John Marco - The Forever Knight

That was the kind of night I had before the battle. Only it wasn’t monsters that found me sleeping in Anton’s palace, and it wasn’t Crezil that called my nightmares. A long parade of dead friends came to me instead. Or, rather, it was I who went to them, like a troubadour.

I visited each of their death places. In my dreams I saw Akeela, my beloved brother, my king, one of the only people I ever truly loved. I dreamed of him so infrequently over the years that it startled me to see him. We spoke, but his words were foreign to me, so twisted by rage as to be incomprehensible, and when I left him he was crying after me. Screaming, I think.

Next I saw Minikin, my old mentor, and she spoke to me about love, and about how powerful she’d been in life, and how I was now even more powerful than that. I think she pitied me. So I left her quickly, and one by one visited a gallery of past friends and enemies. There was Figgis the Librarian and Trager, my nemesis, and nameless men I’d slain on battlefields. I saw Meriel, who’d loved me, who I’d spurned into the arms of a madman, and then I saw the madman himself, Baron Glass. Together they spoke to me of the burning that had taken Meriel’s life and the peaceful world of the dead, and when I told them I had no soul they wept for me.

That’s when I grew tired of the dream. I tried to awaken. I pushed myself, but somehow I could not, and so I went in search of Cassandra but could not find her. Nor could I find Cricket. I felt myself panicking, lost in my dreamworld, trapped like that little, fevered boy. I had the terrible thought that I wasn’t dreaming at all. . and that’s when my eyes finally opened.

Not wide, though. Just slivers, just enough to see that I was still in my bed in the palace. I fought to stay awake, to sit up and wait for morning, and that’s when I saw Malator seated at my bedside. He was dressed for battle in his splendid Akari armor, perched patiently on a plain wooden chair that I knew had been in my chamber earlier. I looked at him as I laid there, reassured to see him but unable to fully awaken. He smiled at me.

“Is this a trick?” I asked softly.

The room was so quiet, so like a tomb, that I would have thought myself dead if not for my cursed life. I could see the Sword of Angels where I’d left it, propped near my bed, and the boots the servant man had pulled off my feet. I could see the window and the darkness beyond it, telling me that morning was still far off. Yet I could hear nothing, not even my heartbeat.

“Do you think I’m tricking you?” Malator asked.

“Why can’t I wake up? Am I sick? Or is this just another one of your illusions?”

“Nothing I’ve never shown you has been an illusion. Nothing I’ve ever said has been a lie.”

“Why are we talking now, then? Why won’t you let me sleep in peace?”

“You’re moving through the worlds of the dead, Lukien. Those aren’t dreams you’re having.”

I lay very still. “Am I still in those worlds? This feels unreal to me. What time is it?”

“You have time, don’t worry. It’s hours yet until morning.”

“Hours? That can’t be. I’ve been dreaming all night.”

Malator shook his head. “Only a little while.”

“But I’ve seen so many people. .” I studied his face for treachery. “So, they’re real? Akeela-was that him? Where is he?”

“In the realm of the dead. I told you, Lukien, you are special. Wait. You’ll soon understand.”

“No.” I somehow managed to prop myself up. “Tomorrow is the end for me, Malator. Even if they don’t manage to kill me. If I survive I’m leaving here. I’m going home to Jador. There’s no more time for your puzzles. Tell me why I’m special. Tell me now.”

“You will wait,” said Malator gently. He was like a father at my bedside, and I felt like the sick child, frightened and impatient. “You will not die tomorrow, Lukien. Remember? I promised you your vengeance.”

I nodded. “And I gave my soul for it.”

“You lost your soul long before that.”

“Is that why I can move through the death realms? Because I have no soul?”

“Partly.” Malator grinned. “You’re getting it, Lukien.”

“Then tell me the rest. Or let me sleep. A real sleep. I don’t want to see any more phantoms. Why’d you want me to come here, Malator? Why didn’t you want Cricket to come with me?”

He smirked at me. “Lukien, that bit is obvious. It was too dangerous for Cricket. Did I not warn you? You need no other friend on this journey. Just me. If you trusted me. .”

He stopped himself. He looked down at his lap. But I knew what he meant.

“Cricket’s dying is my fault. I know that. And tomorrow I’ll make Wrestler pay for it. I’ll make them all pay. That was our bargain, Malator. Don’t renege.”

“Renege? I have given you everything you need to be unstoppable. You are a living weapon now, Lukien. Tomorrow you may occasion as much carnage as you crave. Tomorrow you will be the end of the world to your enemies. I have dressed for it! Let hell’s gates swing wide for them.”

“Then answer me, Malator: What has all this been? A lesson? A test?”

“Training,” replied Malator.

“Training? For what?” I was indignant. “What’s the point of all this misery?”

“Not yet.” Malator’s voice was soothing. Suddenly my eyes began to close again. “Soon.”

“No. .”

I clutched for him, but my world quickly darkened.

“Sleep, Lukien,” he whispered. “Grow strong. Tomorrow you will be at your glorious best.”

I dreamt no more that night. Whatever enchantment Malator had put on me sent me to the most peace I’d known in ages. And the next day, when I awakened, I felt like a giant.

I slept past the morning, through breakfast, almost till noontime. No one dared to wake me, but when my eyes snapped open Malator was still in my room, bathed in the bright light of the sun pouring through my window. At the foot of my bed sat the chest holding my bronze armor, its lid open wide, its contents gleaming. Malator was stone-faced. My body roiled with an energy I’d never known. I remembered the dream I’d had, the promise he had made me. I flexed my fingers to test their strength and knew I could crush a rock with them.

“Rise,” commanded Malator.

I did as he said, standing before him in his own resplendent, spiked Akari armor, my feet naked on the carpet.

“A squire needs to help you prepare,” he said. “Since you have lost yours, I will dress you.”

I didn’t ask what time it was. Malator’s manner told me everything was ready. My chamber was quiet, but outside in the courtyard I could hear the commotion of men riding forth, joining the ranks of their battle-ready brethren. The day had started, but not the war. Not without me. I held up my arms and let Malator pull my old shirt over my head. Next came the trousers, and when I was naked he turned silently to my fresh garments, waiting for me near my newborn armor. He dressed me like a father would; I could feel the warmth of his pride. He seemed hardly a spirit at all, so real that I could touch him, and for the first time, probably the first time ever, I wanted to embrace him and thank him for his gifts.

But I did not. I was a warrior now, and no thoughts of love could sway me. I wanted no tenderness in me today, no humanity to stay my sword. Some men pray before a battle, but I was never one of those. I had no gods. But if I could have found a patron devil, I would have prayed to have my mercy stripped away, to turn me to stone. In that moment I saw what I had ever been, what I would always be-a fighting man.

Slowly, lovingly, Malator encased me in bronze. Not a word passed between us. We shared a single mind now. His thoughts were as open to me as the sea. I felt his placid calm, he felt my boundless vengeance. One by one he closed the bindings on my legs and arms, taking his time with the ritual. When I held out my hands, he slipped my fingers into my golden gauntlets. The sunlight bounced off me like a kaleidoscope, splashing prisms of color across the walls. Malator stepped back to eye his work and finally allowed himself to smile.