The Forever Knight

22

For hundreds of miles I’d ridden with a companion at my side. Now, I was alone again.

There’d been no time to argue with Cricket. She’d made her feelings plain, and there were too many places for her to hide in Fallon’s palace for me to go chasing her. She was young and a girl, and now that I was alone I realized the folly of making her my squire. After all, she was at that age. Argumentative. Bullheaded. I was pretty sure a boy would have been no better. Even if Cricket was a boy, I wouldn’t have taken her with me to hunt the monster this time, not after what I’d seen in the hall. I was sure she’d be better when I returned.

If I returned.

I was immortal, or very nearly so, but I knew the monster could best me. To die-and to stay dead-didn’t frighten me. Cassandra was waiting for me on the other side. But the thought of being bested gnawed at me, and I was anxious to find the beast before nightfall.

I wasn’t a tracker, though. I was a city boy, born and bred, and though I’d spent my share of time outdoors, it was mostly on battlefields. Hunting had never come easy to me, even when tracking rass, and having one eye didn’t help. If I were tracking a bear I might have looked for its den. Or water. Or scat, even. But the creature I was pursuing didn’t even belong in this world. I needed something else to track.

* * *

I stopped at the edge of a field, near a ridge of fig trees leading to a canyon. Tall mountains surrounded me. I’d left the palace behind more than two hours ago, and just when I’d thought the trail was cold I saw a scrap of flesh hanging from the tine of a branch. It almost looked like a misshaped fig, but when I reached for it I realized the ghastly fruit was a human ear.

“Fate Almighty.”

A trail of blood and body parts had brought me this far. I didn’t need both eyes to follow it. From the pools in the Great Hall to the puddles in the courtyard, the remnants of Crezil’s victims had fallen like rain. At first it was impossible to go even a few yards without seeing a smear of blood or tattered bit of flesh. But as the hours went by and the landscape changed, the clues became fewer. I touched the branch where the ear dangled and bent it toward me. The ear hadn’t been chewed, just ripped off its owner’s face. I looked down at the ground, saw a few drops of blood, then inspected the rest of the tree. Snapped branches told me which way the thing had gone.

I studied the canyon. A grassy valley cut through it like a ribbon, dotted with buttercups and shadowed by the mountains. The creature hated sunlight, but I still didn’t know why. I wondered if there were caves in the canyon, or if the beast was still plodding toward its lair. Did it know I was after it? Would it even care?

“Malator.”

At first he ignored me. I felt him inside me and yet also far away, moving grudgingly as I called his name. We hadn’t spoken since the tomb.

“Malator!”

His sigh was petulant. What?

“Do you sense it?”

He took his time answering. Yes.

“So it’s near?” I looked ahead. “In the canyon?”

Yes.

“Great. How long were you going to wait to tell me?”

Until you asked me. You told me not to bother you any more, Lukien. You were very clear on that.

“What do you want me to say? That I need your help? Obviously, I do. Not just to fight it, but to find it.”

Are you worried I’ll let you die?

“Actually, yes.”

He laughed inside my head. It could happen!

“Are you going to help me, damn it?”

You know I will. I have plans for you, Lukien.

“Fuck your games,” I hissed. I grew anxious as we trotted into the canyon. The grass and buttercups rose up around Zephyr’s legs, moving in the breeze. I looked up into the craggy mountains, spying nesting birds, but no monster. “Where is it?”

It’s here. Ahead a little. Malator focused his concentration. It’s watching you.

That unnerved me. “If I can’t surprise it,” I whispered, “I won’t bother trying.”

With a jab of my heels I galloped deeper into the valley, jangling in my bronze armor and sending birds flying from the grass. Finally I spun my horse to a stop and pulled out the Sword of Angels.

“Demon!” I cried, raising high the sword. “I am Lukien! Come out!”

How did one call a demon? I looked around the mountains, listened for its approach. The remnants of my cry echoed off the rocks.

“Where is it, Malator?” I demanded. He answered in a calm, almost fatherly voice.

Turn around.

When I spun back it was there, waiting in the flowers, blocking the way I’d come. Twelve feet tall, a mismatch of skins, it had changed from the last time when it was all just bones. Now it covered itself in the flesh of its victims, animating their torn-off limbs and wearing their scalps like hats. It stood hunched on three legs, each a different size and color, all of them bloodied and knit together. It had no head of its own, just the blinking eyes of its prey, and I could not tell if it used them to see or just to frighten me. Mouths moved in silent screams. The blonde hair of a woman sprouted from its back. Five arms erupted from its torso, two of them armored and three of them naked. I looked for a face, a thing that was its own, but saw nothing real among the borrowed parts.

When it was bones it was monstrous. Now it was a horror, all the gore and viscera I’d seen in the hall brought to grisly life. Zephyr roiled beneath me. I fought to keep him steady. The creature moved closer, out of the shadows until the sun struck its body. I half expected the light to burn it, but the sun had no effect at all. It had no weapons, no horns or thorns or sharpened nails. Yet somehow it had shredded Anton’s men.

“Malator,” I asked. “How do I beat this brute?”

Run.

“Stop joking and help me!”

Why haven’t you figured this out yet? It’s a creature from the realm of the dead. It’s here for something, and it won’t leave until it gets what it wants.

To me that sounded like a coward’s answer. “I won’t let it take Anton,” I said.

Then fight it.

“Help me kill it!”

I’ll help you. But we can’t kill it.

“You know something Malator?” I snorted. “You’re useless.”

At that moment I counted more on my horse than I did my Akari. I patted Zephyr’s neck, then trotted slowly toward the monster. Its many eyes turned to watch me and the purple lips along its body parted, showing human teeth. Bloody fingers twitched on its stolen hands. Somewhere beneath its quivering flesh hid the real demon, or at least I supposed so. If I could pierce it, if it had a heart or brain or any real substance of its own, I could kill it. I brought my horse to a stop about twenty feet from it and held out my weapon.

“This is the Sword of Angels,” I declared. “The sword of the Akari, Malator. The sword that slayed the demon Kahldris. My sword, monster. The sword that’s going to kill you.”

The monster’s five arms punched at the air and the mouths opened in soundless screams. Its biggest, tree-trunk leg pounded the ground. I reared back in surprise.

“You hear me? Can you understand me. . Crezil?”

The creature stopped moving. The dead eyes blinked.

“Crezil,” I repeated. “That’s your name?”

I got no answer except the telling silence.

“All right,” I said. “I know what you are. Kasdeyi Orioc. The Guardian-Slave. You’re from Gahoreth. You don’t belong here. What is it? You want Fallon?” I pointed to my forehead. “The man with the tattoo. Is that your mark?”

Maybe it was thinking. I glanced past it, toward the entrance to the valley and up into the hills. I saw an outcropping of rock in the shadows that reminded me of a cave. Where was the monster under all those skins?

“You’re hiding,” I realized. “Why?” I groped for reasons. “You’re not afraid of the sun. You’re afraid of the light. Malator, could that be it?” I didn’t give him time to answer. “Crezil,” I said, “are you afraid?”

The monster-Crezil-backed away. It wasn’t much, hardly a full step. But I knew now it understood me.

“You want to go home,” I guessed. “Then go. Go back to Gahoreth. I give you leave.” Now it was my turn to step back. I circled Zephyr back a length, then watched for the thing’s reaction. “Go,” I ordered. “We can end our quarrel here.”

For a long moment the demon didn’t move. Then it raised one of its dead hands and marked one of its dead foreheads, just the way it had seen me do. I understood immediately.

“No,” I said. “That man you marked is a bastard and a cheat, but even he doesn’t deserve what you’ve got planned. You leave with one life today-your own.”

Crezil took a step forward. Zephyr bucked.

“No!” I insisted. “You’re done feasting on humans, demon. No more.”

It won’t yield, Lukien, said Malator. It wants Fallon. It won’t leave without him.

“Why?” I yelled to it. “Why Fallon? For waking you? For vengeance? You’ve punished him enough.” I raised my sword just high enough to threaten. “If you make me champion him I will.”

Part of me hoped Crezil would turn and slither away. But another part of me-the very part that drove me here-wanted this fight. Cricket had always been right about me. So had Gilwyn and Malator. I needed to prove myself or die trying. Just then I remembered the pledge I’d made to Gilwyn, to return in time for the birth of his baby. As Crezil rushed toward me, I wasn’t sure I’d keep that promise.

It came like a bull, charging on its three legs, ridiculously fast. I jerked Zephyr away from its five flailing arms. All along its body the mouths opened wide, the hands became claws, the muscles ripened with blood. I had no new weapon, no new strategy to try. All I had different this time was experience, and as I aimed for Crezil I braced myself for the shock.

“Malator!”

The monster charged, my horse twirled, and the Sword of Angels whistled through the air. This time I caught one of the arms, slicing it off. I raced past Crezil, saw the stump of the arm I’d severed, and couldn’t believe I was still on horseback. There was no surge of pain, no burning heat to shock me unconscious. I spun around for another go.

“Malator. . how?”

That wasn’t Crezil, he explained. Just flesh.

I steeled myself. To kill Crezil, I’d have to find it under all that skin. The monster came again, unconcerned by its stump, not even bleeding. It turned one of its heads sideways and lashed a bloated tongue at me.

“Then I’ll cut them all off!” I swore. “And peel it like an orange.”

Crezil readied itself but didn’t charge. Its remaining arms stretched and writhed. The nails of its many hands enlarged, curling out of its fingertips into crusty claws. I had to avoid them, keep my distance I decided. One by one I’d sever them all. A flood of strength filled me as Malator gave me his magic. I cocked the sword, picked a limb, and charged again.

Spittle flew from my horse as I spurred it forward. The monster’s putrid eyes watched me. I steered for its flank, threw my shoulder toward it, and swung my sword. I caught another arm, easily slicing it, thrilling as the appendage twisted skyward. But Crezil moved fast, immune to pain, and with three more arms took hold of Zephyr and pulled him out from under me. I went headlong over my mount, flying out over the grass and crashing to the ground. As I shook my rattled head, I watched Crezil lift my braying Zephyr by his hind legs and fling him over its body, smashing him and killing him against the rocks. His neck snapped, his chest collapsed. The whole big, beautiful creature just popped like a balloon.

“Bitch!” I screamed. I staggered to my feet. “That was a horse! My horse!” Rage gushed out of me. “That was a beautiful animal! Innocent! Oh, Malator. . let me kill this bloody beast!”

I’d tried to talk, but damn it all. . Crezil needed to die, and I wanted to be the one. I forgot about pain and fear and promises. I dove for Crezil like a madman. With my sword held like a dagger I went for its heart, to stab it, to kill it and piss on its corpse. The thing was like a mountain, though, and when I jumped, Crezil didn’t move. I screamed and plunged the sword. It pierced a searching eye, going deep, popping it, spewing on me, but I held on. An arm grabbed me, wrapped me, but I pushed on that sword until I felt the hellish heart of the thing beating.

And then, like before, my insides fried. The most intense burning sizzled up my arms and deep into my bowels. Not like fire, though. I could have plunged my face into a fire and not felt nearly such pain. This was hellfire.

“Malator!”

I screamed like a child. It must have startled Crezil because it let me go, pitching me aside. I rolled through the air and landed on my back, and for a moment couldn’t breathe at all. Everything inside me seized. An inferno seared my brains. I tried to raise myself, then realized the sword was gone. When I lifted my head I saw the blade, still stuck inside Crezil’s oozing eye.

Slowly the pain began to ebb. I mustered myself, getting up on my elbows. Crezil stalked toward me, blocking out the sun. Somehow, it pushed the sword out of its body, letting it clang to the ground beside me. I reached for it, gasping, wrapping my fingers around its solace. Then I looked up at Crezil and smelled its rotting flesh.

I was pinned, but I had the sword, and I took every bit of strength it gave me. “Kill me,” I rasped. “You’ll have to. I’m not giving up. I’ll keep coming after you unless you kill me now.”

I felt the heat rising off its bloody skins. It brought up its arms, making fists of the hands and swelling them like hammers. I closed my eye and waited.

When it hit my leg I shrieked. My leg! I opened my eye, wailing, and saw in amazement Crezil leaving, galloping away through the valley, using all its remaining limbs to propel it through the grass. My leg was shattered. I couldn’t even crawl.

“Whore! Come back here!” I swore, clutching at both the sword and my thigh. “You come back here and finish me!”

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.