The Forever Knight: A Novel of the Bronze Knight (Books of the Bronze Knight) (22 page)

“And not all of them professionals,” said Sulimer. “Some are just farmers with scythes and forks. That’s all who’s left to defend Drin.”

“Kiryk, forgive me for asking this, but I have to,” I said. “Are you the king now? I’m all out of time, and I need to be talking to the right man. If it’s these others who’ll make the decision—”

“He is king,” said Jaracz, the one sitting just to Kiryk’s left. “The only question of that is in your mind, Liirian. He’s the son of Lutobor. He has the blood.”

“So you’ll follow him?” I asked. “And the other Silver Dragons too?”

“
He has the blood
,” repeated Jaracz. “The decision is his alone. But he hasn’t decided yet. There are still questions.”

Kiryk said, “Only one that matters. Who’ll defend Drin from Akyre if we leave here, Lukien? If we join you in Isowon, Drin will be wide open. What would stop Diriel from turning his men north again once he sees we’re in the south?”

“He won’t,” I said, “because what he wants is in Isowon. Isowon is the prize.”

“He wants Anton Fallon,” added Marilius. “Not just for revenge but because of his spice routes.”

“Anton Fallon is a merchant,” said Jaracz. “Why should we give our blood to that pirate? He’s a Zuran. I’ve heard he’s not even a man.”

Marilius shot back, “Not a man? What does that mean?”

Jaracz leaned forward. “He likes boys,” he said, then made a kissing noise.

I put up my hand to calm Marilius. “What does it matter who he takes to his bed? You don’t have to like Anton Fallon. No one does. But he’s the one with the army. He’s the only one with the forces to stop Diriel. Are you really going to let his choice of lovers stop you from fighting?”

Their silence acknowledged me. Sulimer, ever the serious one, asked, “How many men does he have?”

I looked to Marilius. “Be honest,” I said. “What do you think?”

“Several hundred probably,” said Marilius. “It depends. If he’s convinced them to stay then at least that many. If they quit and ran off . . .” He shrugged. “Who knows?”

“Several hundred,” I repeated. “Those are good enough odds, Kiryk. With your men and Fallon’s fighting together, it’ll be a nearly equal match.”

“Equal?” Kiryk shook his head. “Diriel has twice that many. Maybe more.”

His calculations surprised me. “Why do you say that? Diriel himself told me his forces were devastated by Kasse. Almost all of them starved. He put the number close to a thousand.”

“A lie,” said Lenhart. He reached for the severed head and pushed it aside for a better look at me. “Every man his soldiers snatch is enslaved by them, pressed into his army. Not just his own people but Kassens, too.”

“Even Drinmen,” admitted Kiryk darkly. “Diriel means to deceive you, Lukien. He won’t show up in Isowon with an army that small.”

“And even if he did, how many of them would be legionnaires?” asked Jaracz. “I’ve been asking this one the same questions since he got here.” He pointed at Marilius. “He can’t answer me. Can you answer me, Liirian? Can you tell me how we’re supposed to beat an army of men who are half dead already?”

“Indeed I can.” I picked up the head by its muddy blond hair and held it out like a lantern. “By doing this to every damn one of them! That’s the way—the only way. You’ve already done it! If you come with us you’ll have hundreds of men to help you. And you’ll have me.”

Kiryk looked at me without a word. No one spoke until Sulimer finally stood. “Lukien, Marilius tells us you’re a man who can’t be killed. You’re like one of Diriel’s soulless.” He gestured to my sword. “That’s your magic? That’s what keeps you alive?”

“It’s more than a sword,” I said. “It’s more than magic even.” I lowered the head to the table and let it roll to a stop. “It’s kept me alive through a broken neck and a battle with a demon. Now it’s made me young and strong again just so I could make war on your enemies. This morning I had one eye. Now I have two. But Diriel and his horde could pluck them both out, and I wouldn’t stop. I’m not going to stop until they’re dead. That means Diriel and Wrestler and all his brood. Every damn one of them.”

Marilius rose to stand beside me. “King Kiryk, you can stay here and let us carry the fight in Isowon, but it won’t save you. If we lose, Diriel will be back for you all.”

“You’re brave men, but your fight isn’t over,” I told them. “Diriel won’t stop until all the lands of the Bitter Kingdoms belong to Akyre again. Drin will be a country of ghosts. That’s all that’ll be left.”

Kiryk stood, and then his trio did too. A flash of distant lightning lit his face, revealing how young he really was. “I’ll think on it,” he said. “I can’t decide something this big so quickly.”

“You have to,” I said. “Because we’re leaving in the morning with or without you, and Diriel’s not waiting. Make your choice tonight, my lord. Before you leave this room. I’m giving you the chance to avenge your father. Take it now—you’ll never get another.”

Kiryk’s eyes dropped to the severed head. “This is the one that killed my father,” he said. “It was Lenhart who took this head, not me. The head I want now belongs to another. Will you promise me Diriel’s head, Sir Lukien?”

“I can promise you his death,” I said.

“His head,” repeated Kiryk, “so I may show it off like a trophy. So that every child in Drin can see they’ve been avenged.”

“Then I will get it for you,” I pledged. “With pleasure.”

Kiryk nodded, and that was all he had to do. Sulimer, Jaracz, and Lenhart all bent in a bow, then one by one took his hand and kissed it.

“You are the blood,” said Lenhart as his lips brushed Kiryk’s fingers. “You are our master.”

Those words haunted me all that night, but I didn’t figure out why until the morning.

E
xactly two-hundred and eighty-two men left Jelah that morning, including Marilius and myself. The number was far less than we needed but more than I’d hoped for, comprised mostly of Silver Dragons but also of men from nearby villages who’d heard about the battle brewing in Isowon. The women and children of Jelah waved goodbye to us, piling grateful kisses on their young king and blessing him with strips of cloth torn from their dresses. Kiryk, embarrassed by the attention, made the bold promise that he’d be returning soon with Diriel’s head, a pledge that made the women cheer.

Of course there were too few horses, forcing a full third of the men to march their way to Isowon. Not only would that slow us down, it also meant they’d be exhausted when battle came. But we had enough supplies for the journey—barely—given us by the women of Jelah, who’d hidden whatever they could from the Akyren hordes. I promised the Drinmen that Anton Fallon had more than enough to fill their bellies, and that when we finally reached Isowon they’d all be fed well. Still, it would be days until we made it that far south, days I didn’t have. Diriel’s army had already marched south. To my reckoning, the seven days he’d granted me to bring him Crezil were almost over. With so many of us on foot, I knew we wouldn’t make it on time.

The rain continued all that night and into the morning, turning the road to mud. I rode near the head of the column with Marilius, the two of us staying just behind Kiryk and Sulimer. Our pace was slow—painfully so for me. I longed to jab my heels into Venger and sprint the long distance to Isowon. There were far too many of us to keep our trip secret, and once every hour or so men from surrounding villages caught up to our column, pleading with Kiryk to join us. No one was turned away, and I started to hope that maybe—just maybe—we’d have the numbers needed to face Diriel.

When we’d marched our first twenty miles, Kiryk called the troops to rest. I watched him move through his little army, seeing to the needs of his “infantry” and waiting till every man had food before taking any for himself. I even saw him order a limping man to remove his boots, so that Kiryk could examine his feet. That’s when the similarity struck me. I smiled, tucked it away without saying anything, and continued watching Kiryk. I admired him, but it was hard for me to call him “king.” Akeela had been that young once, too, and had been a similarly good and caring king—for awhile. My lust and betrayal had crushed that part of Akeela’s spirit. I wondered if the same would one day happen to Kiryk.

I was drawn to him. He reminded me of the youth I’d lost and had magically regained in body, though not in spirit. When the column started moving again, I waited until he was done speaking with Sulimer and looked for a chance to talk to him alone. While Sulimer dropped back to be with the other lieutenants, I eased Venger to the front of the line. Kiryk looked surprised to see me. I could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. He nodded at me then looked up into the slackening rain.

“It’s stopping,” he remarked. “I don’t want it dogging us all the way to Isowon.”

“No,” I agreed.

A moment passed. Kiryk regarded me. “Something on your mind, Lukien?”

“No,” I said. “Well, yes. I’ve been watching you. You remind me of someone.”

“How’s that?”

“The way you are with your men. I had a king like you once. He was dear to me.” I glanced over my shoulder. “You’re dear to them. You’ve been king for only a day and already they love you. They’re following you into hell.”

“They loved my father,” said Kiryk. “They hope to see him in me.”

I nodded politely but didn’t think that was it. “Bravery isn’t passed on like blue eyes,” I said.

“Then they follow me because I’m of the blood,” said Kiryk. “My father’s son, my grandfather’s grandson.”

“I’ve seen sons that were tyrants whose fathers were saints,” I said. “We’re not all like our fathers.”

“We are,” argued Kiryk. “Even when we don’t want to be. I’m sure you’re more like your father than you think. It’s inescapable. But if you were royal, if you were of the blood, you wouldn’t be able to escape that either. Neither would your people.”

“Drin is different from other places, I think. Not everyone loves their kings and queens.”

“It’s not love,” said Kiryk. “It’s duty. Honor. It’s . . . I don’t know . . . of the blood.”

“They call you their master,” I said. “Last night. I heard Sulimer and the others call you that.”

“That’s right,” said Kiryk, but I could tell the title didn’t sit quite right with him yet. “It’s not a choice. And it’s not permanent. Sulimer is pledged to my father. Lenhart and Jaracz too. When they die they’ll go to him again. They’ll serve him forever in heaven.”

I grinned but didn’t laugh. “You believe that?”

“Of course. We are Drinmen. I’m their master for now, here on earth, but just for now. They’ll die and serve my father. Someday I’ll have men pledged to me that way.” Kiryk looked behind him. “Some of these men, probably.”

“Because you’re of the blood?”

“Right.” Kiryk smiled at me. “Why does that baffle you? Weren’t you pledged to a king?”

“I was.”

“So when you see him in heaven you will serve him again, yes?”

I never, ever thought of seeing Akeela again. I could barely answer. “Uh, I suppose so.” But really something else was going through my mind, the threads of a riddle coming together. I looked at the terrain ahead then back at the men. They were moving so damn slowly, and suddenly I knew I couldn’t wait. “King Kiryk,” I said, “I have to ride ahead.”

“To scout?”

“No. I’m sorry, I have to ride ahead.” I called out behind me. “Marilius!”

My shout startled everyone. Marilius charged forward. “What is it?”

Right in front of Kiryk, I said, “I’m going on ahead. You stay with the others. Tell Anton I’ll be there. Start getting our defense together.”

“What?”

“I can’t explain,” I told him. “Just go and buy us whatever time you can. And I want you to give Diriel a message for me, all right?”

“You’re blind-siding me, Lukien,” said Marilius. “A message?”

“That’s right. Tell him I’m going to bring him what he wants. Got that?”

“You want me to tell that to Diriel? What’s it even mean?”

“The monster,” I said. I didn’t bother saying farewell. “I’ll see you again.”

I sped away, not sure when I’d return to Isowon but certain enough to know that I would. Kiryk’s words had ignited my mind, burning away the fog that had been there for days. Now, at last, I had the plan I’d been searching for.

I
mused on my strategy the whole way south, leaving Marilius and Kiryk and the others behind as I branched away from the river, looking for the straightest path to the Akyren tombs. My plan had its risks. Diriel might not take my bargain or might have already begun his invasion. Anton and his mercenaries might surrender without firing a single arrow. Or Crezil might just kill me. That was the kink that seemed most likely, but I reminded myself that I was soulless. I had so little to lose. So I pointed Venger toward the coast, and using the map I’d gotten in Isowon, called on my memory to fill in the rest. After all the travelling I’d done, the Bitter Kingdoms were feeling smaller to me now.

Meeting Kiryk and his Silver Dragons had shown me that not everyone in this part of the world was like Diriel or even like Anton Fallon. The Bitter Kingdoms had been plagued by every misfortune imaginable—war, starvation, even a demon—but good-hearted men and women still lived here and still struggled. If I could do some good myself, if I could help them, then I would. I would be for a moment the knight-errant I’d hoped.

So I rode, pushing myself ever farther, and drank from the river and ate from my saddle bags, and it was like those old days back in Jador, when I’d escape to the desert just for solitude. I feared nothing and plowed down the miles until day and night passed, and I was at last in the north part of the forest that hid the Akyren tombs and the lair of the beast.

I looked through the trees and into the valley and then up into the sky. It was afternoon, but the sun was cast with clouds and a breeze threatened rain. The woods rustled with the noise of animals. Birds chirped in the highest branches. Up ahead loomed the caves, barely visible through the foliage. The quiet and the daylight made me sure I’d find the monster there. Then I had another thought—what to do with Venger? I’d already lost a horse to Crezil. They were easy, tempting targets, and I could not bear another being killed. I dismounted and walked my new friend to the edge of the woods.

“I wish you were a person,” I whispered. “Then I could send you away to come back for me.”

Venger flicked his velvety ears. His brown eyes rolled toward me.

“You know I can’t bring you in there with me,” I told him, “but you need to hide. You need to trust me. I’ll be back for you, all right?”

He didn’t really nod; I just imagined that from the way he moved his muzzle. But I refused to tie him, either. If Crezil came after him—or if anyone did—I wanted him to be free to run.

“Wait for me, but if trouble comes then bolt,” I said. “I’ll find you again.”

Venger turned slowly and trotted into the cover of the trees, where he suddenly stopped. Satisfied, I left him there as I descended into the valley, through the trees, following the tributary toward the creature’s cave. Malator came to life at my side, humming inside the sword. I stalked toward the cavern, splashing through the stream and then peering inside the murky cavern. My eyes adjusted quickly, and I could hear insects crawling over the rocks. I went a little deeper, leaving the sunlight behind. The smell of rot and cadavers stung my nose. When I reached the stone blocking the entrance to the tomb, I suddenly stopped.

Malator
, I said silently,
where is it?

I don’t know
, he answered.
I don’t feel it. I don’t think it’s here.

That’s impossible. It’s daylight.

Malator stretched himself across the chamber, spreading out like smoke. I could feel him searching, taking my mind along.

“I can’t see well,” I said finally. “Can you help?”

Hold out your hand.

I did as he asked, and a puff of fire appeared in my palm. I felt like a wizard! Now I could see the tomb clearly, bathed in the orange glow. I squeezed past the stone guarding the tomb, casting the chamber beyond with light. There stood the coffin that once held Atarkin. The silent sculptures of all the animals watched me. I knew as soon as I entered that Crezil had gone. But where?

“It’s daytime,” I grumbled. “Why isn’t it here?”

Maybe it’s gone to Isowon
, said Malator.

“Don’t say that. Don’t say we’re too late.”

For my plan to work, I needed to face the creature. I sat myself down in the dust and waited, amusing myself by casting giant shadows of the animal sculptures upon the rocky walls.

*   *   *

I feel asleep dreaming of Gilwyn’s baby. In my dream the baby was a boy and looked like his father, small and mousey, with a hook for a hand. Compared to a clubbed foot, I told Gilwyn in my dream, a hook for a hand wasn’t such a bad thing. At least he could run when he grew up. At least he wasn’t blind like his mother. The Gilwyn in my dream smiled and agreed with me and cooed when the hook grabbed his finger. He called me Uncle Lukien.

When I awoke I realized I was crying, my shirt wet with snot and tears. I ran a forearm under my nose and forced myself to stop, but couldn’t get the image of that little hooked hand out of my brain. My bladder burned, begging for a piss, and I realized I’d been asleep for hours. The tomb was even darker than I’d found it. Outside, night had fallen—I felt it in my bones. I was wasting time and angry with myself, and the little flame Malator had given me had gone out. But I didn’t ask for another. Instead I groped like a blind man for a corner, unbuttoned my trousers and pissed on the wall. The smell of it in the airless tomb made me sick. I finished fast, shuffled to the other side of the chamber and sat down again, lost in my own black thoughts.

All of my life had been plagued by dreams. Nightmares, really. I never dreamed of good things, and as I sat there waiting for the monster I wondered at the turns that had brought me to this place. At night, when sleep evades, all your mistakes come haunting. I wanted to be drunk suddenly, to drown myself in wine or bury myself in a woman’s thighs—anything to take the pain away. The aloneness strangled me. The darkness played tricks on me. I could easily make out Cricket in the shadows, or Cassandra, or Akeela, or any of the others my love had murdered. I sat back and let them dance before my drooping eyes, somehow keeping my tears at bay as I drifted to sleep again.

When I awoke, hours later, the little flame was once again alive in my hand. I smiled at it, thanking Malator for the gift. I took the flame from my palm and lit a stone with it, giving me just enough light to move around the chamber. I studied each of the sculptures, marveling at the grace of the leopard and workmanship of the eagle’s feathers. I wondered if Malator could bring them to life for me, the way he’d drawn the monster in the dirt all those weeks ago.

The Sword of Angels rested in my lap. I caressed it as I thought of Cricket. First I smiled, then I laughed as I remembered her. How she could badger me! Malator noticed my mirth and popped into my mind.

What?
he probed.

“I was thinking of Cricket,” I said. “All she ever wanted was to talk, remember? About anything. Even when she fell into a mood, she wanted to talk.”

About you, mostly.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

In the darkness of the tomb, with death and eternity all around me, I wondered: I never really understood her curiosity about me or mine for her. I never answered the question for myself. Had I wanted to be her friend? Her father? Was I looking for a squire or something more? I had forever to face myself, but I didn’t want to look. All I knew for sure was that I loved Cricket. And I missed her.

“She was a child,” I whispered. “Not even a woman yet. But she would have been a splendid woman. A brave woman.”

Lukien, you will avenge her
, said Malator.
Remember, I promised you that
.

“I remember,” I said but wondered if vengeance would ease me.

Lukien
, said Malator,
we should go into the antechamber.

I sighed. Malator always tried to change the subject to deflect my sour moods. “Why?”

Because the portal is there.

“So?”

Lukien, it’s a gateway to another realm.

“A gateway to Gahoreth,” I corrected. “To hell.”

To a realm of the dead
, he argued.

I didn’t get his meaning, and I didn’t care to. “Why are you pushing me? We were talking about Cricket. If you want to cheer me up, come up with something better than a visit to hell.”

I was about to set aside the sword when suddenly Malator spoke.

Lukien . . . it’s back.

I knew at once what he meant. I
felt
it. Slowly I got to my feet, letting the sword dangle in my hand. I stared at the stone blocking the door and held my breath, listening to the noise of its approach growing ever louder. Then, it suddenly stopped.

It knows
, said Malator.

I waited, tensing, my mind going blank. If it knew I was here why didn’t it come? I thought of calling out to it but didn’t. I took a small step forward then paused. The light Malator gave me still flickered atop the stone.

“It wants darkness,” I whispered. “Malator . . .”

The light instantly extinguished. And my eyes, having grown accustomed to it, went blind. I stood there in the blackness, frozen, my heart noisily thumping, and turned my ear toward the crack I’d come through. Beyond the slab I heard the sound again, like something dragging closer. I had trapped myself, I realized. Not too loudly, I called out the demon’s name.

“
Crezil
.”

The dragging stopped. Silence. But only for a moment. Next came the shocking noise of the slab being pulled—ripped—away from the tomb. It tumbled sideways, rolling and crushing the rocks beneath it, finally crashing to the ground. I backed away, peering through the dust, looking desperately for Crezil. A crumb of light from the far-off entrance outlined the creature. I was twelve feet away from it, and yet could barely see it. But Crezil saw me clearly. I knew it did, putting one appendage forward and pulling itself nearer. Slowly my eyes adjusted to the horrible view.

It was as I’d seen it in the painting of Gahoreth, many-limbed and huge, man-shaped but disfigured, with tails for arms that wriggled over its bulbous head. Now it was exposed, without the bones and skins to hide it. I stood my ground, using my enchanted eyes to see. There was no stench from it, nor any sound at all, but Crezil had not returned alone. Dragging behind it, held by a claw-like hand, were the bodies of a man and a woman. Both were naked and badly bruised, with the man being pulled by an ankle and the woman by her long, bloodied hair. Before I knew what was happening, Crezil lifted them off the ground, letting them dangle before me like a string of fish.

“I see them,” I said. I sheathed my sword and put up my hands. “I’m not here to fight you.”

Crezil tossed the bodies at me. They landed hard and rolled to my feet. Shocked, I knelt to examine them, to be certain they were dead. Not a strip of clothing remained on either of them. I wondered if Crezil had killed them in lovemaking. When I put my fingers to the woman’s neck, all I felt was a chill. I looked up at Crezil in disgust.

“Are you giving these to me?” I asked. “Why?”

Malator spoke up.
A peace offering, perhaps.

I rose slowly to face the beast. “What shall I do with them?” I asked it. “Eat them? I’m not like you, Crezil. I’m not a demon. I’m a man.”

There was no answer from the monster. It hovered there on its bony limbs, watching me through the darkness.

“Did you know I’d be here?” I asked. I gestured to the bodies. “Did you kill them for me?”

Again, no reply. Yet I knew the thing could understand me.

“No more killing,” I said. “We stop now. I don’t want to hunt you. Do you see?”

Crezil either couldn’t or wouldn’t speak. Instead it took a single step backward. Its shining eyes watched for my next move.

“All right,” I said carefully. “Now listen to me. I know you want to go back to Gahoreth.
Gahoreth
. Your home. Yes? I don’t want to stop you. I want to help you.”

It seemed intrigued. Its tails or arms or whatever they were wrapped around its pulsing body.

It’s listening
,
Lukien
, urged Malator.
Go on.

“I’m going to get you what you want so you can go home,” I told Crezil. “But you have to help me, too. No more attacks on Isowon.
No more
. You stay here. You wait for me to come back. Do that, and I’ll bring you what you want.”

I kept my voice calm, like talking to a dog. Crezil responded with silence.

“I can’t kill you, and you can’t kill me,” I continued. “We’re immortal now, both of us. I have no soul for you to steal. But we can both get what we want. You can hide here so no one sees you, and in a few days I’ll return.” I carefully stepped over the bodies of the man and the woman. “Will you make this peace with me?”

Crezil moved back into the shadows, shrouding its massive body. But was that an answer?

“You can go home,” I said. “And then I can go home, too. Agreed? If not, tell me so now or let me walk out of here freely. If you don’t try and stop me, I’ll know we have a bargain.”

I took another step. This time Crezil didn’t move. There was just enough space for me to walk past it. I eased myself forward, careful not to look at Crezil as I groped through the darkness, focusing on the distant sunlight. As I brushed past the creature, I felt its cold, inhuman breath. It could have easily lopped my head off, yet it did not. Two more steps, and I was past it.

I kept on walking, just a little faster. Behind me Crezil moved into its tomb, ready, I supposed, to feast on the dead lovers.