The Devil's Armour (Gollancz S.F.) Read Online Free Page B

moonlight, the three knights of Rolga leading the way north through a canyon shadowed with high peaks, guiding the man from Carlion toward Harn and Jazana Carr. The infant in the man’s arms cried constantly, obviously distressed and hungry, but the group did not rest. At the insistence of the man from Carlion they rode as quickly as they could, ignoring the danger of darkness, picking their way along the rutted road. Despite his wound Captain Jarrin kept an admirable pace. More than once he refused Glane’s offer to take the child from him. Glane did not care for children himself but saw the value in this particular whelp and wanted no harm to come to her. He worried that Jarrin might collapse from his saddle or otherwise drop the infant. But the captain continued, riding without a word because he could not speak, occasionallyputting a hand to his bloodied mouth and fixing the bandages while he rode.
    Finally, when Glane could take no more without a rest, he called his company to a halt. Looking up at the craggy peaks, he decided it was as good a place as any to stop, at least for a short while. He was cold and knew that the child was, too, and so ordered a fire to be made and food to be distributed.
    Captain Jarrin did not protest.
    King Lorn watched through the eye slit of his helm as the Rolgan knights dismounted. In one arm was cradled his daughter, Poppy, whom he warmed the best he could by holding her close. His other arm – his sword arm – kept hold of his stallion’s reins. He watched the Rolgans carefully as they began unpacking food and flint. Lorn could do with a fire, but that would have to wait. He had gotten this far without being suspected, but the moment he took off his helmet would be his discovery, and he couldn’t risk losing that advantage. He couldn’t fight from horseback, either, and that troubled him. With Poppy in his arms, he couldn’t wield a sword while riding. But he had done a good job of keeping up his ruse of being wounded, and had earned Glane’s sympathy. It did not surprise him when the knight came and offered aid.
    ‘Here, let me take the child so you can dismount,’ said Glane. He held his hands up and his earnest face showed no malice. Lorn quickly decided it was safe and handed Poppy to the man, who took the infant and turned his back. Lorn slipped down from his horse and followed Glane to where the two other knights were arranging their things in a ring. One of the pair scanned the area for kindling, sighting a patch of shrubs sprouting from the rocks. By the moon’s dappled light he moved carefully across the road toward the distant sticks. His comrade began unpacking his saddlebag, rummaging through it for the little food he had and some flint. Glane watched him absently, holding Poppy. Lorntapped his shoulder, insisting he return the child. The knight made a sour face.
    ‘We’re not going to rob you,’ he muttered, handing Lorn the child. ‘Sit and rest, and take that damn helmet off.’
    Glane turned back toward his man as the other knight knelt in the dirt, clearing away rocks for their fire. Lorn took a few paces out of the road, set Poppy down in her swaddling clothes, then drew his sword without a sound. Before him stood the oblivious Glane, his back turned as he watched his comrade shuffle rocks and brush away dust. As soon as he was in range, Lorn made his move. He did not hesitate for a second as he whistled his sword through the air, decapitating Glane instantly. Glane’s head flew from his body, as the body wavered and dropped. Blood fountained up from its neck, spraying the kneeling knight, who looked up in confusion to see Lorn’s sword coming down. The blade crashed into his forehead, splitting it easily, opening the throat in mid-scream. On the side of the road Poppy began to cry. Lorn hurriedly removed his helmet, tossing it aside. As he waited for the third knight to return, he pulled the fabric from his mouth, cloth he had soaked with Jarrin’s