John Marco - The Forever Knight

Home. I was home . Back in Liiria, back in the castle where I’d grown to manhood. Back with friends I knew but who, for some reason, paid me no notice. There I was, just in trousers, my bare chest bandaged and standing there like a mute, and all around me rushed my past. Liirians I hadn’t seen in decades, some who’d died in battle and some who’d later called me a traitor, laughing, celebrating, twirling pretty girls to the music of lutes from the other side of the hall. Servants moved through the crowd, passing out food from silver platters and sloshing beer from great big mugs. A teenaged boy hurried past me, brushing me aside, unseen. When I saw his face I remembered where I was. . and when. I shouted out his name.

“Akeela!”

Of course he couldn’t hear me. Thirteen again and this was his party. He ran, dodging the men and women his father had invited, chased by. .

I waited, not breathing, knowing I would see myself bursting from the crowd. And there I came, the perfect happy memory, shoving past a flustered maid. The sight of my own, younger self seized my heart. I glanced at Malator, but the Akari said nothing, smiling serenely as he watched the other ghosts. I gazed at myself, my wonderful, younger self, my face bright with both my eyes and free of scars, laughing as I chased Akeela through the hall. I had teased him, I suddenly remembered, about a girl he’d fallen for but wouldn’t admit. It wasn’t Cassandra, though. It wouldn’t be Cassandra yet for years.

“Nymira.”

I whispered the name as I watched myself disappear. Malator shoved me into the hall.

“Go after them,” he chided.

So I did. With the air of a ghost I passed through the crowd, running easily after the boys, knowing exactly where I’d find them. Malator kept up with me as I traced the route from memory, thrilling at seeing the castle again and studying the happy faces of men who’d one day be my mentors and women who’d be my conquests. I found the drawing room where I’d cornered Akeela and found us wrestling on the floor, a moment away from toppling the vase.

I thought of jumping forward, of moving the table before Akeela kicked it over or catching the vase before it shattered. But I was a ghost. No matter what, the vase would fall. My younger self pinned Akeela to the carpet. He struggled with a cat-like shout, his foot shooting out toward the table. The vase tottered a long time, but neither boy noticed it until it crashed down next to them.

“Oh. .!”

The cry was mine. I winced at the shock in Akeela’s face. The younger me released Akeela and sat back, astonished. Akeela cursed.

“Damn it!” He picked up bits of alabaster, trying to puzzle them together again. “Why’d you chase me, Lukien? Look!”

But it wasn’t my fault. I remembered what I’d said to him: “Why’d you run then? You’re so clumsy. You can’t beat me in wrestling or anything else!”

“This was my mother’s!”

“So? Blame me for it. I don’t care.”

Akeela nodded, but I knew he wouldn’t go for it. Even then I knew he wouldn’t.

“I broke it,” he sighed. “I’ll tell my father.”

Neither my younger self nor Akeela got up. I drifted closer, squatting down beside us. Akeela looked exquisitely beautiful. So logical. So resigned. And I-or the me I once was-gathered up the pieces of the vase.

“Anyone could have broken it,” I said. “Or stolen it. Get back to the hall. I’ll get rid of it.”

“You can’t. We’ll take the pieces to my father.”

“No, Akeela. It’ll be a secret.”

“You’ll get blamed for it. You always do. Forget it.” Akeela used his cape to collect the bits, holding it out for me to dump my own into. “Here.”

“That’s crazy. It’s your birthday!”

“So? I’m supposed to lie, then? What are they teaching you in the Chargers? You’re going to be a soldier soon, Lukien. Soldiers don’t lie, not even to protect their friends.”

“But friends keep secrets. Secrets make the friendship stronger.”

Akeela stood there with his cape full of broken alabaster, holding it out like a basket. “Come on,” he said, and walked back toward the hall.

“Loyal, your king,” said Malator suddenly. “Honest.”

I nodded. “He was always like that. I was the disloyal, dishonest one.”

“You were his favorite soldier.”

“I was his friend,” I corrected. “Being his soldier came later. But yeah, I was his favorite.”

“A king should be like that with his soldiers, don’t you think? Loyal to them? People forget that. They think soldiers are the only ones who need to be loyal.”

“Yeah. .”

I knew from my time with the Akari that Akeela was alive somewhere; really alive, just as Cassandra was alive in her own death realm. I wondered if Akeela was still insane, or if becoming a spirit had healed him. But I had never asked that question, not of Minikin or Malator or anyone else.

“Why’d you show me this?” I asked. “Did you think I’d like seeing Akeela again? Because I don’t, Malator. I don’t need to be reminded about what I did to him. I don’t need you prancing around playing soldier!”

The room was silent except for my angry voice. Malator smiled without looking hurt.

“What?” I pressed. “There’s a lesson here? There’s always more with you, Malator. Tell me what it is.”

Malator shook his head. “I can’t, Lukien. I can only guide you.”

“You know everything, don’t you? What was that monster? What’s this all about?”

“First,” said Malator, “I don’t know everything. I’ve told you that already. That monster was a demon, not of this world. Ask questions, Lukien. Follow the answers.”

“But you won’t give me answers!” I raved. “All I get from you is horseshit!”

“Then ask someone else. Who would know about the monster? Who is pulling the strings here?”

I shrugged. All I wanted was to be back to sleep. “Fallon?”

“Fallon indeed. He knows more than he’s telling.”

“Yeah, all right, but what about all this?” I looked around the room. “None of this has to do with anything. I can’t figure it out, Malator.”

“Food for thought, then,” said Malator with his cheerful grin.

I took a breath to clear my mind. Thinking was tough, though. My arm started to hurt. “I think I’m waking up,” I said.

“It’s almost dawn.” Malator sighed. “I should take you back now.”

“Wait, what about that other thing you said? About me crossing between the worlds?”

“Oh, you won’t remember anything about that when you wake,” said Malator. “That’s not for now, Lukien. For now, just eat what’s on your plate.”

“But-”

“No,” he said sharply. “I can take you back or I can show you more of this world. That’s all. Do you want to see more?”

“No, no more,” I said quickly. “Just. . take me out of here. It’s time to talk to Fallon.”

I awoke that morning just before dawn, before Cricket even, sitting up in bed with a shout that made my servants come running into the room. There were two of them, a man and woman, both beautiful, both assigned to me by Anton Fallon. It was they who had dressed my wounds, I quickly learned. Their names were Karik and Adela. I remembered this as I woke up-really woke up this time-from my long and fretful sleep. I had a thousand questions for them, but Karik and Adela gently scolded me to silence, pointing out Cricket still asleep in the nearby bed.

“What happened?” I whispered.

As the pair helped me into my shirt, they explained how Marilius and Cricket had brought me back to the palace on horseback. Cricket, it turned out, had spent most of the time watching over me. No wonder she was so exhausted. As I listened, the encounter with the monster returned to my memory. My arm had been badly burned, yet both of them marveled at how quickly I’d healed. I flexed my arm within the linen shirt, feeling remarkably good. I had Malator to thank for that. As Karik guided me down to sit on the bed, I hefted the Sword of Angels. While Adela put on my boots, I gave Malator my silent thanks.