Read The Forever Knight: A Novel of the Bronze Knight (Books of the Bronze Knight) for Free Online Page A

I watched her for signs of trouble, careful to measure the look in her eyes. We were just two people, infinitely small with an ocean of sand around us and nowhere to turn if trouble arose.
    But Cricket was better than her word. She rode without complaint, quietly studying the dunes on the horizon, glancing up occasionally to marvel at the sun. She drank only sparingly and only when I said so, and she quickly adopted the habit of desert people of not speaking too often, a way of saving both strength and body moisture. I knew as I watched her that I’d made the right choice.
    Our journey, though, would be a long one, because I had mapped out a route that looped south beneath Ganjor, avoiding it entirely. Almost everyone who came through the desert did so through Ganjor, especially if they were from the continent. We could have rested there for days, refreshed our animals and gotten new supplies, but only if I wasn’t recognized. King Baralosus might have given me Zephyr as a peace offering, but I doubted he’d be happy to see me.
    So we rode south for one day then another and spent our nights beneath the stars. I took watch at night, afraid a rass might find us, and in the morning slept for just an hour. “Tomorrow night we’ll sleep somewhere special,” I promised Cricket.
    “Where?” she insisted. She had taken off the cape of rass skin, deciding wisely to wear it only at night. Now we both wore clothing from the continent—good, plain shirts and trousers instead of gakas. We did, however, cover our heads with hoods. Cricket’s hood swallowed most of her face, but her eyes danced excitedly as she looked at me.
    “A spring,” I told her. “A Seeker from Norvor told me about it. Said he came across this way himself. He told me right where to find it.”
    “You sure he wasn’t lying, Lukien? No one from Norvor goes around Ganjor . . . unless they’re criminals or something.”
    “Norvor’s full of criminals,” I said, not really caring. Mostly the shanties around Jador were filled with decent folks, but some shady types had come across the desert, too. “No reason for him to lie. I know the desert well enough. What he described sounded right to me.”
    “We’ll make it there by tomorrow night? You’re sure?”
    “Tomorrow night we’ll be sleeping under palm trees, slurping up fruit. That sound all right to you?”
    Cricket’s face turned dreamy. “Sure does. You know what I’m gonna do? I’m going to soak my feet in that spring.”
    “We’ll take our time there, dawdle a bit the next morning. Can’t say we’re in a real hurry.”
    As soon as I said it, I was sorry. Cricket grimaced and faced forward again. She
was
in a hurry. I didn’t apologize because there was no sense to it. We just kept on riding.
    *   *   *
    We did find the oasis the next day, right where the Norvan said it would be. By the time we reached it, dusk was settling over the desert. The wearying journey showed on Cricket’s face now, but when she saw the spring—surrounded by trees and grasses and tucked against a shading ridge—she beamed.
    “Please, please, tell me that’s not a mirage, Lukien,” she said, and charged toward it on her pony. I let her go, laughing, understanding her almost delirious happiness. The Desert of Tears was blessed with very few spots like this one, a greenish island in an ocean of sand. Fruit hung heavily off the ancient trees, trees so worn and weather-beaten their roots erupted from the soil. I heard insects chirping in the grasses, felt a coolness strike my face. My parched mouth longed for water.
    “Can I drink?” called Cricket. She quickly dismounted and eyed the spring, bubbling up into a river that stretched out into the desert, where it died.
    “If it smells right, drink it,” I answered, watching her as I led Zephyr and the mules into the shade of the ridge. Cricket knelt down near the spring and cupped her hands full of water. She took one sniff and smiled.
    “I don’t