‘Another lifetime,’ he whispered.
Atop his horse, he waited on the hill for the courage to ride forward. He reminded himself that he was stronger now than he’d been in years. Still, once-beautiful Koth kept him frozen.
It is your challenge.
Kahldris’ voice cut the day like a dagger.
Baron Glass grimaced. The demon was correct, though he had not expected to feel this way. Could any man really rebuild Koth’s majesty? Or had he deluded himself?
Jazana Carr yet waits, Kahldris reminded him. There is time yet to defeat her.
‘Time,’ echoed Glass. ‘Yes.’
Coming out of his stupor he saw that Koth was not at all abandoned. Though there was little commerce left in her, there were people in its streets and outlying villages, farms filled with freshly broken earth and traffic in the avenues. He would find Breck here, Thorin knew, and the army he was forging to defend Koth. His eyes tilted skyward slightly, toward the far edge of the city. There, breaking the horizon, stood Library Hill. Like a great brooding gargoyle the library that had once shone as a beacon still rose defiantly over Koth, casting its powerful shadow over everything. Not far to its east were the ruins of Lionkeep, the former home of the Liirian kings, looking pale and overgrown in the darkness of the library.
‘The Cathedral of Knowledge.’
The words came to Thorin’s lips like a prayer. He had never wanted the library built. He had thought it folly. In his exile he had never seen its grand completion, remembering it only as a footprint of stones and masonry. Now, as he stared at it, the old baron could not help but be impressed. The thing had bled Koth’s coffers dry, but it was undeniably magnificent.
There is hope, thought Thorin, for he was from a breed that had built great things. Perhaps it did not matter that their greatest challenges yet lay ahead. He put his hand on the breast of his armour, the hand that no longer existed, made animate by magic. The enormous force of the armour’s power jolted through his body. Suddenly he knew what Kahldris had tried to tell him — there was no one in the world who could defeat him. Not even Jazana Carr.
With a confident shout he hurried his horse down the hillside.
It had taken some time for Vanlandinghale to warm to Breck, but now, like almost everyone else serving under him, he worshipped the man. In the long months since he had returned to Liiria, Van had become indispensable to Breck, and to his great pride the commander now relied on him heavily. Winter had given them a much needed respite; Jazana Carr had not moved her armies out of Andola yet. And the men of Library Hill had squeezed every second out of the season to build their defences. They were almost a thousand strong now, culling men from nearby provinces and holding on to those who had come from Andola. Nevins, the cavalry major who had served Baron Ravel, had kept his promise to be loyal to Breck and had proven an excellent leader of men, rising quickly in Breck’s inner circle. Murdon, too, retained Breck’s ear, always quick with good advice. Captain Aliston, who had come from Andola with Nevins, had also proven an asset, training teams of archers for the inevitable clash with the Diamond Queen.
But it was Vanlandinghale whom Breck confided in, and Van was not sure why. At the end of tiring days they would share a drink together, the lieutenant always eager to please the man he had come to call a hero. Van loved Breck because Breck trusted him and had given his life meaning again, something it had not had in years. He did his best to tell the commander all he knew about Jazana Carr, and in turn Breck listened intently and filed the information quietly in his calculating brain, sure to pull it out when needed. Van supposed Breck appreciated his candour. Perhaps that was why the commander always asked Van — and no one else — to ride with him to the villages.
The day was exceptional, warm and bright with sunlight. Koth was busy as always, the fields around the city being prepared for planting by hopeful farmers. Soldiers walked the avenues or returned from patrols, scouting the countryside that had remained blessedly quiet. And Breck, as he was apt to do on pleasant days, had chosen to patrol the city himself, as much to enjoy the fresh air as to check on Koth’s security. He had asked Van to accompany him and Van had obliged, happy to leave his other duties aside for a while. Together they had ranged the villages around Koth, leaving in late morning and not returning until mid-afternoon.
Breck was exceptionally closed-mouthed during the ride. At first Van wondered why, then realised how heavily the coming spring was weighing on his commander. Despite their many talks, he still knew surprisingly little about Breck, or about the family he sheltered in the library, a wife and son that, like Breck, kept mainly to themselves. But Van had become good at reading the commander’s mood, and knew that today he brooded. It would not be long now before word reached them of movement out of Andola. They had all dreaded the spring for that reason, preferring instead the cold but predictable terrors of winter.
Van decided not to press Breck about it. Today, Breck merely wanted company and not conversation.
By the time they returned to the heart of the city Van was famished. Not expecting to have been gone so long, they had only brought drink with them, and not even a hard biscuit to chew on. As they neared Library Hill, Van decided to break the silence.
‘Past time for midday meal, you think?’
They were at the foot of the hill with the long road winding upwards ahead of them. The lulling clip-clop of their horses was the only sound. Breck shrugged as if he hadn’t really heard the question.
‘Don’t know. Maybe.’
‘The other officers probably waited,’ said Van, knowing that was the custom. No one wanted to start eating before Breck sat down. ‘Good too, because I could eat a mule.’
Again Breck didn’t answer, but this time for a reason. Another horseman, coming toward them from the opposite direction, had caught his attention. Van took cautious notice of the big man. Others had, too. Heads in the distance turned in his direction. Breck reined in his horse, signalling Van to do the same. The horseman rode slowly toward them. He was a stranger, certainly, a military man in a kind of armour Van had never seen before. Unworldly-looking, jet black and shining, the armour covered the big man’s body, all but his head. His eyes met Breck’s and Van’s, his expression serious. Not a young man, he nevertheless carried an aura of power around him. In his armour and determination, he was frightening to behold.
‘Commander. .’
‘I see him.’ Breck sat motionless atop his horse as the man drew nearer. Then, ‘Great Fate Almighty. .’
Van glanced at him. ‘What?’
The commander waited for the rider to face them, eventually drawing his horse to a halt. Now that he was closer, Van could see the age in his face, and the intricate patterns of his strange armour. He did not look at Van, but rather stared almost knowingly at Breck. The two men studied each other, oddly quiet.
‘In all my life I never thought to see you again,’ said Breck.
‘You’re Breck,’ said the man. ‘I remember you.’
Breck’s face was fierce. If this was a friend he greeted, he did not act like it. ‘It hasn’t been so long, Baron. Just long enough for Liiria to fall apart.’
‘That’s why I’m here,’ declared the stranger. ‘To bring her back to glory.’