The Forever Knight: A Novel of the Bronze Knight (Books of the Bronze Knight) (19 page)

Malator was already at work.
Stop moving!

The armor around my leg was crushed, and I knew the bone beneath it was, too. The healing magic flooded through me. I closed my eye against the pain.

“It’s gone,” I gasped. “It got away.”

Malator didn’t bother answering me. He had his hands full—again. I laid back in the grass and looked up into the sky. I remembering thinking what a beautiful day it was.

*   *   *

I guess I passed out, because when I opened my eye again the pain was almost gone. The sword remained within my grip. A stormy looking cloud obscured the sun. I didn’t know how long I’d been there and I didn’t much care. Crezil was gone. Worse, we were both still alive. Malator floated just above my thoughts. I could feel him reading them. I felt his pity.

“Why’d it spare me?” I asked. The cloud above me was so big I wanted to reach up and grab it. If it rained on me, maybe I would drown.

Your leg—it’s almost healed
, said Malator.
You’ll be all right, Lukien.

“Of course I will. That’s the curse. Why’d it spare me, Malator? Why didn’t it kill me? You know the answer. I can feel it.”

Malator tried to sound comforting.
The creature takes souls
, he said.

I pondered that. “Yes.” I nodded. Maybe I was too afraid to figure it out. “So?”

Your soul is spoken for, Lukien.

“Spoken . . . ? Huh?”

You have me. I keep you alive in this world. The creature saw no soul in you to take.

I began to panic. “Malator . . . where is my soul?”

Gone, Lukien. It’s been gone since Gilwyn gave you the amulet to keep you alive. It’s been gone since the day you died.

T
he rain began falling just after I left the canyon.

It had taken me two hours to reach the canyon on horseback. Without a mount, I knew I wouldn’t make Isowon before nightfall. I’d waited as long as I could for Malator to knit my fractured femur together, until it was strong enough for me to use. At first I was wobbly, still dazed over Zephyr and the news of my vanished soul. I even briefly considered continuing my hunt for Crezil. A stupid idea, since it would have taken days to reach its lair on foot. I’d have to return to the palace, I knew, and face Anton’s mercenaries. Once again, I’d have to tell them how I’d failed.

The rain only added to my misery, falling in fat drops from the clouds that appeared from nowhere. By then the horizon was filled with them, threatening a long, muddy slog home. A cool breeze struck me as I emerged from the canyon. I shivered in my battered armor. Crezil had crushed the bronze cuisse along my thigh I doubted even a blacksmith could fix it. Rain water soaked my eye patch, making the empty socket beneath it itch. In my lungs I could still feel the touch of Crezil’s fire, like a bad sunburn when I breathed. But I just kept walking, mindless, barely aware of my surroundings. Half a mile later, I paused in the middle of a field. I looked up, saw a flash of lightning, and couldn’t stop the question screaming from my lips.

“Where is it!”

A rumble of thunder was my only reply. Even Malator was silent.

“It can’t be gone,” I cried. “That’s impossible!” I pounded my breastplate. “I have a soul! I feel it. How can I be alive without one?”

My knees weakened, and I slumped to the dirt. But I kept my face skyward, hoping that heaven was up there, hiding my soul from me.

“What am I? Without a soul, am I alive? Dead? Someone tell me!”

You’re alive, Lukien. Weep for your soul but have no doubt about your life.

“I doubt!” I screamed. I raked my hands across my cheeks just to feel the blood. “I’m flesh alone!”

Living flesh! Alive!

“You’ve taken my soul, made me a puppet! Damn you, Malator. Damn all you Akari!”

I staggered up again, took a step or two, and tripped over my feet. My face hit the mud. Then I started laughing. “I should have known I didn’t have one! No man with a soul could do the things I’ve done!”

My laugh was demented, the worst kind of self pity. I rolled onto my back and imagined spitting in Malator’s face. I felt him inside me, right next to me, like he was putting an arm around my shoulder.

“Let go of me,” I seethed. “Your touch makes me sick.”

He held on to me with his invisible arm. His voice spoke gently to me.
A soul is not all there is to being alive, Lukien. It is only half.

“The important half!”

No. Just the immortal half. It is the soul that keeps a person alive. When you died fighting Trager, you lost yours. Amaraz kept you alive. Then it was my turn.

Amaraz. The great Akari god. He was Gilwyn’s protector now. But the Eye had been mine first, before I ever passed the curse of immortality to Gilwyn.

“Does Gilwyn have a soul?” I wondered.

Gilwyn never died. You gave him the Eye of God before his soul fled. Trager killed you when you fought him. The Eye brought you back just in time. Too late for your soul, though. Do you remember when White-Eye lost her Akari?

I nodded. I wasn’t in Jador when that happened but knew the story well.

That’s how it was with your soul. White-Eye’s Akari vanished forever. Even souls can die, Lukien. They disappear. Yours is gone. It can never come back.

“What if I die? Here in this world, I mean? Will I be gone forever?”

Yes.

I sighed. “Then I can never be with Cassandra. All that time spent hoping to die . . . just a waste of time. Why didn’t you ever tell me that, Malator? How dare you keep such secrets?”

Because you don’t trust me, Lukien.

“No, don’t do that! Don’t make this my fault!”

When we left Jador I told you I would be the only friend you need, and that you were meant for something special. All I’ve asked for in return is your trust, yet you won’t give it to me.

“I want my soul back.”

It is gone. Mourn for it if you must, but do not expect to get it back.

The rain pelted my face. All I could think of was Cassandra. Death had always been my great release. I could die in battle or just walk away from Malator and his accursed sword and then be with Cassandra. No more, though. I wasn’t just mortal now, I was something less than alive. Like one of Diriel’s dead men.

“I was wrong when I called you a slave, Malator,” I said. “I’m the slave.
Your
slave.”

Lukien . . .

“First it was Amaraz, now you. The Akari—”

Hush! Someone’s coming.

I didn’t know if I should roll over or just lie there. Finally I whispered, “Where?”

Across the field, from the north. Five riders.

From the north. I twirled like a crocodile onto my belly. The weeds and rain obscured me, I hoped, enough for me to chance lifting my head. Across the field I saw them, five like Malator said, four of them dressed in soldiering clothes. They rode at an angle to my hiding spot, trotting closer on their miserable horses. I parted the grass with my hands for a better look. The dark uniforms made them easy to recognize.

“Akyrens.”

They came a bit closer. Now I could see the man in front. A giant, burly man with a bald head and unmistakable face. My stomach clenched.

Wrestler.

Already he was hunting us. Hunting Cricket, more precisely. My whole body tensed.

Don’t
, warned Malator.

“That’s Wrestler!”

They don’t see you. Let them go.

“I can kill them.”

You can’t. You’re weak. Shut up and get down.

I knew he was right, but I didn’t lower my head. I just stared at Wrestler through the grass, sizing him up. Maybe the others would kill me, but I’d get to Wrestler first. I’d cut off his conceited head before they even saw me. They came closer, their only purpose to escape the rain. One of the group pointed to the canyon, seeking shelter I supposed. Wrestler shook his head and kept right on riding. He looked enormous, a black cloak around him, the kind an abbot might wear. His horse was enormous too, an ugly, snorting stallion with an arrogant gait.

How I wanted to kill him!

There’ll be another time, Lukien
.
You’ll get your chance.

I had my hand so tight around the sword my knuckles hurt. “Promise me that,” I whispered. “Just once, look into the future for me. Promise me I’ll get the chance to kill him.”

You will. I swear it.

His answer was so sure, so swift, I had to believe him. Gradually I lowered my head, hiding myself in the grass. I didn’t look up at all as I heard them approach. The hoof beats of their horses echoed through the ground. My heart thumped louder and louder as they neared. I listened, waited, even hoping a little that they’d find me. And then . . .

They passed. I hesitated a moment before sneaking a glance, and saw the backsides of their horses. The breath leeched out of me as I watched Wrestler ride away.

“Malator,” I said. “I’m going to hold you to that promise.”

Let them move off a bit
, he replied.
We’ve got a long walk ahead of us.

*   *   *

The journey back to Isowon took the rest of the afternoon and a good part of the evening. I had no food, but plenty of rain water to drink, and took the strength I needed from Malator to go without stopping. My recently broken leg wasn’t a problem at all. If anything, it seemed to strengthen as I walked, propelling me easily across the miles of dirt roads and open fields. I kept my eye on the horizon, looking for any sign of Wrestler and his scouts, but they did not appear again. Crezil, I supposed, was gone as well, back to its lair in the Akyren tombs. Except for Malator, I was all alone, and the Akari did nothing to interrupt my thoughts. By the time I reached the outskirts of Isowon I was beyond famished. Food was suddenly foremost on my mind.

I headed straight for the palace. By now it was well past the supper hour. The streets were dark, and as empty as they were that morning when I’d arrived with Cricket. I glanced at the locked homes and shops, saw a few candles burning in the windows, but no one offered me a greeting, much less a scrap of food. The rain had slackened to a drizzle and puddles ran through the spotless streets. I reached the palace, going through all the nonsense I’d endured twice before. This time, though, the mercenaries recognized me. To my surprise, the gates were already open. There were fewer men, too, and an uncomfortable chaos in the air. Obviously, they were all still reeling from the slaughter the night before. As I stomped through the courtyard, a group of mercenaries swarmed around me, asking about the monster.

“Did you find it?” one asked.

“Did you kill it?” asked another.

“What happened to your horse?”

I waved off all their questions, demanding to know where Fallon was. None of them knew, but once inside the palace I found Adela, the servant who’d looked after me and Cricket our first night in the palace. She was carrying a bucket of bloody water and her pretty hands were covered in grime. Her face looked sallow, haunted. I realized at once that she’d been cleaning the great hall—and the remnants of the morning’s massacre. She looked surprised to see me. She stood there with her bucket, blinking and vacant. When I asked where I could find Fallon, she gestured down the hall with her chin.

“By his pool,” she said. She thought for a moment, then added, “Isn’t that absurd?”

No one could see the things she’d seen and not be shocked by them. “Yes,” I told her. “It’s all absurd.”

She glanced into her bucket. A finger floated atop the dirty water. She stared at it.

“Lukien, did you kill it?”

“No,” I said softly. “But I will.”

Adela nodded. “You have to kill it, all right? I won’t be able to live if you don’t kill it.”

That seemed like such an apt thing to say. The kind of thing I felt, too.

“I have to get back now,” said Adela.

I wanted to take the bucket from her, to pluck out the offending finger and help her forget the things she’d seen. Instead I let her go. She shuffled off with the heavy bucket, sloshing water over the sides, and I turned and went the other way. The chamber with the pool was on the other side of the palace, but no one challenged me as I hurried through the hallways. When I arrived the doors were already partly open, waiting for me. Moonlight flooded in, lighting the pool. I could smell the surf of the ocean. There at the table sat Fallon, pouring himself tea from a silver urn. He wore a robe of emerald silk, and his hair was slicked back on his head, wet from one of his extravagant baths. Servants stood off to the side. Between me and Fallon stood a phalanx of mercenaries.

“Fallon,” I called, pushing past the doors. “Back to normal for you, I see.”

He seemed frightened to see me. And the wall of soldiers didn’t part as I’d expected.

“Let him in,” said Fallon. He stirred his tea with a dainty spoon. I knew I was in for bad news, but the table was cramped with food and wine, and I didn’t really care about anything else.

“Have to eat,” I grumbled as I shouldered past his guards. I pulled out one of the metal chairs and fell into it, clawing up an entire loaf of bread and tearing into it with my teeth. My other hand grabbed a roasted bird and waved at a servant to pour me wine. A short-skirted girl quickly obliged, filling a nearby goblet to the rim. Fallon watched as I washed down my mouthful of bread, guzzling and spilling the wine down my chin. His mercenaries circled closer.

“Where’s Marilius?” I burped. “Did he leave for Drin?”

“He did.”

“How are his wounds? Better?”

“Better, yes.”

“What do you think of his chances?”

Fallon shrugged. “I don’t know. Lukien—did you find the monster?”

I put down the goblet and waved at the mercenaries. “Well, gather ’round closer so you can all hear. You’re all wondering the same thing. No, I did not kill Crezil. I found it, and I fought it, but I didn’t kill it.”

There was silence for a moment. Then the youngest of the soldiers broke. “I knew it. We’re dead!”

“Shut up,” growled Fallon. He watched me go on eating. I observed him as I stuffed myself. More than just the monster was on his mind. “So?” he asked. “What happened?”

I swallowed a painful lump of meat and leaned back. “I followed it to some mountains about two hours ride from here. I tried to talk to it. It understood my words. When I told it I couldn’t let it go on killing, we fought.”

“But it’s still alive. So are you.”

“Almost not,” I admitted. “It left me for dead in a canyon before getting away.”

I didn’t tell Fallon how the creature had searched for my soul and not found one. How could I? I was ashamed enough for letting it escape. His men shifted on their feet, glancing at each other without a word. Fallon pushed aside his tea cup like he was about to vomit.

“I’ll find it, Anton,” I promised. “I know where it lives, I know it’s name . . . I just have to figure out how to beat it.”

He nodded, barely listening. Plainly, he was terrified.

“I’ll leave in an hour,” I told him. “Just give me a horse and a bit of rest. I’ll ride out to its lair, catch it while it’s sleeping maybe. Let me just see Cricket first, straighten things out with her.”

That’s when Anton turned white. His gaze flicked toward his men. The servants suddenly backed away. The most horrible thought popped into my mind.

“Anton . . . where’s Cricket?”

“Gone,” he said. His hands started shaking. “She rode off, Lukien. She asked some of the men about Sky Falls, told them you’d be taking her there when you returned. She wanted to know where it was.”

I pushed back my chair. I looked at the men around me. “And you thought they would save you from me?”

I flipped up the table, exploding, sending all the food and tea cups flying. I was on Fallon in a second, grabbing hold of his robe and pulling him out of the chair. My other hand released the sword as I dragged Fallon toward the pool. The men stalked after us, but the sword and my wrath kept them from rushing.