Baron Glass listened and laughed as Varl continued his tale, a bawdy story of two fat sisters he had bedded during a campaign long ago against King Lorn. The mercenary continued drinking as he spoke, drowning half his words in ale. Onikil could not help wondering what was the matter with him. After an afternoon of stoic anger, Varl had decided to lose all control. He cursed as he told his story, his voice slurring badly. Baron Glass leaned back on his magical arm, watching him oddly as he listened, a blade of grass propped in his teeth. Whatever animosity existed between the two of them was over for the moment, but there was definite mistrust in Glass’ eyes, as if he expected Varl to say something insulting.
‘And when I woke up the bed was broken!’ Varl chuckled. His shoulders bounced with laughter. ‘Women. I can pick ’em, eh? Only the good ones turn me down, you see. I haven’t been with a good woman since. .’ He shrugged, unable to find an answer in his clouded brain.
‘Your mother?’ suggested Glass.
Onikil laughed. Varl shot Glass a sneer.
‘You know what I’m talking about, Glass. I’m talking about Jazana. You’re back now, and she has no use for me, except to run her errands and pick up after her.’
‘Steady, man,’ Glass warned.
‘It’s true. . you know it is.’
‘Varl, you’re drunk,’ said Glass. ‘Try to remember why we’re here.’
Varl got a distant look.
Glass continued, ‘Jazana Carr likes loyal men. You’ve been loyal to her, Varl. That’s why she keeps you around. She knows she can depend on you.’ The baron pushed himself up. He glanced at Onikil. ‘Loyalty is all-important now, more than ever. We can’t brook dissent, not while we’re at war with Koth.’
Count Onikil nodded, feigning full agreement as he rubbed his hands before the fire. He had been completely surprised by Glass’ willingness to war with Koth, people he had assumed were Glass’ friends. But he had quickly learned that the baron’s hunger for power was as bad as the queen’s herself; now they planned on taking Koth together.
‘You’re so right, Baron,’ he offered. ‘No dissent. No chinks in the armour, so to speak. That’s how we’ll win this thing.’
Glass smirked at his minor joke. ‘This “thing”, as you call it — we’re talking about my country. Don’t misunderstand why we’re doing this, Onikil. I don’t need another misery-bag like Varl, always complaining and holding us back.’
‘No, Baron, certainly not,’ said Onikil. He looked at Varl, but the bodyguard only stared at him blankly. ‘You’re too hard on poor Rodrik, perhaps. He’s as loyal as any man I know. He’ll be no trouble for you, I’m sure.’
‘Good, because I don’t want a man in my circle to be preoccupied with home,’ said Glass. ‘You know the type — always moaning about the way things should be done, as if he could do it better himself.’
Onikil smiled. ‘Of course not,’ he agreed, wondering why Glass was still looking at him instead of Varl.
‘Say for instance that a man was going around talking out of turn, talking about how the queen was going too far. Now that wouldn’t be good.’ Baron Glass spat the grass blade out of his mouth. ‘Get my meaning, Onikil?’
The signal was too clear to ignore. Count Onikil felt his heart ice over.
‘Baron Glass, I’m not a stupid man,’ he said quietly. ‘What we talked about in Koth was for the best of all of us.’
‘I wonder how many others you’re talking to, Onikil. I wonder how much poison you’ve spread.’ Baron Glass leaned his big body forward as if to tell a secret. ‘What you said to me in Koth — some might call it treason.’
Onikil licked his lips, lost for words. He glanced at Varl, but the drunken soldier merely nodded. His tight expression told the count exactly why they were all here.
‘Don’t be a fool, Glass,’ he argued. ‘I’m as loyal to Jazana Carr as anyone. She wants to invade Koth with you? I’m with her completely. Fate above, Varl, tell him!’
Rodrik Varl was listless as he said, ‘The decision’s been made, Onikil. Glass has Jazana’s ear now, not me.’
‘And you told her what?’ asked Onikil hotly, glowering at Glass. ‘That I think she’s going too far? I was the one who brought you here!’ He could barely catch his breath as the sudden fear gripped his chest. ‘But you’re not that same man, are you, Baron? That blasted armour.’
‘The armour has made me strong,’ said Glass. ‘Nothing more.’
‘Nothing more? Look at your face! Every day it’s different!’
Baron Glass got to his feet. Rodrik Varl turned away in disgust. Onikil hurried backward and rose.
‘Varl,’ he implored, ‘don’t just sit there. Do something!’
But Rodrik Varl had already cast his lot. He would not even look at Onikil.
‘Men who talk too much are dangerous,’ Baron Glass said without emotion. ‘I am sorry about this, Count Onikil. There’s just no other way. I need loyal men to win back Koth, men I can count on.’ He laughed. ‘Men like this dog Varl, you might say. He’s too in love with my woman to admit it, but he’s too damn weak to open his mouth. You should be proud of yourself, Count Onikil. At least you’re not like him.’
Onikil took out his sword, the one he’d used to slay the boar. He crouched, ready for combat. ‘I’ll not be murdered,’ he hissed. ‘I’ve been nothing but loyal to that whore.’
Baron Glass slowly drew his own sword. Part of him looked surprisingly sad. His expression twisted as if embattled. ‘You’re going to die, Count Onikil. At least understand why.’
‘Why?’ Onikil cried. It made no sense at all to him, not even the question. ‘You’re maddened, Baron! Can’t you see what’s happening to you?’
Glass shook his head. ‘The world needs me, Onikil. It’s in chaos. My own home. .’
‘Varl!’ shouted Onikil. ‘Don’t just sit there, you ass!’
Baron Glass raised his sword. As he did the armour encasing his arm began to sing.
As the big blade shattered his defences Onikil heard his own strangled cries mingling with the armour’s odd music.
Baron Glass stood over Onikil’s body for an inordinate time. The crumpled form of the man who might have been a friend fomented a struggle in him. His bloodied blade rested limply in his hand. Kahldris’ voice thrummed in his mind, calming him. He had not wanted to kill Onikil, and suddenly it felt like murder. But the road to victory was always bloody, and he knew he needed to be strong to win.
Kahldris hungered for the blood. The demon begged for it. Thorin wiped his soiled blade on the armour of his arm. Onikil’s blood seeped slowly into the metal, making the tiny figures there dance.
‘Gods of death, what’s that?’ croaked Varl. The mercenary shambled to his feet and stared in horror at the armour’s animation. ‘Is that. . alive?’
Thorin’s slouched head barely stirred. ‘Help me with his body,’ he told Varl. ‘I want to get him back to the castle.’
Rodrik Varl did not move. He watched Glass’ armour, horrorstruck by the life in it. Glass turned on him and growled.
‘Help me with him, Varl!’
‘I should have protected him,’ Varl whispered. He glanced up at Thorin’s face. ‘He was right, Thorin. That armour. .’
‘Oh, damn you all!’ Thorin roared. Point-first, he slammed his sword into the ground, then went to the dead Onikil and lifted him in his arms. The blood that sluiced from Onikil’s neck fed the vambraces and mail of his arm, making Onikil feather-light. Thorin didn’t need Varl’s help, he determined. Nor did he really want it. He had brought the soldier along merely as a lesson — it would be a shame to kill a man Jazana loved so dearly.
45
It had taken Gilwyn all day to reach Grimhold. Riding alone, he had gone through the mild morning and scorching afternoon with barely a break, driven on by Minikin’s desperate message. Night had already fallen by the time the keep beckoned. Emerald, his kreel, picked her way instinctively toward the keep, seeing easily in the darkness. Like a bloodhound, she found the great gate almost without effort. The gate was open and Greygor the guardian stood in the torchlight. Next to him stood Minikin, waiting for them.