The Forever Knight

by John Marco

  When she didn’t answer me, I almost threw it at her.

  “All right, enough,” I snapped. “Now you’re just acting like a child. What is it? Sky Falls? Or are you mad about Akyre?”

  At last she muttered something, but I couldn’t make it out.

  “You’re afraid. I know, but you don’t have to be,” I said. “We’ve got a week before they come. That’ll give us time to help Fallon plan a defense. No one’s going to hurt you, Cricket, I promise.”

  That’s what set me off-making that promise and being ignored. I tossed the apple to the ground.

  “We can run if that’s what you want,” I shouted. “Is it? But you won’t get your memories back. They’re here, not back in Jador. I’m not going to help Diriel get that monster. You know that. But we can’t just walk away from Marilius and the others. They’re innocent. They’ll be slaughtered. I don’t think that’s what you want, is it Cricket?”

  At last she turned around to face me. “It’s just fine, Lukien.”

  She smiled, an empty, blank smile. Like she didn’t know why. Like she wasn’t even seeing me. I’d seen that look before-vacant, lost. In battle we call it “the stare.” My guts seized.

  “Yeah?” I asked carefully. “You’re all right?”

  “Fine,” she sang. “Fine!”

  She turned, spiked her heels against her pony, and drove the creature madly down the road. I sputtered before urging Zephyr after her, hearing her broken laughter as she sped away. She kept on singing and laughing, even screaming, bouncing on the pony’s back, about to be thrown over. Zephyr dug into the road. We closed the gap, and I saw Cricket’s gritty face, determined to outrun me. Then suddenly she let go of the reins and raised her hands to the sky.

  “Catch me, Lukien!”

  She was laughing. I reached for the reins, trying to bring her pony to a stop without spilling her over its head. When I finally got the beast to heel Cricket dumped herself from its back. She just fell off and hit the ground.

  “Cricket!”

  Slowly she lifted her bloodied face out of the dirt. She didn’t say a word. At least she’d stopped laughing. I got down from my horse and bent over her. She blinked up at me through the dust and blood.

  “Lukien,” she whispered, “why did you take me there?”

  I really had no answer. Cricket started shaking.

  “I saw those things-now I can’t stop. Why’d you let me see them?”

  “It was a horror,” I said. “I’m sorry. I am, Cricket. I’m sorry.”

  “That man cut his throat. His own throat. Those slaves. .” Cricket pushed her face into mine. “They eat people!”

  “I know, it’s impossible,” I fumbled for words. “You should never have seen it. I should never have taken you.”

  “But why did you? Why, Lukien?” She grabbed my breastplate. “You’re supposed to protect me. We came here for me. You can’t die, but I can! And now it’s all inside me!”

  I let her shake me until the tears came, until she drew back and crumpled. That’s when I knew what I’d done. Why hadn’t I seen it? She’d been brave in Diriel’s hell-hole. Even when that legionnaire slit his own throat. She’d buried it, the way soldiers do. Now it was breaking lose.

  I rocked back on my heels. All I could do was let her purge herself.

  “Cricket,” I said gently, “I’m a hard man. I’ve seen too much. It’s all poisoned me.” My mind was full of ghosts, the dead of my battlefields. Diriel’s castle had merely sickened me. A lifetime of death had made me impervious to shock. But Cricket, her mind was virgin. No more, though. “Malator was right,” I said. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. No one could have been ready for what we saw. Just me.”

  Cricket swallowed her sobs. She laid herself down in the middle of the road, her cheek kissing the dirt. Her hand turned to a claw and raked her face, trailing it with red streaks.

  “When will I remember?” she begged.

  She wasn’t asking me. Her question was for heaven.

  “Rest,” I told her. “Sleep if you can.”

  I rearranged her rass-skin cape, covering her with it like a blanket. Her breathing steadied, but she never closed her eyes. I sat down next to her with the Sword of Angels on my lap. Nothing would disturb her, I determined. Not a wolf, not a man, not even a bad dream. Whatever came down the road to harm her, I swore an oath to kill it.

  * * *

  I built a fire at the side of the road. Not a single rider appeared or even the hint of one in the distance. As the sun went down I listened for animals but they never came, and I remembered what Diriel had said about how they’d all been eaten. It was like we were in the desert again. Only the stars seemed alive. I made myself comfortable by the fire, leaning against my bedroll and tossing scrub brush into the flames. It had taken hours for Cricket to fall asleep. She refused food and drink. I wondered if she had a concussion from her fall. The cut on her forehead had stopped bleeding, though. I cleaned her up while she lay there, lost in her own mind. Sleep would help her, I thought.

  I’d pushed us both too hard. Despite the strength the sword gave me I needed sleep, too. I closed my eyes from time to time, drifting in and out of slumber, determined to stay awake. I doubted anyone would come, but just in case.

  Once I thought I saw Wrestler coming. He appeared more giant than ever, a monster emerging from the darkness. I shouted, waking myself. I cursed and ran my fingers through my filthy hair. My eye twitched. I was desperate for a bath. Suddenly Fallon’s gilded castle seemed like paradise.

  Soon, I told myself. Just have to hold on.

  “Malator?” I whispered. “Where are you?”

  He hadn’t come to me for hours. I could only barely feel him.

  I’m here, he said inside my mind. He sounded tired.

  “I need strength.”

  You need sleep.

  “Can’t. Just help me.”

  I gripped the sword, waiting for the energy to fill me. It came but in a trickle.

  “More.”

  There’s no one to fight here, Lukien. That’s enough. I need strength too, you know.

  “Keep me company, then,” I said. “Can you do that? I need to talk. I don’t want to be alone.”

  I heard him laugh. Ah, so you don’t want to be rid of me anymore!

  “Not just yet. Come be with me.”

  He appeared at my left, shimmering into view in the firelight, sitting comfortably in the dirt like he’d been there all along. His handsome face bore none of the signs of his weariness. Malator just seemed eternally young. I envied him. Even though I was barely aging, I felt old. Malator studied Cricket as she slept. He turned back to me with a sigh.

  “If only I could get into her head,” he lamented. “I wonder what I’d find there.”

  “Something awful,” I said. “That’s all they have in this part of the world-awful things.”

  “You made your apologies,” said Malator. “It’s up to her to accept it or not.”

  “An apology can’t change what she saw.” I picked up the longest stick I could from my pile and poked it into the flames. “I gave her memories, all right. I’ll bet she’ll remember those.” The heat burned my hand. “You were right, Malator. I shouldn’t have taken her here. I should have listened to you, but I was too damn stubborn. Everything I touch turns to shit.”

  “Now you’re feeling sorry for yourself. That won’t help Cricket.”

  “I don’t know how to help her! I thought taking her to Akyre would help. I thought making her my squire would. But everything’s just getting worse.” I looked suspiciously at Malator. “Is that what you thought would happen? Did you foresee this?”

  Malator grew circumspect. “I did warn you, Lukien.”

  “Yes, and that’s all you did,” I said bitterly. “I need to know more, Malator. I need you to be specific!”

  “Your decisions are your own, Lukien. Even what little I’ve told you might have been too much! You have a path to follow. But it
’s the monster that matters here, Lukien. Remember that.”

  Why was everything about the monster? The creature dominated me, not just my thoughts but my actions. Even Diriel wanted it. The monster was the key-but to what? To Cricket? Me?

  “I can’t bring it to Diriel,” I whispered. “Even if I could control it. He’d be unstoppable with a creature like that in his army.”

  “Your lie bought us time,” said Malator. “We have a week to get Fallon and his men ready.”

  “Six days,” I corrected. Just sitting there was wasting time. The fire mesmerized me, bringing back Diriel’s words. “Diriel said his ancestors knew magic. Maybe he knows about the monster. Maybe he thinks he can control it. You said it’s a demon, right? Could the kings of Akyre control demons?”

  Malator shrugged. “We’re far from my expertise here, Lukien. Where I come from spirits were part of life. Maybe it’s the same in Akyre.”

  “The monster came out of a tomb. Fallon said he woke it.” I laid the puzzle out as best I could. “Is that why it’s after him? It marked him, but he doesn’t seem to know anything about it.”

  “Or he’s lying. You know what kind of man he is.”

  “I do.” I tossed my stick all the way into the fire and watched the sparks fly. “It galls me to be going back there. To help him, of all people. And what about the creature? If you can’t tell me what it’s after, can you tell me how to stop it?”

  “The tomb. Remember? Marilius didn’t want you to see it. If that’s where the creature came from, there’ll be clues.”

  I thought about it, liking the idea. “It wouldn’t waste much time,” I agreed. “Just a short detour, less than half a day. We’d have to enter in the daylight, though. I wouldn’t want to face the creature with Cricket there.”

  Malator nodded but never got the chance to answer. All the while I thought Cricket had been sleeping. I jumped when she spoke.

  “Face the creature?” she said suddenly.

  She looked bleary-eyed, half-asleep. She leaned on her palms to keep herself upright.

  “We’re just trying to find out what is it,” I told her. “We have to go.”

  “Like we had to go to Akyre?”

  “It’s all connected, Cricket,” I said. “The monster, Diriel’s legion, even you. I’ll go in the tomb by myself, but I am going. We’ll get you safely to Isowon after that.”

  She looked disinterested. She nodded, tried to smile, then closed her eyes and went back to sleep. Maybe she’d been dreaming, just talking in her sleep. I didn’t know, but I remember thinking she wouldn’t be the same any more. As it turned out, I was right.

  20

  When I finally awoke the next morning, it was Cricket who was standing guard.

  My sleep had been so deep, so complete, that I couldn’t even remember dreaming. Though I’d struggled to stay awake, I had finally succumbed at some point in the night, opening my eye to the sight of Cricket beside our readied horses. She’d already packed our things and doused the fire I’d built in the road. She stood with her back toward me, looking southward and considering the sky. The Sword of Angels lay at my side, but all my other belongings had been strapped to Zephyr. I looked at the sun and realized it was hours past dawn.

  “You should have woken me,” I grumbled. I wobbled to my feet then remembered the night before. “You all right?”

  Cricket nodded but didn’t smile. “My head hurts a little. I let you sleep because you needed it.”

  I looked around, toward the hills and up and down the barren road. “See anything?”

  “It’s been quiet.” Cricket came toward me, picking my sheathed sword from the ground and handing it to me. “Here. We should go. It’s at least a full day to the valley.”

  “You mean the tomb?”

  “That’s where we’re going, aren’t we?”

  “We are.”

  She thrust the sword at me. “Then we should go. You can eat on the road.”

  I took the sword and began belting it around my waist. Cricket walked toward her pony. I watched her movements, looking for a trace of dizziness, any hint of a concussion. She was arrow-straight as she walked. Even her mood seemed fine. Maybe a little icy but nothing like the night before.

  “Good that you rested,” I said. “You seem better.”

  “Better?” She turned to look at me. “Better than what?”

  “Than yesterday,” I said. “Than last night.”

  “What happened last night?”

  I was about to laugh until I realized she wasn’t joking. The bruise on her head suddenly looked a lot bigger. “You fell off your horse. We were arguing. Don’t you remember? You said your head hurt.”

  She probed her forehead, wincing when she touched it. “I do remember falling. . kind of. Last night, we talked about going to the tomb. Malator was there.”

  “That’s right.” I went to her and studied her bruise in the sunlight, taking her chin in my hand. “Do you remember what you said to me?”

  “I was angry?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “Just parts,” she answered. She bit her lip. “Oh, my memory’s getting worse!”

  “You remember where we are, don’t you? Do you remember Diriel’s-”

  I stopped myself. Cricket blinked at me. “What?”

  Had she forgotten? I was afraid to ask. Part of me hoped the trauma of the castle had been wiped away, pushed out of her mind like the memories of her childhood. “We were in Akyre,” I said.

  She nodded. “I know.” Then, blankness. I could almost see it, like a curtain coming down. “We should go, Lukien,” she said in a hurry. “We’re too out in the open here. I don’t like it.” She spun back toward her pony. “Let’s make it to the river at least. We can follow it till it’s dark. We’ll get to the valley by tomorrow noon that way.”

  She mounted her horse, waiting for me to do the same. Zephyr looked perfect. She’d even brushed him.

  “You don’t mind going to the tomb?” I asked.

  “I’m your squire, Lukien,” she answered. “It’s not my decision, it’s yours. I’m not afraid. I know you’ll protect me.”

  I smiled at her. My squire. She’d cleaned the horses and the camp but hadn’t even brushed her hair. She had no idea how strange she looked sitting there on her pony, oblivious, her face still smudged with ash. She broke my heart.

  “Good,” I said, faking confidence. I got on my horse and told her to lead the way south. “We should sing something,” I said as we trotted off. “Anything. No one’ll hear us. Just any song you can remember.”

  * * *

  We camped that night by the river, near a stand of withered olive trees strangled with vines. With Akyre behind us and the thought of Anton’s palace ahead, we relaxed beside the burbling water, passing the time by finding pictures in the stars. All that day, Cricket had said nothing more about Diriel’s castle or her strange behavior, occasionally falling into long silences while we rode. The day had been a good one, and I was happy to have Cricket acting herself again. I pointed out all the constellations I could recall from my life in Liiria, remembering how Akeela had taught them to me when we were boys. Cricket leaned against me, sharing the tree trunk and staring up through its bare branches.

  “That one is called Kolervas,” I said. “The sculptor. He lived a long, long time ago in old Liiria.” I traced the star pattern with my outstretched finger. “He’s chiseling. If you look closely you can tell.”

  Cricket tried very hard. “I don’t see it,” she sighed. “None of them really look like anything.”

  “You have to use your imagination,” I told her. We’d kept our campfire small so we could see the stars. “There. . there’s a good one.” I moved my finger west and down toward the horizon. “See that big star? That’s Adreana. That’s her head.”

  “Who’s Adreana?”

  “The Chained Lady.” I smiled when I said it. “She was a princess. She was captured by King Lekara. When she refused
to marry him, Lekara chained Adreana to an olive tree. Like these olive trees.”

  “Why?”

  “To feed her to a giant raven.”

  “What?” Cricket sat up. “So, what happened?”

  “The raven came and broke her chains and carried her back to her homeland. After that Lekara’s country went to war with Adreana’s. Those stories are called ‘The Tales of the Reecian Wars.’ I read about them when I was young. Mostly just legends. Fun, though.”

  “No giant ravens?”

  “I don’t think so.” I leaned back and stared at the constellation. “Cassandra told me that story about Adreana. Akeela taught me all the other constellations, but Cassandra showed me Adreana. She told me she felt like Adreana, chained to the tree. Being here with these olive trees reminds me of her.”

  Cricket leaned back next to me. “She felt like a prisoner?”

  “She was a prisoner. Akeela kept her in his castle for years. No one was allowed to look at her, not even Akeela himself.”

  “Because of the amulet?”

  “That’s right. The Eye of God that Gilwyn wears now. It kept Cassandra alive. She had a cancer.”

  Cricket listened, wanting me to go on. My past was still mostly a mystery to her. “You don’t talk about Cassandra much since we left Jador,” she remarked. “I like when you talk about her.” She grinned. “It’s a love story.”

  “I did love her,” I sighed. “I still do. She’s still out there, waiting for me. I just have to die to be with her.”

  “You promised Gilwyn you wouldn’t.”

  “What? Let myself die?” I shook my head. “Not yet. Someday, though. I told Cassandra that in the Story Garden. She told me it wasn’t my time yet to be with her but one day I will. One day when I’ve done enough. I’ve got a lot of bad things to make right.”

  “Is that why you’re helping me?” Cricket asked.

  Something about the starlight gave me a burst of honesty. “I guess it is,” I admitted. “I couldn’t save Cassandra. Once I looked at her again, I broke the amulet’s spell. The cancer killed her instantly. But I always believed she was alive somewhere. I could feel her. Minikin used to tell me that nobody ever really dies, so I knew all I had to do was find her. Then I found the Story Garden.” The memory chilled me. “She was alive. Just like Minikin said.”