John Marco - The Devil's armour

The gates to the city weren’t really gates at all. Koth had always welcomed visitors, and the gates were nothing more than unmovable pillars of stone and iron standing like sentries at the mouth of the avenue. The avenue itself led to the heart of Koth, where Chancellery Square still stood and Lionkeep kept watch over the city. It would have been easy for Breck to take refuge in Lionkeep, but he had too few men to keep the Norvans out of the gate and so had arranged his forces the best he could, lining up his Chargers in long rows at the eastern and western flanks and stationing archers in the towers. Aliston, who had become his Captain of Archers, had done a good job of positioning his bowmen so that now they could easily see Thorin’s men poised to enter the city. In the morning, they would rain down their arrows on the Norvans as they rode, trying and probably failing to repel their attack.

Breck noted the height of the moon. Morning would soon be upon them. All through the city his men prepared for the attack, helping the folk of Koth secure their homes and storefronts. They had done their best to evacuate Koth, but now it was too late. With the Norvan noose tight around their throats, there was no escape for any of them. As he looked out toward the hills, Breck hoped some mercy remained in Baron Glass, and that his cursed armour had not drained all his humanity.

There were many in the street with him, yet Breck felt completely alone. He turned toward the north and saw the library towering over the city. Inside the library, his wife Kalla waited with his son. She had begged him not to leave, but in the end she had understood the need. It had broken Breck’s heart to leave her but she had steadfastly refused to join the evacuation, choosing to put herself in the hands of Van and Murdon and the others who had stayed to defend the library. They, too, would likely die, for Breck knew that once the city fell Baron Glass would surely turn his attention toward the library.

‘Commander?’

Startled, Breck turned to see Aric Glass coming toward him. The young man paused, careful not to interrupt him. Amazingly, he had volunteered for duty in the city, almost insisting on it. Breck supposed he just wanted to see his father.

‘What is it, Aric?’

‘A report from Captain Aliston. His archers are in position but won’t promise anything. There’s only two good towers facing the gates.’

Breck waved off the excuse. ‘For the hundredth time, I know. What else?’

‘Captain Andri’s closed off the eastern streets.’

‘He got the barricades positioned?’

Aric nodded. ‘It took some doing, but yes. They tore down one of the old chancellery offices for beams. The mercenaries should have a tough time getting past them.’

The news bolstered Breck. Andri was a good man, with the necessary cleverness. He’d hold the east end as long as possible, Breck was sure.

‘Anything else?’

Aric thought for a moment. ‘Just waiting for the morning now.’

Breck smiled. He was proud of Aric. Despite his youth, he had performed admirably. Breck was glad he’d chosen him for an aide.

‘Have you seen Lukien yet?’

‘No, sir. The others have been asking about him.’

Breck looked back toward the library. He knew his men were anxious to see Lukien. They needed his strength.

‘Sir?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Will Lukien be leading a brigade?’

‘I’ll be leading, Aric. So will Andri.’

‘Yes, sir.’

They remained quiet for a long moment, Aric waiting to be dismissed.

‘Aric, be at ease,’ said Breck. ‘There’s nothing to do now but wait.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Breck listened very carefully. ‘You hear the drums?’

‘I hear them,’ replied Aric, his tone brittle.

‘Rolgan war drums. Glass must have found someone to replace Onikil.’

‘What about the chariots?’ asked Aric.

Breck tried to look confident. The chariots of Poolv were a worry. Early scouts had counted hundreds of them just days before. And the streets of Koth were wide and smooth enough to accommodate them easily.

‘We’ll trap them in the corners if we can, or catch them in a crossfire. Aliston’s prepared for them.’

The answer sat uneasily with Aric, who licked his lips and tried looking brave. Breck had decided not to deceive any of them — he didn’t expect to win the battle. He wanted only to bloody Jazana Carr’s nose, and maybe be an example to other Liirian cities. They would resist because it was the right thing to do. Because Liiria was their country.

‘Fate above, look at that. .’

Breck turned with alarm toward the gate, then realised Aric wasn’t talking about the Norvans at all. Instead the young man’s eyes were fixed on the avenue, and a single horseman riding through. The sea of soldiers parted as he trotted slowly down the street, unmistakable in his armour of bronze.

Lukien’s bronze armour gleamed in the moonlight. His horse clip-clopped confidently to the Rolgan drumbeat. A great broadsword hung at his belt, shining like his unblemished armour. His radiant breastplate caught the moonbeams like a rainbow. Aric’s mouth fell open at the sight of him, and the men along the avenue stopped to stare. Lukien kept his determined gaze on Breck, ignoring his dumbstruck comrades. He came like a giant out of the darkness, unafraid, bearing on his shoulders the hopes of the men. Breck admired him. It had been many years since he’d seen his friend don the armour, but time had made him no less magnificent. Once, Reecian generals had cringed to see the Bronze Knight.

Lukien brought his horse to a halt before Breck. His face bore the steel of resolution. His two little words said everything.

‘I’m ready.’

It had taken Lukien hours to appear, but Breck had never doubted he would come.

‘The dawn comes fast, Lukien,’ said Breck softly. ‘Listen to the drums.’

Lukien cocked his ear to hear the martial noise. His one eye blinked contemptuously.

‘He’s chosen the Rolgans to lead,’ he said, referring to Thorin. ‘That’s a surprise after what he did to Onikil.’ He looked around, noting the stares of the many men who had yet to return to their duties. Breck expected him to comment on their numbers, but he did not. ‘They’re fine,’ he said. ‘Brave.’ He looked at Aric Glass. ‘All of them.’

Aric puffed at the praise, his eyes full of admiration. ‘You’ll fight with us, here at the west side?’ he asked hopefully.

‘I’ll fight wherever Breck will have me fight,’ said Lukien.

‘It’ll be worse here than the east side,’ said Breck. ‘You should stay with us here.’

Lukien got down from his horse. Like its rider, the huge beast was laden with armour. ‘Do I have a post?’

‘Just stay out front where the men can see you. Look. . see the way they watch you? They need to see you, Lukien.’ Breck grinned. ‘So try not to get killed.’

Lukien’s expression remained serious. ‘I cannot be killed, Breck. No matter how much I may wish it.’

‘Ah, you sound like Glass now!’

‘It is not a boast, Breck. It’s something you need to know.’ Lukien’s face darkened with shame. ‘I have kept it from you, but now it’s time to show you.’

‘What?’ asked Breck with a frown. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I know you don’t approve of Grimhold’s magic,’ said Lukien, digging into his breastplate. He caught hold of a chain and began to tug. ‘I thought to never show you this, but I shan’t keep secrets from you, not any more.’

Breck watched as he pulled on the chain, drawing it awkwardly from beneath his breastplate. His suspicions heightened, he expected to see a charm on the other end or some sort of twisted rabbit’s foot. Instead he saw a dazzling amulet and, knowing what it was, let out a horrible groan.