John Marco - The Forever Knight

“Your helmet,” he said, then stooped to hand it to me. I put the golden helm in the crux of my arm.

“Your sword.”

Malator reached for my battered, blood-stained blade. In his fist he held it out for me, and my own fist closed around it. Together we held it, sharing its power, our eyes seeing straight into each others’ minds.

“This is the Sword of Angels,” whispered Malator. “It lay dormant for years until you found it. And I slept within it, alone and lonely until you came for me, Lukien.”

His confession surprised me. “If it’s a debt you feel you owe me, Malator,” I said, “you’ve already repaid it.”

“Not quite yet,” said Malator. “But I will. On the other side of this day.”

I said nothing, just let him speak his riddle. All I wanted from Malator was the strength to have my revenge, and he’d already given me that. He let go of the sword, his hand disappearing as his fingers uncoiled, and soon his whole arm was gone, and then his whole body. But I wasn’t alone in the room. He was with me, inside the sword and inside my entire being. So I belted the sword around my waist and went to find Marilius.

* * *

I found Marilius in the courtyard of the palace, waiting for me. Nearby, surrounded by mercenaries, was Anton, speaking frantically, waving his arms about, pointing at different areas of his city. The courtyard was filled with soldiers and horses, all of them ready to march through the gates.

Three men stood apart from the crowd, watching me as I emerged. Sariyah, Chuluun, and Kiryk were dressed for battle, each in the garb of their varied lands, each of their horses decorated differently. The buzz in the yard quieted as I entered, the heads turning to see me in my resplendent armor. Even Anton quit his ranting. He turned to face me, his eyebrows shooting up in wonder. The sun was high above my head, and the anxious faces of the soldiers told me they’d been waiting long for my arrival. I stopped myself a few paces into the yard and looked at them.

“I slept,” I declared. “But no ordinary sleep. I will make your wait worth it.”

Even my voice sounded different, not just from the bronze helm but from the magic coursing through me. The men nodded and looked toward their leaders, my unlikely generals. Young Kiryk, King of the Drinmen, clenched a fist at his side, Chuluun bowed his dark head, and Sariyah took a single, silent step forward. Marilius called out to his mercenaries.

“To your places!” he cried, and the mercenaries in the yard broke rank, riding for the gate. Kiryk gave the order too, and then Chuluun, and the Drinmen and Bogati rode forth, kicking up dust as they rode for Sklar Valley. Only a handful of men and horses remained behind, including Venger, who’d been prepared for me with armor the color of my own and Bogati ribbons in his jet mane. Another gift from Anton, I supposed. He smiled when I noticed it, but I could tell he was terrified of the battle ahead.

“Anton,” I said, “you’ll stay here in Isowon, but not out in the open like this. Guard yourself inside. Diriel might have assassins come for you.”

“I’ll be protected,” said Anton, gesturing at the ring of mercs who’d stayed behind. “Lukien, before you go, I want to know about the monster.”

I shook my head. “I can’t. Just trust me on this one.”

Anton pointed at his forehead. “I’m the one that bears the mark! It’s not Diriel’s assassins I’m worried about. If I stay behind, these few men can’t help me against Crezil.”

“But you’re not going to run,” I said. I went to Venger and patted his side, glad to see my beautiful horse. “Thank you for this,” I told Anton. “I’ll ride him with me to the battle, but I’ll need another horse for the fight.”

“Another?” asked Marilius. “Why?”

“Any good warhorse will do,” I said. “Venger will stay in the rear until I need him.” I waved at Sariyah and the others. “Gather,” I said.

They huddled around me, Sariyah jealously taking my right, Chuluun my left. Kiryk stood slightly apart from the rest, attentive nevertheless. I looked at Marilius.

“You’re not a captain anymore,” I told him. “None of you are. You’re all generals now. Congratulations.”

Chuluun smirked. “Is that good?”

“It means you’re a leader,” Kiryk explained.

“That’s right,” I said. “Each of you will report to me directly. And each of you is in charge of your men, like we planned. Marilius, is everything in place?”

“Just as we planned,” he said. “Diriel’s waiting. I sent him a messenger two hours ago like you asked. He’s expecting you.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to fight,” said Anton. “He could have attacked by now but hasn’t.”

“Don’t hope that, Fallon,” warned Kiryk. “Don’t even think it. Diriel lives to destroy. He’s just savoring Isowon like a good meal.”

“Everything he wants is here,” I agreed. “Except for one thing.”

“Crezil,” said Marilius. “That’s why he’s waiting for Lukien. And since I don’t see Crezil anywhere. .”

“Just buying time,” I said. “That’s all it ever was. Just a ploy. What about that horse?”

Marilius called to one of the remaining mercenaries. “Bring him another.” He turned back to me peevishly. “We can’t really spare horses this way, Lukien. Most of the men are already on foot. Venger’s perfectly suited for fighting. What’s the problem?”

Kiryk cleared his throat. “I should go. My men are waiting.”

Chuluun turned to his brother, Nalinbaatar, who was holding his horse. “We will see you on the field, Lukien.”

I turned to Sariyah. “What about you?”

“I will not leave your side,” said Sariyah. “To protect you.”

“Protect me? You might have that backwards, my friend.”

Sariyah replied, “You are our only hope, Lukien. If you fall we all will surely lose. Consider me like your shadow-inseparable.” He went to his horse, a burly beast with two battleaxes tied to its haunches, one on each side. On any other day one would be enough, but Sariyah meant to take many heads. He mounted up and followed Kiryk and the Bogati to the courtyard gate, where he waited for me while the others trotted off. The man Marilius had dispatched returned with another horse for me, not nearly as splendid or well-armed as Venger. He handed the reins to me almost apologetically.

“The best I could find,” he said.

“Good enough. Now, protect your master Fallon. Don’t be tempted to ride out to join us. Whatever happens, you make sure your master lives.”

The mercenary nodded, mostly because he remembered my threat to kill any of them who abandoned Isowon. “Good luck to you, Sir Lukien.”

“Anton.” I turned to the man who’d brought me here to slay his unbeatable monster. He looked pale, and I could see a trace of some unknown spice staining the flesh beneath his nose. “No more of that false courage,” I said. “You’re stronger than you think. You stayed alive this long, after all.”

His eyes flicked toward Marilius. “Bring him home safe,” he whispered to me.

Marilius shifted. “Anton. .”

“Don’t be embarrassed by your love,” I said. “Remember what I told you, Marilius? There’s no shame in loving each other.” I turned to Sariyah and said, “Ride ahead for me.”

“I will not leave you, Lukien.”

“Just to the edge of the city. I need to speak with Marilius.”

He agreed grudgingly, and when he was far enough ahead I called to Marilius, “Come along. It’s time.”

He hurried to his horse and sped the beast to where I was waiting. Anton gathered his bodyguards and disappeared into the palace. Suddenly the yard was deserted. The street ahead was nearly empty as well. I could see Sariyah trotting through Isowon, looking forlorn among the fountains and hanging gardens, and ahead of him rode Kiryk and Chuluun. It was a fair distance to Sklar Valley, but the time it took to get there would be the last peace we’d know for days. My plain brown horse clip-clopped down the street. Marilius checked his gear as we rode.