Sir Quinlan and the Swords of Valor (17 page)

He heard insignificant chatter among some of the warriors within and an occasional order by a warrior he thought was Hatlin. But after two hours of fruitless waiting, he wondered if he had risked his life for nothing. By now the sun was well along on its journey to the western horizon, and Quinlan began to think about retreating from the camp to prepare for an escape at nightfall. Just as he was preparing to move, however, he heard a flurry of activity in the camp.

“Commander approaching,” a warrior called out. A minute later, Quinlan heard the hoofbeats of many heavy horses. From his vantage point, he could only get a brief glimpse of the arriving warriors but could tell that their leader was as formidable as Hatlin, if not more so, with cropped black hair, piercing eyes, and a long, arrogant-looking nose. This commander dismounted and handed his reins to a subordinate, then took a moment to scan the camp.

Quinlan’s heart skipped a beat as the commander’s gaze swept over his hiding place and seemed to pause. How far did the powers of this dark warrior go?

“I trust you received my men this morning and secured the area?” Quinlan went limp with relief as the commander turned to address Hatlin.

“Yes, Lord Luskan. Each of the region lords have also reported in. How is Master Lucius?”

“He is impatient with our progress. Come, let’s begin.” Luskan ducked into the tent. Hatlin and four other warriors followed.

A lamp flared in the tent, allowing Quinlan to make out shadowy figures gathered about a table. The warriors bent over to look at what Quinlan assumed was a map.

“Give me a full situation report on each of the regions and their major cities,” Luskan commanded.

“In the southwest, Daydelon is proving to be an excellent location from which to launch our chaos attacks on Chessington. Lord Malizimar is challenged in uniting the Vinceros toward a common cause, but we believe he is making progress. Al Kirut is another city that is …”

Quinlan’s heart became heavy as he listened to Hatlin’s report and
realized the impact the Shadow Warriors were having from one end of the kingdom to the other. The sleeping masses of the people had no idea these dark warriors were discussing their future demise.

“Master Lucius is eager for the Rising, but every region and their major cities must be under our control,” Luskan said. “What of the Camerians?”

There was a delay in Hatlin’s answer. “Well?” Luskan demanded.

“The Knights of the Prince there are still strong. We are working on them, but it is proving to be a challenge. Why not just isolate them and proceed with the Rising?”

“Because they are one of the strongest regions in the kingdom, and they will continue to support the King’s people in Chessington.”

The commander’s shadow, projected on the tent walls, paced back and forth. “This is unacceptable, and Master Lucius will not be pleased!” He stopped and slammed his fist on the table. “Get control of Cameria, or you and I will be sent there personally to oversee the operation. Is that clear?”

“Yes … Commander.” Quinlan sensed the slightest edge of insolence in Hatlin’s answer, and he wondered if there wasn’t a measure of contention between the two Shadow Warriors.

“Now, how goes Master Lucius’s project at Burkfield?” Luskan asked. “Has Pathyon made a fool of himself yet?”

Quinlan felt shivers run up and down his spine at the mention of his home city. He hung on every word.

“Do not be so quick to judge Lord Pathyon, Commander. With minimal resources and in short order, he has gained nearly complete control of the city and effectively incapacitated the Knights of the Prince there.”

“So it
is
true.” Luskan turned away from the table and paced again. “How many Vincero Knights has he employed?”

“None,” Hatlin replied. “I think that’s why the Knights of the Prince were caught off guard.”

“It’s a fluke. That weasel couldn’t conquer a village, let alone a city the size of Burkfield.”

“Perhaps,” Hatlin said. “But evidently Master Lucius thinks more highly of him than you do, and thus far he’s been right.”

Luskan froze, then whirled about. “Are you mocking me, Lord Hatlin?”

Quinlan saw the four other warriors slowly step back as their leaders faced off. He felt the immense tension even from his camouflaged hideaway. After a long period of silence, Hatlin spoke.

“Of course not, Commander Luskan. I’m only suggesting we may have something to learn from the tactics Lord Pathyon has employed at Burkfield. Perhaps a variation of his strategy could be used against the United Cities of Cameria.”

Luskan hesitated with his hand on his dagger. “Ha,” he snorted, “I suppose it is something we’ll have to consider. For now, though, we will continue to carry out Master Lucius’s plan for Burkfield. Its destruction will be an example for the rest of the Knights of the Prince to see. Show me where our warriors are positioned.”

“Here and here.” The tension abated as the two warriors returned their full attention to the map. “Do we move now?” Hatlin asked.

“No. Lucius wants to draw more citizens and knights into the trap. I suspect he’ll want Burkfield’s destruction to occur closer to the Rising. Send two companies of warriors to ensure that Pathyon doesn’t lose what he’s gained. I can guarantee the Silent Warriors are working with the Knights of the Prince to break his stronghold there. If there is even the slightest shift in our domination, I want to know immediately.”

“Of course,” Hatlin replied. “What of Taras and the Swords of Valor? Can we expect any engagements?”

“After Baylor’s death, they completely disbanded.” Luskan sounded pleased. “My assassination squad is watching them closely, however. The Prince can’t protect them forever.”

At that, all six warriors stood straight.

“The time is coming, and the Rising is near, comrades,” Luskan proclaimed. “We will crush the heads of His knights with an iron boot and rule Arrethtrae beside Lucius forever.”

The warriors all placed fisted hands to their chests.

“Praise Lucius!” Luskan shouted.

“Praise Lucius!” the other five warriors echoed.

Quinlan shuddered, repulsed and frightened by the sound of that evil acclamation. He had heard enough, but now he faced the dilemma of how to escape with his information—and his life.

He decided to wait until evening, when the crystal coin would offer him the best detection. While he waited, thoughts and questions raced through his head: Cameria … Assassins … Baylor … the Rising, whatever that was.

Of it all, however, the one that occupied his mind the most was home … Burkfield.

LILAM OF NORWEX

As darkness fell, Quinlan slowly made his way back up the valley. Though his stomach howled in hunger, he did not allow a single move to be rushed. Though the odds of his safe exodus were slim, he kept reminding himself that every minute he wasn’t discovered was one minute closer to escape.

The crystal coin saved his life time and time again. To see and not be seen gave him a great tactical advantage. He kept looking for the violet light of a Silent Warrior, hoping to find Taras, but he could only see as far as the thick trees allowed.

Travel through the black of night was excruciatingly slow, but by early morning, Quinlan had made it to the rim of the valley to discover the security detail had been terminated. He was still extremely careful as he made his way far beyond the valley.

Only when there were no glimmers of green within any line of sight did he finally allow himself to relax. Then fatigue rushed in like a flood. He fed on a handful of blackberries and wild onions before lying down in a well-camouflaged grassy bed.

Quinlan slept until midafternoon, then resumed his journey north along the foothills of the mountain range. Travel proved far more difficult on his own, but Taras had taught him well, and he continued in the
world of warriors. He made his way through the Plains of Kerr and into the southern fringes of the north country. The flat countryside was sparsely populated and broadly scattered with farms and ranches that raised cattle, goats, and sheep. Clusters of trees afforded a pleasant break from the green and golden fields that stretched from horizon to horizon.

After twenty days of traveling, Quinlan approached the city of Norwex. Standing on a hill still some distance away, he looked down on the city and considered stopping to resupply for the next leg of the journey. A bed and warm meal held a strong appeal, but he hesitated since Taras had implied he was to avoid all people. Finally Quinlan decided to circumnavigate Norwex and press on to Chesney Isle.

He set a course east of the city that took him through a large grove of trees. As he emerged from their shadows, he heard voices and the sounds of a ruckus.

Before him was a stone-rimmed well surrounded by agitated sheep and goats. Several low stone retaining walls led up near the well, where two shepherds were facing off. What really caught his attention was the fact that one of them was a teenage girl and the other was a brute half again as big as she.

“You know full well this is my father’s land and his well.” The young woman positioned herself firmly between the man and the water source.

“Not today it’s not,” the man said with a sneer. “I say it’s ours, so move your sheep aside for our goats before I begin slicing them open.”

The man stepped forward, grabbed the girl by the shoulders, and was about to throw her out of the way, but she moved so quickly that Quinlan’s mouth fell open in awe. She wrapped her right arm around the man’s left forearm, then fell to one knee while simultaneously rotating her body, pulling the man forward and down over her firmly planted right leg. The man lurched forward and fell face first onto the ground. Quinlan stifled a laugh, but then he spotted two other men approaching from the direction of the goats.

“Letting a girl get the best of you, Yelton? Father will be so proud!”

The badgering enraged the embarrassed brute further. He jumped to his feet and drew a sword. “You’ll pay for that, wench.”

The girl didn’t hesitate. She ran to a nearby retaining wall, dove over it, and appeared an instant later with a sword unlike any Quinlan had ever seen. It was as long as a typical sword, but the blade was slightly curved and a bit narrower. She placed a hand on the wall and leaped over it with the agility of a cat.

“Now, this ought to be fun,” one of the approaching men said.

Quinlan maneuvered along one of the retaining walls to position himself behind the men as the fight began. He wanted to be ready … just in case.

The two engaged, and within the first few cuts, Quinlan could tell that the girl was twice the swordsman the man was. Twice she parried and countered with a cut that would have severely wounded the man, but she pulled up short each time. Quinlan was impressed, to say the least.

At one point she caught the man’s vertical slice, then countered and thrust just as one of the other men pushed her from behind with his boot. She lurched forward into her opponent and her sword sliced through his left arm.

The fight paused as blood ran down the man’s arm and dripped onto the ground. He looked up with fury in his eyes.

“She cut me!” he screamed. “You’re gonna regret that, wench!”