Sir Quinlan and the Swords of Valor (24 page)

Quinlan turned and walked to where Lilam stood holding the horses. As he was mounting up, Purcell called after him. “My knife could have just as easily pierced your heart. You took a big risk.”

Quinlan settled into his saddle. He wheeled Kobalt around to face Purcell. “You threw the knife, Sir Purcell. What was the risk?” He slapped the reins and they bolted away, leaving puffs of dust where hoofs once were.

Quinlan now set their course for Castleridge. Each evening after the day’s travel, he called for Kalil, and the penthomoth bounded joyfully into their camp. Now that they were riding horseback, Quinlan was surprised Kalil could keep up, but he seemed to have no trouble. The animal seemed to know he was a stranger in a strange land and kept well hidden throughout the day, but he always appeared delighted to join them at night. Quinlan was amazed at the joy and comfort the animal’s presence brought him.

After three days of travel, Quinlan and Lilam arrived in Castleridge, Sir Drake’s city of origin. They found no trace of him there, but they did discover a lead that sent them to the neighboring town of Rossborough.

The haven at Rossborough had grown quickly and become a launch site for many missions for the Prince. Quinlan knew the knights here required the finest training—a job well suited to someone experienced and proficient with the sword.

“We’re looking for a knight named Sir Drake,” Quinlan asked of the haven leader when they arrived in Rossborough. “Do you know of him?”

The balding man smiled as he looked up from a parchment. “Of course. You’ll find ‘im near the stables with the wee ones.”

“Wee ones?” Quinlan asked.

“Aye, the wee ones,” the man said. “Tenderhearted bloke—not much for the sword, so we’ve got ‘im teaching the wee ones.”

“Must be a different Drake.” Quinlan turned to leave.

“Large fellow?” the man asked. “Blond hair?”

Quinlan turned back. “Yes …”

“Wouldn’t dare take him into battle, but he sure does wonders with the little ones.” He pointed. “You’ll find him over there.”

Quinlan furrowed his brow. “Thank you.”

Following the man’s directions, Quinlan and Lilam walked past a training arena crowded with knights engaged in a sparring contest. Shouts and cheers rose up with each cut and thrust. Quinlan stopped for a moment to admire the intensity of the fighting. Then he looked about, spotted the stables, and walked that way. Near a fence, he saw a large fellow kneeling in front of a dozen or so young children. Each child clutched a wooden sword and wore a tunic that bore the mark of the Prince. Even from a distance, Quinlan had no doubt their teacher was indeed the mighty Sir Drake.

Quinlan and Lilam approached from behind him and watched the children’s faces as they became enamored with a story Drake was telling them. Punctuating his tale with broad gestures, the big man told them about the Prince’s encounter with the Dark Knight before he revealed himself as the Son of the King. At one point, Drake drew his sword and began to reenact the epic duel that had determined the fate of the kingdom.

“The battle between the evil Dark Knight and the good Prince raged on.” Drake swished at the air with his sword. “The rain poured down, and the Dark Knight advanced. The Prince stumbled over a rock and fell to the ground!” Drake keeled over dramatically, and the children gasped.

At that moment, Quinlan jumped into the scene, his black kerchief pulled over the lower part of his face. He held his sword toward Drake’s chest and exclaimed in an evil voice, “Now I will kill you and rule all of Arrethtrae.”

Drake looked up, stunned by the sudden appearance of a dramatic partner, but Quinlan wasted no time in keeping the drama going. He executed a vertical cut straight toward Drake’s head, and the children yelled for their teacher to move.

At the last second, and much to Quinlan’s relief, Drake executed a quick parry that deflected Quinlan’s blade. The sword tore into the
ground to the left of Drake’s shoulder. Drake rolled to his right and onto his knees, exposing his back to Quinlan.

Quinlan brought down another vertical cut, but Drake locked his sword above his head and caught Quinlan’s blade with his own. He simultaneously rotated on one knee and exploded a horizontal slice that arced full circle around to Quinlan. Quinlan jumped back as the tip of Drake’s sword flew past his chest. This gave Drake enough time to recover and reestablish his position.

“My Father loved you, and you spurned His love,” Drake said with a voice that boomed across the camp.

The two men engaged again, and Quinlan could see the thrill of the fight in Drake’s eyes. With each cut, slice, and parry, the intensity of the swordplay increased. Soon the knights from the training arena began to filter over and watch. Before long, every knight in the haven stood open-mouthed as the meek Sir Drake and this stranger demonstrated a level of swordsmanship they had never seen before.

Drake advanced with a sequence of powerful cuts that forced Quinlan into retreat. Then Drake executed a powerful slice, and Quinlan played the finale well. He stumbled backward onto the ground as his sword flew from his grip. Drake stood over him with his sword pointed at Quinlan’s chest.

“My Father has postponed your judgment for now,” he proclaimed. “Though your final destruction is yet before you, it
is
a certainty!”

The final moment hung in the air as if curtains were being dropped. The children applauded and shouted their glee, but the knights stood in awed silence. Drake sheathed his sword and reached a hand down to his unknown costar. Quinlan grabbed hold, and Drake lifted him to his feet.

“Whoever you are,” Drake said soberly, “you’ve ruined me.”

Quinlan removed the kerchief from his face. “I think you’ve been acting for more than just the children.”

Drake turned and looked deeply into Quinlan’s eyes. Recognition dawned, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned and beckoned for the children to gather around him. They came with wooden swords in hand, ready for action.

“Remember, children,” he said, “it is the Prince and the Code that
gives your sword its power. Never forget that. Learn the Code, and live it well.”

The children’s eyes were large and full of wonder that Quinlan knew would not soon diminish. Drake dismissed the children. Head lowered, he walked through the crowd of knights. They respectfully stepped aside. Quinlan followed him.

“I never imagined you as a teacher of children.”

Drake didn’t miss a beat. “Of such is the kingdom of the Prince.”

They walked over to the fence, and Drake rested his elbows on top of it. Quinlan propped his right foot on one of the lower rails and took a breath, unsure how to start.

“You’ve improved.” Drake turned to look at Quinlan. “Significantly.”

Quinlan leaned against the fence. “I’ve relived that dreadful day a thousand times in my mind, wishing I could change the outcome. I don’t know why things happened the way they did, but I do know the Prince still needs the Swords of Valor to ride for Him.” Quinlan let his words take effect. “Lucius is advancing, and our brothers and sisters need our help. I’ve been made aware of a new scheme to destroy much of the work of the Knights of the Prince, and I can’t just stand by and watch it happen.”

Drake eased himself away from the fence and shook his head. “I’m done, Quinlan. With Sir Baylor gone, his work just can’t go on.”

Quinlan’s heart sank. “If that is true, then the Dark Knight has indeed won.”

Drake leaned on the fence again and looked away.

“Those who are willing are meeting at Stockford in ten days.” Quinlan started to leave, then stopped. “Drake, this isn’t my work or your work, or even Sir Baylor’s work. It’s the King’s.”

Drake turned and leaned his back against the fence, then crossed his arms in what seemed an unmovable posture.

Quinlan saluted, then moved on. He and Lilam recovered their steeds and headed for Greyloch and his last chance at recruitment. Thus far he didn’t feel very successful.

It took Quinlan and Lilam four days to travel to the seafaring village of Greyloch, on the coast just north of Cytra. Quinlan had learned from Drake that Kessler worked as a hand loading and unloading wares from the boats that frequented the harbor, so he figured the man wouldn’t be too difficult to find.

The strong smell of fish hovered around them as they walked along the shore, avoiding the droppings of sea gulls that wheeled overhead. When they came upon a shirtless, well-muscled dock hand who whistled while carrying a burden that would have been a challenge for two men, they stopped. Quinlan motioned for Lilam to hold back.

Kessler dropped his load onto the deck of the boat and turned around just as Quinlan arrived at the dock. Without a hint of surprise, he stepped back up onto the dock and walked toward Quinlan. Quinlan wondered if perhaps he still hadn’t recognized him.

“What took you so long?” Kessler wiped beads of sweat from his swarthy brow.

Now it was Quinlan’s turn to look confused. He cocked his head to one side. Kessler walked right past Quinlan and on toward the shore.

“Coming?” Kessler said over his shoulder. He grabbed his shirt from the dock post and walked to where Lilam was standing. “I’m Kessler, miss. Pleased to meet you.”

Lilam raised an eyebrow and stuck out her hand. “Lilam.”

He nodded for her to walk with him. “He treating you well?” Kessler asked as she fell in step with him and continued down the walkway.

Lilam looked over her shoulder at Quinlan, who still stood with a perplexed look on his face.

She grinned at Kessler. “Mostly.”

Quinlan ran and caught up with them. “Kessler, what’s going on?”

Kessler laughed. “I’m the one who’s supposed to ask that question.”

“You—you seemed to know that I was coming. How?”

Kessler turned about to face Quinlan. He wiped his forehead again with a corner of his shirt, then put the garment on, his face uncharacteristically serious.

“Do you remember the first time I met you?”

“Yes,” Quinlan replied. “You and the other knights fought off
Shadow Warriors on Mount Resolute. I just happened to have stumbled into the skirmish, as I remember.”

Kessler shook his head. “That wasn’t an accident. You were their target. I analyzed their attack—they came specifically for you. At first it made no sense to me at all, considering … well, considering your abilities.”

Quinlan smiled, trying not to take too much offense at the comment.

Kessler continued. “But later, when Baylor said you were the fifth member of the Swords of Valor, I knew something was strange. Baylor hadn’t picked you—I could see it in his eyes. Someone else had.”

Kessler grinned. “So it wasn’t a matter of if you would come, just a matter of when.”

Kessler motioned for Quinlan and Lilam to follow as he led them toward a barrel-chested man who was yelling at two other hands to quicken their pace.

“Guthrie,” Kessler shouted. “I’m off.”

“What?” the man shouted. “You can’t leave, Kessler. You’re my best man. Take an hour and then finish up the day.”

“Sorry, Guth,” Kessler said. “I’m done for good. I told you the day would come. You can keep the day’s wage.”

Guthrie looked like he wanted to protest, but he just shook his head. As they walked by him, the man nodded.

“You take care of yourself, Kessler.”

“And you, Cap.”

They walked a few paces as Quinlan considered Kessler’s words.

“We aren’t meeting for another week,” Quinlan said.

“I don’t need a week. I’ll come with you now,” Kessler said. “After I clean up, of course,” he said with a smile and winked at Lilam. “Are Purcell and Drake coming?”

“Doubtful.”

Kessler put his hand on Quinlan’s shoulder. “You might be surprised.”

COMMON ENEMY, COMMON FRIEND