Sir Quinlan and the Swords of Valor (27 page)

Tav took a backward step. “Stay away.” He turned and ran toward the gate. Grabbing Valiant’s reins, he mounted and rode back toward Burkfield at breakneck speed, while Quinlan stared sadly after him.

By the time it was over, they had recovered eighteen knights. Sir Edmund issued swords for those without them, and Quinlan led a force of twenty-four knights into Burkfield.

It was market day, and the city seemed unusually full of activity and people, almost as if a citywide festival were about to begin. Every shop on every street seemed crowded with eager customers. Quinlan told Edmund to gather his knights at the bell tower and wait for his signal; then he led the Swords of Valor farther down the main thoroughfare.

As they rode, snarling paythas began to appear from behind shops and alleyways. The entire city seemed infested with the beasts. The alarmed townspeople stepped aside and away as fast as they could. Then
Pathyon emerged from the street his shop was on, surrounded by hundreds of paythas. As he walked down the center of the main thoroughfare with his army of paythas, the people cleared off the street, staring in wonder at what was happening.

“This isn’t the kind of enemy I planned on fighting today,” Purcell muttered as the five of them tried to keep their steeds under control. They all drew their swords.

“What of the Shadow Warriors?” Drake asked.

“Don’t worry,” Quinlan said. “They’re on their way.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Drake said as the paythas began to close in.

Pathyon walked to within thirty paces of the unit and stopped, stroking the paytha in his arms. “There are those in both worlds who think me just an insignificant vice,” he said. “But as you can see, I rule this city—more completely than any other lord rules any other city. You are the fool after all, Knight of the Prince.”

Pathyon whispered to the creature he was holding. It bared its teeth at Quinlan and his knights, then jumped from his arms and began running toward them. Hundreds of others followed.

“And our plan is what again?” Purcell asked with a smirk as the paythas closed in.

Quinlan put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. A strange sound erupted from the near side of the city’s edge, and all the paythas stopped. The silence was broken only by the thumping sound of a flatfooted beast romping down the cobblestoned street. Suddenly, from an alleyway off to the right, Kalil burst forth with an echoing trumpet sound. Screams and alarms rose up from the people as the powerful animal raised its five trunks in the air and crouched as if to spring.

Drake, Kessler, and Purcell readied their swords.

“Hold, men,” Quinlan said. “This one’s our friend.”

“You’re kidding,” Purcell said. “That is the ugliest beast I’ve ever seen.”

“Mind your words, Purcell,” Lilam said with a smile. “He’s sensitive—and well trained.”

Purcell shot an utterly perplexed look at Lilam as Quinlan motioned to Kalil. The penthomoth charged into the hundreds of paythas with a fury. They tried to retaliate but couldn’t penetrate the animal’s tough hide. The five trunks made short work of any paytha that came within its reach, crushing and discarding them like flawed water flasks. They kept coming at him in relentless waves, but Kalil trampled, squeezed, and threw paythas every which way. Finally the few remaining began running away, but Kalil charged after them, killing any that he saw.

When it was over, Pathyon stood alone. He cursed the Swords of Valor, drew his sword, and ran back toward his shop.

Quinlan ignored him. He looked to the eastern hills surrounding the city and closed his eyes, then turned to the west. The collapsing circle of green was now much more concentrated and nearly upon them.

“Give the signal, Drake!” Quinlan commanded.

Drake attached the flag of the Knights of the Prince to the end of his sword and raised it high for Sir Edmund to see at the bell tower. A moment later the bells of the tower began to ring. In an instant the city of Burkfield was transformed. The people in the streets began drawing swords from wagons, barrels, clothing, and any other place capable of hiding a sword—thousands upon thousands, all bearing the mark of the Prince.

Worthington had done his job well, as had Kessler, Drake, and Purcell. The Knights of the Prince had come from across the kingdom to fight against the minions of Lucius on behalf of Burkfield. Chills ran up and down Quinlan’s spine as he witnessed the courage of fellow Followers unveiled.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Kessler said with a smile. “All these years we’ve been the secret Swords of Valor defending them. Now they are the secret Swords of Valor defending us.”

Quinlan turned as Sir Worthington and Lady Raisa galloped up to the valor knights and reined in their steeds.

“Your orders, Commander?” Worthington said. Raisa stared at Quinlan with fresh respect.

“They know we know.” Quinlan gazed toward the hills. “Set up the
perimeter defenses. We have but a few moments. According to our reconnaissance, there are three Shadow Warriors yet in the city—Pathyon and two others. We will find them, but tell your men to be wary. There may be Vincero Knights as well.”

Worthington saluted and galloped off to command his knights. Quinlan turned to his comrades. “We must find these Shadow Warriors quickly. The devastation they wreak from within could turn the course of the battle.”

He led them at a gallop toward the street where Pathyon’s shop stood, then stopped and scanned left and right.

“Drake, Purcell—the cooper’s shop.” They dismounted and ran to the corner building that had barrels stacked outside. Quinlan led Kessler and Lilam to Pathyon’s shop, but it was empty, and their fruitless hunt was taking valuable time. Already, from the edges of the city, Quinlan could hear the sounds of battle.

Quinlan grew uneasy, wanting to join with Worthington in the defense of Burkfield but knowing the devastation three Shadow Warriors could do from within. He scanned the shop again—nothing. Then he scanned the opposite side of the street. At the back left corner of the shop across the street, Quinlan caught an almost imperceptible glimmer of green.

“There!” he whispered to Kessler and Lilam.

The shop was one of three in a larger building. Quinlan sent Kessler and Lilam around the right side of the building while he took the left. He had almost reached the back corner when he heard a boot scrape on wood up above. He looked up just in time to see Pathyon falling on top of him from the roof, his blade protruding like a spear.

Quinlan deflected Pathyon’s blade with a high horizontal crosscut, but the crash of bodies and armor splayed both combatants out completely and dislodged their swords from their grips. Quinlan took the brunt of the fall, and Pathyon was on him in an instant. The warrior’s left hand encircled Quinlan’s throat as he pounded a gauntleted fist into his face. Fighting unconsciousness, Quinlan deflected the blows.

Pathyon drew Quinlan’s knife from its sheath to use against him,
but Quinlan swung his right arm inside Pathyon’s left arm and gained enough leverage to break the grip on his neck. Pathyon thrust with the knife, but Quinlan caught his hand at the last moment and kicked the warrior off him. As he scrambled to his feet, he heard the clash of swords on the far end of the building. Kessler and Lilam were engaged as well, and he could not count on any help from them.

“You might as well give up,” Pathyon sneered. “You’ve lost this city already!” Then he lunged at Quinlan, thrusting the knife in front of him. Quinlan was grateful for Zeke’s training, for he knew exactly what to do.

He retreated one step to allow the plunge to expire, then grabbed Pathyon’s right wrist with his left hand. He swung the warrior’s arm up into the air, stepped through and underneath it, then pivoted around, placing his right arm in the crux of Pathyon’s right elbow joint. He was now in complete control of the knife and the arm that held it. In one quick motion he pulled the knife into Pathyon’s chest. Pathyon dropped to his knees and fell against the wall of the nearby building while Quinlan searched for his sword.

The sounds of desperate fighting at the edges of the city told Quinlan that the battle had now fully matured. He heard hoofs on the cobblestones and turned to see a mounted knight in the street—Raisa. She looked as if she had already faced a dozen Shadow Warriors.

“Sir Worthington asked me to find you.” Her voice cracked with worry. “The eastern perimeter is failing, and the south is weak. There are too many.”

“Tell Worthington we’re coming,” Quinlan said.

Hope sparked in Raisa’s eyes, and she kicked her steed back down the street.

Quinlan reached down to grab his sword but then froze, sensing something dark nearby. Deep laughter reverberated off the walls and rattled him. Quinlan stood and turned to see a warrior whose stature made Pathyon look like a boy. It was a warrior he’d seen once before and never wanted to see again.

“It’s hopeless, knave,” said Luskan. “Two legions of Lucius’s most
powerful Shadow Warriors are impossible to stop. Even those pathetic Silent Warriors can’t help you now … 
if
they wanted to!”

Luskan threw his head back and reveled in contemptuous laughter. When he was through, he glared at Quinlan and strode toward him with his sword drawn, passing by Pathyon, who was still huddled by the wall.

“Luskan.,” Pathyon wheezed and held up a hand.

Luskan stopped. “You pitiful excuse for a warrior.” With one quick thrust he pierced Pathyon through, then kicked him with his boot to withdraw his sword. As Pathyon fell dead, Luskan turned toward Quinlan, the gleam of bloodlust in his eyes.

Quinlan held his sword before him and backed up into the street as the evil commander slowly moved toward him.

He chanced a quick glance toward the end of the building where Kessler and Lilam had been engaged and saw them also backing up into the street. The look on their faces said something ghastly was coming at them too.

Once clear, they ran to join Quinlan just as Drake and Purcell came running from the left.

The five valor knights now stood together in the street … and destruction was closing in.

SWORDS OF VALOR

“Remember I said there are warriors you never want to face?” Kessler whispered as Luskan entered the street from the side of the building. “This is one of them.”

And Luskan wasn’t alone. Fifteen warriors with black and green painted faces emerged from both sides of the building—the same warriors that had attacked Garriston and killed Sir Baylor.

“I thought you said there were only three Shadow Warriors in the city,” Lilam said.

Quinlan briefly closed his eyes, but all he saw was Luskan’s green glow.

“I can’t see the painted ones,” he said, confused. Then, with a jolt, he realized Baylor hadn’t been able to see them either.

The paint, the tightly fitting armor, the black bands across the eyes somehow hid these warriors from the lens of the kasilite medallion. That’s why Baylor had signaled only four Shadow Warriors when there had actually been six—and that’s why he had died. Even if Quinlan had been at his post, the outcome wouldn’t have changed.

Relief flooded over Quinlan, then vanished as he remembered his fight with one of these painted warriors. He and his colleagues were badly outnumbered, but even if the numbers had been even, their chances of victory against these warriors would be slim.