The Forever Knight: A Novel of the Bronze Knight (Books of the Bronze Knight) (25 page)

“If he wants to stay, I won’t force him down,” I promised the woman. “But he’s asking for me. I need to go.”

“He rages at Vala,” she said. She had deep brown eyes and a scarf around her head that might have been Ganjeese. “He mourns.”

My fingers slipped out of her hand. My heart sank, but I didn’t ask the obvious question. Maybe I was too afraid. Maybe I already knew. I shuddered as I entered the prayer tower, my breath suddenly loud within the echoing structure. An odd assortment of religious icons lined the circular walls. Burnt out incense hung in silver sconces. A winding stairway of alabaster twisted toward the top of the tower, but the candles along its way had all long since gone out. I paused at the bottom of the stairs, listening, but heard only silence from above.

“Sariyah,” I called up the stairway. “It’s Lukien. Can you hear me?”

There was a long gap of silence. I put my foot on the first alabaster step and heard a voice call back to me.

“Shalafein.”

That was a name I never heard anymore. Instantly it carried me home.

“
Azizi
,” I answered. The Ganjeese word for friend. “I’m coming up.”

The turning staircase enveloped me in windowless darkness as I journeyed upward, higher and higher past the dead sconces, using my enchanted eyes to see the glorious frescoes painted on the walls. Gods and animals bade me up the tower, the endless tail of some intelligent looking dragon pointing my way, like a rope to follow to heaven. When at last I reached the top, my eyes flooded with sudden sunlight, streaming in from the many archways and balconies. A pure breeze straight off the ocean stirred through the tower, filling my nose with brine. There, beneath one of the arches, sat Sariyah, his back against the wall, two empty glass bottles strewn beside him. His enormous scimitar rested on his lap. His eyes met me through the shadows of his filthy hair.

“You came.” His voice was a rasp, scratchy from shouting, I supposed. Or maybe from days of thirst. His cheeks were parched and blistered, his clothes soiled from travel. His jet black mustache had overgrown his mouth. I could smell the stink of him even over the ocean breeze. The odor of liquor reached me from across the chamber. He was alone, just as Marilius said he’d be, and he wore his aloneness like chains.

“Of course I came,” I answered. I moved toward him, unafraid. He was still enormous, but had left a good bit of himself somewhere on the road. He looked starved but totally disinterested in food. I knew that look. I’d seen it in mirrors. “They tell me you’ve been asking for me,” I said.

I dropped down to one knee before him. He reached for his scimitar and set it aside.

“You look different.” His finger rose to trace my face. “Your eye. What happened? You look so . . . young now.”

“I will tell you,” I sighed, “but a lot has happened since Arad, my friend.”

He looked at me with dread. “Where is your girl?”

I bit my lip. I couldn’t answer. Sariyah dropped his head back against the wall.

“No, tell me not. I told you this was no place for a girl. Dead?”

Seeing him made all the sorrow unbearable again. “Cricket’s gone, Sariyah. They killed her.”

He didn’t look away. “Then you and I have our vengeances to settle, Shalafein. They took my boys. My beautiful boys.”

“What happened?”

“We were on the road. To Zura, remember? We left Arad and kept moving quickly, but Diriel—his men are everywhere now. They made my boys join them. Their death army! We fought them, but . . .”

His face just sort of crumbled.

“Two of my boys are dead,” he said. “But they took Asadel, and I don’t know where he is. I don’t know where he is, Lukien!”

“They take men for their army, Sariyah. It’s happened all over the Bitter Kingdoms.”

“They turn them into monsters. They take their souls.”

“We don’t know that. We don’t know what happened to Asadel.”

Sariyah tried smiling. “I heard you were here with Anton Fallon, Lukien. I begged to make my way here. I want to fight alongside you. I want to kill them, and I want Diriel’s head.”

“There’s a lot of people who want Diriel’s head,” I said. “And one man in particular who’s been promised that prize. But we will kill them, Sariyah.” I rose to stand over him. “I’m not the man you left in Arad. I’m not a man at all anymore. I have no soul to lose and no mercy in my heart. I will kill them for you and avenge your sons, but you need to rest. You’ll die out there if you fight like this. You need to survive and go home to your wife and daughters.”

Sariyah stood to face me. Even starved, he’d lost none of his powers of intimidation. “Shall I go and tell my wife her sons are dead? A Ganjeese man never returns home with such news, not without the hide of his enemy. You ask me to shame her.”

“No, Sariyah, I don’t—”

“You do but do not know it. Listen to me, Shalafein: my life is yours now. Use me as a spear to throw against our enemies. Use me as a shield, and I will take the arrows. I will find this King Diriel, and I will break him in two pieces over my knee. And if Asadel has been turned into one of his slaves, I will cut off his head to give him peace.” Sariyah stepped forward and pushed his giant chest against my own, bumping me backward. “But nothing will keep me from the battle. Not even you. Do not test your immortality against me.”

I saw nothing but purpose in his eyes. I wondered if that’s what I looked like now.

“Sariyah,” I said softly, “This is the only moment in my life when I’ve known exactly what I was doing. There’s no more doubt in me.” I stooped to pick up his scimitar, holding its golden hilt carefully and handing it to him. “Tonight we call a war council. Tonight we decide how best to skin Diriel and his snakes. You’ll sit with me, Sariyah, and ride with me—right beside me—when we take the battle to them.”

I
had taken time to eat and clean myself and had even slept a few hours before arriving for the council. The chamber was already filled to bursting when I got there. A long banquet table took up most of the floor, and everyone was already seated, drinking and talking amongst themselves as they waited for the council to begin. Anton sat at the head of the table with Marilius on his right, while behind them hung a large, roughly-drawn map, stretched against the wall. Anton’s many mercenaries filled most of the chairs on his side of the table, while Zurans and Drinmen sat around the other half. My empty seat sat directly opposite Anton across the lengthy table, a glass of wine already poured for me and waiting. Sariyah sat to my immediate right, in the chair next to my own. Chuluun and his brother Nalinbaatar sat to his right, Kiryk and his advisors to my left. They watched me as I entered, but only Sariyah stood.

We met that night in the very same hall where Crezil had massacred Anton’s men.

The room grew quiet. The laughing and clanking glasses ceased. I wasn’t a king, but I felt like one suddenly. My face felt hot.

“We didn’t start yet,” said Anton from across the room. Like Sariyah, he stood. “You didn’t miss anything, just some drinking.”

I hadn’t seen Anton since leaving to rescue Cricket. He hadn’t seen me, either. He looked me over curiously, grinning at the reappearance of my long lost eye.

“Lukien, you are a miracle,” he said. “I cannot believe what I am seeing.”

Chuluun rose to greet me. “He is kissed by heaven.”

“He is Shalafein,” said Sariyah.

“He’s late,” muttered Sulimer. Against his chair rested an enormous battle-axe, his favorite tool for taking Akyren heads. He looked older than usual, his face grooved with worry lines. His young king, Kiryk, put a hand on his arm.

“It’s enough that he’s here now,” said Kiryk, and he rose to greet me, too. With a genuine smile he said, “We’ve waited, and now we’re ready to kill our enemies, Sir Lukien. Lead us.”

I bid them all to sit, then stood behind my chair for a moment. “We’ve all come for the same reason,” I said. “Before another word is spoken, thank you. Thank you for not running away. Thank you for helping me.”

“We all want to save ourselves, Lukien,” said Anton. On the floor beside him rested two chests, their lids closed to hide their contents. “We can only do that by fighting together.”

“We want justice,” said Kiryk, “for all those Diriel has murdered.”

“We want vengeance,” said one of Anton’s mercenaries. “For all our brothers murdered in this room by Diriel’s monster.”

Anton and Marilius both flushed at his statement. Their men still thought Diriel had sent Crezil against them.

“Forget the monster,” I told them. “The monster won’t come again. Your enemies are out there, just beyond this city.”

“So you’ve beaten the monster, then?” asked Anton. “We should at least speak about it.”

“The monster’s not the problem. I’ve dealt with it,” I said.

I didn’t like putting Anton in his place, not in front of all his men, and not in his own home. He’d impressed me by keeping his mercenaries together, and I could already tell by the bare walls of his palace that he’d given up a good part of his fortune to keep his men paid. I stood behind my chair, the entire chamber staring at me. Even the servants stopped pouring to hear my words. I felt lost suddenly, but when I thought about Cricket I knew what to say.

“We’re all outsiders here,” I began. “Especially me. I look around this room, and I see faces from different corners of the world. Even you, Anton. You came from somewhere else. You built this place and now someone wants to take it from you.”

“That’s right,” Anton nodded.

“Everyone in this room has lost something,” I went on. “Friends or brothers. Family.” I glanced at Sariyah. “Sons.” I looked around the room at all the diverse faces. “I barely knew the Bitter Kingdoms before I came here. I was warned not to come. A very good and wise friend of mine tried to stop me.”

Inside me I felt a little tremor from Malator. No gloating. Just sadness.

“Pride’s my downfall, you see. It always has been. Some of you think I’m blessed. I’ve not found a thing yet that can kill me. The spirit inside my sword tells me I have no soul any more, and I know he’s right because I can’t feel it. The only thing I feel now is the need for revenge.”

“Then let that be enough,” said Kiryk’s man Lenhart. “It’s enough for me. It’s enough for us all.”

Chuluun said, “In Zura we know of Diriel. We know he will come one day for our lands. So my brothers and I claim vengeance against his intentions.” He and Nalinbaatar both nodded. “It is enough for us, too.”

They all nodded, in fact. Every man around the table, so many of them strangers to me. Sariyah kicked out my chair for me.

“Sit, Lukien,” he offered.

I took my seat. “Marilius?”

Marilius stood, clearing his throat and taming his nerves. He had a riding crop in his hand that he used to point at the map. All heads turned toward him anxiously. Anton shifted aside a bit, giving his man room.

“Diriel’s army is camped in a place called the Sklar Valley,” said Marilius. He made a circle around the valley with his riding crop, in an area just to the north and west of Isowon. “That’s barely two miles from here, and between Isowon and Sklar there’s nothing but flat ground. It’s barren. Mostly sand. Some trees and brush, but no hills, no caves. Nowhere for them to hide.”

“Flat ground is good,” considered Chuluun. “Good for horses.”

“That’s our one advantage,” said Marilius. “They have horses, but not as many as we do.”

“That’s because they ate them all,” I said.

“And because I brought in as many as I could,” said Anton. “Horses are good business around here.”

“They don’t expect us to come after them,” continued Marilius. “They expect us to hold up here in Isowon.”

“We’re not doing that,” said Anton quickly. He looked around the table where the teams I’d brought to the fight were gathered. “I’ve already explained this to my men. There won’t be a siege of Isowon. I won’t have it. There’ll either be a victory or a massacre.”

“We signed up for either,” said Kiryk. “My Drinmen came to fight, not hide. We’re ready to go right now.”

“Good,” said Marilius, “because I only bought us a bit of time. A day and a half ago I rode out to see Diriel. That was at your request, Lukien. I gave him your message.”

The faces around the table looked puzzled. “Go on,” I told Marilius.

Marilius parried nicely. “I saw his camp, and I saw how strong they are. He’s cocky, and he’s out of his mind. He has no intention of backing away.”

“Tell them what Diriel said to you,” urged Anton. “Tell them word for word.”

Marilius hesitated. “He said everyone of us would be disemboweled. Even the children, he said.”

The girl near me dropped her pitcher. The crystal shattered into bits. She looked down at what she’d done and almost fainted. Two more of Anton’s servants rushed to help her.

“Go, get her out of here,” said Anton. He flicked his wrist at all his servants. “All of you, get out.”

Leaving the broken glass and wine strewn across the floor, the servants fled the chamber. But not a man around the table flinched at Diriel’s threat.

“We’ll feed him his own intestines,” said Chuluun. “To threaten little ones . . .”

“He’s not lying,” said Kiryk. “We’ve already seen his handiwork.”

“Numbers, Marilius.” I leaned forward. “What’s he got?”

“Two-thousand,” he estimated. “Maybe twenty-five hundred. Maybe a bit more.”

“And us?”

“A thousand counting everything. A bit less probably. That’s a few hundred mercenaries, a few hundred Drinmen, men from here in Isowon, some men from Kasse . . .”

“How many from Zura?” asked Chuluun anxiously.

Marilius replied, “Ninety or so. That’s just a guess.”

Chuluun translated the news for his brother, and the two of them shared a grimace. “There would be more if there was more time,” said Chuluun. “They will come. But by then . . .”

“Ninety is enough,” I announced loudly. “Ninety Zuran horsemen are worth a thousand Akyren goat fuckers. Kiryk, you were right. Diriel lied to me about his numbers. So what? We all knew we’d be outnumbered.”

“How many legionnaires?” asked a helmeted merc.

Marilius shrugged. “I don’t know. I couldn’t tell, and Diriel wouldn’t say. But he’s got his conscripts too. And he’s got dogs.”

“Dogs?” said Lenhart. “They didn’t use dogs in Drin.”

“Well, they have them now,” said Marilius. “Scores of them, chained up and starved mad.”

“They’ll send those dogs in first,” guessed Jaracz. He spoke softly, as if talking only to his king. “Which is why you’ll need to stay in the rear, Kiryk.”

“No,” said Kiryk. “I’m a Silver Dragon. I lead tomorrow.” He turned to look at me. “The battle starts tomorrow, Lukien, yes? We’re all ready.”

I didn’t know how to answer, so I looked to Marilius. “Are we ready, Marilius?”

Marilius put down his riding crop. “Anton has spent everything he has to keep his men paid. The men at this table and the others that follow them aren’t going to run. Yes, I think we’re ready.”

“Anton?” I looked at him across the table. “It’s your city. I’ll be in charge of the battle but you’re Isowon’s leader. Tomorrow?”

“You were the last piece of the puzzle, Lukien,” said Anton. He mustered a smile on his golden face. “If this doesn’t work I’ll be ruined.”

“You’ll be dead!” joked Lenhart.

The room broke with laughter. Only Sariyah, ever stone-faced, didn’t grin.

“Anton?” I looked at him from across the table. “It’s your decision.”

He couldn’t hide his fear, but he didn’t hesitate either. “Tomorrow we make war,” he said. “Unless the Akyrens attack before then.”

“They won’t,” I said. “Diriel wants his monster, and only I can give it to him. I still have time, and Diriel will honor our bargain.”

Anton nodded. “Tomorrow, then.”

I pushed back my chair and stood. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” cried the men, all of them standing to echo me.

“Tomorrow,” said Sulimer, and took his big axe and smashed it flat side against the table. The table bounced, shattering glasses and spilling food and wine. “Remember your axes,” he chided. “Remember to take their heads!”

“And remember that Diriel’s head is mine,” said Kiryk.

Anton said, “I think I should have that trophy for my own.”

“Kiryk has claimed it, Anton,” I called. “But if you want, I can cut off his balls for you.”

The men laughed again, even Anton, and raised the remaining glasses. Only Sariyah remained seated. I didn’t know how many of the men knew what had happened to him, or to his son Asadel. The only one I’d told was Marilius, who took pity on Sariyah from across the chamber, lowering his glass and meeting Sariyah’s sad gaze with encouragement. I put my hand on Sariyah’s shoulder and bending to his ear said, “We carry your wounds inside us, my friend.”

Sariyah nodded, then stood, then pounded a fist on the table as heavily as Sulimer’s axe. “Listen to me, all of you,” he boomed. “My son Asadel is out there with Diriel. Taken from me. If you see him tomorrow on the battlefield, spare him.” He gazed into every face. “I beg you to see he is not your enemy. But if he has lost his soul—if now he’s a mindless one—then I beg you to destroy him.”

Young Kiryk, who didn’t have a glass to raise because his trusted Sulimer had shattered it, put up a hand to speak. “My father’s name was Lutobor, King of Drin. He was taken from me, and none of my tears have returned him. In his name I swear: if your Asadel lives, we Drinmen will find him for you. And if he only half lives,” Kiryk’s hand fell to his heart, “we will end his misery, friend Sariyah.”

“We will,” said Lenhart.

“We will,” said Jaracz.

Sulimer, oldest of the Drinmen, dragged his axe from the table. “I will,” he swore.

His words chilled me. I knew he meant to die tomorrow and drag a thousand souls to hell. Sulimer had reached his own valley in life, a place few ever reach, where a person has no fear at all. He had his mission of vengeance and needed nothing else. He was why we could win tomorrow, I told myself. He and all the men like him, who had nothing else to lose, could change such terrible odds. Sariyah gave the Drinmen his thanks and sat back down again. One by one the men around the table all returned to their seats. The servants scrambled back into the room, and the chatter rose around the table, about archers and strategy and how it felt to lose one’s soul. I kept myself out of this talk, drinking and watching Anton and Marilius field the questions. Both had done remarkably well. Marilius had become a leader almost overnight, and Anton . . .

Well, I still disliked him to be sure, but he was less of a snake than I’d thought.

We went for hours, long into the night, loosening our fears with Anton’s good wines and admiring the curves of his servant girls. The captains gave orders to their underlings to make ready their troops, each a tiny army under my supreme command. We decided our assault would not come at dawn—there was no sense in that, not when sleep would be so precious. The men outside the council chamber would drill and organize and make all the preparations, but the men here, in this bawdy chamber, would drink themselves mad and sleep late enough to regain their senses.

But none of them had my stamina, and one by one the men around the table took their ease, Sariyah first among them. Then came Nalinbaatar, sick from foods he had no taste for, and then the mercenaries. Kiryk and his Drinmen surprised me with bottomless stomachs, but even they succumbed eventually, and left the chamber as a drunken herd. By then Chuluun had moved into Sariyah’s vacant seat. He’d stopped drinking long ago but refused to leave my side. When at last Marilius said his good-nights, there was only Chuluun and myself, and Anton Fallon on the other side of the table, looking tired and oddly content, resplendent in his robes and womanly hair, a silver bowl of some unknown spice at his fingertips that he snuffed up his nose. He offered it out to me from across the table, and when I shook my head he looked at Chuluun.