John Marco - The Forever Knight

“Malator, where am I?” I pleaded. “What happened?”

“Wait. Not now.”

“Where’s Cricket? Is she all right?”

“Lukien, you’re almost dead.”

“My neck. .” I understood. “Can you save me?”

“I will save you, Lukien,” he insisted. “No matter what it takes of me.”

“You can let me die, Malator. It’s all right.”

I heard him laugh, and it cheered me. “Same old Lukien. You have a mission, remember?”

“Now can you tell me what it is?”

“I can’t talk, Lukien. I need my strength. You have to fight, too.”

I imagined reaching out for him, but he was already gone.

* * *

Except for Malator, I thought I was alone in the void. I thought I could just wait-until I realized something was in there with me.

It was the first thing I had seen in however long I was trapped there. A shadow among the shadows, moving across my consciousness. I had no body, no flesh to grow cold, but it chilled me. Suddenly I felt it everywhere, and I couldn’t run from it or fight. So I watched, and for a moment it appeared like a pile of bones, then bloody rags of skin, and then as just a pair of horns. Finally it looked at me through the eyes of a dozen decayed faces.

Human faces.

“Leave me!” I cried.

It fled so quickly it stunned me. But I knew what I had seen.

* * *

Time passed, more and more, until at last Malator returned. This time I could see him. He brought light with him. His weary face nodded at me, and I knew he was too tired to speak. But he had saved me. I would be alive again.

“Malator,” I said. “I saw the monster in the sand.”

Malator told me to wake up, and I did. I imagined myself being born, struggling through the tunnel of my mother’s womb. I imagined a light beckoning me out, out, into the world. My hands reached for the light. My one eye blinked open.

I was alive again.

Above me twinkled the night sky, fretted by tree branches. I could feel the air in my lungs. I was afraid but not panicked, and knew I was in a forest somewhere. Somehow. My ears perked awake at the sound of insects chirping. Weight pressed upon my chest. I glanced down and saw it was Cricket. She lay over me, slumped with sleep, my chest her pillow.

“Malator,” I whispered. “Thank you. .”

Cricket heard me and stirred. She sat up groggily, her eyes struggling with the darkness.

“Hello,” I rasped.

“Lukien?” She leaned closer. “Lukien!” She flung herself at me then stopped in horror. “Oh, I’m sorry! You-are you all right? Can you move? I thought you were dead!”

My mind was so cloudy I could hardly grasp her questions. “I’m alive. Malator. .”

That’s when I noticed the sword in my hand. It had been placed there, tied into my palms with rags so I couldn’t let go. I flexed my fingers around the hilt. Inside the sword stirred Malator, unmistakable but slighter than I’d ever felt him before. Barely there. Whatever he’d done to save me had exhausted him.

“I can move a little,” I told Cricket, but couldn’t raise the sword or do more than flex my arm. I remembered the horror of my neck breaking. To my amazement, I could turn my head. “But I’m all right. I am .”

Cricket’s expression melted. I had never seen her cry before, but now tears dampened her cheeks. “God damn it, you scared me, Lukien! That man killed you!”

“He didn’t, Cricket.” I wanted to sit up. “I told you,” I joked, “nothing can kill me. Look!”

Cricket swallowed and smeared the tears with her sleeve. She touched my face. “Yeah,” she nodded. “Okay.”

“What about you? You weren’t hurt?”

She shook her head. “No. He didn’t touch me after. . what happened.”

I hoped she wasn’t lying. “Where are we? Arad?”

“We left Arad, Lukien. Three days ago.” Cricket shrugged. “I don’t really know where this is.”

“How?”

Cricket’s voice dropped low. “Marilius.”

“Who?”

She cocked her chin toward the trees at my left. “Over there.”

Surprised, I turned my head, struggling to see over my nose with my one eye. A man was huddled among the leaves, slumbering in the darkness.

“Who’s that?”

Cricket put a finger to her lips. “Easy. He helped us, Lukien. He saved us. His name’s Marilius. He’s a captain.”

“Of a ship?”

“He’s a soldier.” Cricket looked over to make sure the man was still asleep. “I couldn’t get you out of there alone, Lukien. After what happened to you I. .” Her eyes pleaded with me. “I started screaming. The wrestler left me there, left us both there, right in the street. No one came to help. Just Marilius. He put you over your horse and got us out of there. We rode for a day, then we came here. You can be mad if you want, but I did my best.”

“You did good,” I told her. “You were brave. I’m proud of you.” I looked over at the stranger again. “I want to talk to him.”

“What, now?”

“Yes,” I said, trying not to sound angry. I thought again and sighed. “No. I’ll be stronger in the morning. I’ll talk to him then.”

“Why are you mad, Lukien? I told you-he saved us.”

“I know.” I smiled at her. “I do, Cricket. I’m obliged to him. And that’s what I’m going to tell him when he wakes up.”

Cricket looked relieved. She beamed suddenly, brushing the hair out of her eyes. “I swear I thought you were dead.”

“Me, too,” I admitted. “I guess it’ll take more than a broken neck to kill me.”

* * *

When I woke the next morning it was the stranger, not Cricket, sitting next to me. Cross-legged, disinterested, he whittled aimlessly with a dagger, and when I grunted awake he glanced my way.

“Cricket told me you wanted to speak to me,” he said.

I looked around but couldn’t find her. “Where is she?”

“Gone for water. It’ll give us a chance to talk.”

I tested my sword arm, feeling stronger than the night before. I even raised my head a little. “You’re Marilius?” I took a good look at him. Dirty hair. Young, too. Hardly more than twenty. His muddy boots were the kind worn in Norvor, his crestless coat more like a Marnan’s. He’d let his beard get out of control. “Cricket said you were a captain,” I said, not hiding my disbelief. “You’re a mercenary.”

“I’m both.”

“I know about mercenaries. You don’t look much like one.”

His eyes sharpened on me, shifting quickly to my sword and back again. “You think you can do the job, old man? You think I’m here to rob you?”

“I’m obliged to you for saving me,” I said. “But make no mistake. I’m as rigid as a timber, so if you’re planning anything do it now. You won’t get another chance.”

Marilius frowned with offense. “Didn’t the girl tell you about me?”

“She told me. But if I find out you laid a hand on her, or that she’s too afraid to tell me the truth, or that she’s protecting me by lying, I’m going to kill you. And not quick either. I’m going to chop off bits of you and make you eat ’em.”

Marilius expertly flicked his dagger into the dirt by my sword hand. “It ain’t a lie.”

“Tell me what happened. And it better match Cricket’s story or-”

“Yeah, I know, I know, you’ll kill me.” He smiled wildly. “That big man who broke your neck? His name’s Wrestler. That’s it, nothing else. Just Wrestler. He’s a bodyguard for King Diriel.”

“Diriel. From Akyre.” I began to remember what Sariyah had told me about Diriel. And about the ‘death magic.’ “Why was he in Arad?”

“Same reason all soldiers go there. Booze and whores.”