The Eyes of God (105 page)

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Authors: John Marco

BOOK: The Eyes of God
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“Invincible?” laughed Thorin. “How’s that possible?”
“I don’t know; how’s any of what the Inhumans do possible? The point is that Minikin really believes it, and after what I’ve already seen here I don’t have any reason to doubt it. And if you saw this armor you’d know what I’m talking about.”
Thorin immediately began getting ideas. “If what you say is true, this armor could be our savior.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” said Lukien sourly. “But Minikin won’t let me touch it. She says it’s too evil, too powerful to be controlled. She claims that anyone that tries would come under the spell of the armor’s spirit, or something like that.” He sighed, shaking his head. “If only I could wear that armor. Then we could really even things up.”
“Yes,” agreed Thorin. His mind raced with the possibilities. Such armor could make him whole again. “You say Minikin has forbidden you to wear this armor?”
Lukien nodded. “Sadly, yes.”
“Just you?”
“I know what you’re thinking, Thorin. Forget it. Minikin won’t let anyone use the armor, not us or one of her Inhumans. She told me the only reason it’s still around is because she can’t figure out how to destroy it. Imagine! Armor that can’t be destroyed!”
Thorin did imagine it. The stump of his arm itched with anticipation. “Perhaps I can convince Minikin,” he suggested. “If she sees that there’s no other hope. . . .”
“It won’t work,” said Lukien. “I tried that on her already.” He slumped back miserably. “What a waste.” To Thorin’s surprise he got up from the table.
“Where are you going?” asked the baron.
Lukien went to the door. “To think,” he replied, then quietly left the room.
 
That night, Lukien did not sleep. He did not go to the room he shared with Gilwyn, for he did not want to face the boy, and he did not see Baron Glass again. Nor did he see Minikin, or anyone else. Instead he wandered the grounds of Grimhold for hours, alone with his thoughts, considering the mess he had made of his life and the bleak consequences he had fostered on the Inhumans. He went up to the observatory Minikin had shown him and stared at the village in the distance. It seemed safe and lovely to him, a haven for the Inhumans and their offspring. There, under the canopy of stars, he made his decision.
Lukien quickly made his arrangements.
Eventually he went to the stable where the horses and drowa and Gilwyn’s kreel, Emerald, were kept. Minikin had showed him the stable on his fourth day in Grimhold, after she had revealed the full truth of the place. The stable, like the fortress, was built into the mountain itself, but faced the village side of Grimhold to keep it hidden. There were not many horses in the place, for most were kept in the village proper. Therefore, there was only one person needed to tend the animals, a hunchback with the horrible name of Monster. Lukien had been shocked when Minikin had told him Monster’s name, but she had gently reminded him that such was the way in Grimhold—a place where slurs were worn proudly to show their ineffectiveness. And of course, Monster was nothing like his name. He was gentle and soft-spoken and always carried a cat with him, which he cooed to like a child and fed the best scraps from the kitchen. He was also immensely strong, stronger than any man his height could be by nature. As with all the Inhumans, Monster’s abilities came from the supernatural, and he was so endowed with it that he could lift a boulder and move with the grace of a dancer, despite his horrible hump.
Because it was very late, Monster had gone to sleep long before Lukien arrived at the stable. Not surprisingly, the stable was unlocked. The few animals in the wooden stalls looked at him curiously as he entered, unaccustomed to being disturbed so late at night. Lukien had a lantern with him that shone in their eyes and on the saddles and tack along the stone walls. It was a remarkable place, really, capable of housing many more animals than the Inhumans had. Lukien carefully looked into each stall, knowing the animal he wanted. She was a mare named Gallant, a particular favorite of Minikin’s and a stout-hearted beast. The little woman had showed her off proudly to Lukien, for she had been a gift from Kadar. Lukien found her stall and paused. The chestnut mare looked up at him, her face expressionless.
“Yes, you remember me, don’t you, girl?” whispered Lukien. “Good. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”
He scanned the walls and saw a suitable saddle, the one Minikin herself used on the rare occasions that she rode the mare. More precisely, she was taken riding, she had told him, because her legs were too short to reach the stirrups. Lukien smiled as he recalled the story. Minikin was a remarkable woman. She didn’t deserve to die.
As he stood in the darkness of the stable, Lukien realized that the plan had really been with him all along but it had taken Thorin’s unwitting counsel to convince him of its rightness. The old baron was right—it wasn’t about the amulets or vengeance on Grimhold. It was about him. The cold fact was that he had driven Akeela insane, because he had betrayed him and stolen his wife. And he’d been running from that fact for sixteen years. Tonight he would stop running.
For a brief time, he considered the Devil’s Armor. It still seemed a shame to him that such a weapon should go to waste. But of course Minikin would never have given her permission. He would have to steal the armor, and he didn’t want to steal again. Stealing—whether amulets or women—had ruined his life.
He glanced out through the stable doors, knowing dawn would soon arrive. But there was enough moonlight left to escape, and that was good. Outside he left waterskins and other essentials, and would secure them to the horse once her tack was ready. With no time to waste Lukien set to work. He got the saddle and all the other tack from the wall, working quietly but quickly to put them on Gallant. The mare was of an excellent temper and let him work without protest. She seemed to sense the urgency in him.
“Good girl,” he said gently. “It’s for the best, you’ll see.”
But of course the mare wouldn’t return, and that saddened Lukien. Minikin would miss him, he was sure. And oddly, he would miss her, too, and Gilwyn and Thorin and all the Inhumans.
When he had saddled Gallant and secured his supplies to her tack, Lukien mounted the mare and rode her out of the stable. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then rode off into the waning moonlight for Jador.
53
 
 
J
ust past dawn, Gilwyn finally returned to his chamber after a long night with White-Eye. He was weary beyond words and eager for his soft bed. It had taken White-Eye hours to fall asleep. The news about her father had devastated her, and Gilwyn had been afraid to leave the girl alone. Suddenly life seemed to be spinning out of control. From one moment to the next he had gone from bliss to heartache, but at least he had been able to comfort White-Eye a little. He supposed that was something. As he walked the quiet hall to his chamber, he realized he might have very little time left with her. Foolishly he had assumed that Baron Glass and Kahan Kadar would be able to hold back the Liirians. He had been wrong, and he was ashamed now that he had not listened better to Lukien or helped the knight form his army. He’d been too lovestruck to see the truth, but that was all going to change now. Lukien and all of Grimhold needed him.
When he reached his chamber the door was slightly ajar. He paid it no attention as he slipped inside. The sun was already up, but if he could just get a couple of hours sleep, he’d be useful enough to help Lukien. He entered the room quietly, not wishing to disturb the knight. To his surprise Lukien was not in his bed, and the sheets looked undisturbed. Had he been working all night? The thought only worsened Gilwyn’s shame. Exhausted, he went to his own bed across the room, sitting down to pull off his shoes. But as he worked the buckles on his unusual boot a fleck of white caught his eye. He turned to see a piece of folded paper on his pillow. He stopped unbuckling his boot and picked it up, at first thinking it was from White-Eye but then realizing that was impossible—he’d just left her. Lukien, perhaps? Or Minikin? When he read the note the contents shocked him to the core.
“Fate above,” he whispered. “What the . . . ?”
The note was brief and succinct. It read simply,
Gilwyn,
I have gone off to Jador to face Akeela. He does not
want the amulets. He just wants me. For the good of
Grimhold do not follow.
 
It was signed
Your friend, Lukien.
Then, almost as an afterthought, another line was written under the signature. Gilwyn’s heart nearly broke when he read it.
One more thing—thank you for letting me see Cassandra again.
 
Gilwyn sat in stunned silence, unsure what to do. Lukien was a dead man now, surely. There was no way King Akeela would let him live.
“Gods, Lukien, what have you done?”
And what could be done, Gilwyn wondered? He didn’t even know when Lukien had left the note, or how much of a lead he’d have already.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve got to do something. . . .”
Hastily Gilwyn rebuckled his boot and hobbled from the room as quickly as he could, carrying the little note in his hand. He needed to find Thorin at once. If they were to have any chance of catching Lukien, they would need to leave quickly. But he didn’t even know where Thorin’s chamber was, for he’d spent the night with White-Eye. Helplessly he looked around the hall of closed doors. Thorin might be in any one of them, or none of them. Gilwyn felt a twinge of panic. Every second lost was more assurance of Lukien’s death, and he couldn’t bear that. He had to do something. Finally, in angry frustration he shouted, “Thorin, where are you?”
His call resonated in the stone hall. He heard grumbles from behind a number of doors, but no answer. So he again he cried, “Thorin!”
Down the hall a door flung open. The hunchbacked Monster stuck his angry face into the hall and hissed, “What are you doing, boy? Trying to wake up the whole keep?”
“Monster, I’m looking for Baron Glass. Have you seen him?” asked Gilwyn desperately.
“Baron Glass? Who’s that?”
“He arrived last night from Jador,” Gilwyn explained. “I need to find him at once.”
The hunchback shook his big head. “Don’t know him. Go back to bed.”
“I can’t, I have to find him,” said Gilwyn.
“Well hold it down then!” snapped Monster, slamming his door in Gilwyn’s face.
Frustrated, Gilwyn stood in the dark hall, madly trying to think. Then he remembered Farl, the houseboy assigned to him and Lukien. He hadn’t seen much of the boy since that first day, but he knew his room was up on the next floor. Somewhere. So he hurried for the stairs at the end of the hall. The staircase wound up into another dark hall, this one also full of closed doors—except for one. In the center of the hall was an open door with candlelight flickering over its threshold. Gilwyn went to it at once and made a miraculous discovery.
“Farl!”
The boy was on the edge of his bed, pulling on his shoes. His blind eyes looked up at Gilwyn in alarm.
“Master Gilwyn!” he asked. “I was just getting up to fetch you and Master Lukien some breakfast.”
“Forget breakfast, Farl. I need your help. Lukien’s gone.”
Farl got to his feet at once. “Gone? What do you mean?”
Gilwyn showed him the note. “He left this for me this morning,” he said. “He’s gone off to Jador. He must have left some time last night.”
Farl didn’t bother looking at the note. “Does Mistress Minikin know?”
“No, I don’t think so,” said Gilwyn. “Farl, I have to go after him. But I need to find my friend, Baron Glass. Do you know where his room is?”
“Baron Glass? Oh, you mean the one that came last night! Yes, I know where his room is,” said Farl. “It’s just down the hall. But he’s not there. I saw him with Mistress Minikin not long ago. She came to get him.”
“Get him?” asked Gilwyn. “For what?”
“I don’t know, Master Gilwyn. It’s not my place to ask such things.”
Exasperated, Gilwyn pressed, “Where did they go, Farl? Do you know?”

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