John Marco - The Forever Knight

I laughed in his face. “Idiot. The monster was never going to be yours. I told you that to buy us time, to build this army!” I leaned over my horse to look at him. “If you want the monster, go get it!”

“Where is it?” demanded Wrestler.

“In its lair,” I said. “In the crypts of the old Akyren kings.” I heard Marilius shift with surprise at my admission. “That’s where the mummy powder came from, Diriel-from your dead ancestors! Anton Fallon dug up your mothers and fathers. He ground them into dust and let you feed them to your men!” I took great glee in my taunt, and in the shock on Diriel’s face. “He played you like a fool, and you know why? Because you are one! Did you really think I’d ever hand over a weapon like Crezil to you? Are you so deluded to believe I’d let you take control of it? Crezil belongs to me !”

Diriel was so unbalanced by his rage he could barely speak. His eyelids fluttered and his fingers clenched, and he looked up at Marilius and seethed, “Imagine the worst death you can for yourself, boy. I will flay you. I will boil you for what your master has done!”

“You’ll do nothing,” I spat. “Because you’ll be dead. And then Crezil will be mine. Anton Fallon will take over Akyre, and together we’ll drink beer until our bladders are bursting and piss on the graves of your ancestors. But they’ll be empty, because Anton dug them up and turned them into fairy dust.”

Truly, I thought Wrestler’s bald head would explode.

“Death!” he screamed, his hand flying to his sword. “Sweet Diriel, let me kill this foreign pig,” he pleaded. “Let me pull out his intestines, I beg you!”

“Then I’ll just come back,” I sneered. “An eye, a neck-haven’t you figured it out yet? I am forever! And you, you demented child raper-you’ll be dangling at the end of my sword soon.”

Wrestler was about to pull his blade. Chuluun nearly pulled his own. But Diriel wasn’t stupid enough to end things yet. He regained his composure, ignoring everyone but me.

“One more chance,” he warned. “Behold, Sir!” He swept his arm toward his warriors. “Think. The monster and Anton Fallon, and you ride back to Liiria with everything you had.”

“Not everything,” I said.

Wrestler took my meaning. “No, not everything,” he agreed. He licked his lips. “Not your pretty squire. She fought a little with her little girl fists, but she loved me on top of her. I showed her some of my best wrestling holds.”

“Demon,” hissed Sariyah. “She was a child.”

“She was candy,” crooned Wrestler.

I could barely keep myself together. I could have-should have-leapt off my horse and torn his throat out. But I remembered why I’d come, and somehow steeled myself. Behind Diriel waited his army, with the dogs and conscripts at the front. The conscripts seemed little more than slaves, starved-looking and in rags, poorly armed with whatever throw-away weapons the real Akyrens didn’t want. There were hundreds of them, too, some still in the chains that had dragged them to battle. The only expression on their gaunt faces was dread. I spurred my horse away from my men, past Diriel and knocking past Wrestler.

“Hear me!” I cried to the conscripts. “We are free men in Isowon! We do not bow to evil! Be free and join us!”

Sariyah hurried to my side. The legionnaires surrounded us both. Diriel laughed.

“They won’t join you,” he said. “I have broken them. They’re mine.”

“They will join us,” I answered. “When they see your heads rolling in the sand, they will.”

I could see Kiryk’s hand twitching on his sword and Chuluun was just dying to fight. I turned one more time toward the horde, raising up a defiant fist toward his enslaved soldiers.

“Watch how free people fight!” I cried. “Watch and grow strong!”

Diriel made his way back to his chariot, waving off his legionnaires. “Sir Lukien,” he said, “you should never have come here.”

“On that, we agree,” I replied. “If you have a devil, Diriel, make your peace with him. By tomorrow you’ll be in hell.”

Then I spat onto the ground between us, spun my horse around, and led my men back toward our army, turning my back on Wrestler and his king in one final act of contempt. I didn’t look back-I pretended not to care. I just kept on riding as Marilius caught up to me.

“Lukien!” he said insistently. “Why’d you do that? Why’d you tell Diriel about the mummy powder?”

“To kick a hornet’s nest,” I said. “Why do you think?”

I had barely reached the berm with Sariyah when I heard the arrows overhead. Up on the dune, Cern pointed skyward with a shout of alarm. A peculiar buzzing filled the air, and when I spun my horse around, the sky was black with missiles. My men held their places in the field while their commanders rode and cried out orders. I shouted up to the top of the berm where Cern stood.

“Cover yourself! And protect that horse!”

Cern couldn’t really do both so scrambled to guard Venger with his own unarmored body. The arrows wouldn’t last long, I knew-maybe one or two volleys. Diriel was too impatient for archers. Kiryk’s Silver Dragons raised their shields as the arrows arched, and the mercenaries with armor crossed their arms over their chests. The Zurans jeered at the arrows, daring them to strike, and Marilius rode furiously at the front of the army, rallying them all to stand fast.

I meant to climb the berm but didn’t. I should have commanded from there, at least for a while, but Wrestler’s taunts still rang in my brain, and all I wanted was the chance to fight. I wouldn’t be a general who, from a place of safety, ordered men to die. And I had trophies of my own to take. Out sprang the Sword of Angels, to my lips came a curse, and I rode out screaming for the arrows to strike me. Like a heavy rain they fell, around me, pelting me, bouncing from my armor, and pounding on my helmet. Men cried and dropped about me. I galloped through them, willing the arrows to catch me, snapping them off as they pierced my bronze armor. I turned my face toward them, howling, and Chuluun picked up my wolf-cry. Soon a chorus of howls erupted from his Bogati, even as the arrows pounded them.

“Steady!” cried Marilius.

“Hold!” hollered Kiryk.

Sariyah thundered up behind me. “I am with you, Lukien! Let us ride!”

“Wait,” I said, then heard the drop of chains across the field. Another volley filled the sky. A few mercs with bows answered it. Diriel could have picked at us all day, but the sound of chains told me he wouldn’t. He set his dogs on us instead.

And then they came, heralded by the arrows, slobbering and grunting, their bodies welted and emaciated. Their heads looked enormous, nothing but jaws, their legs pumping as they scrambled toward us. I heard the horses whinny and the men gasp and the arrows land amongst us. I watched a dog sight me with his wild eyes and run to make a meal of me. Up went my sword, and my horse bolted toward it, ready when it leapt for me. I caught it easily in my left hand, my fingers closing instantly around its throat and crushing its windpipe.

I think I tossed it over my shoulder. I can’t even remember, it was so effortless. My body burned with Malator’s power, an overwhelming, magical inferno. And if the arrows cut me I didn’t know it. I felt nothing, least of all pain, just the enchanted strength of my patron Akari.

“Malator!” I cried. “Give me my vengeance! Today is my day!”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t need words. He was me now. All around me snapped the dogs, pulling at my legs and climbing up my horse, who kicked and shattered their bones and carried me across the battlefield. Chuluun’s men broke formation, slicing at the dogs, while the Silver Dragons held their position, and Marilius’s mercs held back the worst, defending the poorly armed civilians behind them. Sariyah swung his axe, gutting one of the big, feral monsters and spraying me with its blood. I hacked and pulled them from me, slaughtering them, crushing them and wishing they were men. An arrow struck my head, bouncing off my helmet. Another felled a dog. But when I looked up again the sky had cleared, and my army gave a cheer.