Kingdom's Call (11 page)

Gavin knew that these men were not mere thieves or marauders. There was something distinctly unnatural and evil about them.

“What have we stumbled upon here?” the man asked with a wry grin. His voice was raspy and deep. There was not a hint of relief in this picture of evil that stood before Gavin.

“Perhaps a frightened forest squirrel, eh, Sir Devinoux?” replied one of the men with a guttural laugh.

Gavin wanted desperately to draw his sword for some security, but he was sure the action would bring death, so he stayed his hand. He needed to discover their intention before he succumbed to his instinct to fight these brutes.

“No, Sir Vicis, this is not a forest squirrel.” The leader's face showed a moment of enlightenment. “This one I know. He does the bidding of our commander. This is Sir Gavin of Chessington—our ally!”

The roar of laughter from the circle of brutes echoed through the forest and brought its inhabitants to silence. Gavin was disgusted and insulted.

“Who is your commander?” Gavin asked.

The five men slowly dismounted. Gavin was a full head shorter than any of the warriors.

“Don't you know?” the leader replied. “Your work is highly praised by him, Gavin.” He spoke Gavin's name with such disdain that Gavin shuddered.

Gavin's hand moved toward his sword.

“Lord Lucius is pleased with your work, Noble Knight!”

Gavin could refrain no longer, even if it meant his death. The insult to his honor was more than he could bear. He quickly unsheathed his sword and held it before the brute. None of the men responded or even seemed the slightest bit alarmed.

“Withdraw your insults and stand aside!” Gavin commanded.

The leader glared at Gavin for a moment with eyes of dark steel. “You are an ignorant fool, Arrethtraen knave! Draw your sword on Devinoux, and you will die!”

The blurred motion of the warrior's sword stunned Gavin. His sword was nearly blown from his hand on the first clash, and it was all Gavin could do to maintain his grip. There was no offensive counter, just defense and retreat. The warrior's attacks were powerful and relentless. One dominant blow slammed into Gavin's sword and moved its protection clean away from his chest. The warrior seized the opportunity to recoil and thrust his blade clear through Gavin's right shoulder until the shorter edges of the sword began to penetrate his chest as well. Gavin screamed in agony and instantly lost the grip on his sword. His body convulsed from the steely invasion and his legs began to buckle, but the warrior held his sword up—still lodged in Gavin's shoulder—to prevent Gavin from falling.

Devinoux grabbed Gavin and pulled him farther onto the blade and close to his face. “Lord Lucius will be disappointed to lose such an effective puppet, but he will find another. The kingdom is full of fools such as you!”

Gavin barely noticed the stench of the warrior's breath, for he was edging close to unconsciousness in this excruciatingly painful position.

The warrior abruptly withdrew his sword, and Gavin collapsed to the forest floor beside his useless weapon. The five warriors encircled Gavin with drawn swords to kill their victim in a semiritualistic sacrifice. Their faces held the sadistic and dark smiles of evil souls.

Gavin was afraid, confused, and powerless. The purpose of his life and the quest of his journey seemed all wrong here at his final moments.
My King … I have given my life for Your honor. Why am I so empty in the end?

The evil warriors held their swords high above Gavin, and he readied himself for his final breath.

The neigh of a horse echoed through the forest trees. Although Gavin could not see the steed or his rider, he could see the stark fear that lit upon the faces of his executioners.
Has an army come to save me?
He was sure that only an army could frighten these brutes.

The dark warriors abandoned their execution of Gavin and took defensive positions to face the apparent threat. One man rode into the clearing atop a gallant white steed. The horse reared, and the streaks of sunlight that penetrated through the forest trees gleamed off the shining silver armor of this nobleman.

“Not Him!” Gavin heard one of the warriors say.

“He is alone,” the leader replied sharply, but this did not seem to assuage the warriors' obvious fear.

The rider dismounted and walked toward the gruesome line of dark warriors. The guard on His helmet was raised, and Gavin wondered if perhaps this was their leader, for He had not drawn His sword and did not appear fearful at all. He soon realized this was a false assumption, however, when the warriors raised their swords and began to spread apart to form a semicircle about the man.

“Leave at once!” the powerful voice commanded.

The leader of the dark warriors sneered. “You are severely outnumbered, fool. If I were to kill You, my power would become great.”

There was a moment of silence as the five brutes finalized their positions around the gallant knight. They all attacked Him at once. In the blink of an eye, the man drew His sword, defended a cut from the nearest threat, and thrust His sword through the chest of one of the warriors. In a blur of motion, His sword flew to meet the onslaught of powerful blades.

Gavin was in awe. After the first warrior fell, he could see that the others were hesitant to fully commit to the fight, as though they knew that the next closest would fall as quickly as the first. After another quick parry and thrust, Gavin heard a scream as the man's majestic sword penetrated
another warrior's upper arm, causing him to drop his grisly weapon and back away from the fight.

The fight paused, and the leader looked at his wounded comrades. The other two warriors took a step back.

“Fight Him, you cowards!” he yelled.

They lowered their swords. “You fight Him,” one of them replied.

The leader cursed and stepped back. “Get them on their horses!” he said and pointed to the two wounded warriors lying on the ground.

“We are not finished with You!” the leader said.

The man raised His chin slightly. “Of that you can be sure!”

After a few moments, the dark warriors disappeared into the forest, and the clearing became peaceful once again. Gavin's pain seemed to increase as the tension of the situation abated.

The man came to Gavin and stood over him. “Gavin, why do you fight against Me?”

“Who are You that I have offended, my Lord?” Gavin looked on the noble form of his deliverer and felt ashamed and insignificant, for this man was clearly of royal blood that transcended any man born in Arrethtrae.

“I am He whom you persecute daily. I am He whom you wounded and killed,” the knight said as He removed His helmet. “I am the Prince, the Son of the King of Arrethtrae!”

Gavin stared at the man in shock.
How can this be?
he wondered. Had he too already passed the doors of death? The pain in his body reminded him that he was indeed alive, and
yet he knew within his heart that this man before him truly was the Prince they had killed. The last time Gavin had seen Him, His face was beaten and bruised, but now there was only a countenance that radiated true nobility and royalty. The pain in Gavin's arm was momentarily forgotten as he searched for words and found none.

The Prince knelt beside him, and Gavin tried to retreat into the dirt beneath him. He trembled, not for fear of what the Prince would do, but for the recognition of his own misdirected life.

“Look into My eyes, Gavin,” the Prince said. “I have been calling you. The peace you seek you will find if you follow Me.”

Gavin looked into the Prince's eyes for the first time and fully understood what Demus had said about Him. He felt as though his soul had been split open for the entire kingdom to see. He was ashamed, humbled, and excited all at once.

“My Prince!” Gavin whispered.

The Prince placed a hand on Gavin's shoulder. “Go to the house of Sir Chadwick. He will tend to your wound.”

“What am I to do?”

“Be still, Gavin … be still.”

Gavin could hear the distant sound of horses approaching. The Prince mounted His majestic white steed and gazed once more at Gavin before riding into the forest and disappearing.

“Sir Gavin!” Hanan shouted as he halted his men short of where Gavin lay.

The pain intensified once again, and Gavin winced as he
tried to rise to a sitting position. The grass and leaves beneath him were stained bright crimson from his blood.

“Who did this to you?” Hanan scanned the surrounding trees. He quickly assigned four men to search the area.

“I don't know.”

Hanan removed Gavin's tunic and quickly began to bandage his wound. The bleeding was profuse, and Hanan looked worried.

“Take me to the house of Chadwick in Denrith,” Gavin struggled to say.

“But sir, that is the place of the Followers we seek to destroy. We must get you back to Chessington.”

Gavin grabbed Hanan's tunic. “No! Denrith is closer. Take me to Chadwick. That is an order!”

Hanan hesitated. “Can you ride? We found Triumph.”

“Yes,” Gavin replied weakly, but the loss of blood was great and unconsciousness was near.

After an attempt to mount him on his horse, Gavin was instead placed on a cot behind Triumph. Gavin fought to stay awake to ensure that their journey continued toward Denrith and not Chessington. He had never been more miserable in his life as he endured the excruciating pain in his shoulder—and in his soul. Anguished hallucinations haunted him.

What have I done?
he asked himself.
What have I done?

 BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

When Gavin awoke, three men across the room were talking in hushed tones. He remained still.

“His presence here threatens us all, Chadwick,” said one of the men. He was a strong, stocky fellow with a full beard.

“I had no choice. The other Noble Knights did not want to leave him here, but he insisted. I fear I would be in chains and on my way to a prison cell were it not for his insistence that I treat him.”