Read Online The Forever Knight: A Novel of the Bronze Knight (Books of the Bronze Knight) by John Marco - Free Book Online
Authors: John Marco
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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
“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
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