The Devil's Armor by John Marco

Author:John Marco [Marco, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: PENGUIN group
Published: 2010-08-30T04:00:00+00:00

That night, Thorin remained alone in his chamber. He did not sup with the others, nor did he have any appetite for anything but wine. He stole a decanter from the kitchen, spiriting the valuable stuff into his room and drinking alone while he thought of Meriel. She was beautiful now and he could not help but lust for her. Since leaving Jazana Carr he had not been with a woman, and he ached for that soft companionship. He had no right to be angry with her, he knew, yet he had endured more than his share of miseries lately and blaming her for his pain was convenient.

He missed Lukien. He missed Gilwyn as well, and wished now that he had remained in Jador to be with the boy. But in his anger with Minikin he had come back to Grimhold, where he would not have to face the Seekers who had come from Liiria, men and women he had promised to help. Minikin had made a liar of him, and he saw no good reason any longer for her stubbornness. Grimhold was a giant place, not just the keep, but the village beyond. Surely there was room for everyone now that its secret was out.

As he drank, a fever overcame Thorin. He was chilled and shivered in his dark room, his sweaty face lit only by a candle. Feeling Kahldris’ touch had iced his bowels. There had been so much power in the union it had buckled Thorin’s knees. He had fled to the wine to calm his rattled nerves. Kahldris was silent now. Thorin could not tell if the demon was in the room or if he had returned to that place of the dead. The conversation with the Akari exhausted Thorin. He leaned back in his small bed and let the wine bottle teeter from his fingers as he fell into a miserable slumber.

A comfortable darkness soon enveloped him. Thorin realized at once that he was dreaming. He was lucid though, and the sensation frightened him. Instantly he realized he had slipped through a veil into Kahldris’ realm. Thorin found he could not wake himself. Back in the real world, he could feel the heart in his sleeping body pound with fear. He fought to calm himself and see his way through the darkness. It was not the first time Kahldris had slipped into his dreams. Since then, when the dark Akari had showed him that unknown battlefield, it had happened two more times.

This time, though, Thorin was aware of every speck of sound and tiny feeling. This time, Kahldris meant to face him. He knew it somehow, and the dread certainty of it calmed him. Anger rose up in him, replacing his fear. Determined to confront Kahldris, Baron Glass straightened his immaterial spine.

“What vision now?” he called out. “What do you wish to show me?”

There was no answer from the blackness.

“Come then, damned one! Show yourself!”

Around Thorin the world of the dead—if that’s truly where he was—remained unmoved by his fury.

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