The Forever Knight: A Novel of the Bronze Knight (Books of the Bronze Knight) (27 page)

“That’s Diriel,” he said, pointing at the approaching chariot.

“I see him,” I replied, then guided my nameless horse slowly down the sandhill, leaving Venger in the care of a young servant boy. His name was Cern, and he promised to protect Venger with his life. It was the kind of loyalty I didn’t expect from one of Isowon’s puffy young men. I believed him enough to trust him, and he’d be far enough from the fighting to keep himself alive.

I reached the bottom of the berm—my sandy command post—and didn’t say a word as Chuluun and Marilius wheeled their horses to flank me. Sariyah came after me, equally silent, and as we trotted forward, Kiryk broke away from his men to join us. Our troops watched silently as we rode out together toward Diriel, whose own contingent gathered around his chariot. We had agreed to meet in the spot between our facing armies. Amazingly, Diriel had brought Grecht, the midget from his castle, the one who’d greeted me and Cricket at the bridge. He bounced out in front of Diriel’s chariot like a weird little herald, carrying an already tattered flag and, I think, whistling.

“Who is that?” whispered Chuluun when he saw Grecht. He rode slowly at my side, scimitar sheathed, unable to take his eyes off the midget.

“If only they were all that size!” said Kiryk.

I took the point, letting the others fan out behind me, matching Diriel’s deliberate speed. Four legionnaires came with him on horseback, the only four with perfect uniforms, I supposed, each of them pale and expressionless. And, as I’d hoped, Wrestler was with them. His bald head caught my eye at once, gleaming and helmetless, with a sword at his side and his loose black clothes draping his uncanny body. He smiled, a grin I felt more than saw, a laughing, contemptuous leer aimed right at me. He almost looked like he’d grown since our fight, his arms more apelike, his chest even more like a beer keg. Finally, I’d be close enough to kill him.

At last Diriel’s chariot came to a stop, and the king himself dropped the reins of his twin horses and stepped down on the battlefield. Grecht performed what looked like a curtsy, then stepped aside for Diriel to pass. I jerked my horse to a halt just a few paces in front of him. His legionnaires remained in the rear, but Wrestler rode up to protect him. Diriel’s vulnerability was meant to calm me, I knew, but I couldn’t help thinking how stupid he was. He held apart his empty hands in greeting.

“Why don’t I see the creature with you?” he asked.

“It’s sleeping,” I replied.

“I’ve waited, Lukien. You promised to bring it to me.”

“If you believed that, you’re even dumber than I thought.” I glanced at Wrestler and said, “Get yourself an advisor with some brains, Diriel. Maybe you’d make better decisions.”

“I see you brought your sword this time,” taunted Wrestler. He pushed back his robe to reveal his own. “I’ll toss mine away if you want to go again, Liirian. I’d love the chance to snap your neck again.”

“Not just my neck.” I pointed at my eye. “See? Magic.”

“Then take a good look, Sir Lukien,” advised Diriel. “You’re outnumbered. Even you can’t beat all of them. Does Anton Fallon know you’re throwing his life away?”

“Anton Fallon has a message for you,” chimed Marilius. “Isowon is his. He built it, he rules it, and he’s not given it over to you. Lukien speaks for us all. If you want Anton, you’ll have to kill us all first.”

Diriel looked up at Marilius, flashing his sharpened teeth. “Why doom yourself, boy? Run back and tell your master I’ll spare him if he surrenders to me. But I want the monster, too. I want what was agreed upon.”

I laughed in his face. “Idiot. The monster was never going to be yours. I told you that to buy us time, to build this army!” I leaned over my horse to look at him. “If you want the monster, go get it!”

“Where is it?” demanded Wrestler.

“In its lair,” I said. “In the crypts of the old Akyren kings.” I heard Marilius shift with surprise at my admission. “That’s where the mummy powder came from, Diriel—from your dead ancestors! Anton Fallon dug up your mothers and fathers. He ground them into dust and let you feed them to your men!” I took great glee in my taunt, and in the shock on Diriel’s face. “He played you like a fool, and you know why? Because you are one! Did you really think I’d ever hand over a weapon like Crezil to you? Are you so deluded to believe I’d let you take control of it? Crezil belongs to
me
!”

Diriel was so unbalanced by his rage he could barely speak. His eyelids fluttered and his fingers clenched, and he looked up at Marilius and seethed, “Imagine the worst death you can for yourself, boy. I will flay you. I will boil you for what your master has done!”

“You’ll do nothing,” I spat. “Because you’ll be dead. And then Crezil will be mine. Anton Fallon will take over Akyre, and together we’ll drink beer until our bladders are bursting and piss on the graves of your ancestors. But they’ll be empty, because Anton dug them up and turned them into fairy dust.”

Truly, I thought Wrestler’s bald head would explode.

“Death!” he screamed, his hand flying to his sword. “Sweet Diriel, let me kill this foreign pig,” he pleaded. “Let me pull out his intestines, I beg you!”

“Then I’ll just come back,” I sneered. “An eye, a neck—haven’t you figured it out yet? I am forever! And you, you demented child raper—you’ll be dangling at the end of my sword soon.”

Wrestler was about to pull his blade. Chuluun nearly pulled his own. But Diriel wasn’t stupid enough to end things yet. He regained his composure, ignoring everyone but me.

“One more chance,” he warned. “Behold, Sir!” He swept his arm toward his warriors. “Think. The monster and Anton Fallon, and you ride back to Liiria with everything you had.”

“Not everything,” I said.

Wrestler took my meaning. “No, not everything,” he agreed. He licked his lips. “Not your pretty squire. She fought a little with her little girl fists, but she loved me on top of her. I showed her some of my best wrestling holds.”

“Demon,” hissed Sariyah. “She was a child.”

“She was candy,” crooned Wrestler.

I could barely keep myself together. I could have—should have—leapt off my horse and torn his throat out. But I remembered why I’d come, and somehow steeled myself. Behind Diriel waited his army, with the dogs and conscripts at the front. The conscripts seemed little more than slaves, starved-looking and in rags, poorly armed with whatever throw-away weapons the real Akyrens didn’t want. There were hundreds of them, too, some still in the chains that had dragged them to battle. The only expression on their gaunt faces was dread. I spurred my horse away from my men, past Diriel and knocking past Wrestler.

“Hear me!” I cried to the conscripts. “We are free men in Isowon! We do not bow to evil! Be free and join us!”

Sariyah hurried to my side. The legionnaires surrounded us both. Diriel laughed.

“They won’t join you,” he said. “I have broken them. They’re mine.”

“They will join us,” I answered. “When they see your heads rolling in the sand, they will.”

I could see Kiryk’s hand twitching on his sword and Chuluun was just dying to fight. I turned one more time toward the horde, raising up a defiant fist toward his enslaved soldiers.

“Watch how free people fight!” I cried. “Watch and grow strong!”

Diriel made his way back to his chariot, waving off his legionnaires. “Sir Lukien,” he said, “you should never have come here.”

“On that, we agree,” I replied. “If you have a devil, Diriel, make your peace with him. By tomorrow you’ll be in hell.”

Then I spat onto the ground between us, spun my horse around, and led my men back toward our army, turning my back on Wrestler and his king in one final act of contempt. I didn’t look back—I pretended not to care. I just kept on riding as Marilius caught up to me.

“Lukien!” he said insistently. “Why’d you do that? Why’d you tell Diriel about the mummy powder?”

“To kick a hornet’s nest,” I said. “Why do you think?”

I
had barely reached the berm with Sariyah when I heard the arrows overhead. Up on the dune, Cern pointed skyward with a shout of alarm. A peculiar buzzing filled the air, and when I spun my horse around, the sky was black with missiles. My men held their places in the field while their commanders rode and cried out orders. I shouted up to the top of the berm where Cern stood.

“Cover yourself! And protect that horse!”

Cern couldn’t really do both so scrambled to guard Venger with his own unarmored body. The arrows wouldn’t last long, I knew—maybe one or two volleys. Diriel was too impatient for archers. Kiryk’s Silver Dragons raised their shields as the arrows arched, and the mercenaries with armor crossed their arms over their chests. The Zurans jeered at the arrows, daring them to strike, and Marilius rode furiously at the front of the army, rallying them all to stand fast.

I meant to climb the berm but didn’t. I should have commanded from there, at least for a while, but Wrestler’s taunts still rang in my brain, and all I wanted was the chance to fight. I wouldn’t be a general who, from a place of safety, ordered men to die. And I had trophies of my own to take. Out sprang the Sword of Angels, to my lips came a curse, and I rode out screaming for the arrows to strike me. Like a heavy rain they fell, around me, pelting me, bouncing from my armor, and pounding on my helmet. Men cried and dropped about me. I galloped through them, willing the arrows to catch me, snapping them off as they pierced my bronze armor. I turned my face toward them, howling, and Chuluun picked up my wolf-cry. Soon a chorus of howls erupted from his Bogati, even as the arrows pounded them.

“Steady!” cried Marilius.

“Hold!” hollered Kiryk.

Sariyah thundered up behind me. “I am with you, Lukien! Let us ride!”

“Wait,” I said, then heard the drop of chains across the field. Another volley filled the sky. A few mercs with bows answered it. Diriel could have picked at us all day, but the sound of chains told me he wouldn’t. He set his dogs on us instead.

And then they came, heralded by the arrows, slobbering and grunting, their bodies welted and emaciated. Their heads looked enormous, nothing but jaws, their legs pumping as they scrambled toward us. I heard the horses whinny and the men gasp and the arrows land amongst us. I watched a dog sight me with his wild eyes and run to make a meal of me. Up went my sword, and my horse bolted toward it, ready when it leapt for me. I caught it easily in my left hand, my fingers closing instantly around its throat and crushing its windpipe.

I think I tossed it over my shoulder. I can’t even remember, it was so effortless. My body burned with Malator’s power, an overwhelming, magical inferno. And if the arrows cut me I didn’t know it. I felt nothing, least of all pain, just the enchanted strength of my patron Akari.

“Malator!” I cried. “Give me my vengeance! Today is my day!”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t need words. He
was
me now. All around me snapped the dogs, pulling at my legs and climbing up my horse, who kicked and shattered their bones and carried me across the battlefield. Chuluun’s men broke formation, slicing at the dogs, while the Silver Dragons held their position, and Marilius’s mercs held back the worst, defending the poorly armed civilians behind them. Sariyah swung his axe, gutting one of the big, feral monsters and spraying me with its blood. I hacked and pulled them from me, slaughtering them, crushing them and wishing they were men. An arrow struck my head, bouncing off my helmet. Another felled a dog. But when I looked up again the sky had cleared, and my army gave a cheer.

Next were the conscripts. And this I didn’t want.

Shouting for my men to hold, I rode out with Sariyah to the front of our lines, through the dogfight and the Bogati. Up ahead, Diriel’s generals were urging their first wave of men onto the battlefield. Sariyah blanched as he looked at them, wondering where among them was his son. Kiryk rode out from the Dragons to join us. Lenhart and Jaracz followed.

“We’ll find him if we can,” I told Sariyah. “I remember what he looks like. We’ll get him out of here.”

Sariyah raised his axe. “Or I will die here with him.”

They were a terrible lot, those conscripts, those scores of enslaved. Hundreds of them in rags and broken armor, stolen from their own armies and homes and beaten into submission to fight for Diriel. They looked mindless now, stripped of their humanity, and I knew when I saw them my words hadn’t reached them. So I rode out to try again.

“Hear me!” I cried. “Join us! Asadel, hear me! Be free again!”

Far away on his chariot, Diriel gave his order. His generals echoed it, the whips behind the conscripts cracked, and that sorry horde of slaves came at us, running headlong into death.

“I don’t want this,” I told Sariyah. “They’re not Akyrens.”

Sariyah bumped his horse against mine. “Don’t lose this battle because of my son! They’re enemies now.”

“They didn’t kill Cricket,” I said. “Gods, I’m not a murderer!”

They were running straight for us, but Sariyah turned his back on them to shout at me. “They joined Diriel! They could have died with honor like my sons!”

“But Asadel—”

“Is dead, then! Now fight, Lukien! Fight!”

There was barely time to give the order. Already the Zurans were galloping forwarding, slicing past the dogs to meet their human foes. The conscripts came in a wave, screams tearing from their throats, the swords and hammers and spears held high. Kiryk held back his Silver Dragons as planned, but Marilius looked at me for my sign. Dread-filled, I gave it.

“Attack,” I cried half-heartedly. Then, under Sariyah’s stare, I shouted, “Attack!”

Marilius dropped his sword, and a hundred freelance horsemen charged. In moments they were around me, then past me toward the conscripts. I forced myself to join them, riding hard to catch up to Marilius. When the conscripts were just a few yards out, I raised my sword to defend myself.

On another day, the clash might have been even. In another world more just than mine, the conscripts would have been fed and willing and capable, but today they were neither, and I’ve seen infantry fall like they do. So easily, so quickly my horsemen trampled them. Like dead grass their bodies crumbled, their weapons barely glancing the mercenaries. I hurried into the fray, swooped over one of the men to grab up his collar, and lifted him off his feet like a child.

“Get to the rear!” I shouted at him. “Take safety with us!”

His eyes barely saw me. He tore at me, dropping his sword and using his fingernails instead. I shook him, then smashed the pommel of my sword against his cheek.

“Do you hear me?” I asked. “Go! Leave the field!”

I dropped him and he tumbled, and when I turned I saw Sariyah near me—but he wasn’t swinging his axe. He too searched the faces on the field, looking for Asadel. The horsemen stopped their charge, whirling to hack down the conscripts around them. A handful of unlucky ones were pulled from their mounts. Others saw my lead and stayed their hands, using their horses like plows to push the conscripts out of the way.

“To our lines!” I cried. That glimmer of an idea had given me hope. “Push them toward us!”

Some listened, others didn’t. I rode out to where Marilius was, pushing past the soldiers attacking me but refusing to cut my path. When I reached Marilius he had somehow been surrounded. He hacked down one of the conscripts, then another, then instinctively pushed back the others with his horse. One of the soldier-slaves dropped his sword, staring up at Marilius.

That’s when I knew we’d broken through.

“To the rear!” I yelled. “Gather your comrades and retreat to our lines. Let Diriel see you are free!”

The man did as asked, grabbing at everyone around him and shouting at them to lay down their weapons. Marilius broke away from his attackers and galloped out to circle his troops.

“Push them back!” he shouted. “Back to our lines!”

With a moment to breathe I glanced toward the Akyren lines. Dogs and conscripts still wrestled around me, but I knew Diriel’s first wave had failed. It was easy, and I took no joy in it. He still had hundreds of slaves left to throw at us, and not all of them would come to our side.

“Malator, remember Diriel,” I huffed.

I am watching him
, the Akari replied.

Diriel wouldn’t leave the battle soon. Not until I turned the tide. But he
would
leave eventually, I was sure of it. His greed was too predictable.

A dog came at me from the chaos, jumping for my throat. But I was like a stone wall, and the impact of the beast barely moved me. My arm locked around it, my elbow flexed, and I broke its skull so easily it frightened me. It dropped to the field with blood gushing from its ears.

I was invincible. I was now everything Malator had promised. I refused to fight the conscripts, letting them hack at me instead, their blows so weak they felt like nothing.

“What have you done to me Malator?” I whispered.

I wheeled my horse around to face Diriel’s forces. There were still more dogs to kill, more slaves to endure. I braced myself, wishing Diriel would send me his vaunted legion.

*   *   *

We took as many conscripts into our lines as would join us, and the men from Isowon took them to the rear of our army to care for them. They were all brainsick from their time with Diriel, shocked by the things they had seen and mistrusting of anyone with a weapon, but they did not rise against us once they surrendered. I galloped back and forth between the battle and our “prisoners,” hoping to convince them to take up arms and help us. The men of Isowon did the same, and in fact a handful of them did join us, though the rest were too afraid. Some even escaped into the valley, where I was sure they wouldn’t last the night.

The other conscripts sent against us fought like madmen. They were not quite the rabble of the first wave, and I had no doubt that the “Emperor” had threatened them with the worst possible torture should they lay down their arms. None of them seemed to care about the battle, but none of them thought Diriel would lose, either, and so they threw themselves against our swords and axes, mindlessly sacrificing themselves. Sariyah searched for Asadel, of course, but his son never appeared. He might have been among the dead for all I knew, for the dead were piling high now on the field, and the sand was thick with blood.

Of all our forces, only the men from Isowon and the Drinmen held back. We would need the Silver Dragons against the legionnaires, and I saw no need yet to call upon civilians. I would spare them what I could, I decided, and took upon myself the role of slaughterer, slashing down the conscripts who wouldn’t join us and tossing them aside, piling them like cord wood as they came at me upon my horse. The butchery was easy for me, vile even, and not once did a sword or spear harm me. Malator’s magic had turned me to metal, it seemed, making me impervious. But the real test was yet to come, and as I glanced out to where Diriel stood upon his chariot I realized his legions were at last preparing to ride.

“Marilius, Sariyah, Chuluun—to me!” I cried and galloped through the combat to gather them around me. One by one they fought their way toward me, knocking aside the slaves and hacking at those that wouldn’t yield.

“Look,” I said, pointing toward the Akyrens. “The legionnaires.”

Chuluun let out a giant gasp. His brother Nalinbaatar thundered up behind him. “Good!” he cried. “We Zurans await them.”

“Marilius, tell Kiryk it’s time,” I told him. He was covered from head to toe with blood and sweat, but had managed to keep himself alive so far. “And bring up the men from Isowon now. Remember, all of you, keep a look out for Asadel.”

“What about the legion?” asked Marilius, wiping his brow with his palm.

“No mercy,” I said. It was the moment I’d been craving. “Kill them all.”