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‘We have to go back,’ said Ghost, ‘wait for the others.’

‘The others may not get here at all,’ Lorn reminded him. ‘It’s up to us to get to Baron Glass, remember?’

‘Well I can get past them but what about you?’ challenged Ghost. He said to Lukien, ‘If I could make you invisible I would, my friend.’

Lukien studied the men ahead of them. ‘They’re Liirians,’ he mused.

Ghost shrugged. ‘So?’

‘He’s one of them,’ said Lorn, guessing at Lukien’s meaning. He asked the knight, ‘Will they listen to you, Lukien?’

‘Look at them — they don’t even know what they’re doing here.’ Lukien shook his head. ‘Something’s wrong. Why has Thorin left the battle? Why isn’t he out here with his men?’

‘If he knows you’re here, perhaps he fears you,’ Lorn suggested. ‘The demon in him senses the sword no doubt.’

Lukien closed his eye, concentrating on his Akari. Malator was already probing the library.

‘Malator? What do you feel?’

Emptiness, replied the spirit. Lukien could sense his confusion. Baron Glass is still in the library, but my brother. .

‘What?’

I do not know, Lukien. He hides himself from me. He knows we are here, and yet. . I can’t tell.

‘Lukien?’ Ghost asked anxiously. ‘What’s he telling you?’

Malator’s words worried Lukien. He told the others, ‘He’s in there. Malator can’t tell anything else.’

Lorn braced himself as they neared the Liirians, who were crowding closer for a better look at them. Liirian riders were preparing to run them down. ‘Time to decide, Lukien. If we’re going to head back we have to do it now.’

‘It’s too late anyway,’ said Ghost as he drew his weapon.

Lukien said firmly, ‘Put it away.’

‘Eh?’

‘Both of you, don’t do anything. Just follow me.’

Lorn and Ghost shared a worried glance but did as Lukien asked, riding at his flanks as the knight led them toward the hill. As the soldiers started to gather, a smaller group coalesced at its centre, all of them on horseback. A single man of rank stood out among them, looking weary beneath his flag. He and his captains waited for the riders to approach, ordering the hundreds of other soldiers to move aside and let them see. Lukien studied the man carefully. Once, he had known every man of rank in the Liirian military, but time had changed that and made them all too old to recognize. Still, it was obvious to Lukien that the man in charge was a Liirian, and that meant they had a kinship. Careful not to threaten them, Lukien remained relaxed in his saddle. Guards sprang out of the crowd to confront them. Near them, crossbowmen aimed at the trio. Ghost leaned over to Lukien and groaned.

‘This was a great plan, Lukien. Really.’

‘Go on, then disappear,’ snarled Lorn. ‘Any time you’re ready.’

‘Shut up, both of you,’ snapped Lukien. He took a moment to prepare himself, and before the guards could utter a word shouted, ‘My name is Lukien of Liiria! Brothers, hear me!’

The mere utterance of his name sent a ripple through the army. For a moment the crossbowmen faltered. Lukien seized on it.

‘We’re not here to fight!’ he promised. ‘We’re here to help you!’

The nobleman near the centre of the army came charging forward. ‘I know you, Lukien!’ he proclaimed with ire. ‘Do you not remember me?’

He was still difficult to see so far away. Lukien shook his head. ‘I don’t know you,’ he said. ‘Who are you, then?’

‘I am Count Lothon. You should remember your betters, Sir Lukien. We all remember you, the one who bedded the king’s wife and left us all to rot here. How dare you show your face among us?’

‘I am Liirian, just as you, Count Lothon,’ replied Lukien. He did now remember the man, a member of the House of Dukes when that body held sway. That was many years ago, and time had not been kind to Lothon. ‘And just like you I’ve come here to save Liiria, not to bury her.’

Count Lothon’s men began to bristle, wondering what was happening. Lothon himself came trotting out to face Lukien under the cover of his bowmen. The count stayed their weapons with a wave of his hand and the bowmen backed off a bit. The entire army seemed to have its eyes on the three riders.

‘Who are these you bring with you?’ Lothon asked.

‘Friends of Liiria,’ said Lukien. ‘Like myself.’ He said nothing about their identities, especially Lorn’s. ‘They ride with me because they want to rid us all of a tyrant. Count Lothon, I beg you — listen to me. Baron Glass is not the man you remember. You’ve seen him yourself, you know this to be true.’

For the first time, Lukien noticed the object dangling from Lothon’s saddle. The count nodded as he saw Lukien’s expression darken. The thing was a helmet.

‘Baron Glass has been here today,’ sighed Lothon miserably. ‘And I will not lie and say he is anything but what you claim, Sir Lukien. He is a tyrant, true. And a madman now, too.’

‘I can stop him,’ Lukien promised. ‘You know my prowess, Count Lothon.’

‘Aye, and I know you bear the Sword of Angels. It does not matter, Bronze Knight. We are pledged to Baron Glass, all of us.’

‘You’re pledged to Liiria, first and always.’ Lukien addressed them all, letting his voice carry through the ranks. ‘Will you let the Norvans take everything from you? Your manhood, even? Baron Glass is no Liirian, not anymore. He’s as foreign to this land as Jazana Carr and the mercenaries she brought with her. The creature inside Baron Glass has no loyalty to you at all. It’s using you, all of you, to get its revenge on the people of Jador. That’s it. That’s all it’s ever wanted.’

His words fell heavily on Lothon. The count hefted the helmet wearily from his side, unhitching it from the tack. He held it out disgustedly. ‘I despair to even touch this thing,’ he told Lukien, ‘but by no means is Baron Glass finished. He wears the armour still.’

‘Does he? You have seen him?’ Lukien asked.

‘I have not followed him into the library. None of us have,’ said Lothon.

It was obvious to Lukien how much the men disliked Glass now, but the count seemed reticent to explain what had happened.

‘Then let me pass,’ said Lukien. ‘Let me end it, for us all.’ He put up his hands in a gesture of peace. ‘You know me, Count Lothon. You knew me before Liiria was the ruin it is now. Baron Glass left Liiria too, but you found forgiveness for him.’

Lothon’s aides shot him worried glances. The nobleman stared with a grimace at the helmet in his fist. The army was hushed as Lothon considered Lukien’s proposal. Even the soldiers lining the long road up the hillside stood unmoving, wondering what was happening.

‘He’s mad,’ said Lukien sadly. ‘You said so yourself.’

‘Aye, mad,’ admitted Lothon. ‘Because of this wretched thing.’ His eyes filled with pity. ‘He was a good man once, you know. He loves Liiria dearly even still. But it’s a twisted love.’ He held the helmet out for Lukien. ‘Take it. Destroy it with your sword.’

‘You’ll let us pass?’

Lothon nodded. ‘Do what you must, Bronze Knight, but do it with mercy.’

Then he gave the order to his aides, calling to all of them to let the riders past. The word was quickly passed throughout the ranks, rising up to the hillside and the soldiers stationed there. Amazingly, the soldiers cheered. Lukien could not contain his smile, so relieved was he to have won his gambit. He rode up to Count Lothon and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.

‘I will best him,’ he promised, ‘and Liiria will be free again for men like you.’

Lothon said nothing, overcome with regrets, and handed the helmet of the Devil’s Armour to Lukien. The metal felt cool in Lukien’s hand, but the death’s face was no longer alive, nor was the black surface glowing. Still, to hold the thing made Lukien shudder. He looked grimly at Lorn and Ghost.