day punctuated with cottony, harmless clouds. A sweet breeze from the mountains relaxed Jazana. Comfortable in her leather armour and cape, she could not recall a finer day. Deciding it a good omen, she allowed herself a tiny smile.

They rode like this in silence for an hour more, until at last Carlion appeared on the horizon. The great army took notice of the capital with a happy murmur. Jazana shuddered at the sight of it. It was an ugly city, though it had once been beautiful. The towering turrets of Lorn’s former fortress rose up like spears, guarding the capital against the northern road. Like most Norvan cities, this one had walls built around it which were crumbling in spots and a great gate had fallen into similar disrepair, for it was clearly open and unguarded. The neglected capital made Jazana forlorn. To her great concern she saw people in the streets, mobs of them curiously watching the arrival of her army.

We are conquerors and they hate us , thought Jazana. And why not? If I were them I would hate us, too .

Riding up to greet them came a contingent of mercenaries, about a dozen of those who had been put under the command of Duke Rihards to help take Carlion. They were eager in their stride, hurrying forward. Rodrik Varl called to them, waving. With them was a trio of Rolgans, easily recognisable in their perfectly matched armour, a luxury even Jazana’s well-paid forces had never enjoyed. Now that she was queen, she supposed she would need to bring some sort of order to her troops. The riders came up to greet them, and Jazana brought her company to a halt. The snaking army stopped behind her. The Rolgans dismounted at once, as did her own men, but it was the Rolgans that bowed.

‘My queen,’ said one of them, the elder of the two. ‘My lord Gondoir greets you, and welcomes you to Carlion.’

Jazana gave the man her thanks. ‘Where is your lord now, sir?’

‘Lord Gondoir is at the fortress, my queen,’ replied the man. Obviously a soldier of some breeding, he stood at erect attention as he spoke. ‘He passes on his assurances that the city is safe and has been secured for you. He has prepared the fortress for you as well and awaits you eagerly.’

Impressed, Jazana beamed at the man. ‘That is well, sir. Ride back and give Lord Gondoir my thanks, and tell him we shall all be at the fortress presently. First, though, I have business with the city people.’

The Rolgan looked puzzled. ‘Business, my lady?’

‘I have brought gifts for the trampled folk of Carlion. Food and warm clothes, mostly.’

‘The queen is generous. It would be our pleasure to distribute these goods for you, Gracious One. I’m sure Lord Gondoir would not wish you to soil your self amongst such people.’

‘Those people are our people now,’ Jazana corrected. ‘My people. I must ride among them, let them see me. Now back with you to the fortress and tell Lord Gondoir to expect us.’

With no further argument, the Rolgan knight bowed and he and his comrades again mounted their horses. They gave their new queen a polite salute, then turned and rode back toward the ancient fortress. This time, the mercenaries did not accompany them but instead remained behind. They told Jazana Carr that the Rolgans had spoken the truth; the capital was indeed secure. All of Lorn’s loyalists had been captured and imprisoned. Jazana asked her men why so many of the people had gathered in the streets.

‘To see you, my lady,’ replied one of them. ‘They were told you were coming. The news has roused them.’