John Marco - The Forever Knight

I passed through all the towns I had passed with Cricket, retracing our steps so I could remember her perfectly. And when I finally reached Arad I went to the spot where Wrestler had broken my neck and where Marilius had saved me. Malator was my soul companion, and I spent long hours speaking to him while I rode. Sometimes he would appear beside me, sometimes only in my brain. We spoke of good things, mostly, and he told me stories about the way his life had been when he was alive. I made my own confessions, too, the secret things that Cricket could never pry out of me. I was happy, or at least mostly contented, but I still had questions for Malator. Too much had gone unsaid.

Two days after leaving Arad, we came to a nameless forest. With a stream and leaves falling into the water, I knew I had found the perfect place to rest and, perhaps, get some answers. I made camp in a tiny clearing, where a hole in the treetops let me see the sky, and built a fire to warm myself as the sun slowly went down. Venger drank from the stream as I ate supper from my saddle bags, and when the first stars appeared I settled down in front of the fire, lay the Sword of Angels in my lap, and called forth my Akari.

“Malator.” I practically whispered his name. “It’s time for answers.”

It is.

He gave no argument, but materialized before me, sitting cross-legged like some shaman in the firelight. This time he didn’t wear his military garb. He dressed himself in simple Akari clothing, like a man at leisure. I looked at him and smiled.

“I did as you asked,” I said. “I have no friends but you. I gave myself to you, and you granted me vengeance. I’m grateful to you, Malator. But now I need to know-will you tell me without riddles? At last, will you please?”

“There are doors, Lukien,” said Malator. “Like the portal Crezil came through. Ways for men to enter other realms as Diriel did. Only he was taken there against his will.”

“Go on,” I said softly.

Malator looked sad. “You think I’ve been harsh with you. But I tried to warn you about Cricket. I told you to go to the Bitter Kingdoms on your own. I wanted you to learn. What did you learn?”

I thought hard over that. “That there are monsters?” I ventured. “Other worlds. I knew that already though. I learned that I have no soul. I learned that I am special, or so you keep telling me. Only that’s the part I don’t understand, Malator. How can all of this been worth it? What did you want to teach me?”

“Not teach you,” he corrected. His eyes shimmered. “Change you. And I have. You are not a simple man any longer, Lukien. You could have gone through that portal to Gahoreth as easily as Diriel, but without Crezil. No other man could have done that. No living man.”

“You confuse me, Malator,” I said. “Why would I want to go to Gahoreth?”

“Because you can,” he said. “Because no other man alive can. Because Gahoreth is a world of the dead, and there are many such worlds. Without a soul, you are a walker between these worlds, Lukien. You can see things no man alive has seen.” He leaned forward. “Even lost loves.”

His words chilled me. I blinked but didn’t speak. I couldn’t bring myself to hope it. “What?”

“Cassandra, Lukien,” said Malator. “You can be together with her, if you wish it. You can find the door to her death place and walk through it and back again. This is not death I speak of. Death would take you out of this world forever. I’m talking about you, alive, as you are now.”

“Cassandra. .” I spoke the name like a prayer. “If I find the doorway?”

“I can help you, Lukien. Together we will find it. And others too.”

“How?” I asked. “When?”

“The same way we found Gahoreth-by following the clues. When?” Malator shrugged. “Whenever you wish it.”

“This is your gift to me,” I realized. “For all my suffering. A great gift.” I sat back and spied the twinkling stars. “A walker between the worlds,” I sighed. “Yes.”