John Marco - The Forever Knight

An hour later, Cricket’s lips were purple with pomegranate juice. Her pockets were empty, but we still hadn’t reached Isowon. Then, like a mirage, we saw it. And all of us, even Marilius, mewed.

Isowon was just as Marilius described it, a finger of gardens and architecture poking out into the sea. There were no dilapidated homesteads, no broken-down shops, none of the sewage-stained streets I’d seen all my life. Isowon’s avenues were plump with flowers, all the buildings painted shades of white and sand. Watermills churned slowly by the docks where silver boats waited. People walked the sloping streets, watched by handsome statues of gods and goddesses.

Cricket’s eyes swelled at the sight. “Paradise. .”

“Did I tell you?” smirked Marilius.

I nodded. “Just like Sariyah said.”

Cricket pointed at one, vast structure standing out from all the others. “Is that his house ?”

“Breathtaking, I know,” said Marilius. “I told you-the palace is unbelievable.”

I had spent my life around wonders: the Library of Koth, Hanging Man, even the Story Garden where Cassandra waited. Yet I’d seen nothing compared to Fallon’s palace. He was not a king or prince, but he had built himself an enormous home of golden limestone, clinging to the shore as the sea flowed into it. Palm trees spotted its courtyards. Fountains spouted crystal blue water. Brick lanes looped through gardens and manicured lawns, while alabaster stairways and coral bridges threaded the buildings together like pearls.

“Come.” Marilius sped his horse onward, cheered by the sight of home. Cricket looked at me with a twinkle in her eyes.

“See Lukien? I told you we could trust him.”

She dashed her pony after him, leaving me with the mules. But a lifetime of soldiering had made me distrustful, and Marilius still perplexed me. Surely a peach so perfect had a blemish somewhere. I decided to take a bite and find out for myself.

* * *

The streets of Isowon were emptier than they should have been. I tucked that bit of knowledge away as we rode up to the palace. Two tall, golden spirals flanked the garden leading to the gates. A perfume of spices hung in the courtyard. The mercenaries in the towers watched as we approached. Behind the gates, more eyes spied through the iron bars.

“Open up,” ordered Marilius. He got down from his horse and stood before the gates. The men looked shocked.

“Marilius?” said one of them.

“Open the gates, Dorik. I need to see Fallon.”

Dorik pointed at Cricket and me with his chin. “Who are they?”

“Friends,” said Marilius. “For Fallon.”

“Friends!” Dorik’s laughter boomed. “You mean like you, Marilius?”

The others laughed too, jeering us. I got down off my horse, about to say something when Marilius stopped me. He glared at Dorik.

“You think Fallon doesn’t want to see me?” he hissed. “He’ll find out I came back, because one of you apes won’t be able to keep it secret. Then he’ll find out you sent me away, Dorik. And then you know what he’ll do?”

Dorik didn’t answer the question. Like the rest of them he was unshaven, unkempt, and at least a little dim-witted, but I could see his mind working behind his thick skull.

“Open it,” he relented.

The others pulled the chains from the bars and swung the gate open for us. As we stepped inside, Dorik bumped Marilius’s shoulder.

“You should have stayed gone,” he whispered.

I pretended not to hear as I helped Cricket down from her pony. Marilius thrust the reins of his horse toward Dorik.

“Take care of the animals,” he sneered.

By now others had gathered to watch us arrive. Some were mercenaries, some civilians from the town. Now I could see Fallon’s riches close-up. Silvery sidewalks led through the gardens and archways toward fountains and reflecting pools and stands of fruit trees where children played among the flowers. On the giant lawn, every emerald blade of glass stood at attention. Marilius walked lock-jawed, humiliated. He led us out of the powerful sun into a great, open hall with a view of the sea and a ceiling alive with frescos. Here, handmaidens in white tunics carried jugs and trays of food, their legs so creamy I could barely look away.

Cricket caught me staring and grinned. “Nice place, huh?”

“Beautiful,” I agreed.

Every step took us deeper into Fallon’s paradise, until there were no more mercenaries, no one at all to challenge us, just the well-fed merchants and the doting, compliant servants. The smell of spices was everywhere, piping up from burning sconces on the walls and crystal bowls suspended from the ceiling. It got so thick I had to hold my nose.

“Lavender,” said Marilius. “His favorite.”

There was a bit of contempt in Marilius’s voice that I hadn’t heard before. When at last we came to a pair of golden doors, he stopped.

“Is Fallon in there?” I asked.

Marilius nodded.

“How do you know?” asked Cricket.

“Because he’s always in there at this time of day. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He opened a single golden door, just enough to slip inside. A sudden silence swallowed the hall. Cricket blinked at me. I looked around, surprised we were alone in such a vast space. Cricket smoothed down her cape and shirt, then wet a finger to paste down her hair.

“Look at this place! What do you think he’s like, Lukien?”

Now I was getting nervous, too. “Wealthy,” I said. “And wealthy men can’t be trusted. Full of sweet talk and bullshit, I bet. Watch yourself, Cricket. All those girls you saw back there? Probably slaves.”

“I don’t think so, Lukien. They looked happy.”

“Of course they do. Imagine being whipped for not smiling like an idiot all the time.” I took a deep breath, regretting it at once as the stink of lavender filled my nose. “Ugh! What kind of man-”

“Shh, he’ll hear you,” scolded Cricket.

I rolled my eyes at her. “Under his spell already.”

And yet I was happy, mostly because Cricket was happy. The palace had sparked a brightness in her eyes I hadn’t seen in weeks. Once again, I let myself believe I’d done the right thing by taking her with me. If there was war in the Bitter Kingdoms, it seemed far away from Fallon’s extraordinary home.

Finally, the golden door opened again, this time wide enough for us to see. Marilius stepped aside for us to enter, but Cricket and I just stood there, too awestruck to move. Sunlight struck our faces, streaming in off the sea. A pool of blue water washed slowly in and out of the palace. The chamber, if that’s truly what it was, hugged the water like two great arms, wrapping it in fantastical architecture. Inside were tiny palm trees and orchids the size of coconuts. Half-nude servants-men and women both-waited at the edge of the pool near a table heavy with food and silverware. A figure swam alone in the water, naked, twirling and backstroking. Cricket’s mouth fell open at the sight of him.

“Oh. . my.”

I scowled at Marilius, offended even if Cricket wasn’t. “Fate above, Marilius, what is this?”

Marilius shrugged. “It’s noontime. This is where he takes his meals.”

“Marilius, he’s naked.”

“You’ll get used to it. Come in.”

Cricket didn’t need to be asked twice, bolting for a better look. Song birds twittered in the miniature trees, and a perfect breeze blew off the sea. I caught up to Cricket as I approached the pool, putting my hand on her shoulder to stop her from diving in. She stared at Fallon, wide-eyed as he swam. Embarrassed, I tried to look away yet couldn’t somehow. He was, I admit, an amazing looking man. His strong physique moved effortlessly through the water, his longish copper-colored hair streaking behind him. He was thin like a woman but muscled like a man, like the palace statues. His skin was strange too, not white like mine or black like Sariyah’s, but a deep, tawny tone I’d never seen before. He rolled onto his back, spouted water from his mouth like a porpoise, then swam toward us, emerging from the water smiling and dripping wet.