Sir Quinlan and the Swords of Valor (10 page)

After Arimil, Quinlan continued his training each night with Sir Baylor. He was slowly improving, but it was not enough—at least not enough for Purcell and Drake to think him a worthy member of the unit.

Quinlan had to agree with them. He still felt like a child among men.

The next mission for the Swords of Valor began four weeks later. They arrived near the northern haven of Garriston early in the morning. According to Kessler, they had been there numerous times before and had thus far been able to spoil all attempts by the Shadow Warriors to destroy or seriously disrupt the haven. Missions to Garriston had almost become routine, though Baylor cautioned the knights to be vigilant just the same. His ability to identify the warriors early should still provide significant advantage, but their experience at Arimil had indicated the Shadow Warriors were adopting new tactics.

The Swords of Valor gathered in a circle while Baylor briefed them on what was to happen and what to do if events went awry. Then he drew his sword and held it before him. The other knights did the same.

“Remember who you serve, Knights of the Prince.”

The five swords came together in the center of their circle.

“Swords of Valor for Him!” the men voiced in unity. Then they sheathed their swords, mounted up, and headed for their lookouts.

Soon the men were positioned in a semicircle around the haven, all within view of the commander. Quinlan was stationed nearest Baylor. As instructed, he tethered Kobalt to a tree a short distance away so as not to give his lookout position away.

Quinlan heard music in the distance. In an effort to reach more people in the surrounding region, the haven was hosting a festival. Quinlan wished he could partake of the festivities, but Baylor had insisted that their presence remain a secret. Only in the Kingdom Across the Sea would many of the men and women of the haven know what was accomplished for them by the valor knights.

Baylor had predicted that four Shadow Warriors would attack from the southeast, which meant that Kessler and Drake would face them first. They would have to hold them off until Baylor confirmed that his tactical information was correct, for he couldn’t take a chance and let warriors slip through from another direction.

“Stay sharp and alert, men,” the commander had ordered. “No mission against Lucius is routine.”

It was a good reminder to the other men, but Quinlan didn’t really need it. For him, no mission was routine. His heart pounded a hundred beats a minute as he constantly scanned the area, settling his eyes back on Sir Baylor after each sweep. The hours melted away slowly, and fatigue settled in. Had the assault been called off?

He scanned once more and suddenly saw the commander signal. The enemy was approaching. Quinlan’s stomach rose to his throat as he drew his sword. He scanned his assigned region more quickly, not wanting to miss any of the commander’s signals.

Next came the direction—southeast, as predicted. Kessler and Drake would be ready. Quinlan couldn’t help but breathe a little easier.

Another scan, another signal. Three Shadow Warriors were coming—one less than expected. This also made Quinlan feel better … until he realized it could mean trouble elsewhere.

He looked once more toward Baylor for the signal to relocate, but it did not come. Instead, Baylor motioned for Purcell to join Kessler and Drake.

Quinlan was confused. This was not the rehearsed sequence. He made one more scan and looked back to Baylor, but he was too late to catch the last signal. Then the commander disappeared.

Quinlan watched as Kessler, Drake, and Purcell disappeared from their posts, preparing for the fight. He looked for Baylor to give the signal again, but there was no sign of him.

What had Quinlan missed? What was he supposed to do? If he stayed where he was but had been called to join the others, they might be outnumbered. If he left his post but had been signaled to stay, warriors might slip through into the haven. He began to pace, trying to decide which course of action would result in the least disastrous ramification.

Finally he could wait no more. He ran toward Kessler and Drake’s last known position. Halfway there, he heard the clash of an intense duel. Quinlan gripped his sword tighter and quickened his pace, hoping he had judged correctly. He was nearly to the fight when he heard another clash of steel behind him.

Quinlan stopped in his tracks. Through the sparse woods he saw Kessler, Drake, and Purcell locked in deadly battle against three massive Shadow Warriors. Dread filled his heart as he realized Sir Baylor was probably also engaged. He ran the last few paces and came upon Purcell’s fight first.

“What are you doing?” Purcell screamed at Quinlan in between blows. “Baylor ordered you to stay at your post!”

Quinlan spun on his heels and raced back to where he had been. The sound of a desperate fight filled the air, and Quinlan hoped against hope that he was not too late to help. He climbed a small rise and looked down the other side to see Sir Baylor engaged with two warriors. One more was just joining the fray.

Quinlan froze as he realized the hopelessness of the situation. Baylor was seriously outnumbered, and Quinlan could not possibly cover the ground between them in time to help. Quinlan screamed and began to run as a Shadow Warrior plunged his sword deep into Sir Baylor’s side and the other two added their swords to the dreadful act.

Baylor’s sword fell to the ground. The Shadow Warriors withdrew their swords. Baylor collapsed to his knees, then fell face forward.

Rage boiled up in Quinlan’s heart as he closed in with sword raised, not caring for his own life. One of the Shadow Warriors bent over Sir Baylor while the other two turned toward Quinlan. It was then that he noted their bizarre black and green painted faces and the thin bands of black cloth across their eyes. They raised their swords toward Quinlan, but before he could engage them he heard the pounding of horses’ hoofs behind him.

Kessler, Drake, and Purcell thundered past Quinlan. The Shadow Warriors retreated, and the knights pursued them. Quinlan fell to his knees beside Sir Baylor and turned him onto his back.

Baylor winced and gasped, blood trickling down from his mouth to his chin.

“I’m sorry, Commander, I didn’t—”

“Quinlan,” Baylor rasped urgently, “Take this …” He reached for the disk that hung about his neck, snapped the silver chain, and pressed the coin-shaped object into Quinlan’s hand.

Quinlan shook his head, fighting back tears.

“Take it … I didn’t”—Baylor coughed, and his eyes grew wide in pain—“choose you … you were …”

It was too much. The evil of Lucius had done its work, and Baylor closed his eyes in death.

“No … no … no!” Quinlan buried his head in his hands and leaned forward against Baylor’s chest. He screamed against the reality of his error and would have died to change it. Time refused to go on as Quinlan wallowed in the agony of the moment. But gradually, between his own moans he became aware of cries and screams in the distance.

Quinlan lifted his head and listened. The haven of Garriston and the people there were under attack, while Kessler, Drake, and Purcell were pursuing Baylor’s killers in the opposite direction.

Quinlan jumped to his feet and ran to Kobalt. Not waiting for his fellow knights, he galloped toward Garriston. He arrived to find the chaos of a full assault on the knights, men, women, and children of the
haven. The camp buildings and barns were ablaze, and more than twenty dark warriors on horseback were raining death upon anyone who was accessible. The few haven knights who remained on their feet were engaged in the fight of their lives.

Quinlan galloped to join the fight, aching for vengeance against those who had been responsible for his commander’s death. He engaged the first warrior he met and noticed immediately that something was different about him and his comrades. They wore the same ghostly black and green face paint Quinlan had seen on two of the warriors who killed Baylor. They were smaller than the Shadow Warriors the valor knights had fought at Arimil and wore more tightly fitting armor. Quinlan wondered if these were the Vincero Knights he had heard about—Arrethtraens who fought for Lucius—but their markings clearly identified them as Shadow Warriors.

Quinlan crosscut and thrust, then parried and countered. The warrior fought without expression, neither cursing nor shouting.

Quinlan caught a vertical cut, countered and thrust. This time his sword found its mark, and it penetrated deep into his enemy’s side.

He hesitated just a moment for the invasion of his blade to take its effect, but that was a mistake. The warrior’s face did not change, and his blade returned toward Quinlan with the speed and force of a whole man.

Quinlan could not recover in time. He withdrew his sword and raised his left arm, catching the edge of the warrior’s sword with the vambrace on his forearm. The force of the blow carried on through to his shoulder and knocked him off Kobalt.

He hit the ground with a thud. By the time he regained his feet, his opponent had launched his steed toward an unsuspecting woman. The evil warrior struck her down, then turned and looked at Quinlan once more. There was no smile, no sneer, no curse—just the face of undeterred evil that could never be satisfied.

The Shadow Warrior turned and attacked him once more. Quinlan was now at an extreme disadvantage, for his enemy was mounted and he was not. He prepared himself to take the blow from above, then realized
the warrior’s intention was simply to trample him under the massive steed he rode.

Quinlan dove to his left, narrowly missing the animal’s deadly hoofs. The warrior wheeled and charged again, this time swinging his sword for a final deathblow. Quinlan feigned another dive, but instead thrust his sword up through the belly of the warrior’s horse. He lost his grip on his sword as the animal reared, screamed, and collapsed to the ground, sending its rider tumbling.

Quinlan drew his long knife and dove on top of the rattled warrior before he could regain his feet. Leather and steel entangled as the two combatants fought for an advantage. The warrior slammed an elbow into Quinlan’s jaw, and the young knight nearly lost his senses. He countered with a gauntleted fist that tore off the thin band of black cloth that hid the warrior’s eyes.

Chills ran up Quinlan’s spine as he stared into his enemy’s eyes. He felt as though he had just peered into the empty cavern of an ocean abyss. There was nothing there … no life, no soul.

The warrior squinted in the light, and this gave Quinlan the opportunity he needed. His long knife pierced through a chink in the warrior’s armor, and the warrior went still. This time Quinlan did not hesitate. He withdrew the knife and lunged for his sword, which lay near the body of the fallen steed. He scrambled to get a solid grip on the handle, for other warriors were coming his way.

Quinlan sprinted a few paces away to avoid the leading warriors and their horses, but to his surprise, they raced past him and beyond into the surrounding woods. The remaining warriors gave up their grim work and followed. There was no battle cry of victory or taunting of future evil deeds, just the silent exodus of a merciless enemy.

He glanced toward the warrior he had defeated and was shocked to see him rising to his feet. The warrior stumbled, then gathered himself and ran toward one of the last retreating warriors. The mounted warrior reached down, locked hands, and swung Quinlan’s foe onto the back of his horse, and they disappeared into the dust stirred up by their retreating comrades.

Breathing hard, Quinlan stood and surveyed the destruction around him. A few Silent Warriors had been killed, but many more men, women, and children lay motionless. Moments later, Kessler, Drake, and Purcell rushed into the aftermath and dismounted near him, swords drawn and ready.

Kessler and Drake looked all around them, trying to make sense of what had happened, but Purcell came straight for Quinlan.

“He signaled you to stay!” Purcell rushed at Quinlan and shoved him backward. “They had split their forces and were coming in your direction. You left the commander open to an ambush!”

Tears filled Quinlan’s eyes. All he could do was slowly shake his head. He had no words to defend, deny, or excuse himself.

“That’s enough, Purcell.” Kessler stepped between them. Purcell glared at Kessler, then spun about and walked a few paces away.

Quinlan looked into Kessler’s eyes and saw the same pain and disappointment that he felt in his own heart. Drake silently turned away, obviously wrestling with his own anger. Quinlan hung his head in utter shame.

“Can you help us?” a voice called out. A knight approached them, carrying a child. Blood spilled from a gash on his head.

“The buildings are lost, and we have many wounded. We can take them over there.” He motioned with his head to a clearing away from the burning buildings.

His appearance jarred the knights from their own grief and anger. “What … happened?” Drake asked slowly.

The man shook his head. “We knew there was a threat, but this is far beyond anything we expected.” He turned and looked sadly at the remnants of the haven. “I’ve seen Shadow Warriors before,” he said solemnly. “These were something … more. Some of my people will ask where the Prince was in all of this.” He shook his head again, then proceeded on to the clearing where others were gathering.