John Marco - The Forever Knight

Then, afraid to sleep, I settled myself down at the edge of the river with the Sword of Angels in my lap and waited for the sun.

* * *

Crezil did not come out of its lair that night. It remained true to the bargain we’d struck, waiting patiently for me to deliver on my promise. When the sun finally came up over the valley, I realized I had nodded off, and looked around my peaceful spot for any signs of Diriel. I did not have long to wait.

Like me, they had ridden through the night, but unlike me they didn’t have Venger or a pair of magical eyes. I don’t know if they expected to see me or not, but when they finally rounded the hill and saw me by the river, they reined in their horses with contempt. Diriel looked exhausted, his face more wild than I’d ever seen. He had taken three bodyguards with him, all legionnaires and all as dead-eyed as the others, dressed in gray and crimson and staring soundlessly at me. And of course, Wrestler had come. He rode his horse the closest to me, splashing into the river and grinning triumphantly when he saw me.

“Have you come to protect your monster?” he taunted. “Good! Fight us for it and lose!”

Diriel trotted closer. “Sir Lukien, will you honor our bargain and give me the monster? We will kill you for it if we must.”

“You still make that boast?” I said. “After you’ve seen what I can do?” I rose to my feet with my sword still sheathed. “How many of your men do you need me to slaughter, Diriel?”

“Your men fought better than I ever imagined,” Diriel admitted, “but they haven’t won yet.”

“How do you know? You ran away once your slaves revolted.”

“Because the battle is as good as mine. Don’t you see? All of this belongs to me! This is my empire! Even that monster is my slave. Now, stand aside.”

“Truly, you are mad,” I sighed. “I could kill you with a breath yet you don’t see that.” I looked at Wrestler. “What about you, gargoyle? Still think you can beat me?”

“Put down your sword and let me try,” replied Wrestler. “Fight like a real man.”

“I want the monster,” Diriel said again. He’d ridden all night and had lost all patience. “Give it to me.”

“Believe it or not, that’s why I’m here,” I relented. “I am a Knight of Liiria, and a knight keeps his word.” I strapped the sword around my waist again. “The monster Crezil is there.” I pointed toward the cave. “That’s its lair.”

Diriel went white. “The tomb of my fathers. .”

“Anton Fallon woke it when he desecrated your ancestors,” I said. “He pulled it from its world into this one.”

“That’s why it’s hunting him,” said Diriel with delight. “Revenge!”

I didn’t bother correcting him. “It’s lost here,” I said. “It needs a master to guide it. I promised I’d give it to you, Diriel. If you want it, it’s yours.”

“At what price?” challenged Wrestler. “We’ve already won Isowon!”

“You haven’t yet,” I shot back. “But that’s not the bargain. You’re my price, Wrestler. After I give Crezil to Diriel, you wait here for me. You don’t run or hide. You face me and die.”

“Put down your sword, and we’ll fight now,” spat Wrestler. “Don’t wait, coward.”

“I want the creature!” cried Diriel. “Give it to me, Sir Lukien. Now!”

I looked only at Wrestler. “Do we have a deal?”

“We do!”

I stepped aside for Diriel. “Follow me, then. Just you.”

Diriel dismounted and approached me. “If this is a trick, you should know I will be unmerciful to you, Sir Lukien, and to every child in Isowon.”

“No more threats, Diriel,” I said. “I’m sick of hearing them. Come and get your monster.”

Wrestler and the trio of legionnaires dismounted but did not follow us as I led Diriel toward the cave. With the sun coming up the entrance looked less forbidding, and Diriel was so out of his mind that he seemed not to care. I led him past the slab guarding the tomb, scraping past the crack in the rock. He gasped as we crossed the threshold, just as Cricket and I had done when we first entered the tomb. I held up my flaming stick so he could behold the ancient glories. The paintings and sculptures jumped to life. The eyes of the stone animals gazed on us. Diriel pursed his lips like a child, taking it all in.

“Magnificent.”

“This is the tomb of Atarkin,” I said. “The last emperor of Akyre.”

“And now I am the first again,” he said, awed by his own words. He went to the stone coffin that had once held Atarkin’s mummied corpse. He ran his fingers over it, grimacing with his sharp teeth.

“You’ve given your loyalty to a criminal,” he said. “Anton Fallon must pay for desecrating this place. Do not expect me to spare him. I cannot.”

“We came for your monster,” I reminded him. “This is where it sleeps.”

“It’s sleeping?” asked Diriel. He splashed into the stream running through the cave. “Can you waken it?”

“It’s waiting for you,” I said. I was actually getting nervous, and could hear the quaver in my voice. “It knows you’re coming.”

“It knows I am Emperor,” said Diriel madly. “It will bow to me when it sees me.”

“It needs you,” I said, trying to sound calm. And nothing I’d said so far was a lie. I’d figured it out-the whole riddle of the beast. “Soon you’ll both have what you want.”

“And you’ll be dead,” said Diriel sadly. “Wrestler will kill you, you know. Without your sword, you cannot beat him.”

“Just keep your bargain and make sure he doesn’t try to run.”

I held up the flaming stick, lighting the way to the chamber where I knew Crezil was waiting-the portal chamber. “This way,” I told Diriel.

For the first time, Diriel hesitated. He peered down the narrow corridor of rock. “Where are we going?”

“To see your monster,” I said. I looked at him. “Are you afraid?”

He was. His mask of madness cracked just enough for me to see it. “I have never been afraid,” he said. “Continue.”

With the flame lighting my way, I stepped into the rocky corridor. I could feel the unmistakable presence of the beast up ahead, calmly crouching in the darkness. My eyes scanned the gloom. I went deeper, leading Diriel onward, and finally saw the source of the river, still flowing magically into the wall. The portal flared with light suddenly, revealing Crezil’s hellish world. Diriel shielded his eyes from the flare, squinting to see, and when he opened them again he saw the monster emerging from the dark.

I stood very still, not moving forward but not backing away either. Crezil rose up on its sinewy legs, its pink eyes blinking, its naked body pulsing like the throat of a frog. It was enormous, made more so by the smallness of the space, its many heads lowered on its necks. No bones or stolen flesh hid it this time. Now I could see it all, the same, repulsive creature revealed by the painting just behind it over the portal. A human face stared back at me. A bird face clicked its beak. The goat head shook its bloody horns and the pig’s jowls dripped blood. Fleshy tongues darted in and out like tentacles.

“Crezil,” I pronounced. “I have brought you your master.”

Diriel was like stone beside me, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. He stared at the creature in disbelief. I knew I had to speak fast.

“This is your master,” I told Crezil. “Not Anton Fallon. Not the one who woke you. This is the last King of Akyre. He is of the blood!”

“Yes!” crowed Diriel. “I am your master, beast! The blood of a hundred Akyren kings runs in my veins!”

“Not Anton, Crezil. Not Anton. Do you understand?” I pointed at Diriel. “Him!” I looked at Diriel, waiting for the sign to tell me I’d done right. “He is your master, Crezil,” I insisted. “He’s the one you’re looking for. Take him!”