The Eyes of God (72 page)

Authors: John Marco

BOOK: The Eyes of God

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Now alone on the road, Lukien was spared the distractions of his fellow mercenaries. He had time to think. Mostly he thought of Marke, and how quickly the young man had died. Lukien had been unable to reach him in time; Ness had chopped him down like a weed. The image of Marke slumping dead from his saddle haunted Lukien the whole ride home.

Home.

Home to Hanging Man, a fortress. Home to Baron Glass and Jazana Carr and all the comforts diamonds could buy, but not a true home at all. Home was Liiria; Lukien had never forgotten that. Sixteen years had not dulled his hunger for the streets of Koth or the accent of his countrymen. As he rode along a cool, green road, surrounded by summer flowers and chirping birds, Lukien thought of home.

The next day he reached the Bleak Territories, where the roads were rugged and splayed out along rocky hills and gorges. The River Kryss pointed the way north. Lukien followed the waterway, stopping periodically to rest and water his horse. In the whispering desolation of northern Norvor he felt alone in the world, and he relished the experience. Suddenly he was no longer anxious to reach Hanging Man. Suddenly all he wanted to do was to keep riding, perhaps to a place where no one knew his name.

But within a few more hours, Lukien put this daydream to rest. As he rounded a hill along the riverbank, the great turret of Hanging Man appeared on the horizon. The imposing fortress cut a jagged scar against the blue sky. Lukien was glad he’d sent Travis and the others ahead without him, glad that he wouldn’t have to explain the battle at Disa to Jazana Carr. She would be happy with the outcome, Lukien was sure, but reciting the bloody details didn’t interest him. He wanted a hot bath, a good meal, and his bed, and that was all.

Jazana Carr, however, had other plans. Still more than a mile from the fortress, Lukien caught a glimpse of two riders coming toward him. It did not take long to recognize the warlady or her bodyguard with the blue beret. Jazana Carr’s horse was resplendent in flowing golden headgear and flanking skirts. Unlike a real queen, she did not ride sidesaddle but instead galloped out to greet him as though she were a man, her fearlessness buoyed by the skilled swordsman at her side. Rodrik Varl stayed a respectful distance behind Jazana Carr. The sight of the odd pair made Lukien rein back his horse. Over the roar of the river he heard Jazana Carr’s call.

“Ryon! Welcome home!”

She could be such a little girl sometimes, Lukien couldn’t help but grin. At times like this, when Jazana Carr forget her station and did the most absurd things, it was easy to forget she was a dictator. She waved at him across the brown earth, her long hair streaking out behind her, catching the sunlight in its gray highlights. Behind her, the gates of Hanging Man were open. Men moved casually through its courtyard. These were friends of Lukien’s, mostly, and he was glad for the sight of them.

“Ho, Jazana!” Lukien called, raising a hand. He could see Jazana smile at him through the dusty haze, her smile perfect. It was easy to see why Thorin bedded her. The warlady galloped quickly forward, then brought her horse to a stop a few paces away. Rodrik Varl parroted her motion but did not pull alongside her.

“Ryon!” she cried. “We saw you from the keep. We thought we’d come and greet you.”

Lukien’s smile widened. “Oh? Did you miss me that much, Jazana?”

Jazana Carr trotted her horse closer. “Indeed I did,” she said, then leaned over and gave his cheek a hard kiss. “It is never the same in the keep without you, Ryon. You know that.”

Lukien took her multijeweled hand, bending low to kiss it. From the corner of his one eye he saw Rodrik glance away. “Is that all, my lady?” he asked coyly. “You’ve come all this way to greet me, nothing more?”

“Come now, Ryon, you’re a fox,” said Jazana. “Why shouldn’t I miss you so much?”

“Because you always have a gaggle of men around you, and they keep you company well enough,” joked Lukien. “Now tell me why you’ve ridden out, before I start worrying.”

“It’s a fine day for riding,” said Jazana Carr evasively. She spun her horse back toward Hanging Man. “Isn’t it, Rodrik?”

“Oh, that it is, my lady,” replied Rodrik. He tilted his head toward Lukien. “Ryon.”

Lukien returned the small gesture. “Rodrik.”

The two rarely exchanged more words than these. There was a jealousy between Lukien and Rodrik that was good-natured but very real, one that Jazana Carr herself seemed to encourage and enjoy. In his younger days, before he’d lost his eye, Lukien would have been Rodrik’s better. But time had changed his opinion of himself. He had seen Rodrik in action and knew that Jazana had chosen a capable bodyguard.

“Jazana, if you have bad news for me I’d prefer to hear it quickly,” said Lukien. “Is Thorin all right?”

“Thorin is always all right,” said Jazana. “He’s waiting for you back at the keep.”

“Hmm, but he’s not as anxious to see me as you seem to be. Why?”

Jazana turned to Rodrik. “Rodrik, be a dear and ride back without us, will you? I’d like to speak to Ryon alone.”

Rodrik Varl lost his customary humor. “Your pardon, my lady, but I’m supposed to protect you, remember? I’ll stay with you, if you don’t mind.”

“But I do mind,” said Jazana icily. “Besides. . . .” She gave Lukien an adoring wink. “Who better to guard my person than Ryon? My safety is quite assured.”

“As you wish,” said Varl, turning and heading back toward Hanging Man. “I’ll tell Thorin you’ll be home straightaway, then?”

“Thorin is not my keeper!” shouted Jazana Carr after him.

Rodrik Varl chuckled as he rode away. “If you say so, my lady.”

Jazana stared at him a moment, her eyes blazing. She had terrible tempers, but somehow Lukien had grown accustomed to them. When Rodrik Varl was safely out of range, he reached over and took the warlady’s hand again. It was a good hand for a woman, soft yet strong as iron.

“He baits you, Jazana,” he counseled. “Don’t let him bother you.”

“He doesn’t bother me,” said Jazana Carr. She turned her face toward him, once again full of sunshine. “Rodrik likes to play. I indulge him, that’s all. And he’s good enough with his saber to merit his wandering tongue.”

“Ah, now you bait
me,
my lady, but I’m in no mood for your games. You’ve heard the news from Disa?”

“I have. Travis and the others were back two days ago. I shouldn’t tell you how cross I was not to see you with them, Ryon.”

“But you’re pleased, I can tell,” said Lukien. He began trotting toward Hanging Man. “It was not an easy victory, Jazana. Did Travis tell you everything?”

“He told me enough. Ride slowly, Ryon, I want to talk to you.”

Lukien slowed his gelding. Alongside him, Jazana Carr’s golden horse fell into an easy gait. “We’re alone, Jazana,” he said. “Rodrik can’t hear us. Tell me what’s troubling you.”

The warlady shrugged. “It may be nothing, I don’t know yet. Tell me, Ryon, are you glad to be back?”

“Of course,” said Lukien. “I’m always glad to come home.”

“Are you? When the others returned without you I was worried. Travis said you wanted to be alone.”

“Ah, well. . . .” Lukien let his gaze wander toward the hills. “Disa was bloody. I was bothered about Marke. I needed some time to think about things.”

“But you are happy here, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I would say that I am content.”

“And a man could do worse than be content,” said Jazana. She smiled up at the blue sky. “What a day, eh? A man could slay a dragon!”

“Yes, lovely,” said Lukien.

“It’s a fine home, Hanging Man. I’ve been happy here myself. Thorin, too.” The warlady regarded Lukien carefully. “I’ve tried to make things good for you here, Ryon. You’ve served me well and I’ve paid you handsomely for it. You know that don’t you?”

“Enough, now, Jazana,” said Lukien. “Tell me why you’re here.”

It took a moment for Jazana to reply. Her lips twisted sourly as she confessed, “There are people waiting for you in the keep. A man and a boy. From Koth.”

Lukien stopped his horse midstride. “What?”

“It’s true,” said Jazana sullenly. “Lukien.”

It was the first time in years she’d said his rightful name. Lukien felt a chill.

“Who?” he asked weakly. “Who’s come for me?”

“That friend you told me about, Breck. He’s got a boy with him. You couldn’t know him, though; he’s too young.”

“Great Fate,” whispered Lukien. “Cassandra. . . .”

“Easy,” cautioned Jazana Carr. “They wouldn’t tell me why they’ve come. They’ve already met with Thorin and know who he is. They wouldn’t tell him anything, either.”

“They’re waiting for me at the keep?” asked Lukien anxiously.

Jazana nodded. “We saw you coming. We’ve all been expecting you.”

Lukien didn’t waste a moment. He punched his boots into the flanks of his stallion, sending the beast sprinting forward.

“Ryon, wait!” called Jazana.

Driven by panic, Lukien hardly heard her.

Gilwyn sat in a room of open windows, nervously awaiting Lukien’s arrival. Sentries had seen the knight approaching from the watchtower, and Baron Glass had told him and Breck the news. Now the three of them waited in an echoing council chamber, idly milling around a giant circular table. Teku sat quietly in Gilwyn’s lap, munching on a handful of grapes. Breck’s face was tight with anticipation. He sat beside Gilwyn, drumming his fingers on the oak table. Baron Glass stood at one of the many windows, his one hand tightened into a fist behind his back.

As he waited, Gilwyn went over his story in his mind. He was nervous and that irked him, and he knew that the Bronze Knight would want quick answers to his many questions. Gilwyn only hoped that Lukien would believe him. He still had Cassandra’s letter, which he supposed was proof enough. Carefully, he laid the letter on the table in front of him.

A few moments later footfalls rang through the hall, approaching the chamber. Breck stood at once. Baron Glass turned from the window and spied the open doors. His head full of worries, Gilwyn sprung to his feet and sent Teku sprawling to the floor, spilling grapes.

“Oh, great,” he groaned. Teku shot him a nasty look then began climbing up his leg. Just as she reached his shoulder, a figure appeared on the threshold.

Lukien, the Bronze Knight of Liiria, was a shocking sight.

With his eyepatch and rough skin and thin frame, he looked nothing like the hero Gilwyn had imagined. There were scars on his face and streaks in his hair and gray speckles in his eyebrows.

“I can’t believe it,” he said. “Breck, it’s really you.”

“Aye, it’s me, Lukien,” said Breck. He went to his comrade and put his hands on his shoulders. “Thank the Fate we’ve found you.”

They embraced. Lukien collapsed into Breck’s arms, all the strength going out of him. Breck held him, slapping his back and laughing.

“Good to see you, my friend,” he said. “You’ve been missed!”

“Yes,” sighed Lukien. “You too.” Then suddenly he collected himself. “Cassandra?”

“She’s all right,” said Breck quickly. “But we have news of her, Lukien.”

“We?” Lukien glanced back at Gilwyn. “Who are you?”

Breck waved Gilwyn closer. “This is your messenger, Lukien. His name is Gilwyn Toms.”

Gilwyn smiled awkwardly, unsure what to say. “Uhm, hello, Sir Lukien.”

Lukien was plainly confused. He looked at Baron Glass for an explanation, but the one-armed man merely shrugged.

“I don’t know what their business is with you,” said Glass. “They wouldn’t tell me and I stopped asking.” He moved toward the doors. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Glass closed the doors behind him. With him gone, Lukien looked even less comfortable. He stood in the middle of the room, bewildered and exhausted.

“Lukien, you should sit,” suggested Breck.

He pulled out a chair and guided Lukien toward it. The Bronze Knight sat down, took an unsteady breath, then asked pointedly, “Why are you here?”

“Cassandra sent us,” Breck replied. He pulled out two more chairs for himself and Gilwyn. Before going to sit, Gilwyn retrieved the letter from the tabletop. He handed it to Lukien.

“Sir, this is for you,” he said. “It’s from Queen Cassandra.”

Surprised, Lukien took the letter. “She wrote this?”

“She gave it to me to bring to you,” Gilwyn explained, “the second time I saw her.”

“What?” Lukien sprang from his chair. “You looked at her?”

“Easy, Lukien,” said Breck. “Let him explain.”

“Did you see her?” Lukien demanded. “Did you look at her?”

“Yes, I did,” answered Gilwyn. “But sir, I know about the curse. It’s all a hoax.”

“Hoax?” Lukien hovered, staring at Gilwyn, then dropped back into the chair. “Hoax?” He studied the letter in his hand. “How . . . ?”