by John Marco
“What?” Cricket stifled her laugh with her hand. “Honestly!”
I just shook my head. “This is madness. Malator showed me a monster before we left Jador. And I saw a monster in my dreams. It’s all connected, Cricket—the monster, the Legion of the Lost, everything.”
“Then that’s your answer, Lukien. You found your mission.”
“I already have a mission, Cricket. You.”
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, Lukien, don’t you worry. I’m your squire. I want to see this beasty for myself!”
I didn’t tell Cricket why I really wanted to find this monster. I didn’t tell her that day or any other day. This monster stalking Anton Fallon, this unnamed, unseen thing—how could it not be the same beast Malator had drawn? It wasn’t just after Fallon, it was after Cricket, too. And if it was after Cricket, that meant it had to die.
12
We rode out from Isowon at dawn the next morning, the new day’s sunlight gleaming off my old bronze armor. Cricket had spent much of the night making it ready, insisting I wear it to battle the beast. She had polished the breast plate into a satiny mirror, removing every bit of grime. She worked proudly, like a real squire, and rode at my side on her well-groomed pony, her cape of rass skin on her shoulders like a trophy.
Marilius rode at point, leading us east along the coast. Before he’d fled Isowon for Arad, other of Fallon’s men had tracked a trail of blood this same way. They never found the monster, just the skeletal remains of their fellow mercenaries. Still, they suspected the creature made its lair in the hills at the mouth of the Dovra River—almost a day’s ride from Fallon’s palace.
No one seemed to know why the creature only attacked at night, or why it made its home so far from its intended prey. I puzzled over this as we rode.
Before long we were out of Isowon’s shadow, leaving the protection of the palace far behind. For the first time in months—maybe even years—I felt like a knight again, like a Royal Charger, confident and ready to face Fallon’s monster. I’d made a terrible mistake when fighting Wrestler—I had left my sword behind. This time, Malator and all his magic would be with me. Whatever the creature might be, it was mortal, and I was not, and that meant I could kill it. I made the link with Malator as we rode, speaking to him wordlessly while Cricket and Marilius made small talk of their own.
You’ve been quiet, I told him. Any advice?
I expected Malator to be petulant over being excluded. Instead he was pensive. This is why you came here, Lukien, he said. Maybe now we’ll have some answers.
You still don’t know what the monster is?
I do not.
But you’ve been thinking about it, right? I sighed out loud. Come on, Malator—you saw death when you drew that picture in the sand.
You saw death, Lukien. I saw a monster.
But you told me not to take Cricket with me! Why? Because of the monster?
Lukien, I can only tell you what I know. And I can’t know everything, remember?
His answer unnerved me. This will be our fight, Malator, I said. We’ll face this thing together. Whatever it is.
I’ll do my best.
Hey . . . your best? I stared ahead as I rode, but my mind’s eye fixed on him. Malator, are you afraid?
It’s always wise to be a little afraid before battle. You know that.
“Lukien?”
I awoke as if from a trance. Cricket was bouncing along next to me, excited. “Huh?”
“I told Marilius about the waterfall. He knows it, Lukien!”
“Waterfall?”
“The place with the stream,” she said, annoyed. “The place I dreamt about, remember? I dreamt about it again last night.”
“It’s Sky Falls,” said Marilius. Then he shrugged. “Probably.”
“Sky Falls . . .” Cricket’s eyes went dreamy. “Yes.”
“Yes, you remember it?” I asked.
“No, but that must be it. I can feel it, Lukien. Marilius described it just like I picture it. Tell him, Marilius.”
“Not much to tell,” said Marilius. “It’s up in Akyre near the border with Kasse. Part of the Dovra River. People go there to see it. Or they used to before the war. It’s well known.”
I wasn’t convinced. “That’s not much to go on. There could be a hundred waterfalls up there, right?”
“Maybe, but why would Cricket know about any of them? She’s just a kid. I figure the only one she could have seen is Sky Falls.”
“It is Sky Falls,” Cricket insisted. “Lukien, can we go?”
I looked at Marilius. “How safe is it?”
“To swim? It’s a waterfall.”
“Not the waterfall, idiot—what about the area? Can we get there safely?”
“No chance. Diriel’s men are on the march all around there.”
“But that’s the place,” said Cricket desperately. “I remember the ferns, the boulders—everything Marilius described.”
“And the caves,” said Marilius. “There’s little caves around the cliff—remember?”
Cricket blinked quickly. “I don’t remember caves. Oh, but that’s the place. We have to go, Lukien!”
“We’ll try, Cricket.”
“When?”
“As soon as we can.”
Her dark eyes grew skeptical. “When, Lukien?”
I didn’t want to tell her how much I mistrusted her memories. “When we’re done with this mission. We’ll kill this monster, then we’ll ride for Sky Falls.”
“Promise?”
“Cricket, you’re my squire. Everything I say to you is a promise.”
* * *
“Look at that,” said Cricket. She pointed up ahead toward a sparkling lake, circled in shade by a vanguard of trees. “What do you say, Lukien?”
It had been hours since our last rest. Marilius was sure we’d reach the mouth of the river by dusk. Finally, I saw the chance I’d been waiting for.
“Yeah, good idea,” I told Cricket. “Ride up ahead. Make sure it’s clear.”
“Really?” Cricket studied the way ahead. The flat road led clearly to the lake. “Why?”
“Because I said so. Ride on, squire.”
With a shrug Cricket drove her pony forward, leaving me with Marilius. Marilius watched her go without saying a word. When she was far enough ahead, he let out a heavy breath.
“All right, she’s gone,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”
He’d been waiting for it.
“Anton Fallon,” I kept my one eye straight ahead as we rode. “I’m guessing you’re more than just his hireling. Now listen: it makes no difference to me what a man does for his pleasures. I just want to know what I’m getting into with you both. Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll say no more about it.”
“You’re not wrong,” said Marilius. “It’s obvious.”
“Uh-huh. Is that why he made you a captain?”
Marilius nodded. He looked ashamed and very, very young. “I shouldn’t have let him. But it was a place for me to stay. Anton knew what I was and didn’t care. You show me one other man who would have kept me on as a soldier after knowing what I am.”
“I can’t,” I admitted. “I spent my whole life soldiering. Men like you don’t usually last too long. How long have you been with him?”
“Two months. I came down from Norvor to hire on as a freelance. I heard Anton Fallon had all the money so I went to him first. He liked me, and I liked him. The rest just happened.”
“So I was right about you trying to prove yourself. And I bet that’s why you took up soldiering in the first place.”
“How’d you know that?”
“I see it all the time. Men are always running away from things and thinking that becoming a soldier can fix it. Fix them.” As soon as I said it I thought about my own life. “Seen it all before.”
Marilius and I slowed our horses. I turned my head to look at him—really look at him. I knew his story. Somewhere there was a father that disapprove
d, or a brother, maybe. Somewhere, someone important to him had made up their minds and decided he wasn’t good enough.
“I ran, Lukien,” he said suddenly. His face turned ashen. “I was scared. I’m scared right now. I don’t want to see that thing again. If not for you I wouldn’t even be here.”
“Everyone gets scared, Marilius. Being scared isn’t the problem. Running away and staying away—that’s the problem.”
“But you don’t get scared. I saw the way you went after Wrestler. And when Anton told you about the monster you didn’t even think twice. That’s the way I want to be. But I’ll never be that way because I’m a—”
He stopped himself.
“What?” I pressed. “What are you, Marilius? A boy-lover?” I laughed. “Stupid. It’s so stupid! Listen, you know the worst kinds of men to have in battle? Men that don’t give a damn. You have to love men to be a soldier. You’re not a coward, Marilius. If you were a coward you wouldn’t be here. If you were a coward you never would have come back.”
Marilius let a tiny smile supplant his frown. “Did you ever love a man, Lukien?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “Not in the way you mean, maybe, but yes. There once was a man I loved almost more than my own life.”
“Who?” wondered Marilius. “King Akeela?”
I turned in surprise. “How’d you know about Akeela?”
“I told you—I know a lot about you, Lukien.”
“Yeah, well . . .” I rode on, uncomfortable. “I don’t talk much about Akeela these days. I’m the one that killed him, after all.”
“His madness killed him,” said Marilius. “That’s what I heard.”
“I drove him to that madness. Make no mistake about that, Marilius. Whatever else you hear about me, know this: I am a king-slayer. I’ll bear that guilt all the way to whatever hell awaits me. You’re a better lover of men than I am.”
“Ah, now you mock me.”
“No, I do not,” I said seriously. “Whatever you are, you’re no coward. Don’t let a father label you a failure. Don’t let any man. You’ve got courage inside you. I see it. I promise—when the time comes, you’ll know what to do.”
13
The Bitter Kingdoms were nothing like my old home in Liiria. They were rocky and harsh and wholly ugly, and I had never thought to feel at ease there until the end of that day’s ride, when we finally reached the river valley. There, with dusk just touching us, we saw the hills with the pine trees Marilius had promised, the land sloping gently downward toward a hidden dell. I could smell the river too, the musk of it like the River Kryss where I’d fought so long ago. It felt like I had stumbled again into one of Malator’s made-up dreamscapes, with birds chirping in the trees and long shadows touching the land. I took a breath, shocked by the sweetness of the air. How could this be the place?
“Here?” I looked around, slowing Zephyr, my exhausted horse. “You’re sure your monster isn’t a bear, maybe?”
Marilius seemed more nervous than usual. Instead of just slowing his horse, he brought it completely to a stop. “Let’s wait here,” he said. “It’ll be dark by the time we get deep enough into the valley.”
“Wait?” said Cricket. “For what?”
“For it to find us,” said Marilius. “It comes out at night, remember? It probably already knows we’re here.”
I looked ahead, studying the dell and surrounding hills. “We’ll find its lair,” I told Marilius. “Better to kill it while it sleeps than have it find us first.”
“The valley’s full of caves, Lukien. We’ll be groping around like blind men. Better to wait till morning, when it’s light.”
“There’s enough sunlight to get started,” I said. I looked at Marilius, not wanting to embarrass him. Yes, he was afraid, but there was something else, too. “We should go on . . . don’t you think?”
“Let’s go,” said Cricket anxiously. “Before it wakes up!”
“Look at those cliffs,” said Marilius, pointing ahead. “If we enter the dell it’ll be able to trap us. It may already know we’re here. We should stay where there’s room to fight.”
It was worth considering. The hills did indeed close in around the dell, but I wanted to see it for myself. “Fallon said it only comes at night, right?”
Reluctantly, Marilius nodded.
“Then maybe it only can come out at night. Maybe it sleeps during the day, like a rass.”
“The day’s almost over, Lukien. If the monster hasn’t wakened yet then it soon will. I say we stay and wait for it here, out in the open.”
“Oh, let’s decide!” said Cricket. “Before it finds us!”
“Easy, squire. The last time I went off without thinking I got my neck broken, remember?” I looked west toward the setting sun, then ahead toward the dell. Bare minutes of sunlight remained. We could strike a camp, I thought . . . But no.
“We go on,” I decided. “If this thing does have a lair we should find it.”
Cricket bounced in her saddle. “I’m ready.”
Marilius frowned. “Me first, then,” he said. At his side hung the beat-up sword he’d spent the night sharpening. He drew the blade as he urged his horse slowly forward, his eyes lighting up like embers. I didn’t need to tell Cricket to stay close. She stuck beside me as I followed Marilius, my ears alert to every breeze and chirping bird. I sensed Malator inside my sword, felt his essence searching out in front of me.
Malator? Anything?
Yes.
His certainty startled me. Where? Do you see it?
This place . . . He paused as if looking around. This is where it comes from.
Is it awake?
It’s . . . alive.
Where is it, Malator? Does it see us?
Malator fell silent. I could almost feel him putting up a hand to quiet me. I thought of slowing down, maybe stopping until he answered, but Marilius was already far ahead. Cricket rode next to me, stiff with fear.
“Breathe,” I whispered.
With one giant sigh she let out the air she’d been holding.
It’s hiding, said Malator finally.
I nodded. A trap. What is it, Malator?
A monster, Lukien. Just like they said.
“Marilius,” I called out. “It’s up ahead.”
Marilius snapped his head around. “How do you know?”
“I just do. It’s not sleeping. It’s waiting for us in the dell.”
“Waiting for the darkness, I bet.” Marilius reined in his horse. “What do you want to do?”
“Find it,” I said. “Let it think it has us trapped.” At last I drew my sword, angered at the thought of being stalked. Marilius brought his horse around again, about to continue. He sniffed the air.
“Ugh! What the hell is that?”
The shifting breeze carried the smell over to Cricket and me. Cricket hurried a hand over her mouth.
“Fate above!” She turned away, shutting her eyes and clamping shut her nose.
I barely had to inhale—the stench struck me all at once. The smell of rot, like an open grave. Marilius strained to control his dancing horse. The breeze rolled out of the dell, bearing with it the unimaginable stink. Cricket pulled up her cape to shield her face. I held my breath as I wondered what it was.
“The monster?” Cricket guessed.
“No, it didn’t stink,” said Marilius. “Only corpses smell like that!”
I’d trudged through enough battlefields to know he was right. “Malator,” I said out loud, “What else do you see?”
Malator was quiet, but I could feel his confusion. Find it, Lukien.
“But what is it?”
I cannot say.
“Cannot?” I spat. “Or won’t?”
I’m not a god, Lukien. I don’t know everything. Find it for yourself.
His answer wasn’t angry, just matter of fact, and I was too confused to argue. I drove my horse forward, catching up to Marilius and urging him onward. Together with Cricket we rode for the de
ll, staring at the long-faced hills. The trees tightened around us, funneling us forward, the stench growing more unbearable. A fly flittered past me, then another and more, until I spotted a swarm of them ahead, and the heap of flesh they feasted on.
“God’s death!” screeched Marilius. He moved to block Cricket’s way, but she’d already seen it. Her face flashed purple, then up came her breakfast, right over the side of her pony.
I left them behind, moving up slowly, forgetting the monster as I spied the hill of body parts. Bones and rags of skin sat rotting in a pile, withers-high to my horse. I stared, disgusted and confounded, watched by the dead eye of a half-chewed human skull. An outstretched arm beckoned me with rigored fingers. Blood-crusted fur and bits of people wriggled with maggots. I saw an antler in the pile sticking up like a flag, the scrap of a uniform caught in its tines. Decaying entrails dripped watery bile into the soil. I choked down a rush of vomit.
“Cricket, don’t come closer,” I shouted.
“Oh, don’t!” She turned away from the heap completely, wiping the puke from her mouth. She waved at me with her free hand. “Just get away from it!”
But I was too shocked to look away. Blood never bothered me but this did. I stared, watching the maggots bring the mass to life, the squirming of old bowels and shit. Behind me Marilius was saying something. Cricket kept puking, and Malator . . .
Lukien!
Why didn’t I hear him? It was only when the mound started moving that I realized Malator was shouting. My horse wheeled beneath me, ready to bolt. The mound of bones and bodies shivered, shedding flesh and scurrying the flies. Malator hollered in my brain, warning me back. I just stared like a dullard. Slowly, impossibly, the hill tumbled toward me, surrounding the hooves of my snorting horse as the creature emerged, rising up out of the limbs and cast-off bones.
No good gods had created the thing I saw. It was wholly unnatural, made from the very skeletons and skins it had burrowed beneath. It climbed into the sky, towering over me astride my horse, its bony head the stolen skull of an ox. A ladder of broken spines made its backbone, the ribs of its varied victims forming its chest. Four legs protruded from its vaguely human shape, the two in front capped at the knees by mismatched skulls, the other pair dangling behind it. It made its arms from borrowed bones, using goat horns for fingers. In fact the thing was armored in bones, human and otherwise, an absurd and ghastly mishmash of corpses hung with rags of flesh.