The Forever Knight

7

Sariyah described Arad a day before we arrived. When I finally saw the city for myself, I realized he had lied by calling it a ‘cesspit.’ Like most desert people, Sariyah was too polite.

There are places in the world where laws are meaningless and human life holds no regard. I had seen those kinds of places in Norvor, a fractured country where I’d spent far too much of my life, and as I rode into Arad I smelled that same stink of debauchery. Arad, a city just beyond the borders of both the continent and the desert, was how the Bitter Kingdoms greeted new comers, where all the effluence of those places sloshed together in a pool of human vices. We were no more than a minute past the city outskirts when I saw the crowded slave market.

“Cricket,” I said, trying to get her attention, but it was too late. She gaped at the men and women on the rickety stage, surrounded by onlookers. A naked woman stood before the crowd, sucking the finger of a prospective buyer as he roughly checked her teeth. Men from the continent and men from the desert leered at the woman, their pockets bulging with money.

Sariyah brought his drowa up quickly, blocking the market from Cricket’s view. She looked stunned and frightened.

“Never mind it,” I told her.

“But that woman-”

“Never mind it.”

Sariyah’s son Asadel rode up as if to protect her, and suddenly Cricket was surrounded. She craned her neck to see between us. The gambling halls spilled drunks into the streets. Stray dogs ran through the crowded market. There were children, too, some of them playing barefoot among the stalls, others skulking like orphans in the alleys. Men in unremarkable uniforms laughed as they wandered aimlessly through the streets. I knew at once they were mercenaries. The city had no tall buildings or great cathedrals, nothing that would draw a traveler other than its prostitutes.

“Any vice can be brought in Arad,” Sariyah had told me, confiding it to me as we fell asleep in the desert the night before. He was afraid for Cricket, that was plain, and now I knew why. I kept one hand low toward my sword as we rode, aware of Malator’s presence in my mind. There were no quips from him this time. Instead, I could feel his vigilance.

Sariyah spoke in a low voice to his sons, his Ganjeese words too soft for me to understand. Cricket kept her pony close as we rode past the markets of the city’s main road, watching with disgust as an old man pissed against a house. Chickens screamed in a nearby stall while a crusty-looking butcher cut their heads off with a cleaver. I glanced ahead of us, hoping to find a spot to stop. I wanted a bed with a real pillow. I wanted food that didn’t come out of a saddlebag. Mostly, though, I wanted to get Cricket somewhere safe. I looked at her. She seemed mesmerized.

“This look familiar to you?” I asked. “Any of it?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her dark eyes studied everything. Her face had a hardness a girl her age should never have.

“No,” she said finally.

“No? You sure?”

She looked at me sharply. “I’m sure, Lukien. I’m sorry, no.”

Sariyah talked to his sons while Cricket and I rode ahead. A crowd was gathered on the side of the street, where a barker called them to attention. A boy moved quickly through the throng collecting bets. A patchy spot of grass had been cleared away on the roadside.

That’s when I first saw him. His shaved, shining head.

Sometimes you see a thing and just have to stare. I once saw a cat choking on a lizard, with just the tail and hind legs sticking out of its mouth. This man was like that-an obscenity. Stripped to the waist, big hands resting on his hips, chest puffed out like a robin’s. Taller than me, taller than Sariyah, he taunted the crowd, his nostrils flaring as the barker sought a challenger. Ropey sinew bulged on the back of his neck. His hairless body flexed one muscle at a time, like some sideshow freak. I couldn’t imagine what had given him such a physique, both mountainous and willowy, and when he looked at me his eyes got wide and curious. His smile seemed to call me down from my horse.

“A wrestler,” said Sariyah, coming up beside me on his drowa. “They are all criminals here. Bodyguards mostly. Come, Lukien. .”

But my gaze wouldn’t leave the man.

“Hey.” Sariyah reached out and tapped my face. “He goads you. Enough now.”

I don’t know why I wanted to fight the wrestler, but I did. You only had to look at him once to hate him. When another man stepped out of the crowd-someone dumb enough to take the barker’s bet-Sariyah looked relieved. He turned his drowa toward the road, his sons quickly following. Cricket waited for me, her eyes glazed.

“We’ll find a place,” I told her. “Someplace safe and away from all this noise.”

“We need water, at least. And a place for the horses.”

“And beds for us and good food,” I added with a smile. “We made it across the desert. We should be happy for that.”

My words put a little bounce into her as we followed after Sariyah. We rode out into the middle of the street, away from the crowds and shouting. Sariyah came to a stop and looked around, a long bead of spit dribbling from the mouth of his drowa.

“It needs rest,” I said. Drowas are hearty beasts but not indestructible.

“She’ll rest when we are ready,” said Sariyah. His sons remained quiet. Sariyah sighed. “Akyre is north and east. South and east is Mosvar, and the road to Zura. Beyond Arad is scrub land, then forest in all directions.”

“The Bitter Kingdoms,” I said, unimpressed with what I’d seen so far. “Let’s stop now. Then we’ll talk.”

“We do not stop, not here. Not us,” said Sariyah. “We go south and east.”

“What, now? Sariyah, we need to rest, get fresh supplies. .”

“Lukien, we are people of Vala. We cannot stop here, not even for a sip of water.”

“Sariyah, look at your animals,” said Cricket. “They won’t make it.”

“We’ll camp beyond the city tonight. The drowa can rest there, and rest is all they need for now.” Sariyah looked at me. “Azizi, I will ask you this, though I know you will refuse me-come with us to Zura. Come with us and forget whatever it is you came here for.”

“He came here for me,” said Cricket.

“No, I didn’t,” I said quickly. “I came because I wanted to, Sariyah. I didn’t come for spices or riches or anything like that.” I put my hand out for him. “I’m sorry.”

Sariyah took my hand with a powerful squeeze. “Good-bye Bronze Knight.”

I knew how badly I would miss him. “North and east, right?”

He nodded sadly. “North and east.” Then he looked straight at Cricket. “And you, girl-mind yourself here, always. The men of these nations have no honor.”

“I’m not afraid, Sariyah,” Cricket told him. “But I’ll be careful.”

Then, after days and days in the desert, Sariyah and his sons rode away from the food and shelter of Arad.

“Now that’s dignity,” I whispered.

I wondered if I would see him again. Cricket looked sad, staring after them. The world seemed to shrink, growing silent as Sariyah disappeared.

“Now what?” asked Cricket.

“A bath,” I declared. “And food and a proper place to rest. How’s that sound?”

She smiled. “Let me pick the house. Men don’t know how to pick clean places to stay.”

She started off on her pony toward a square of buildings up ahead, some of them tidy, others dilapidated, each with a colorful, steepled roof. This, I supposed, was the best part of town. A building with a scarlet facade and a sign reading ‘Central House’ caught Cricket’s eye. She studied it, nodding approvingly.

“That one.”

I looked it over. The house was near some useful shops and the well in the center of the square, and there were enough women and children around to set me at ease. Certainly it was good enough for a night or two. I got off my horse for the first time in hours and handed the reins to Cricket.

“Take them to the trough by the well and let them drink. We’ll hire a boy to brush them once we’re settled.”

Cricket dismounted and almost stumbled on her wobbly legs. Eagerly she led the horses into the square. I pretended not to watch her as I headed for the house, but when I reached the door I turned to steal a glance. No trouble. And no one around to bother her. I headed in to the house where the proprietor took his time renting us a room.

But young girls in places like Arad are never safe for long, and why I didn’t listen to that little voice in my head. .

I stepped outside and looked for Cricket. She wasn’t near the well. It took only a moment for dread to hit me. I opened my mouth to shout her name, then heard her shouting from around the corner. I ran toward her cry, and when I rounded the alleyway I saw her panicked eyes, looking out from behind a giant body pinning her to the wall. Her hand shot out to reach me.

“Lukien!”

The big, bald wrestler had his fist around her collar. She was like a little bird in his grasp, terrified and fluttering to get away. Still half naked, I knew what he wanted even before his lust-filled eyes turned toward me. Like an angry bull, all I saw was red.

“You ugly gargoyle,” I hissed. “You shit-eating goat fucker. I’m gonna kill you.”

I wanted him to toss Cricket aside, to come at me and let her flee. But he held her as he came, dragging her by the collar to face me.

“One-eye, you own this girl?” he croaked. I could smell his drunken breath.

“I don’t own her. Nobody owns her.” My hand went to my sword. “Let her go.”

He stood up even taller. “I want to buy her. I have gold.”

A crowd gathered behind me, but no one moved to help. Somehow I had to get Cricket free of him.

“Let her go, and you’ll die in one piece,” I warned. “Otherwise you’ll just be a lot of little bits.”

His eyes were the color of stone. “Are you afraid of me, One-eye? You look afraid. Where’s your fat friend?” He look around for Sariyah. “That black-skinned hyena’s not around to save you?”

“You’ll have to let her go to fight me.”

“Not fair, little man. Your sword.”

All my life, my anger has made me stupid. Right then, all I thought about was my hands on his throat and how good it would feel to strangle him. As I undid my sword belt, Malator screamed at me.

No!

But I didn’t want his help. The wrestler gave a smarmy smile as he hurled Cricket toward me. She stumbled then bolted up again like a cat, spitting at the man. I pushed her aside.

“Take my sword.”

“No, Lukien, just kill him with it! Just-”

“Take it!”

I shoved the sword into her arms. Malator shouted in my head as I stepped forward. The crowd behind us swelled. I faced the wrestler, feeling my muscles coil. In a lawless place like this, no one would care if I killed him.

Faster. .

Big men move like syrup. I struck like lightning. My boot smashed his groin, my fist his shattered nose. His face came down, gushing blood. His arms encircled me. Beneath the fat of his neck, I targeted the vertebrae. My elbow a hammer, I struck. The wrestler faltered. . and held on.

Faster!

He lifted me, a doll on his shoulder, spinning me toward the ground. I reached back and found his face, clawing his eyes, holding him and sliding head-first down his back. I didn’t let go, dragging him, tugging his huge bulk back with me, sure he would tumble. My face smacked the street.

And still he had me.

On the ground he was an octopus, pulling me, his arms and legs like tentacles. I scrambled, rolling to avoid his hold, driving my fists wherever I could find him. But I was in a puzzle box, and the more I moved the more he tightened. Staring at the sky, I summoned my strength as his calves closed around my neck. Cricket was screaming. Malator tried to reach me. My throat closed up, and my sight went black, and I knew the wrestler’s next move would kill me.

He twisted, and my neck snapped. I heard it without feeling it.

And I was gone.