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

by John Marco

  “Steady!” cried Marilius.

  “Hold!” hollered Kiryk.

  Sariyah thundered up behind me. “I am with you, Lukien! Let us ride!”

  “Wait,” I said, then heard the drop of chains across the field. Another volley filled the sky. A few mercs with bows answered it. Diriel could have picked at us all day, but the sound of chains told me he wouldn’t. He set his dogs on us instead.

  And then they came, heralded by the arrows, slobbering and grunting, their bodies welted and emaciated. Their heads looked enormous, nothing but jaws, their legs pumping as they scrambled toward us. I heard the horses whinny and the men gasp and the arrows land amongst us. I watched a dog sight me with his wild eyes and run to make a meal of me. Up went my sword, and my horse bolted toward it, ready when it leapt for me. I caught it easily in my left hand, my fingers closing instantly around its throat and crushing its windpipe.

  I think I tossed it over my shoulder. I can’t even remember, it was so effortless. My body burned with Malator’s power, an overwhelming, magical inferno. And if the arrows cut me I didn’t know it. I felt nothing, least of all pain, just the enchanted strength of my patron Akari.

  “Malator!” I cried. “Give me my vengeance! Today is my day!”

  He didn’t respond. He didn’t need words. He was me now. All around me snapped the dogs, pulling at my legs and climbing up my horse, who kicked and shattered their bones and carried me across the battlefield. Chuluun’s men broke formation, slicing at the dogs, while the Silver Dragons held their position, and Marilius’s mercs held back the worst, defending the poorly armed civilians behind them. Sariyah swung his axe, gutting one of the big, feral monsters and spraying me with its blood. I hacked and pulled them from me, slaughtering them, crushing them and wishing they were men. An arrow struck my head, bouncing off my helmet. Another felled a dog. But when I looked up again the sky had cleared, and my army gave a cheer.

  Next were the conscripts. And this I didn’t want.

  Shouting for my men to hold, I rode out with Sariyah to the front of our lines, through the dogfight and the Bogati. Up ahead, Diriel’s generals were urging their first wave of men onto the battlefield. Sariyah blanched as he looked at them, wondering where among them was his son. Kiryk rode out from the Dragons to join us. Lenhart and Jaracz followed.

  “We’ll find him if we can,” I told Sariyah. “I remember what he looks like. We’ll get him out of here.”

  Sariyah raised his axe. “Or I will die here with him.”

  They were a terrible lot, those conscripts, those scores of enslaved. Hundreds of them in rags and broken armor, stolen from their own armies and homes and beaten into submission to fight for Diriel. They looked mindless now, stripped of their humanity, and I knew when I saw them my words hadn’t reached them. So I rode out to try again.

  “Hear me!” I cried. “Join us! Asadel, hear me! Be free again!”

  Far away on his chariot, Diriel gave his order. His generals echoed it, the whips behind the conscripts cracked, and that sorry horde of slaves came at us, running headlong into death.

  “I don’t want this,” I told Sariyah. “They’re not Akyrens.”

  Sariyah bumped his horse against mine. “Don’t lose this battle because of my son! They’re enemies now.”

  “They didn’t kill Cricket,” I said. “Gods, I’m not a murderer!”

  They were running straight for us, but Sariyah turned his back on them to shout at me. “They joined Diriel! They could have died with honor like my sons!”

  “But Asadel—”

  “Is dead, then! Now fight, Lukien! Fight!”

  There was barely time to give the order. Already the Zurans were galloping forwarding, slicing past the dogs to meet their human foes. The conscripts came in a wave, screams tearing from their throats, the swords and hammers and spears held high. Kiryk held back his Silver Dragons as planned, but Marilius looked at me for my sign. Dread-filled, I gave it.

  “Attack,” I cried half-heartedly. Then, under Sariyah’s stare, I shouted, “Attack!”

  Marilius dropped his sword, and a hundred freelance horsemen charged. In moments they were around me, then past me toward the conscripts. I forced myself to join them, riding hard to catch up to Marilius. When the conscripts were just a few yards out, I raised my sword to defend myself.

  On another day, the clash might have been even. In another world more just than mine, the conscripts would have been fed and willing and capable, but today they were neither, and I’ve seen infantry fall like they do. So easily, so quickly my horsemen trampled them. Like dead grass their bodies crumbled, their weapons barely glancing the mercenaries. I hurried into the fray, swooped over one of the men to grab up his collar, and lifted him off his feet like a child.

  “Get to the rear!” I shouted at him. “Take safety with us!”

  His eyes barely saw me. He tore at me, dropping his sword and using his fingernails instead. I shook him, then smashed the pommel of my sword against his cheek.

  “Do you hear me?” I asked. “Go! Leave the field!”

  I dropped him and he tumbled, and when I turned I saw Sariyah near me—but he wasn’t swinging his axe. He too searched the faces on the field, looking for Asadel. The horsemen stopped their charge, whirling to hack down the conscripts around them. A handful of unlucky ones were pulled from their mounts. Others saw my lead and stayed their hands, using their horses like plows to push the conscripts out of the way.

  “To our lines!” I cried. That glimmer of an idea had given me hope. “Push them toward us!”

  Some listened, others didn’t. I rode out to where Marilius was, pushing past the soldiers attacking me but refusing to cut my path. When I reached Marilius he had somehow been surrounded. He hacked down one of the conscripts, then another, then instinctively pushed back the others with his horse. One of the soldier-slaves dropped his sword, staring up at Marilius.

  That’s when I knew we’d broken through.

  “To the rear!” I yelled. “Gather your comrades and retreat to our lines. Let Diriel see you are free!”

  The man did as asked, grabbing at everyone around him and shouting at them to lay down their weapons. Marilius broke away from his attackers and galloped out to circle his troops.

  “Push them back!” he shouted. “Back to our lines!”

  With a moment to breathe I glanced toward the Akyren lines. Dogs and conscripts still wrestled around me, but I knew Diriel’s first wave had failed. It was easy, and I took no joy in it. He still had hundreds of slaves left to throw at us, and not all of them would come to our side.

  “Malator, remember Diriel,” I huffed.

  I am watching him, the Akari replied.

  Diriel wouldn’t leave the battle soon. Not until I turned the tide. But he would leave eventually, I was sure of it. His greed was too predictable.

  A dog came at me from the chaos, jumping for my throat. But I was like a stone wall, and the impact of the beast barely moved me. My arm locked around it, my elbow flexed, and I broke its skull so easily it frightened me. It dropped to the field with blood gushing from its ears.

  I was invincible. I was now everything Malator had promised. I refused to fight the conscripts, letting them hack at me instead, their blows so weak they felt like nothing.

  “What have you done to me Malator?” I whispered.

  I wheeled my horse around to face Diriel’s forces. There were still more dogs to kill, more slaves to endure. I braced myself, wishing Diriel would send me his vaunted legion.

  * * *

  We took as many conscripts into our lines as would join us, and the men from Isowon took them to the rear of our army to care for them. They were all brainsick from their time with Diriel, shocked by the things they had seen and mistrusting of anyone with a weapon, but they did not rise against us once they surrendered. I galloped back and forth between the battle and our “prisoners,” hoping to convince them to take up arms and help us. The men of Isowon did the same,
and in fact a handful of them did join us, though the rest were too afraid. Some even escaped into the valley, where I was sure they wouldn’t last the night.

  The other conscripts sent against us fought like madmen. They were not quite the rabble of the first wave, and I had no doubt that the “Emperor” had threatened them with the worst possible torture should they lay down their arms. None of them seemed to care about the battle, but none of them thought Diriel would lose, either, and so they threw themselves against our swords and axes, mindlessly sacrificing themselves. Sariyah searched for Asadel, of course, but his son never appeared. He might have been among the dead for all I knew, for the dead were piling high now on the field, and the sand was thick with blood.

  Of all our forces, only the men from Isowon and the Drinmen held back. We would need the Silver Dragons against the legionnaires, and I saw no need yet to call upon civilians. I would spare them what I could, I decided, and took upon myself the role of slaughterer, slashing down the conscripts who wouldn’t join us and tossing them aside, piling them like cord wood as they came at me upon my horse. The butchery was easy for me, vile even, and not once did a sword or spear harm me. Malator’s magic had turned me to metal, it seemed, making me impervious. But the real test was yet to come, and as I glanced out to where Diriel stood upon his chariot I realized his legions were at last preparing to ride.

  “Marilius, Sariyah, Chuluun—to me!” I cried and galloped through the combat to gather them around me. One by one they fought their way toward me, knocking aside the slaves and hacking at those that wouldn’t yield.

  “Look,” I said, pointing toward the Akyrens. “The legionnaires.”

  Chuluun let out a giant gasp. His brother Nalinbaatar thundered up behind him. “Good!” he cried. “We Zurans await them.”

  “Marilius, tell Kiryk it’s time,” I told him. He was covered from head to toe with blood and sweat, but had managed to keep himself alive so far. “And bring up the men from Isowon now. Remember, all of you, keep a look out for Asadel.”

  “What about the legion?” asked Marilius, wiping his brow with his palm.

  “No mercy,” I said. It was the moment I’d been craving. “Kill them all.”

  35

  The legion of Akyre didn’t bolt out into the battlefield but moved like a deliberate hand, slowly spreading out its gray fingers. First came the infantry, hundreds strong, marching out onto the battlefield and trampling the dead beneath their boots. Behind them rode the cavalry, trotting in a freakish parade, their lances and pikes poised for a charge that never came. Like a machine they came, their feet and hooves beating out a dreadful music. In the distance of the Sklar Valley, Diriel still stood upon his chariot, anticipating his victory. He was firing his best bolt at us now, the biggest weapon in his quiver, and I saw my men wilt a little at the sight of it.

  How long had we fought? I’d lost all sense of time. The mercenaries were bloodied and exhausted, and the Zurans had already taken surprising losses, their numbers too small to overcome Diriel’s throngs of slaves. They had started with ninety horsemen, and from what I could tell they’d lost a third of them so far. Even as the legion approached, one more of Chuluun’s men passed me on the field, being dragged by a boot caught in his stirrup. I thought almost nothing of the sight until I realized the dead man was Nalinbaatar.

  But Chuluun spared no time to mourn his brother. He was steely eyed upon his steed, the very picture of Bogati pride. With his bloody scimitar he pointed at the legion, rallying his men and being the first to charge. As though shamed by Chuluun’s bravado, Kiryk cried out to his Drinmen.

  “For Drin!”

  A soldier blew a trumpet, and suddenly Kiryk and his Dragons were racing into the legion’s lances. Lenhart and Sulimer followed, their swords cocked back to strike. Jaracz stayed just behind them, leading their footmen who sang out as they charged, beating their chests like wild men and cutting through the swamp of conscripts. The defenders from Isowon poured out after them, and suddenly both sides had emptied their armies onto the field. I glanced at the berm where Cern waited with Venger. I watched as the prisoners we’d taken struggled with their choices. I heard a voice in my head urging me to kill everything that moved. I even said a prayer to Cricket. Then I snapped down my bronze visor and stormed into the fray.

  I found my first legionnaire, the closest one to me, surrounded by his dead-eyed brothers and armed with a spear. He raised his weapon, threw it, struck me . . . and I kept on riding, right into him, pushing the Sword of Angels straight through his head. His skull exploded at the impact, and when I turned three more heads were bobbing around me. I struck them all—one, two, three—and could not believe the ease with which they shattered. A glamour was upon me, not from heaven but from hell. I plowed my willing war horse through them, cutting of their heads like fruits.

  “Blood for Malator!” I bellowed. “And bloody vengeance for his host!”

  I could have flayed them, I realized. I didn’t even need my sword. My strength was everything Malator had promised me, and I released myself to it, to all the rage that had built within me, and I made that sword sing! I forgot the world around me, forgot my men and duties. I even forgot good Sariyah fighting right beside me. To me the world was a smear of crimson. I feasted on the legion, hacking them down, spilling their entrails and squashing their brains so that the dark magic animating them was snuffed. My horse slowed beneath me, and I realized his hooves were buried in body parts and smothered with gore.

  “Around!” I shouted, spurring the beast free. The tide of legionnaires kept coming, relentless, but their endless numbers only fed my fury. Their weapons smashed and dented me, their lifeless fingers clawed my armor, and I cut them all away from me, sending their heads spiraling from their shoulders.

  “Wrestler!” I cried. “I’m coming for you!”

  There was no way he could hear me. I could barely hear myself over the clash. Soldiers speak of ground-shaking battles, and the ground shook today. The air shook too, not just with screams but with death rattles. I had lost everyone in the chaos; I was completely surrounded in a noose of soulless fighters. If Sariyah was still with me, he was somewhere in the mêlée dueling for his life. Someone called out that the horsemen were upon us.

  Finally, I felt something. Not quite pain, but something nonetheless. A single pale-faced legionnaire had homed on me, knocking against my horse with his own armored beast and smashing his pike into my ribs. I should have fallen, but I didn’t. My armor split and blood sprayed from my side, but the blow that should have been mortal merely panged me. I grabbed the pike, yanked it from its wielder, and spun the blunt end through his eye, sawing it back and forth to wrench the brains from the hole I’d made. Yet the man-thing didn’t die. It grabbed up its sword, swiping at me even as I held it at bay with its own impaled weapon.

  “Die, jackal!” I screamed. “Die and be in hell!”

  I released the pike, swung my own sword, and sliced down from head to heart, watching in detachment as his body opened and fell from his horse. I was like Crezil in Anton’s hall, I thought. Merciless. Insatiable for blood. And nothing in the human arsenal could stop me.

  * * *

  I fought like this through the afternoon, the tide of bodies swelling around me, carrying my horse and me across the battlefield as I slayed them one by one. Sometimes I caught glimpses of Marilius, sometimes of Chuluun, and I knew that on the north side of the field Kiryk’s Drinmen held their line. I should have been exhausted. I should have been dead! But the fire Malator had lit in me knew no end, and though my armor was battered and cracked the Sword of Angels kept its magical edge, undulled and unsated by the scores it slaughtered.

  Finally I broke away from the mass of Akyrens, driving my horse to a tiny patch of blood-soaked sand in the center of the battle. I spied the berm where, amazingly, Cern still waited with Venger. They were alone on the dune, protected now only the by the conscripts we had rescued from the field. These men had at least gotten to
their feet, raising their weapons once again as if to hold the horde from Isowon. I looked for Marilius, so he could lead the conscripts into the fight. Sariyah was far from me now, his axe rising and falling on the heads of his attackers. The spell of bloodlust released me for a moment, clearing my mind enough to really see the battlefield. So astonished was I by the sight, that I nearly dropped my sword.

  The mass of men who had faced each other just hours earlier had dwindled, both sides diminished to a third of their numbers. Corpses covered every grain of sand. A thunderhead of buzzards blocked the sky above, the smell of death drawing them for miles. The ground sucked at the hooves of my mount, saturated with blood, and hundreds of bruised and severed heads littered the earth, laying in their own gore or kicked along like playthings by battling horses. Limbs were everywhere. Prayers rose to heaven. I looked back and saw the path I’d cut and could not believe the carnage I’d made.

  I couldn’t say how many legionnaires were left. Hundreds, certainly. But the conscripts who’d stayed to fight for Diriel were mostly dead, lifeless on the field or crawling over the bodies of men and dogs and horses. My own men were among them, heaped atop them with their own screams and missing limbs. The Bogati had all but disappeared, and I could not find Chuluun in the chaos. The mercenaries had fared only slightly better, and only because their numbers had been so many more. Now they fought in little pockets, exhaustedly swinging at the throats of the legionnaires, desperate to remove their heads. I swung my horse north toward the Drinmen, spotted Kiryk in the tumult and realized he was all alone. Neither Sulimer nor Lenhart nor Jaracz were beside him, just a handful of Silver Dragons.