The Forever Knight: A Novel of the Bronze Knight (Books of the Bronze Knight) (8 page)

“No, don’t do that. Don’t ignore me.”

“I’m not. How is your eye?”

“My eye is fine, damn-it. Better than fine.”

“And you feel good? Your neck feels good? You feel strong?”

“Yes, I feel strong! Why?”

Malator shrugged. “I give you what I can, Lukien. I give you
everything
I can. Do you realize how dark it is out here? The moon seems bright because you’re more than just a man now. I made you that way. Cricket or Marilius wouldn’t be able to find their shoes in this darkness. They’d have never made it to the road. So don’t ask me for answers I can’t give you, please. Just take what I offer.” He stood and glared down at me. “You can go on or you can turn back. It’s up to you. Or you can just go back to Torlis and spend your days babbling to Cassandra in the Story Garden. I don’t manipulate you, Lukien. It’s always been up to you.”

“I know,” I grumbled.

Malator held out an upturned palm, summoning a tiny yellow flame. He blew on the flame, making it grow until it was the size of an apple, lighting the road around us.

“Put out your hand,” he said, and when I did so he placed the flame into my palm. It wriggled there, soft and alive but did not burn me. “This will keep you company,” he said.

I laughed in delight. “What is this? A pet?”

“A gift. So you won’t feel so lonely.”

With my other hand I caressed the ball of flame like it was a baby bird. “I didn’t know you could do that, Malator.”

“I can do a lot of things, Lukien,” Malator answered, then quickly disappeared.

A
s Marilius predicted, we reached Isowon the very next day.

Gradually, the ground beneath us turned from sun-baked rock to sandy soil. The heat abated, becoming almost bearable, and the tang of salt in the air told me we were nearing the sea. Our horses and mules picked up their pace, eager for water and rest. A single pomegranate tree greeted us along the roadside. Cricket reached up from horseback to fill her pockets with fruit.

“Don’t stop now,” said Marilius. “We’re almost there.”

An hour later, Cricket’s lips were purple with pomegranate juice. Her pockets were empty, but we still hadn’t reached Isowon. Then, like a mirage, we saw it. And all of us, even Marilius, mewed.

Isowon was just as Marilius described it, a finger of gardens and architecture poking out into the sea. There were no dilapidated homesteads, no broken-down shops, none of the sewage-stained streets I’d seen all my life. Isowon’s avenues were plump with flowers, all the buildings painted shades of white and sand. Watermills churned slowly by the docks where silver boats waited. People walked the sloping streets, watched by handsome statues of gods and goddesses.

Cricket’s eyes swelled at the sight. “Paradise . . .”

“Did I tell you?” smirked Marilius.

I nodded. “Just like Sariyah said.”

Cricket pointed at one, vast structure standing out from all the others. “Is that his
house
?”

“Breathtaking, I know,” said Marilius. “I told you—the palace is unbelievable.”

I had spent my life around wonders: the Library of Koth, Hanging Man, even the Story Garden where Cassandra waited. Yet I’d seen nothing compared to Fallon’s palace. He was not a king or prince, but he had built himself an enormous home of golden limestone, clinging to the shore as the sea flowed into it. Palm trees spotted its courtyards. Fountains spouted crystal blue water. Brick lanes looped through gardens and manicured lawns, while alabaster stairways and coral bridges threaded the buildings together like pearls.

“Come.” Marilius sped his horse onward, cheered by the sight of home. Cricket looked at me with a twinkle in her eyes.

“See Lukien? I told you we could trust him.”

She dashed her pony after him, leaving me with the mules. But a lifetime of soldiering had made me distrustful, and Marilius still perplexed me. Surely a peach so perfect had a blemish somewhere. I decided to take a bite and find out for myself.

*   *   *

The streets of Isowon were emptier than they should have been. I tucked that bit of knowledge away as we rode up to the palace. Two tall, golden spirals flanked the garden leading to the gates. A perfume of spices hung in the courtyard. The mercenaries in the towers watched as we approached. Behind the gates, more eyes spied through the iron bars.

“Open up,” ordered Marilius. He got down from his horse and stood before the gates. The men looked shocked.

“Marilius?” said one of them.

“Open the gates, Dorik. I need to see Fallon.”

Dorik pointed at Cricket and me with his chin. “Who are they?”

“Friends,” said Marilius. “For Fallon.”

“Friends!” Dorik’s laughter boomed. “You mean like you, Marilius?”

The others laughed too, jeering us. I got down off my horse, about to say something when Marilius stopped me. He glared at Dorik.

“You think Fallon doesn’t want to see me?” he hissed. “He’ll find out I came back, because one of you apes won’t be able to keep it secret. Then he’ll find out
you
sent me away, Dorik. And then you know what he’ll do?”

Dorik didn’t answer the question. Like the rest of them he was unshaven, unkempt, and at least a little dim-witted, but I could see his mind working behind his thick skull.

“Open it,” he relented.

The others pulled the chains from the bars and swung the gate open for us. As we stepped inside, Dorik bumped Marilius’s shoulder.

“You should have stayed gone,” he whispered.

I pretended not to hear as I helped Cricket down from her pony. Marilius thrust the reins of his horse toward Dorik.

“Take care of the animals,” he sneered.

By now others had gathered to watch us arrive. Some were mercenaries, some civilians from the town. Now I could see Fallon’s riches close-up. Silvery sidewalks led through the gardens and archways toward fountains and reflecting pools and stands of fruit trees where children played among the flowers. On the giant lawn, every emerald blade of glass stood at attention. Marilius walked lock-jawed, humiliated. He led us out of the powerful sun into a great, open hall with a view of the sea and a ceiling alive with frescos. Here, handmaidens in white tunics carried jugs and trays of food, their legs so creamy I could barely look away.

Cricket caught me staring and grinned. “Nice place, huh?”

“Beautiful,” I agreed.

Every step took us deeper into Fallon’s paradise, until there were no more mercenaries, no one at all to challenge us, just the well-fed merchants and the doting, compliant servants. The smell of spices was everywhere, piping up from burning sconces on the walls and crystal bowls suspended from the ceiling. It got so thick I had to hold my nose.

“Lavender,” said Marilius. “His favorite.”

There was a bit of contempt in Marilius’s voice that I hadn’t heard before. When at last we came to a pair of golden doors, he stopped.

“Is Fallon in there?” I asked.

Marilius nodded.

“How do you know?” asked Cricket.

“Because he’s always in there at this time of day. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He opened a single golden door, just enough to slip inside. A sudden silence swallowed the hall. Cricket blinked at me. I looked around, surprised we were alone in such a vast space. Cricket smoothed down her cape and shirt, then wet a finger to paste down her hair.

“Look at this place! What do you think he’s like, Lukien?”

Now I was getting nervous, too. “Wealthy,” I said. “And wealthy men can’t be trusted. Full of sweet talk and bullshit, I bet. Watch yourself, Cricket. All those girls you saw back there? Probably slaves.”

“I don’t think so, Lukien. They looked happy.”

“Of course they do. Imagine being whipped for not smiling like an idiot all the time.” I took a deep breath, regretting it at once as the stink of lavender filled my nose. “Ugh! What kind of man—”

“Shh, he’ll hear you,” scolded Cricket.

I rolled my eyes at her. “Under his spell already.”

And yet I was happy, mostly because Cricket was happy. The palace had sparked a brightness in her eyes I hadn’t seen in weeks. Once again, I let myself believe I’d done the right thing by taking her with me. If there was war in the Bitter Kingdoms, it seemed far away from Fallon’s extraordinary home.

Finally, the golden door opened again, this time wide enough for us to see. Marilius stepped aside for us to enter, but Cricket and I just stood there, too awestruck to move. Sunlight struck our faces, streaming in off the sea. A pool of blue water washed slowly in and out of the palace. The chamber, if that’s truly what it was, hugged the water like two great arms, wrapping it in fantastical architecture. Inside were tiny palm trees and orchids the size of coconuts. Half-nude servants—men and women both—waited at the edge of the pool near a table heavy with food and silverware. A figure swam alone in the water, naked, twirling and backstroking. Cricket’s mouth fell open at the sight of him.

“Oh . . . my.”

I scowled at Marilius, offended even if Cricket wasn’t. “Fate above, Marilius, what is this?”

Marilius shrugged. “It’s noontime. This is where he takes his meals.”

“Marilius, he’s naked.”

“You’ll get used to it. Come in.”

Cricket didn’t need to be asked twice, bolting for a better look. Song birds twittered in the miniature trees, and a perfect breeze blew off the sea. I caught up to Cricket as I approached the pool, putting my hand on her shoulder to stop her from diving in. She stared at Fallon, wide-eyed as he swam. Embarrassed, I tried to look away yet couldn’t somehow. He was, I admit, an amazing looking man. His strong physique moved effortlessly through the water, his longish copper-colored hair streaking behind him. He was thin like a woman but muscled like a man, like the palace statues. His skin was strange too, not white like mine or black like Sariyah’s, but a deep, tawny tone I’d never seen before. He rolled onto his back, spouted water from his mouth like a porpoise, then swam toward us, emerging from the water smiling and dripping wet.

Marilius stepped forward. “Anton, here they are—Lukien and his squire.”

Fallon’s emerald eyes flashed. In the center of his forehead a black tattoo caught my attention. A serving girl offered him a robe. Fallon waved if off as he looked us over, appraising us like pieces of art.

“Sir Lukien,” he said, “you don’t look like a monster slayer.” He glanced at Marilius. “Are you sure about him?”

“He can do it,” assured Marilius. “Trust me.”

“He’s not too old?”

“Hey,” I barked, hooking my thumb over my sword. “Talk to
us
. We’re standing right here.”

Fallon smirked. “A one-eyed knight and a peasant girl? I’m skeptical.”

“It’s rude to ignore us,” said Cricket.

“And to stand there naked,” I added. “Put that robe on, please.”

“Westerners.” Fallon folded his arms. “Where I come from whole families bathe together.” He smiled at Cricket and said, “Would you like to try that?”

“That’s enough,” I erupted. Marilius quickly got between us.

“Lukien, no. It’s nothing. It’s just how he is.”

Fallon laughed and took the robe from the servant. “If it makes you more comfortable . . .” He slipped on the garment. I studied the tattoo between his eyes, but couldn’t make out the symbol, like an upside down Y with a cross through it. A Zuran letter, I supposed. As Fallon took a seat at the head of the table, a bare-chested boy began brushing his long, wet hair.

“It’s all right,” Marilius whispered. “He’s just . . . different.”

“Different? Marilius, he’s out of his mind. Why’d you bring us—”

“Enough muttering, please,” said Fallon. His long fingers plucked a grape from a bowl. He sucked on it as he regarded me. “Marilius tells me you got in a tangle with Wrestler. He says he broke your neck. I find that remarkable.” He glanced at Cricket. “What’s your name, child?”

“Cricket,” she replied.

“Cricket? Ugly name for a pretty girl. Are you from these lands?”

Cricket nodded. “I think so.”

“Uh, excuse me, Lord Fallon,” I began.

“Anton.” He smiled at me.

“Exactly how much do you know about us?”

“Sir Lukien, five minutes ago I’d never even heard of you. Marilius seems to think you’re well known. Among mercenaries I suppose. Will you sit?”

The servants held out chairs for us. Marilius took a seat close to Fallon. I held Cricket back.

“Marilius hasn’t told us why he brought us here,” I said. “Did you say ‘monster slayer’?”

“That’s right.” Fallon chose a strawberry this time. His eyes fell upon my sword. “That sword you carry—that’s your magic?”

“Something like that.”

“May I see it?”

Malator said nothing. I unsheathed the sword, laying it out in both hands. Fallon seemed disappointed.

“Boring. But if it’s as powerful as Marilius says I could sell it for you, Lukien. Maybe make you a very rich man. After you do what I need of you, obviously.”

“And what would that be, exactly?” I sheathed the sword. “I should tell you I’m not for sale. We’re only here because of Marilius.”

“He saved us,” said Cricket.

“Did he?” Fallon patted Marilius’s arm. “So brave.”

Marilius bristled. “He can help, Anton. That’s why I brought him.”

“You brought him here to redeem yourself,” said Fallon. His nostrils flared, and I wondered—were he and Marilius
lovers
?

“Please,” I said, “just tell us why we’re here.”

Fallon flicked a wrist toward one of the servants, a girl with honey-blonde hair and one perfect breast exposed. The girl gently took my arm, smiling as she led me to a chair across from Fallon. Another servant—a male—gingerly took Cricket’s hand and did the same. My servant, however, sat down in my lap.

“Her name is Druan,” said Fallon. “She’s yours for the night. Try eating grapes from between her legs. Heaven!”

I let the girl kiss my cheek. Her naked breast brushed against me. I could feel the heat rising in my face.

“No.” I gently pushed Druan away. I swear she looked dejected.

“All right,” said Fallon, “just business, then. Druan is only part of my offer. I can pay you whatever you want, Lukien. If you’re the man to rid me of my problem, it’ll be worth it. Isowon isn’t just my home, you see. She’s my child, my dream. I built her with nothing, and I’ll not have her taken from me.”

“Too fast,” I said. “Who’s trying to take Isowon from you?”

“That
thing
,” said Fallon. “Diriel’s monster, whatever it is. He sent it to kill me.”

“Diriel? From Akyre? Why would he do that?”

“To take what’s mine, obviously! Look around, Sir Lukien. Isowon is incomparable. There’s nothing like it in all the Bitter Kingdoms and certainly not in that ash heap, Akyre. I built this whole place with spices. My routes, my contacts—they’re worth more than all the provinces of Akyre put together.”

“Akyre’s already at war with Kasse and Drin,” I said. “We saw the refugees on the road. I doubt he’d try to attack Isowon as well.”

“You don’t know Diriel, then,” said Fallon. “He wants everything, all the Bitter Kingdoms. This was all part of the Akyren empire once. That’s Diriel’s goal—to remake the empire. My spice routes would make that a lot easier for him.”

Cricket grimaced at the news. “I don’t remember any of this. Not even Diriel. How can that be, Lukien?”

“She’s from Akyre, Anton,” explained Marilius, “but she can’t remember more than that.”

Fallon’s delicate face grew tender. “Then you’re a refugee too, girl. Like the others. I promise you: when this deed is done and the monster is killed, we will find your lost memories.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I warned. “I never said I’d help you. I don’t even know what this thing is.” Suddenly all I could think of was the monster I’d seen when I’d nearly died. “Describe it.”