John Marco - The Devil's armour

Meriel groaned bitterly. ‘Because it meant something to him. Because it meant peace and beautiful things.’ Finally she looked at him, really looked, examining the thing he had become. Surprisingly, there was pity in her swollen eyes. ‘Lukien?’

Thorin swallowed his anger. Of course she would ask about him .

‘Alive or dead, I cannot say,’ he told her.

Meriel closed her eyes, fighting back fresh tears. ‘Where?’

Thorin reached down and hooked his hand beneath her arm, lifting her to her feet. She felt effortlessly light, so frail he could have snapped her. Gently he pulled her away from the dead man and debris, standing her against a wall so she would not fall. She could not bring herself to look at him. Thorin took her chin in his grip and forced her eyes upward.

‘You love him,’ he said, not hiding his contempt. ‘I loved you, but I was never enough for you. Am I enough now, Mirage ?’

The girl would not — could not — answer him. She fought off his grip, turning her face away. Enraged, Thorin took her arm and flung her aside.

‘He is outside the city,’ he thundered. ‘Go to him. Save him if you can.’

She looked at him in disbelief. ‘Lukien. .?’

Thorin folded his arms across his armoured chest. ‘You were beautiful to me, even before your magic. Yet you choose a man who thinks nothing of you. Have him, then.’ Thorin nodded at Varl, who had watched their drama with quiet surprise. ‘Take her to him,’ he ordered. ‘Thayus knows where to find him.’

Mirage remained fixed on him even as Varl dragged her away, her face full of confusion. Thorin watched her go, Varl roughly shoving her down the hall. When at last she was out of view he let his arms fall weakly at his sides. Next to him, the man called Van lay sprawled in death. Thorin stared at him a moment, then knelt beside him. A bit of the tapestry rested tightly between his fingers. Thorin undid the rigored grip and pulled the tapestry free. It was very large, but he laid it out neatly on the floor, curious to see what the man had died for.

To Thorin, the thing was very plain. Well made, perhaps, but depicting nothing of particular value.

‘Just old men,’ he said. He looked back at Van. ‘I don’t understand.’

For the second time in his life, Lukien awoke from the brink of death.

He remembered floating, and then Cassandra, and then the darkness that seemed to never end, suffocating him. He remembered the light of the amulet and the presence of Amaraz, struggling to hold together his mind and battered body. He remembered the passage of time, as if ages had gone by. Then finally, he awoke.

His eyes fluttered open to see Mirage’s pretty face coming squarely into focus. She smiled on him like the sun, making him unafraid. For what felt like a long time he did not speak as he looked at her, happy to see her but wondering if she were just another apparition. His body felt warm. He was naked beneath a blanket, out of his armour and — he supposed — out of danger. Mirage reached down to touch his hair.

‘Lukien? Can you hear me?’

Her voice was like music. He nodded, though every bone in his body ached.

‘I can hear you.’

The sound of his own voice startled him, so weak was it. Like a little boy’s voice.

‘You’re safe, Lukien,’ said Mirage. ‘Don’t be afraid.’

He was safe. And alive. He remembered his encounter in the death-world and smiled.

‘Cassandra. .’

Mirage’s face contorted. ‘No, Lukien, it’s me — Mirage.’

‘Mirage.’ Lukien licked his lip. ‘I saw Cassandra.’

Mirage brushed the hair from his face. ‘Don’t try to talk. You’re not well, but you’ll be all right now.’

Lukien painfully lifted his hand to his face. He felt contusions on his lips and chin and swelling over his one good eye. The thrashing Thorin had given him rushed back into his memory, making him gasp.

‘I’m all right,’ he said, trying to calm himself. But the room was unfamiliar to him. ‘Where. .?’

‘We’re in Borath,’ said Mirage. A bowl of water that Lukien only just noticed rested beside her. She dipped a rag into it and wiped his face. ‘You have sores. Lie still.’

The water burned his wounds. Lukien winced, terribly confused. He knew Borath; it was not far from Koth. A village. Why was he here? And why was she with him? He pushed her hand away and tried to sit up, but the effort made his brain slosh with nausea and he lay back gasping.

‘Don’t,’ Mirage warned. ‘You’ve been badly hurt, Lukien.’ She leaned over him. ‘Do you remember what happened?’

‘Thorin,’ Lukien whispered. He remembered it all too perfectly. ‘Where is he?’

‘In Koth,’ said Mirage. She went on to explain how he had come to the library and how they had spoken, and how Thorin had sent her to find him. Many others had escaped with her, she told him, many were with them now in Borath. Gradually Lukien’s mind began to clear. He thought of Breck, suddenly, and how his old friend had died. Then he thought of others.

‘What about Aric Glass? Is he here?’

Mirage nodded. ‘He’s here. Thorin didn’t know what happened to his son. He didn’t even ask.’

That bewildered Lukien, but he assumed it was Kahldris, keeping Thorin from caring too much. Minikin had warned him that would be the case but he hadn’t really listened. And he had paid the price. Suddenly remembering the amulet, he felt for the thing. There it was, lying across his naked chest, warm and pulsing, keeping him alive.

‘That saved you,’ said Mirage. ‘I found you outside the city, just as Thorin said I would. You were near death, Lukien. I didn’t think you’d make it. Aric came back for you, too. He had a horse and helped me bring you here.’ She smiled, trying to cheer him. ‘You’ve been out for days.’

‘Aric,’ Lukien croaked. ‘I want to see him.’

‘You will. Not yet, though. You need to rest first. Maybe tomorrow if you’re stronger.’

Again Lukien tried sitting up, this time raising himself to his aching elbow. ‘Mirage, I cannot wait,’ he told her. ‘I’ve seen Cassandra — I have to find the sword.’

‘What? Lukien, you’re fevered. Lean back, now. .’

‘No, listen to me! I’ve seen her. When I was dead, she came to me.’ Lukien could hear the shakiness in his voice and fought to steady it. ‘I know,’ he said, ‘it sounds mad. But she came to me, Mirage, in the orchard where she died. She’s alive!’

Mirage lowered the rag and stared at him, confounded, but did not argue with him. Instead she seemed aghast. ‘Her death place? That’s where you saw her?’

‘Yes,’ said Lukien. ‘It was real. I know it.’

‘I believe you,’ said Mirage. She sat back, looking pensive. ‘It can happen. Why not?’ Again she looked at Lukien. ‘What is this sword she told you about?’

Lukien tried hard to retain his strength. ‘I’m not sure. She called it the Sword of Angels.’ Then, as if the sun had risen, he remembered what Cassandra had told him. ‘The Serpent Kingdom,’ he whispered. ‘That’s where this sword is. It belongs to Kahldris’ brother.’

‘She told you all that?’

‘She did. Do you know of this place, Mirage, this Serpent Kingdom?’

Mirage slowly nodded. ‘All Inhumans know something of it. Our Akari tell us of it. It is a land beyond Grimhold, a secret place.’

‘Yes,’ said Lukien excitedly. ‘That’s what Cassandra told me — a land beyond Grimhold.’ He leaned back again in his bed, staring at the ceiling. ‘I have to find it, and this sword.’ Despite the pain he smiled. ‘And Cassandra.’

‘Cassandra?’ Mirage glowered at him. ‘What do you mean?’