John Marco - The Devil's armour

‘Lukien. .’

Lukien let the thing dangle on his breastplate, the ruby at its centre pulsing with life. Aric gasped when he saw it.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘That’s the Eye of God,’ snapped Breck. He looked furiously at Lukien. A year ago, it was this same cursed thing that had kept Cassandra alive. ‘You’ve had it all along, Lukien?’

‘It’s keeping me alive, Breck,’ said Lukien. ‘I took a mortal blow in Grimhold. Without this amulet I would have been dead long ago.’

‘Damnable magic!’ growled Breck. ‘You bring this filth into my country, you and Thorin both! Look around, Lukien — look what all this magic has brought us!’

Lukien kept calm in the face of Breck’s storm. ‘This is the means to defeat Thorin’s armour, Breck. It’s the only way. It’s kept me alive when I should have been dead. It will keep me alive if I have to battle Thorin.’

Breck shook his head in exasperation. ‘How do you know that? How do you know any of these trinkets you’ve brought are worth anything at all? Look what the armour has done to Baron Glass, Lukien.’ He pointed with disgust at the Eye. ‘How do you know that thing won’t do the same to you?’

‘Because it hasn’t done so already,’ said Lukien. ‘Because the Akari spirit inside it is trustworthy.’

Breck rolled his eyes. ‘Gods, listen to yourself. That’s the same nonsense Thorin believed.’

Lukien took the amulet in his hand and held it tight. ‘It gives me strength. Strength enough to defeat Thorin if need be. And when Thorin falls, the rest of them will, too. It’s the only hope we have.’

They were all looking at Lukien, not only Aric but all the other gathered soldiers, too. Breck bit his lip, not wanting to argue with the man who was their hero.

‘You deceived me, Lukien,’ he said.

‘I did not. I promised you I would stay and fight. Well, here I am.’

The two old comrades shared a charged glare. At last, Breck relented.

‘You may wear your amulet, then,’ he said. ‘And hope it does not betray you, or the rest of us.’ Then, a little smile crept over his face. ‘It will be good to fight with you again, Bronze Knight.’

Van looked out over the walls he had built with a sense of solid satisfaction. At the base of Library Hill, a mercenary army numbering in the thousands had camped, setting up their catapults to soften the library’s walls and the will of its defenders, but Vanlandinghale of the Royal Chargers refused to be afraid. He had been given an important duty by Breck himself, to look after the civilians in the library. Among them were Breck’s wife and son, and Van had no intention of letting them be harmed. It was bravado, he knew, but as he surveyed the walls he allowed himself a modicum of pride. Major Nevins was in command now, and would fight the main force when they tried to breach the hill. Murdon was his second, and as such had a role at least as important as Van’s, but the walls belonged to Van. If Nevins fell and Murdon failed, only the walls and the last defenders would remain to hold the library.

It could have been so much easier, Van knew. If Breck hadn’t taken so many men to the city, if they had all held out inside the library, they could have withstood the siege for days. They had even sent word to Reec for help, and there was still a chance that the Reecian king would heed their pleas. But Breck wasn’t like that, and had refused to leave the cityfolk to fend for themselves. There were still plenty of civilians in Koth, all of whom were in dire peril from Baron Glass and Jazana Carr. Van smiled as he thought of his brave commander, willingly leaving the library’s safety. He had taken Aric and Lukien and hundreds of others with him, but he had insisted that Van stay behind.

‘Look after them,’ he had whispered to Van, afraid for his wife and son. And then he had gone, riding down the hillside for Koth, where he would quite probably die.

We will all die , thought Van.

Around him his men checked the walls and set traps for the invaders, ignoring exhaustion in their zeal to be ready. Now the morning was coming fast; the drums in the hills had been playing for an hour. Van checked his sidearm — a long, thin sword — patting it like a lover to reassure himself. He should have been exhausted himself, for he had been up for countless hours, but the dread of the coming battle kept his nerves taut and his mind alive with fire. Deciding to inspect the grounds, he left the shadows of the walls and went toward the field surrounding them. Gazing up to the tower he saw his men stationed in the buttresses, ready with longbows. His crossbowmen would be stationed closer to the action, where their lesser range but greater power would be more useful. He was about to check the furthest wall when he saw Mirage hurrying toward him.

Mirage, if that was truly her name, had been a blessing to Van. Since Onikil’s head had come to the library, Mirage had done everything possible to be of use to Breck and his soldiers, and now she had become indispensable, preparing bandages as well as meals and even doing the dirty work of digging ditches and fletching arrows, a skill she was surprisingly deft at. She spoke very little of her past, which did not surprise Van at all, or about Grimhold, where she had gotten her exotic name. If she had any magical powers she had never revealed them, but she had shown herself to be courageous, completely unwilling to leave the library to join the other refugees who had evacuated the place. As Mirage saw Van across the field, she waved to him. In her hand she held a steaming mug.

‘I thought you’d be hungry,’ she called to him. She raised the mug to show him. ‘For you.’

Van crossed the distance between them, smiling appreciatively. Out in the open as they were, he was sure his men could see him, but he didn’t really care. If Lukien didn’t want her — and clearly he didn’t — he would be proud to court the lovely girl.

‘Thank you,’ he said, taking the mug. Looking into it, he saw it was a thin stew, more for drinking than eating, with slivered peas and bits of ham from the stores. Most importantly it was hot, just what Van needed. He wrapped his hands around the mug to warm them, then took a little sip. ‘Good,’ he pronounced.

‘I didn’t make it,’ said Mirage, almost apologising. ‘I just thought you could use something. You should come in and rest. It’s still hours before morning.’

‘Two hours,’ Van pointed out. That they were surrounded by ten thousand foes seemed not to stir them at all as they looked at each other. Mirage was very beautiful; Van had noticed that the moment he’d seen her. If somehow they survived this siege, he determined to get to know her better.

‘That’s time enough for a little rest, at least,’ said Mirage. She put out a hand. ‘Come, there are beds in the hall.’

Van shook his head. Those were beds for the wounded, of which there would be many. ‘No. I need to stay.’ He looked around, uncomfortable suddenly. As much as he appreciated Mirage, he wished she had left with the others. Now he had her to worry about, as well as Breck’s family and the other civilians. ‘I want to tell you something,’ he said. ‘You’ve been a great help.’

Mirage’s lips twisted. ‘That sounds too much like a goodbye, Lieutenant.’

‘Perhaps it is. We have to face the truth, after all. Whatever happens, I want you to know what I think of you. I think you’re very brave, Mirage. I wish I had gotten to know you better.’

‘There’s time for that,’ said the girl.

She was being ridiculously optimistic, Van knew, but he nodded. ‘I hope you’re right.’

Mirage stared at him. She was forward; he had learned that about her quickly. It did not surprise him when her next question came.