Authors: John Marco
The Eyes of God (96 page)
“I am confused, King Akeela,” confessed Grak. He didn’t sip at his wine or even look into the glass. “Why am I here?”
“Because I want to ask you about the man with the amulet,” said Akeela. His head was suddenly pounding. The drink had hit him hard. “He had an eyepatch you say?”
“Yes,” nodded Grak.
“And was he called Lukien?”
“He was, my lord.”
Just hearing the name made Akeela grimace. “So he’s lost an eye,” he said absently. For some reason it struck him as sad. “But otherwise he was well?” he asked.
Grak shrugged. “I believe so, my lord. Truly, I cannot say.” The Jadori smiled awkwardly. “Why are you concerned for this man, my lord? Is he not your enemy?”
Akeela started to answer, but couldn’t form the words. Instead he merely nodded. He knew it was the drink making him weak, but for a moment he could see Lukien’s handsome face, and he regretted its maiming.
“I will take you to find this man,” said Grak. “And when you do, you can have your revenge on him.”
Akeela nodded. “Yes.” He took another gulp from his glass, draining it. Reaching for the wine bottle, he poured himself another tall drink. It would be a long night; tonight he would be haunted. He said to Grak, “It’s fortuitous you came. Now I know my hunt hasn’t been for naught.”
Grak replied, “If you are prepared for the expense, my lord, then I will see you and all your men safely across the desert.”
Akeela laughed grimly. “The expense means nothing to me. I’ve spent every penny I have on this vendetta. After we cross the desert, my pockets will be empty.”
“My lord? I don’t understand.”
“This is it, there’s nothing left,” said Akeela. “I’ve spent every coin in Liiria’s coffers on this escapade. Once we’ve paid you to take us across the desert, I’ll be penniless. And so will Liiria.”
Grak’s expression was grave. He looked toward the door, then whispered, “My lord, do your men know this?”
“No,” said Akeela. “And you’re not to tell them or breathe a word of it. If you do, I will kill you.”
The threat made the Jadori sit back and stare. He nodded slowly. “My lord,” he said cautiously, “if this is so, what will you do when you return home?”
Akeela beckoned Grak closer with a finger. Grak leaned toward him and Akeela whispered, “I don’t intend to return home.” Then he sat back with a maniacal smile on his face, watching Grak’s stunned expression. “There’s nothing left for me in Liiria. Nothing left for me anywhere. Once I’ve killed Lukien, my work will be done.”
48
F
or three days Lukien and Gilwyn waited in Grimhold, and for three days Lukien fretted over the fortresses’ defense. They had been given a modest room on the ground floor of the keep, not far from the room Insight shared with her mother. Like all of Grimhold’s chambers, this one had no windows; only a pair of oil lamps lit the entire room. But it was comfortable enough for the weary duo, and that first night they had slept sound and peacefully, awakening to a breakfast brought to them by a young blind boy who could somehow see remarkably well. His name was Farl, and he explained to them that he would be their attendant while they were in Grimhold, and that they were to call for him should they need anything. After breaking their fast, Lukien and Gilwyn went their separate ways. Gilwyn was anxious to have Emerald, his kreel, brought into the keep and to see White-Eye again. And Lukien still had to tackle the enormous task of defending Grimhold.
or three days Lukien and Gilwyn waited in Grimhold, and for three days Lukien fretted over the fortresses’ defense. They had been given a modest room on the ground floor of the keep, not far from the room Insight shared with her mother. Like all of Grimhold’s chambers, this one had no windows; only a pair of oil lamps lit the entire room. But it was comfortable enough for the weary duo, and that first night they had slept sound and peacefully, awakening to a breakfast brought to them by a young blind boy who could somehow see remarkably well. His name was Farl, and he explained to them that he would be their attendant while they were in Grimhold, and that they were to call for him should they need anything. After breaking their fast, Lukien and Gilwyn went their separate ways. Gilwyn was anxious to have Emerald, his kreel, brought into the keep and to see White-Eye again. And Lukien still had to tackle the enormous task of defending Grimhold.
It was a harder task than it should have been. Grimhold was an extraordinary stronghold, and the people who’d designed it had done a fine job. Its walls were thicker than any normal castle, and its many high peaks provided a perfect firing platform for archers. It was also well hidden in the mountains, but with an excellent view of the canyon leading to it, so that a company of skilled bowmen could have an excellent killing field. But there was one fatal flaw in any such plan—Grimhold had no bowmen. There were plenty of weapons stored deep in its cellars, but nobody able enough to use them, and Lukien knew there was no way he could turn the Inhumans into a fighting force. They were eager and they had magic, but they were also limbless and blind, hunchbacked and crippled, and no amount of Akari help could make them capable of facing Trager. They simply weren’t soldiers. And this more than anything deflated Lukien, for he knew that even a great fortress like Grimhold could not stand without men to secure it.
On his second day, Lukien came across Minikin in the great hall of Grimhold. He had been looking for her, but the little mistress had been difficult to find. She was talking with one of Grimhold’s many mutes when he found her, a fellow that could only communicate in the most rudimentary sounds. Yet somehow Minikin understood every word. She stood there nodding as she listened, and when they were done she turned to Lukien and winked at him from across the hall, as if she knew he was there all along. She asked Lukien how things were going, and if he needed anything.
“Yes,” he had replied. “I need about a thousand soldiers.”
Minikin had merely smiled at the remark, assuring him that the Inhumans were able to defend themselves, and that he was not to fret too much over their lack of training or experience in combat. He was merely to familiarize himself with Grimhold, she said, and think of ways that Akeela and his army might try to attack them.
“That’s easy,” Lukien had shot back sarcastically. “He’ll come through the front gate with a battering ram and keep going until everyone is dead.”
At that Minikin had turned away, telling him “Have faith.”
Regrettably, Gilwyn had been no more helpful than Minikin. The boy had disappeared into his own little world, as though he had forgotten that an army was coming. His lovesickness for White-Eye was more than plain, and he would lie awake in bed at night staring into the flame of the oil lamp. Lukien knew the symptoms and tried to sympathize, but he was strangely angry over the amount of time Gilwyn spent with White-Eye. It wasn’t jealousy; Lukien simply needed a friend. And Gilwyn was an intelligent boy. He was sure he could have contributed something to their defense plans rather than wasting time pining for a pretty girl. If they lived, he would have all the time in the world to court Kadar’s daughter. But if they didn’t, none of it would matter at all. Their growing affection for each other would be snuffed out like a candle.
Depressed and confused, Lukien took to wandering Grimhold’s mazelike halls, but by his third day in the fortress he had had enough. He was tired of the Inhumans and their many maladies, and he was sick at heart from the burden he had been given. He missed Cassandra terribly, and none of the Inhumans, no matter how friendly, could ease his loneliness. Oddly, it was this loneliness that drove Lukien into wanting to be alone. He wanted sunlight and solitude. Without a word to Minikin or Gilwyn, he headed for the main gate of Grimhold. There he found Greygor, the huge, broken-boned guardian of the keep, reclining on a large wooden chair just inside the iron portal. He looked up at Lukien but was characteristically soundless.
“I want to go out,” said Lukien. “Please open the gate.”
It was plain that Greygor was used to being disturbed, because he rose without question and banged on the gates with the pommel of his sword. Up on a dark landing, a pair of the guardian’s cohorts began pulling on the thick chains, lifting the great gate. They were twins, from the looks of them, and seemed to have no maladies at all, but Lukien had already learned that looks were deceiving in Grimhold, and wouldn’t have been surprised if the twins were blind cripples with leprosy. As the gate went up Greygor stood aside to let Lukien pass. Even his ornate black armor made no sound.
“That’s it?” Lukien asked. “You’ll let me go just like that?”
Behind his iron helmet Greygor blinked but did not answer. There was a frown on his face that told Lukien he didn’t like being questioned.
“Fine, I’m sick of talking to you people anyway,” said Lukien, then hurried out of the fortress into the fresh, clean air of the mountains. At once the hot desert sun struck his face, but Lukien didn’t mind at all. It was good to feel the warmth, even if it burned. Behind him, Grimhold’s iron gate began descending, shutting away the secretive Inhumans. Lukien took a few steps forward without looking back then paused. He had nowhere to go, really. He had just wanted to leave. Curiously he looked around, surveying the clearing and the high cliffs hiding the fortress. The ledges would make a good defense, he knew, if only he had fighters to man them.
“Enough,” he told himself. “No more thinking.”
He had wracked his brain for days with war plans, and now wanted only peace. So he chose a particularly inviting cliff far in the distance, deciding it would be a good place to relax and clear his troubled mind. It took him long moments to reach the base of the cliff but he didn’t mind; it was good to be away from Grimhold’s stifling air. The thought of being all alone spurred him on faster, but when he reached the base he discovered a figure there, kneeling with its back to him. Lukien slowed. He could make out nothing of detail, for whoever it was wore a black cloak that covered body and head completely. A fire was burning in the sand before the figure, consuming a pile of dried twigs. The figure slowly suspended its hands over the fire, as if giving a silent incantation. Lukien didn’t want to disturb the person, but he was too curious to turn back.
“Hello?” he called.
At once the figure jumped, leaping to its feet and turning on him. Its gnarled hands shot up and hurriedly closed the hood around its face, obviously frightened. Pity was the first thing Lukien felt, because he was sure suddenly that the person was a leper, and no doubt ashamed of his appearance. Quickly Lukien put up his hands.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I’m Lukien, from the keep. You’ve heard of me, yes?”
For a moment the figure didn’t move, but then the cloaked head nodded.
“I came out to get some fresh air,” said Lukien with a smile. “I guess you wanted the same, eh?” He glanced down toward the fire at the figure’s feet, remembering the strange glowing flame he had seen in the figure’s palm days earlier. “A bit warm for a fire, wouldn’t you say?” he asked.
Still the figure said nothing. Surprisingly, it put its hand out over the fire, a good four feet above the flames. The flames extinguished instantly, and without a word the figure lowered its head and dashed past Lukien, hurrying back toward Grimhold. Astonished, Lukien looked at the dead fire then back at the fleeing figure.
“Wait,” he called. “Don’t run off!”
Surprisingly, the figure stopped and turned toward him. Still clutching the hood around its face, a female voice said, “I came out here to be alone, Sir Lukien. Please let me be.”
“You’re a woman,” said Lukien. “I mean, forgive me, I’m just surprised.” Gradually he tried coaxing her trust. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I came out here to be alone myself, but I can go and leave you to whatever you were doing.” Again he glanced at the extinguished flames, looking at the ashes and wisps of smoke. “What exactly were you doing?”
The woman came no closer, yet neither did she retreat. “Minikin has asked us all to be welcoming to you. I do not wish to go against her, but I am a private person, Sir Lukien. If you would let me be, I would be grateful.”
She had a pretty voice, clear and youthful.
“It’s a big mountain,” said Lukien. “We can share it. And just now I think I’d like some company.”
“I thought you wanted to be alone,” the woman observed.
Lukien shrugged. “A change of heart.” He held out his hand for her. “Come back, please. I swear I won’t judge you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I’ve seen a lot of things in my time, far worse than you’re hiding behind that hood.”
“You’re very bold,” said the woman. Lukien couldn’t tell if she was offended or not, even as she walked toward him. “Maybe I can do with some company as well,” she sighed. As she approached she let her hands fall back to her sides, letting the crevice of her hood hang open a bit. Lukien tried not to stare.
“Good,” he said, “then sit with me and show me what you were doing with this fire. How did you blow it out like that?”
“That is my secret curse, Sir Lukien. All the Inhumans have them. Haven’t you noticed?”
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