Authors: John Marco
The Eyes of God (118 page)
Lukien’s vengeance fled as he stared down into Trager’s brainsick face. Without malice he picked up his sword, raised it high above his head, then lowered it like a guillotine and chopped off Trager’s head. His strength quickly ebbing, he picked up the head and stood on the edge of the cliff.
“Here’s your general!” he cried, then tossed the grisly trophy down into the clearing. “Leave this place!” he ordered. “Or die like your demented leader!”
The world around Lukien grew blurry. It was all he could do to hold himself up. Far below, the ranks of Liirians began talking among themselves. Lukien wavered on his feet, about to faint from the pain. Down his back he felt hot blood sluicing from his wound.
Then a figure rode out from the ranks of horsemen, who took off his helmet to reveal his weathered face. He stared up at Lukien in dumb amazement. Lukien stared down at him, sure he didn’t recognize the old soldier, doing everything he could to keep himself from falling.
“Bronze Knight,” cried the man. “I am Colonel Tark. Will you join us?”
The question shocked Lukien. He staggered forward to stand at the very edge of the cliff. “I have killed your general, and I will kill you too if you don’t leave us in peace.”
“You are one of us, Captain Lukien. You’re a Lirian. And I do not believe you killed our king.” Colonel Tark swept his hand over his dwindled army, who began nodding agreement. “None of these men truly believe it. You don’t belong with these people, Captain. You belong with us.”
The wound in Lukien’s back was agonizing. Even breathing was an effort. “I . . . I cannot,” he gasped. “That time for me is over. Go now. And never return.”
Colonel Tark’s expression was grave. “We need you, Captain. We need a leader. What will happen to us now?”
Lukien tried to answer but couldn’t. Pain overcame him, coursing through his back and brain. The world around him spun rapidly around, and the last thing he heard was Colonel’s Tark’s cry of alarm. Then he collapsed to the ground, and all went dark.
60
A
maraz’ fire never came.
maraz’ fire never came.
Colonel Tark and his Liirians left the canyon without Lukien, letting the leadership of the band fall on Tark’s shoulders. Once they’d seen Trager fall, they knew there was nothing they could do to save themselves. The Inhumans were too numerous, and they had lost heart and honor following their demented general. In the final hours Tark had seen that, but it had been too late. The old colonel regretted his life in service to Trager, and told his men that they were murderers, not at all like the Royal Chargers Lukien had commanded, and that they should be prepared to die for what they’d done. With the last shreds of honor left to them, many of the Chargers obeyed Tark’s call to surrender. Most, however, were like Sergeant Marrs, who refused to turn himself over to the folk of Grimhold, and rode out of the canyon alone.
But with Minikin and her people, Colonel Tark found a mercy he didn’t expect. He and his men were sent back to Jador weaponless, guided by envoys from Grimhold with assurances that the Jadori were not to harm them. This was the word of White-Eye, the new ruler of Jador. At Gilwyn’s pleading she had let the Liirians live, though they had killed her father and slain hundreds of her countrymen. It was the greatest act of kindness Gilwyn had ever seen, and it made him adore White-Eye even more. He knew that she had done it for his sake alone.
In Grimhold, the Inhumans quietly rejoiced in their victory, though Lukien had been badly wounded and lay near death. For two days he remained in bed, motionless, being comforted and watched over by Gilwyn, White-Eye, and Baron Glass. His death was imminent now. The knight had lost a great deal of blood, and the wound in his back had begun to fester. And try as Minikin might to reach his mind, it was clouded and dark inside his brain, with only the slightest stirrings of life. Despite their victory, a pall fell over Grimhold.
By the end of the third day, Gilwyn had lost all hope. He had White-Eye now and a new home, but his closest friend was dying, and he could not bear the loss. He sat alone in his chamber, the one he had shared with Lukien, staring into the light of a candle, brooding over memories. He missed Figgis more than ever. If the old librarian were here, he would have known what to say to comfort him, but he was dead now like everyone else. Just like Gilwyn’s mother. Just like Lukien was soon to be. A plate of food that Farl the houseboy had brought him lay cold and untouched on the nearby table. The halls outside his chamber were silent. All the Inhumans had stopped celebrating their victory now, because they knew the man that had won it for them was dying.
“Gilwyn?”
Gilwyn looked up at once and saw White-Eye in the doorway of his chamber. She moved like a ghost and always surprised him. It was a pleasant surprise, though, so he smiled at her.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” White-Eye shrugged. “Your door was open a little so I came in. Baron Glass said you had come here.” Her blank eyes had a peculiar way of questioning him, and did so now. “Why aren’t you with Lukien?”
“What good would it do?” Gilwyn looked down at his plate and pushed it further away. “He’s dying. Minikin said so.”
White-Eye came into the room and knelt down beside him. She took his hand and gazed at him. “Then you should be with him, no?”
“I can’t,” said Gilwyn. “I can’t face it. Looking at him like that. . . .” He stopped himself before grief could choke him off.
“I would have given anything to have been with my father when he died, Gilwyn,” said White-Eye. “You have this chance. You should take it.”
“Why?” Gilwyn flared. He wrenched his hand away from her, not wanting to be comforted. He wanted to be angry. “Why does everyone have to die? Why won’t Minikin save him? She has the bloody amulet. She could save him in a moment.”
“And let him live like your Queen Cassandra? A prisoner from his own people? You know he wouldn’t want that, Gilwyn. And only the spirit of the amulet can decide who may wear it with honor.”
Gilwyn didn’t want to hear her logic, or any more of Grimhold’s magical riddles. Lukien was dying, and that was all that mattered to him.
Minikin knelt alone in her little prayer chamber, communing with Amaraz. She thanked him for sparing Grimhold and confessed her anger with him, explaining how worried she’d been for her children, the Inhumans.
Amaraz listened patiently.
He was pleased that their alliance would continue, but he could also sense her melancholy. Up on the altar, the amulet that held his essence pulsed in quiet sympathy. Minikin told Amaraz how worried she was about Lukien, and how guilty she felt over his impending death. Lukien was not to blame for the things that had happened to him, she explained.
Amaraz continued listening, patiently.
The Mistress of Grimhold chose her words carefully. She had a great favor to ask the spirit. She explained to him how Lukien had saved them, how he had battled Trager to keep the Liirians from Grimhold and to spare his “army” from even one death. He was a good man despite his faults, she told Amaraz, and though Amaraz already knew the story he continued to listen.
Finally the spirit of the amulet asked his mortal friend what it was she wanted from him.
With all the deference she could muster, Minikin made her request.
For what seemed like an eternity, Lukien drifted in darkness. It was not like a dream or nightmare, not like conscious thought at all. It was wholly different, black and terrifying, a maze from which he could not escape or glean a sliver of light, or even find a voice to scream. He was in emptiness, barely aware of himself. Occasionally other voices reached him, breaking through the darkness to offer words of love and encouragement. But Lukien could not answer them. The voices were familiar but intangible. Lukien could not remember who they were or even why they had come to him. He was in blackness and in pain, and that was all he knew.
And then there was a light and the first stirrings of memory. The familiar voice came again, stronger this time, blowing the cobwebs from his mind and flooding him with sunshine. The voice coaxed him forward. He groped for it madly. Slowly the world he knew was his again, replacing the void with the familiar heaviness of sleep.
Lukien,
he told himself.
I am . . . alive?
he told himself.
I am . . . alive?
It took great effort to open his eye. A blurry world swirled around him. Remembering his wound he expected to feel pain, but he did not. There was only peace in his mind and a warmness through his body. He blinked, once and then again, his eyelids fluttering to focus his vision. A smiling, elfish face greeted him.
“You’re awake,” said the voice that had pulled him from the void.
It took a moment for Lukien to remember her name. As the grogginess lifted he whispered, “Minikin.”
Minikin put her tiny hand on his forehead. Like a mother she gently brushed the hair aside. “You’re alive, Lukien. You made it.”
It surprised Lukien how quickly his strength was returning. Second by second he felt more invigorated. “Alive?” he asked. Then he laughed hoarsely. “I’m alive!”
Minikin’s smile lit the room. There was an unusual ruby glow on her face, though her amulet was buried beneath her coat. “How do you feel?” she asked.
Lukien mentally checked his body. All his parts seemed to be with him. He remembered battling Trager on the cliff, then the world going dark. “I’m fine, I think,” he said. “But I shouldn’t be. My back. . . .”
“Shhh, don’t fret,” said Minikin. “You are well again. That’s what matters.”
Lukien glanced around the room. “Where’s Gilwyn and Thorin?”
“They are well, do not worry,” replied the mistress. “We are all well, Lukien. The Liirians are gone. Gilwyn and Baron Glass are in no danger.”
Relieved, Lukien sighed. “Thank the Fate. But where are they, Minikin? I want to see them.”
Minikin smiled. “I sent them away, just for a little while. I needed to be with you alone.” She put out her hand. “Can you sit up?”
“I think so.”
With his renewed strength it was surprisingly easy for Lukien to move. He lifted his head from the pillow, expecting it to jolt him with pain, but again there was nothing but a warmth coursing through his body. He sat up without needing Minikin’s help and leaned against the headboard. The strange ruby glow on Minikin’s face shifted as he moved. Confused, Lukien looked down and noticed the glow emanating from his own chest.
“Fate above. . . .”
Around his neck was the Eye of God, thrumming with supernatural light.
“What is this?” he exclaimed. “Minikin, what have you done?”
“It was the only way,” said Minikin quickly. “Your wound was very bad. You would have died without it.”
“Died? I wanted to die!” cried Lukien.
He reached for the amulet and frantically tried to rip loose the chain. The pulsing Eye burned when he touched it. He cried out just as Minikin caught his hand and pulled it toward her.
“Don’t, Lukien,” she pleaded. “Let me explain.”
“Explain what? This thing killed Cassandra. It ruined me, Minikin. It ruined all of us!”
“You are wrong,” said Minikin. She kept her remarkable grip on his hand. Lukien leaned back and let out a miserable sob.
“Get it off me,” he gasped. “I don’t want it. I don’t want to live this way! I’m a Liirian!”
“Lukien, listen to me—the spirit of the amulet has granted you this gift. You are not cursed. As long as you wear it you are its sanctified owner. You can go wherever you wish, be looked upon by anyone.”
“But it’s evil, Minikin. . . .”
“It is
not
evil,” Minikin insisted. “It didn’t kill Cassandra, it saved her! And the Eye isn’t to blame for your life. It was Akeela’s madness that caused all that.” Minikin sat down at the edge of the bed, her hand loosening on Lukien’s, her touch mild. She said, “You can take off the amulet any time you wish. That’s your choice. But—”
not
evil,” Minikin insisted. “It didn’t kill Cassandra, it saved her! And the Eye isn’t to blame for your life. It was Akeela’s madness that caused all that.” Minikin sat down at the edge of the bed, her hand loosening on Lukien’s, her touch mild. She said, “You can take off the amulet any time you wish. That’s your choice. But—”
“Fine,” snapped Lukien. “Then take it off me now.”
“But,”
continued Minikin firmly, “if you do the infection in your body will return, just like Cassandra’s cancer. It will kill you, and Grimhold will lose its defender.”
continued Minikin firmly, “if you do the infection in your body will return, just like Cassandra’s cancer. It will kill you, and Grimhold will lose its defender.”
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