The Forever Knight

32

I slept a drunkard’s sleep, deep and troubled, my mind far from the world where my body lay in soft, expensive sheets. I’d once had a fever when I was a boy, sleeping in the streets of Koth beneath a blacksmith’s shop; a fever in which every monster my mind could conjure visited and chased me in my sleep, and every time my eyes opened I screamed, because the sickness was so thick in my body I could not stay awake. The next morning, when the fever finally broke, the monsters left me, but the terror of that night always remained.

That was the kind of night I had before the battle. Only it wasn’t monsters that found me sleeping in Anton’s palace, and it wasn’t Crezil that called my nightmares. A long parade of dead friends came to me instead. Or, rather, it was I who went to them, like a troubadour.

I visited each of their death places. In my dreams I saw Akeela, my beloved brother, my king, one of the only people I ever truly loved. I dreamed of him so infrequently over the years that it startled me to see him. We spoke, but his words were foreign to me, so twisted by rage as to be incomprehensible, and when I left him he was crying after me. Screaming, I think.

Next I saw Minikin, my old mentor, and she spoke to me about love, and about how powerful she’d been in life, and how I was now even more powerful than that. I think she pitied me. So I left her quickly, and one by one visited a gallery of past friends and enemies. There was Figgis the Librarian and Trager, my nemesis, and nameless men I’d slain on battlefields. I saw Meriel, who’d loved me, who I’d spurned into the arms of a madman, and then I saw the madman himself, Baron Glass. Together they spoke to me of the burning that had taken Meriel’s life and the peaceful world of the dead, and when I told them I had no soul they wept for me.

That’s when I grew tired of the dream. I tried to awaken. I pushed myself, but somehow I could not, and so I went in search of Cassandra but could not find her. Nor could I find Cricket. I felt myself panicking, lost in my dreamworld, trapped like that little, fevered boy. I had the terrible thought that I wasn’t dreaming at all. . and that’s when my eyes finally opened.

Not wide, though. Just slivers, just enough to see that I was still in my bed in the palace. I fought to stay awake, to sit up and wait for morning, and that’s when I saw Malator seated at my bedside. He was dressed for battle in his splendid Akari armor, perched patiently on a plain wooden chair that I knew had been in my chamber earlier. I looked at him as I laid there, reassured to see him but unable to fully awaken. He smiled at me.

“Is this a trick?” I asked softly.

The room was so quiet, so like a tomb, that I would have thought myself dead if not for my cursed life. I could see the Sword of Angels where I’d left it, propped near my bed, and the boots the servant man had pulled off my feet. I could see the window and the darkness beyond it, telling me that morning was still far off. Yet I could hear nothing, not even my heartbeat.

“Do you think I’m tricking you?” Malator asked.

“Why can’t I wake up? Am I sick? Or is this just another one of your illusions?”

“Nothing I’ve never shown you has been an illusion. Nothing I’ve ever said has been a lie.”

“Why are we talking now, then? Why won’t you let me sleep in peace?”

“You’re moving through the worlds of the dead, Lukien. Those aren’t dreams you’re having.”

I lay very still. “Am I still in those worlds? This feels unreal to me. What time is it?”

“You have time, don’t worry. It’s hours yet until morning.”

“Hours? That can’t be. I’ve been dreaming all night.”

Malator shook his head. “Only a little while.”

“But I’ve seen so many people. .” I studied his face for treachery. “So, they’re real? Akeela-was that him? Where is he?”

“In the realm of the dead. I told you, Lukien, you are special. Wait. You’ll soon understand.”

“No.” I somehow managed to prop myself up. “Tomorrow is the end for me, Malator. Even if they don’t manage to kill me. If I survive I’m leaving here. I’m going home to Jador. There’s no more time for your puzzles. Tell me why I’m special. Tell me now.”

“You will wait,” said Malator gently. He was like a father at my bedside, and I felt like the sick child, frightened and impatient. “You will not die tomorrow, Lukien. Remember? I promised you your vengeance.”

I nodded. “And I gave my soul for it.”

“You lost your soul long before that.”

“Is that why I can move through the death realms? Because I have no soul?”

“Partly.” Malator grinned. “You’re getting it, Lukien.”

“Then tell me the rest. Or let me sleep. A real sleep. I don’t want to see any more phantoms. Why’d you want me to come here, Malator? Why didn’t you want Cricket to come with me?”

He smirked at me. “Lukien, that bit is obvious. It was too dangerous for Cricket. Did I not warn you? You need no other friend on this journey. Just me. If you trusted me. .”

He stopped himself. He looked down at his lap. But I knew what he meant.

“Cricket’s dying is my fault. I know that. And tomorrow I’ll make Wrestler pay for it. I’ll make them all pay. That was our bargain, Malator. Don’t renege.”

“Renege? I have given you everything you need to be unstoppable. You are a living weapon now, Lukien. Tomorrow you may occasion as much carnage as you crave. Tomorrow you will be the end of the world to your enemies. I have dressed for it! Let hell’s gates swing wide for them.”

“Then answer me, Malator: What has all this been? A lesson? A test?”

“Training,” replied Malator.

“Training? For what?” I was indignant. “What’s the point of all this misery?”

“Not yet.” Malator’s voice was soothing. Suddenly my eyes began to close again. “Soon.”

“No. .”

I clutched for him, but my world quickly darkened.

“Sleep, Lukien,” he whispered. “Grow strong. Tomorrow you will be at your glorious best.”

I dreamt no more that night. Whatever enchantment Malator had put on me sent me to the most peace I’d known in ages. And the next day, when I awakened, I felt like a giant.