The Forever Knight: A Novel of the Bronze Knight (Books of the Bronze Knight) (10 page)

“Hang on, Lukien . . . I’m gonna save your ass again.”

I
opened my eyes but was still asleep, and I knew immediately that I was still dreaming. I was back in Anton Fallon’s palace, in the room I shared with Cricket. Only it wasn’t really our room anymore. Now it was much, much bigger, like a throne room, with a hall at the end where a door had once been. Moonlight pierced the window over my bed, and when I sat up I thought for a moment I had left my body behind. My head swam with magic, and I felt no pain, even when I glanced at my badly burned arm. Someone had taken off my armor and bandaged my arm and chest, and when I remembered what had happened I looked around in fear.

“Cricket?”

She was in her bed, not far from my own. Relieved, I tossed my bare feet over the bedside, then saw that she was in the grip of her own nightmare. Her body shook with fits, her eyes dancing madly beneath their lids. She was saying something, but I couldn’t tell what, gasping as she wrestled her dream. I walked across the ornate carpet, hovering over her, my hand dangling above her forehead.

“Cricket?”

I touched her shoulder, gently at first. She felt cold. I brushed her clammy forehead. Her hand shot up and grabbed my wrist, pulling me. I let her drag me down, almost to face to face, and when I looked into her terrified expression her eyes shot open.

“Cricket, wake up! It’s me.”

For a moment my voice calmed her. She released me and closed her eyes but then slipped quickly back into her shivering dream. I was confused and annoyed because I knew who had dragged me here, to this place between the worlds.

“Malator! Where are you?”

I looked around the chamber then heard his voice coming from the hallway.

“You can’t wake her, Lukien.”

My eye scanned the room. Mostly it was how I’d left it. I saw my armor tucked neatly in a pile, my boots beside it, gleaming and polished once again. The Sword of Angels rested against my wooden bed, not far from where I was—or had been—sleeping.

“Am I awake?” I asked.

“Partly,” said Malator. “Come out to the hall.”

“Why the theater?” I groaned. “Just answer me—what’s happened? What’s wrong with Cricket?”

“Just a dream, that’s all.”

“Why won’t she wake?”

“It’s her dream, Lukien, not yours. She’ll wake when it’s over.”

I drifted toward the hallway. “But it’s a nightmare. She’s afraid.”

“She dreams this way all the time. Haven’t you noticed? She’s told you about it. Tomorrow she’ll tell you again. Maybe this time you’ll listen. Come on, I want to show you something.”

His voice was almost playful. I followed it like a dog whistle. I had been in Malator’s dreamscapes before. He loves drama, my Akari. This felt different, though. He was right about me not really being asleep, but neither was I awake. The body was mine, plainly, but now I was in a different realm. I was irritated, but excited, too.

“How are you doing this?” It took me forever to cross the chamber. “This is new.”

“Someday you’ll be able to do this on your own,” said Malator. “Maybe.”

“What? Sleepwalk? I can do that without your help.”

“Cross between the worlds,” said Malator. “If you let me teach you.”

“Really?” I had almost reached the dark hallway, but still I couldn’t see him. “What world is this, then?”

Finally he stepped out of the hall, emerging from the darkness with his wavy smile. I never know for sure how Malator will appear to me. His body never changes but he loves to play dress up, like a little kid. I’ve seen him in Akari garb, and in the armor he once wore. I’ve seen him in priestly robes and in rags and in kingly finery, but I never once saw him dressed the way he appeared that night. I recognized the uniform at once. A Liirian soldier. An elite, like I had been before my fall. A Royal Charger.

“Why are you dressed like that?” I asked.

“I’m a soldier, remember?”

“An Akari warrior,” I said. “And that was a long time ago. Never a Liirian. Never a Charger.”

He held out a ghostly hand without apology. “Come. You’ll like this, I think.”

I wanted to talk about the monster. I wanted to know what happened, not just to me but to Cricket and Marilius. When I hesitated, Malator read my mind.

“They’re fine.
You’re
fine, Lukien. Or you will be when you wake up. Now trust me. This is something you should see.”

So I stepped into the hallway, and instantly it came to life. I had walked into another world entirely, back in time to a place so ripe in my memory that the sight of it paralyzed me. Suddenly my ears came alive with the noise—the rush of people, the clang of metal, the bawdy voices of men. The smell, that unmistakable coal smoke of the braziers, the kind that burned night and day and stained the old tapestries upon the gray brick walls. Maybe my mouth fell open, or maybe my eye popped out of my head, but Malator was laughing suddenly, giddy at my reaction to the phantasms he’d resurrected. He leaned over and kissed my cheek, like he’d given me a gift.

“Welcome home, Lukien.”

Home. I was
home
. Back in Liiria, back in the castle where I’d grown to manhood. Back with friends I knew but who, for some reason, paid me no notice. There I was, just in trousers, my bare chest bandaged and standing there like a mute, and all around me rushed my past. Liirians I hadn’t seen in decades, some who’d died in battle and some who’d later called me a traitor, laughing, celebrating, twirling pretty girls to the music of lutes from the other side of the hall. Servants moved through the crowd, passing out food from silver platters and sloshing beer from great big mugs. A teenaged boy hurried past me, brushing me aside, unseen. When I saw his face I remembered where I was . . . and when. I shouted out his name.

“Akeela!”

Of course he couldn’t hear me. Thirteen again and this was his party. He ran, dodging the men and women his father had invited, chased by . . .

I waited, not breathing, knowing I would see myself bursting from the crowd. And there I came, the perfect happy memory, shoving past a flustered maid. The sight of my own, younger self seized my heart. I glanced at Malator, but the Akari said nothing, smiling serenely as he watched the other ghosts. I gazed at myself, my wonderful, younger self, my face bright with both my eyes and free of scars, laughing as I chased Akeela through the hall. I had teased him, I suddenly remembered, about a girl he’d fallen for but wouldn’t admit. It wasn’t Cassandra, though. It wouldn’t be Cassandra yet for years.

“Nymira.”

I whispered the name as I watched myself disappear. Malator shoved me into the hall.

“Go after them,” he chided.

So I did. With the air of a ghost I passed through the crowd, running easily after the boys, knowing exactly where I’d find them. Malator kept up with me as I traced the route from memory, thrilling at seeing the castle again and studying the happy faces of men who’d one day be my mentors and women who’d be my conquests. I found the drawing room where I’d cornered Akeela and found us wrestling on the floor, a moment away from toppling the vase.

I thought of jumping forward, of moving the table before Akeela kicked it over or catching the vase before it shattered. But I was a ghost. No matter what, the vase would fall. My younger self pinned Akeela to the carpet. He struggled with a cat-like shout, his foot shooting out toward the table. The vase tottered a long time, but neither boy noticed it until it crashed down next to them.

“Oh . . . !”

The cry was mine. I winced at the shock in Akeela’s face. The younger me released Akeela and sat back, astonished. Akeela cursed.

“Damn it!” He picked up bits of alabaster, trying to puzzle them together again. “Why’d you chase me, Lukien? Look!”

But it wasn’t my fault. I remembered what I’d said to him: “Why’d you run then? You’re so clumsy. You can’t beat me in wrestling or anything else!”

“This was my mother’s!”

“So? Blame me for it. I don’t care.”

Akeela nodded, but I knew he wouldn’t go for it. Even then I knew he wouldn’t.

“I broke it,” he sighed. “I’ll tell my father.”

Neither my younger self nor Akeela got up. I drifted closer, squatting down beside us. Akeela looked exquisitely beautiful. So logical. So resigned. And I—or the me I once was—gathered up the pieces of the vase.

“Anyone could have broken it,” I said. “Or stolen it. Get back to the hall. I’ll get rid of it.”

“You can’t. We’ll take the pieces to my father.”

“No, Akeela. It’ll be a secret.”

“You’ll get blamed for it. You always do. Forget it.” Akeela used his cape to collect the bits, holding it out for me to dump my own into. “Here.”

“That’s crazy. It’s your birthday!”

“So? I’m supposed to lie, then? What are they teaching you in the Chargers? You’re going to be a soldier soon, Lukien. Soldiers don’t lie, not even to protect their friends.”

“But friends keep secrets. Secrets make the friendship stronger.”

Akeela stood there with his cape full of broken alabaster, holding it out like a basket. “Come on,” he said, and walked back toward the hall.

“Loyal, your king,” said Malator suddenly. “Honest.”

I nodded. “He was always like that. I was the disloyal, dishonest one.”

“You were his favorite soldier.”

“I was his friend,” I corrected. “Being his soldier came later. But yeah, I was his favorite.”

“A king should be like that with his soldiers, don’t you think? Loyal to them? People forget that. They think soldiers are the only ones who need to be loyal.”

“Yeah . . .”

I knew from my time with the Akari that Akeela was alive somewhere; really alive, just as Cassandra was alive in her own death realm. I wondered if Akeela was still insane, or if becoming a spirit had healed him. But I had never asked that question, not of Minikin or Malator or anyone else.

“Why’d you show me this?” I asked. “Did you think I’d like seeing Akeela again? Because I don’t, Malator. I don’t need to be reminded about what I did to him. I don’t need you prancing around playing soldier!”

The room was silent except for my angry voice. Malator smiled without looking hurt.

“What?” I pressed. “There’s a lesson here? There’s always more with you, Malator. Tell me what it is.”

Malator shook his head. “I can’t, Lukien. I can only guide you.”

“You know everything, don’t you? What
was
that monster? What’s this all about?”

“First,” said Malator, “I don’t know everything. I’ve told you that already. That monster was a demon, not of this world. Ask questions, Lukien. Follow the answers.”

“But you won’t give me answers!” I raved. “All I get from you is horseshit!”

“Then ask someone else. Who would know about the monster? Who is pulling the strings here?”

I shrugged. All I wanted was to be back to sleep. “Fallon?”

“Fallon indeed. He knows more than he’s telling.”

“Yeah, all right, but what about all this?” I looked around the room. “None of this has to do with anything. I can’t figure it out, Malator.”

“Food for thought, then,” said Malator with his cheerful grin.

I took a breath to clear my mind. Thinking was tough, though. My arm started to hurt. “I think I’m waking up,” I said.

“It’s almost dawn.” Malator sighed. “I should take you back now.”

“Wait, what about that other thing you said? About me crossing between the worlds?”

“Oh, you won’t remember anything about that when you wake,” said Malator. “That’s not for now, Lukien. For now, just eat what’s on your plate.”

“But—”

“No,” he said sharply. “I can take you back or I can show you more of this world. That’s all. Do you want to see more?”

“No, no more,” I said quickly. “Just . . . take me out of here. It’s time to talk to Fallon.”

I
awoke that morning just before dawn, before Cricket even, sitting up in bed with a shout that made my servants come running into the room. There were two of them, a man and woman, both beautiful, both assigned to me by Anton Fallon. It was they who had dressed my wounds, I quickly learned. Their names were Karik and Adela. I remembered this as I woke up—really woke up this time—from my long and fretful sleep. I had a thousand questions for them, but Karik and Adela gently scolded me to silence, pointing out Cricket still asleep in the nearby bed.

“What happened?” I whispered.

As the pair helped me into my shirt, they explained how Marilius and Cricket had brought me back to the palace on horseback. Cricket, it turned out, had spent most of the time watching over me. No wonder she was so exhausted. As I listened, the encounter with the monster returned to my memory. My arm had been badly burned, yet both of them marveled at how quickly I’d healed. I flexed my arm within the linen shirt, feeling remarkably good. I had Malator to thank for that. As Karik guided me down to sit on the bed, I hefted the Sword of Angels. While Adela put on my boots, I gave Malator my silent thanks.

“You should eat,” whispered Adela. “Come, and I will get you something.”

I shook my head. “I want to see Fallon. Take me to him.”

The pair shared a grimace. Karik helped me to my feet.

“Master Fallon is in the Great Hall,” he said. “But now’s not the best time to see him.”

“Too bad for him.”

*   *   *

As it turned out, Fallon’s palace was full of “great halls,” but the one where he was hiding was at the eastern end of his enormous home, far from the rooms he’d given me and Cricket. Like everything in the palace the hall was enormous, sparkling with marble tile and golden fixtures. Towering windows of painted glass flooded the hall with dawn light. At any other time the hall might have been a ballroom for a lavish party, but now it was choked with mercenaries. They stood shoulder to shoulder, so closely crammed they could barely move. At least two-hundred of them stood guard, some with weapons drawn, but most so sleep-deprived that they’d sheathed their swords or simply dropped them to the floor. They took almost no notice of me as Karik and Adela brought me into the hall, until one of them called out my name.

“Lukien.”

Marilius made his way through the crowd, pushing the others aside to reach me. One look at his bloodshot eyes told me he’d been up all night, too. His fellow mercenaries gave me the once over. I dismissed Karik and Adela as Marilius reached me. He studied my face, then my arm, then laughed.

“Those wounds might have killed someone else, but I shouldn’t be surprised to see you’re fine!”

“What’s with the army? Waiting for the monster to come back?”

“It was a quiet night,” said Marilius with relief. “Thank the Fate.”

“You do this every night? Gather around the hall like this?”

“There’s not usually so many of us. Anton’s been in a panic since . . .” Marilius stopped himself. “You know.”

“Yeah. Since I got beaten.” I gestured toward the doors at the end of the hall. “Is he awake?”

“Are you kidding? He doesn’t sleep any more, Lukien.”

Marilius parted the mercenaries easily, leading me through the throng. The men posted outside the chamber opened the doors at once. I had expected another one of Fallon’s grand rooms, but was disappointed to see a shabby, windowless chamber. A fireplace, a few upholstered chairs, and a long wooden table were the only furnishings, as if everything else had been stripped away. Fallon himself was slumped over the table, sniffing at it. He jumped when we entered, and a puff of purplish dust erupted from the table top. He looked at me, embarrassed and angry.

“Well! My protector!” He wiped the purple stuff from under his nose with a dirty sleeve. “Up on your feet already. How fabulous.”

He was barely recognizable, his expensive robe stained and wrinkled, his face sallow. Even the black tattoo on his forehead drooped. His wobbly eyes strained to see me. That’s when I noticed the purple stuff, arranged on the table in sloppy little piles.

“What’s that?” I moved passed Fallon and stuck my finger into it. The stuff felt smooth, like powder. I sniffed my finger, appalled at the smell. “Ugh! You’re sniffing dung?”

“It’s acana,” he snapped. “It calms me.”

“Never heard of it. What is it? A spice?”

“Like a wild ginger,” said Fallon. “But different. Not as good as having a magic sword though.”

“You’re sweating.”

“Of course I’m sweating!” Fallon fell into the nearest chair. “That thing is still alive out there! You were supposed to kill it, Sir Lukien.”

“I tried, Fallon. The thing—”

He silenced me with a wave. “I know what happened. Marilius told me. Why do you think I have so many men out there?”

“But it didn’t come last night, did it?”

“No, no thanks to you.” Fallon slumped against the table, barely able to stay awake. “And if you expect me to pay you for that mission forget it. I’m already going broke.”

He looked pathetic, more frightened than angry, rubbing the tattoo and fretting over his mounds of spice. I knew Marilius felt helpless, too. I was glad we three were alone.

“Where’d that monster come from, Fallon?”

Fallon didn’t look up. “I told you. From Diriel.”

“It’s a demon,” I said. “It isn’t from Akyre or any other country. It’s magical. And you knew that all along.”

“Did I? Well, if you say it’s a demon, Sir Lukien—”

“How’d it get here?”

“How should I know? Ask Diriel! He’s the one who sent it here. He wants me dead!”

“That’s a lie.” I touched my sword pommel. “You forget, I have help. A spirit of my own, remember? So when you lie, I know it.”

For a moment Fallon groped for an answer. He looked at Marilius, then back at me, then wilted. “Oh.” He laid his forehead on the table and let out an enormous groan. “What’s the difference? I’m dead already.”

Marilius put a hand on his shoulder. “Lukien, you should go.”

I was itching for an argument. “Stop protecting him, Marilius. Stop lying for him. Why’d you keep me from entering the dell? What are you hiding in there?”

“There’s where the monster lives,” said Marilius. “I told you that.”

“And what else?”

“Nothing!”

Fallon managed to sit up. “Forget it, Marilius. Tell him and let him be on his way.”

“Tell me,” I demanded. “I need to know.”

“I’m tired,” Fallon whined. He stuck his nose into the powder again, but before he could take a sniff I bent over and wiped it off the table. I took hold of his robe and lifted him from the chair.

“You can smell your cow manure later,” I said. “Tell me about the demon!”

Marilius grabbed my arm. “Let him go, Lukien.”

So I dropped Fallon into his chair and grabbed Marilius instead, pulling him right into my face. “You brought me here to fight that monster, but you didn’t care for a second that I might have been killed. You let me go in there blind!”

Marilius grit his teeth. “I saved your life. Twice! You couldn’t wait to go after the monster. Just like you went after Wrestler. Without even thinking!”

I let go of him, but I wasn’t leaving without an answer. “What is it?” I pressed. “How’d it get here?”

Marilius smoothed down his tunic. Fallon pointed at his tattoo. “See this? I know you have. I’ve caught you staring. It’s the mark of that beast, whatever it is. This mark came right after I let the beast loose. My beautiful face, ruined . . .”

“So you did let it out. From where? How?” I took a good look at Fallon. “Are you some sort of wizard? I’ve heard about Zurans . . .”

Fallon scoffed. “Show me a wizard who lives like I do. I’m a merchant. I do whatever profit requires. Spices, Lukien. People pay a lot of money for spices.” He ran his finger through the dust left by the purple stuff. “I didn’t lie to you about Diriel. He does want me dead.”

“The monster, Fallon. How’d it get here?”

“An accident. Have you ever heard of mummia?”

I was sure I hadn’t. “Another spice?”

“Sometimes it’s called mummy powder,” Fallon said. “Very rare. And expensive. Only a king could afford it. And I’m the only man in this part of the world who can get it.”

“What’s it do?”

Fallon peered toward the door, making sure no one but the three of us could hear. “Your sword isn’t the only way to make a man immortal, Lukien. That’s what mummy powder does. That’s what Diriel wanted.”

Finally I had a piece of the puzzle. “The Legion of the Lost. Diriel’s army . . .”

“He contracted for the mummia. Paid a fortune for it. It wasn’t easy, but I found it. Not the useless tree resin some people peddle but the real thing, from the old tombs of Zura. That’s what mummy powder is—dried mummy flesh. But you have to know how to use it. I never thought Diriel would be able to.”

“So they weren’t just stories,” I said. “Soulless soldiers . . . You really did it.”

“Not me.” Fallon put up his ringed hands. “I just sell spices.”

“Sure, you’re innocent. What did you think he’d use it for? To sprinkle on his eggs?”

“How could I know he had the magic to use it? Diriel’s a fool! Everyone who’s met him says so.”

“But an indestructible army would make things nice and simple for Diriel, wouldn’t it? No problem taking over a nearby country, just march your soldiers right on in. Did you ever once stop to think about what Diriel would do with the mummia?”

“Do to his men? They’re soldiers! Like you, Lukien. I just sold them a better weapon.”

It was a giant insult. Marilius couldn’t even look at me.

“Marilius? This is the man you came back for?” I said. “You’re risking your life for
him
?”

Marilius shrugged. “We’re trying to fix things.”

“What about the monster?” I asked again. “You said you let it loose. How?”

Fallon tilted his head back, struggling to stay awake. “That was after,” he said. “Once Diriel took over Kasse he wanted more mummia. Quickly. You can’t just lay your hands on mummy powder. There’s tomb raiders to pay, bribes . . . and it takes time. I wasn’t even sure I could get more. Diriel didn’t care about any of that. He had the crown jewels and gold from Kasse and was willing to pay.”

“You’re a snake, Fallon. What did you sell him? Not mummy powder. Not
real
mummy powder.”

“It’s ground up mummies! That’s it! That’s what he paid for, and that’s what I gave him. No middle-men this time. I did the work myself.” Fallon closed his eyes and made a sound like he was tasting something sweet. “Oh, the money. He had so much of it, like it didn’t matter to him. All he wanted was the mummia.”

“So?” I pressed. “Where’d it come from?”

“The Valley of Lords,” said Fallon. “That dell you saw with Marilius. That’s where the old kings of Akyre are buried.”

“You sold him the remains of his own ancestors?” Disgusted, I turned toward Marilius. “That’s why you didn’t want us going into the dell—so I wouldn’t see the tombs.”

“That’s where it came from,” said Marilius, “though I didn’t see it for myself.”

“I went alone,” said Fallon. “Marilius didn’t know until later, when I needed his help. Now the three of us know.”

“No one else?”

Fallon shook his head. “When I went into the tombs, I found a burial stone marked with this.” He pointed to the tattoo on his forehead. “I didn’t know what it meant. I still don’t.”

I took a closer look at the tattoo. “Looks like a symbol. But of what?”

“Some ancient Akyren language maybe,” said Marilius. “Perhaps the mark of the monster.”

“The Akyrens never buried anything valuable with their dead kings,” Fallon went on. “Statues mostly. Worthless to me. I only found one mummy there, under the burial stone.”

“Just one?” I asked.

“I only needed the one,” said Fallon. “I dragged it out, threw it over a horse and rode away.”

“By yourself?”

“A dried-out corpse is lighter than you might think. When I found a private spot I burned it. Not too hot—just enough to get the powder I needed. But when I got back to the palace and saw myself in the mirror,” Fallon tapped the tattoo, “this was here.”

“The monster came the following night,” said Marilius. “At first it prowled around outside the palace. Like it was waiting for Anton. Then it started killing people from the town.”

“Trying to lure me into a fight!” said Fallon.

“No chance of that, right? You’re a ghoul, Fallon. A grave robber. Not to mention a coward. And you . . .” I turned to Marilius. “You were right to leave him. You should have kept on going. Instead you dragged me into this.”

“I’m sorry,” Marilius said. “But what now? It isn’t just the monster. Diriel’s after Anton, too. He wants that mummia, and he wants his payment back.”

“So? Give it to him.”

“I can’t,” Fallon confessed. “I spent it.”

“Spent it? On what?”

Fallon pointed toward the doors. “On all those men out there. To protect me! Don’t you see? As long as that monster is out there I can’t move. My routes are shut down, my contacts, everything. I’m a prisoner. I have to get that creature off my back!”

He looked so panicked and pathetic I laughed. “You created the beast that’s eating you, Fallon. Good! You deserve it. Once that demon gets what it wants it’ll leave everyone else alone.”

Fallon staggered to his feet. “What about Diriel? Do you think he’s going to leave everyone alone? Even if I’m dead he’ll march his legions in here.”

“They’ll kill everyone, Lukien,” said Marilius. “That’s what they did in Kasse. Diriel’s a madman. His mind is gone. He doesn’t care what he orders his army to do. Remember that boy we saw on the road?”

I remembered. I’d always remember. “Have you ever seen Diriel?” I asked.

“No,” said Fallon. “Wrestler speaks for him.”

“Wrestler’s the one who delivered the payments,” Marilius explained. “But the stories about Diriel are true. They say his throne is made of skulls.”

Fallon turned white, gripping the edge of the table. “He wants me killed. He wants my trade routes, and he wants me out of the way.” His breathing grew shallow. “I’m a dead man.”