The Devil's Armour (Gollancz S.F.) by John Marco

the desert, their maladies varied.Curiously, Paxon himself had no discernible maladies. Rather, he seemed only possessed of an abiding curiosity about Grimhold – which he called Mount Believer. Lukien supposed he had become their leader out of sheer obstinacy. Obviously healthy, he had done a good job of protecting them. That didn’t mean they were welcome in Jador, however, which was already bursting with refugees.
    By late midday the sun was at its hottest. In another hour they would reach Jador. Lukien took his waterskin from his saddle and allowed himself a long, refreshing drink. When he was done he offered the skin to Gilwyn, who took it gratefully. As the boy drank Lukien watched him, and in the harsh desert light he realised he was no longer such a boy, but very much a man. Although seventeen, Gilwyn hardly seemed his age any more. He had huge responsibilities now, like all of them, and a young woman he hoped to marry someday. That same young woman had given him regent powers over Jador, responsibility Gilwyn had taken to heart. White-Eye’s aversion to sunlight prevented her from leaving Grimhold’s dark caverns. Though she was Kahana of Jador now, she could not look upon the city her dead father had left her. But she had found a willing friend in Gilwyn, and the young man had helped her with all his usual earnestness. Jador and its thousand problems had become his own. He had worked hard the past year to rebuild the city, which had been wasted by the war with Liiria. The Jadori had lost countless men and kreels, and defending it from Aztar was a growing problem. Lukien saw lines in Gilwyn’s face that shouldn’t have been there.
    ‘Thanks,’ said the boy, handing back the waterskin. He had been quiet since their earlier battle, obviously troubled by what had happened. Only a year ago he had been a librarian’s apprentice in Liiria. He had been bookish and introverted, and his new role as Jador’s regent sat heavy on his shoulders.
    ‘You did a fine job back there,’ said Lukien. ‘I swear, you work that kreel like a Jadori.’
    The compliment pleased Gilwyn. ‘It gets easier each day. Sometimes it’s like her thoughts are my own.’ He reached down and patted Emerald’s sinewy neck. Her scales turned a happy blue. She was smaller than the other kreels, a runt of the litter Gilwyn had saved from the axe. Whether the creature knew Gilwyn had saved her and appreciated it, Lukien couldn’t say. The bond between kreel and rider was a mystery to him. ‘I thought we were dead for sure,’ Gilwyn went on, ‘but Emerald kept me safe. She’s growing faster, too. Not just in how she talks to me, but in the way she moves.’
    Lukien shook his head. ‘Talks to you. I’ll never get used to that.’
    ‘You could do it too, if you wanted,’ said Gilwyn.
    ‘Thank you, no. A horse is good enough for me. And don’t be so humble. Not all the Jadori work the kreel as well as you do, Gilwyn. Not even those warriors.’
    Gilwyn shrugged, but his face coloured with pride.
    They rode like this a few moments more, and the silence between them was easy. Lukien relaxed, but when he heard his name being called behind him he cringed.
    ‘Sir Lukien?’
    It was Paxon. On foot, he was coming up quickly to walk beside them. His earnest face looked up at Lukien, full of questions. Lukien turned and shot an angry glare at Ghost. The Inhuman merely shrugged.
    ‘Sir Lukien, may I talk with you?’ asked Paxon. Because their pace was so slow the man had no trouble keeping up with the riders.
    ‘If you must.’
    Paxon frowned. ‘You’re angry with us, I know. I’m sorry. None of us knew those men from Ganjor would attack us.’
    ‘They’re not from Ganjor, not precisely. Like I said, they were Prince Aztar’s men. They’re people from his tribe.’
    ‘But why’d they attack us?’ asked Paxon. ‘To rob us?’
    ‘To kill you,’ said Lukien. ‘Oh, they would have robbed you just the same, but they want you dead. All