John Marco - The Forever Knight

“Go, get her out of here,” said Anton. He flicked his wrist at all his servants. “All of you, get out.”

Leaving the broken glass and wine strewn across the floor, the servants fled the chamber. But not a man around the table flinched at Diriel’s threat.

“We’ll feed him his own intestines,” said Chuluun. “To threaten little ones. .”

“He’s not lying,” said Kiryk. “We’ve already seen his handiwork.”

“Numbers, Marilius.” I leaned forward. “What’s he got?”

“Two-thousand,” he estimated. “Maybe twenty-five hundred. Maybe a bit more.”

“And us?”

“A thousand counting everything. A bit less probably. That’s a few hundred mercenaries, a few hundred Drinmen, men from here in Isowon, some men from Kasse. .”

“How many from Zura?” asked Chuluun anxiously.

Marilius replied, “Ninety or so. That’s just a guess.”

Chuluun translated the news for his brother, and the two of them shared a grimace. “There would be more if there was more time,” said Chuluun. “They will come. But by then. .”

“Ninety is enough,” I announced loudly. “Ninety Zuran horsemen are worth a thousand Akyren goat fuckers. Kiryk, you were right. Diriel lied to me about his numbers. So what? We all knew we’d be outnumbered.”

“How many legionnaires?” asked a helmeted merc.

Marilius shrugged. “I don’t know. I couldn’t tell, and Diriel wouldn’t say. But he’s got his conscripts too. And he’s got dogs.”

“Dogs?” said Lenhart. “They didn’t use dogs in Drin.”

“Well, they have them now,” said Marilius. “Scores of them, chained up and starved mad.”

“They’ll send those dogs in first,” guessed Jaracz. He spoke softly, as if talking only to his king. “Which is why you’ll need to stay in the rear, Kiryk.”

“No,” said Kiryk. “I’m a Silver Dragon. I lead tomorrow.” He turned to look at me. “The battle starts tomorrow, Lukien, yes? We’re all ready.”

I didn’t know how to answer, so I looked to Marilius. “Are we ready, Marilius?”

Marilius put down his riding crop. “Anton has spent everything he has to keep his men paid. The men at this table and the others that follow them aren’t going to run. Yes, I think we’re ready.”

“Anton?” I looked at him across the table. “It’s your city. I’ll be in charge of the battle but you’re Isowon’s leader. Tomorrow?”

“You were the last piece of the puzzle, Lukien,” said Anton. He mustered a smile on his golden face. “If this doesn’t work I’ll be ruined.”

“You’ll be dead!” joked Lenhart.

The room broke with laughter. Only Sariyah, ever stone-faced, didn’t grin.

“Anton?” I looked at him from across the table. “It’s your decision.”

He couldn’t hide his fear, but he didn’t hesitate either. “Tomorrow we make war,” he said. “Unless the Akyrens attack before then.”

“They won’t,” I said. “Diriel wants his monster, and only I can give it to him. I still have time, and Diriel will honor our bargain.”

Anton nodded. “Tomorrow, then.”

I pushed back my chair and stood. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” cried the men, all of them standing to echo me.

“Tomorrow,” said Sulimer, and took his big axe and smashed it flat side against the table. The table bounced, shattering glasses and spilling food and wine. “Remember your axes,” he chided. “Remember to take their heads!”

“And remember that Diriel’s head is mine,” said Kiryk.

Anton said, “I think I should have that trophy for my own.”

“Kiryk has claimed it, Anton,” I called. “But if you want, I can cut off his balls for you.”

The men laughed again, even Anton, and raised the remaining glasses. Only Sariyah remained seated. I didn’t know how many of the men knew what had happened to him, or to his son Asadel. The only one I’d told was Marilius, who took pity on Sariyah from across the chamber, lowering his glass and meeting Sariyah’s sad gaze with encouragement. I put my hand on Sariyah’s shoulder and bending to his ear said, “We carry your wounds inside us, my friend.”

Sariyah nodded, then stood, then pounded a fist on the table as heavily as Sulimer’s axe. “Listen to me, all of you,” he boomed. “My son Asadel is out there with Diriel. Taken from me. If you see him tomorrow on the battlefield, spare him.” He gazed into every face. “I beg you to see he is not your enemy. But if he has lost his soul-if now he’s a mindless one-then I beg you to destroy him.”

Young Kiryk, who didn’t have a glass to raise because his trusted Sulimer had shattered it, put up a hand to speak. “My father’s name was Lutobor, King of Drin. He was taken from me, and none of my tears have returned him. In his name I swear: if your Asadel lives, we Drinmen will find him for you. And if he only half lives,” Kiryk’s hand fell to his heart, “we will end his misery, friend Sariyah.”

“We will,” said Lenhart.

“We will,” said Jaracz.

Sulimer, oldest of the Drinmen, dragged his axe from the table. “I will,” he swore.

His words chilled me. I knew he meant to die tomorrow and drag a thousand souls to hell. Sulimer had reached his own valley in life, a place few ever reach, where a person has no fear at all. He had his mission of vengeance and needed nothing else. He was why we could win tomorrow, I told myself. He and all the men like him, who had nothing else to lose, could change such terrible odds. Sariyah gave the Drinmen his thanks and sat back down again. One by one the men around the table all returned to their seats. The servants scrambled back into the room, and the chatter rose around the table, about archers and strategy and how it felt to lose one’s soul. I kept myself out of this talk, drinking and watching Anton and Marilius field the questions. Both had done remarkably well. Marilius had become a leader almost overnight, and Anton. .

Well, I still disliked him to be sure, but he was less of a snake than I’d thought.

We went for hours, long into the night, loosening our fears with Anton’s good wines and admiring the curves of his servant girls. The captains gave orders to their underlings to make ready their troops, each a tiny army under my supreme command. We decided our assault would not come at dawn-there was no sense in that, not when sleep would be so precious. The men outside the council chamber would drill and organize and make all the preparations, but the men here, in this bawdy chamber, would drink themselves mad and sleep late enough to regain their senses.

But none of them had my stamina, and one by one the men around the table took their ease, Sariyah first among them. Then came Nalinbaatar, sick from foods he had no taste for, and then the mercenaries. Kiryk and his Drinmen surprised me with bottomless stomachs, but even they succumbed eventually, and left the chamber as a drunken herd. By then Chuluun had moved into Sariyah’s vacant seat. He’d stopped drinking long ago but refused to leave my side. When at last Marilius said his good-nights, there was only Chuluun and myself, and Anton Fallon on the other side of the table, looking tired and oddly content, resplendent in his robes and womanly hair, a silver bowl of some unknown spice at his fingertips that he snuffed up his nose. He offered it out to me from across the table, and when I shook my head he looked at Chuluun.

“What about you, Bogati?” he bade. “Alwani spice. It will give you courage for the battle tomorrow.”

Chuluun smirked at his fellow Zuran. “I am unafraid, Anton Fallon.”

Seeing them together made me realize how different they were, and how vast Zura must be. Where Chuluun was savage, Anton was regal. I could tell they didn’t much like each other, only tolerating each other for my sake. Anton shrugged, pinched up more of the spice and sucked it up his nose. I realized suddenly how he’d managed to stay so awake. I had my sword to keep me vital, and Anton had his spices.