Sir Quinlan and the Swords of Valor (28 page)

Quinlan opened his mouth to order a retreat. Then he looked around and saw ten more painted warriors come up behind them.

“Finally!” Luskan’s low, un-Arrethtraen voice seemed to bounce off the buildings. “My Assassin Warriors have trapped the infamous Swords of Valor.”

Surrounded, the valor knights formed a tight circle with their backs to one another in the center of the street. The Assassin Warriors quickly surrounded them. All seemed lost—their lives, and the city itself—for now they would never be able to help Worthington in time.

“The painted warriors are different,” Quinlan warned his comrades. “Your first thrust must be fatal, or they will rise again.”

“Now, that’s an important safety tip,” Kessler quipped.

“I swear, Kessler,” Purcell scoffed, “you really don’t know when to quit being funny.”

“If these Assassin Warriors get to the knights protecting the city—,” Quinlan began.

“They won’t,” Drake said with vehemence.

“Let’s take them.” Lilam swung her sword in anticipation of the fight.

“Killing all of you will be almost as sweet as killing Baylor,” Luskan taunted.

“Remember who you serve, knights,” Quinlan said. “The King reigns!”

“And His Son!” they shouted in unison.

“Kill them!” Luskan ordered.

The first line of Assassin Warriors lunged into the wall of defensive swords wielded by the valor knights. The unit worked with flawless teamwork. Lilam advanced, and Drake covered her side. Quinlan felled one warrior, then blasted the sword of Purcell’s opponent aside so that Purcell could complete a perfect thrust and put that warrior down. Kessler feigned retreat while Drake diverted a slice that cut clean through the torso of Kessler’s opponent. Then Kessler assumed Drake’s fight while Quinlan covered for Lilam.

Minute by minute the fight continued, the clash of swords and daggers
ringing in the street. The Assassin Warriors fought viciously and without emotion, as if their only purpose in life was to kill and be killed. Many an Assassin Warrior rose up after a valor knight thought him dead, but many others fell, never to rise again. Still the fight continued.

A roar of fury rose over the sounds of battle as Luskan realized his Assassins were not overcoming the valor knights. Enraged, he strode toward the fray, sword swinging. Quinlan’s heart sank, and he opened his mouth to warn his comrades.

“Luskan!” The fight paused as all eyes turned in the direction of the powerful voice.

There, like a bastion of kingly power, stood Taras. Both swords protruded from his back scabbards, waiting to be used. He withdrew them both and pointed to opposite sides of the city. “We have come to help those who belong to the Prince!”

Quinlan looked to the hills and saw a ribbon of violet light descending quickly.

“And
I
”—Taras pointed both swords at Luskan—“have come for
you!”

He swirled both swords in anticipation of the fight. Luskan growled, and the two warriors ran toward each other in an epic clash of dark and light.

“Thusia!”
At this cryptic command from Luskan, the Assassin Warriors renewed their attack with suicidal vengeance. The tide of the battle turned as the valor knights began to falter.

Purcell took a slice across his leg and fell to one knee, and Quinlan barely managed to deflect the deathblow that followed. Quinlan heard Lilam gasp and turned to see an Assassin withdraw a sword from her shoulder. Purcell’s hastily thrown knife found its mark in that Shadow Warrior’s neck, but another Assassin stepped in to take his place.

Quinlan felt defeat crashing down upon them. He glanced at Taras, who was locked in an intense duel with Luskan. Then he saw something scurry across the street and realized he still had one strategic maneuver left.

He whistled loudly and heard Kalil’s trumpet reply. The penthomoth
burst onto the street with paythas screaming in three of his trunks. He smashed them into the nearest wall, then looked toward the valor knights.

Quinlan didn’t need to signal. The animal charged the Assassins from behind with the full rage of a protective beast. Kalil’s appearance renewed hope, and the tide turned once more. The valor knights’ swords flew swiftly as Kalil trampled, crushed, and threw Assassins every which way.

Within moments the fight was over. Quinlan ordered Kessler to tend to Lilam and Drake to Purcell. At that moment, a cheer rose from the city’s northern border. It seemed to flow around them like a wave.

Quinlan looked for Taras. His fight had ended too, and he was walking toward them. Quinlan saw Luskan mounted and riding away, cradling his arm. The battle for Burkfield was over, and the Knights of the Prince stood victorious.

Quinlan took a few steps toward Taras, who was still fifteen paces away, but the look on the face of this mighty warrior confused him.

“Watch out!” Taras yelled and pointed behind Quinlan. Quinlan turned to see that a wounded Assassin Warrior had risen up and was in the last few degrees of a deadly arc aimed right for Quinlan’s back.

There was no time to react. It was over. But the air split open with a trumpet call, and at the final fraction of a second before the warrior’s blade would have split Quinlan in two, Kalil lunged into the warrior and crushed him beneath his powerful legs. The attack had a cost, however, and the penthomoth tumbled to the ground with the warrior’s blade plunged deep into its side.

“No!” Quinlan ran to his friend.

Kalil bellowed as Quinlan removed the sword, and the animal tried in vain to rise. Finally he slumped to the ground, crying in pain.

Quinlan fell on the animal’s neck as Taras and the Swords of Valor gathered around. “You’ve given too much, my friend,” he said through tears.

Kalil lifted his central trunk and stroked Quinlan’s shoulder as if to say, “It’s all right. That’s why I came with you.”

Kalil’s breathing became shallow, and his trunk slowly fell from
Quinlan’s shoulder. Then he grew still, and Quinlan mourned the loss of another great friend.

Lilam knelt and put a hand on Quinlan’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Quinlan. Only the noble in heart can give such a sacrifice.”

Kessler added his hand to Lilam’s. “All of us owe him our—”

The clatter of hoofs on cobblestone interrupted. Sir Worthington, Lady Raisa, Sir Edmund, and four other knights approached on horseback. Quinlan stood, knowing a commander’s grief must often be postponed. In the dark of night he would return to his grief in honor of his fallen friend.

“What is your status, Sir Worthington?” Quinlan asked.

“There are many wounded,” Worthington replied, “but they are being cared for. The Silent Warriors came just in time or the situation would have been much worse.”

Quinlan turned to thank Taras for his last-minute aid, but the Silent Warrior was gone. Quinlan had a feeling he would see him again before too long.

He turned back and offered Worthington his hand. “Thank you for all you’ve done.” Worthington gripped his forearm tightly, and Quinlan knew a lifelong friendship had been forged that day. Worthington turned to Edmund and began talking about rebuilding the haven, while the other knights discussed the events of the battle.

“Sir Quinlan,” a soft voice called. Quinlan turned to see Lady Raisa step toward him. He wondered what awkwardness or insult he might suffer this time.

She gave him a sheepish smile instead. “I believe I may owe you an apology … or two.”

Quinlan thought of their encounters and realized her actions may not have been ill-intended. After all, had it not been for Raisa, he might never have left Burkfield to find the Prince.

“Actually, Raisa,” he said, “you were the only one who saw my struggle and was brave enough to address it.”

“I don’t have my brother’s gift with words.” She glanced toward Worthington. “Sometimes my zeal for the Prince and my tongue get me in trouble. I’m truly sorry.”

Quinlan smiled at her. “Your words stung, but they were true. Speaking the hard truth is often the best thing you can do for a friend.”

Raisa looked at him with a gleam in her eye and slowly shook her head. “I sensed then that there was more to you. I just didn’t realize how much more.”

Quinlan looked away, embarrassed by her penetrating gaze. An awkward silence followed; then Raisa put her hand on Quinlan’s arm.

“I’m grateful for your kind words, Sir Quinlan.” She turned to mount her horse.

“Lady Raisa,” Quinlan called to her, and she spun about.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for what you and your brother have done here today.”

“It is our duty … to help a friend,” she said. “You’re welcome.”

“Perhaps when I pass through Thecia we could talk again.”

“I would like that very much.” She flashed him a warm smile, then mounted up and rode off with Worthington to help in the recovery.

Quinlan turned to check on his unit, but his gaze fell first upon a man kneeling near the corner of one of the shops. He was looking at the dead paythas strewn about, but a very large live one still rode on his shoulder. Tav turned toward Quinlan, and their eyes locked. Quinlan beckoned to him, but Tav just stood and walked away, the sword of the Prince hanging idle at his side. Quinlan’s heart wrenched for his friend who had been a brother, but Sir Baylor’s words rang in his ears: “Everyone must choose for himself.”

Quinlan sighed and walked to check on Purcell and Lilam. Their wounds were significant but not life threatening. If all went well, they would recover fully.

“That was quite the first mission.” Purcell pushed up on his elbows and flashed a crooked grin. “I don’t think
any
mission with you is going to be boring … Commander.”

Kessler, Drake, and Lilam laughed in agreement. Quinlan smiled and shook his head. He knew they were right … but he also knew it wasn’t he who brought such adventure. It was the journey of following the Prince that did so—a journey he couldn’t wait to continue.

THE WAY OF THE WISE, THE WAY OF A FOOL

In the years before the Rising, a time when Lucius gained control of all Arrethtrae and ruled in tyranny, Quinlan led the Swords of Valor on many great missions for the Prince. The life he lived did indeed reverberate across the kingdom, saving many from the clutches of the Dark Knight and bringing many to the Prince.

Unfortunately, this story of two knights, Sir Quinlan and Sir Gustav, does not end there. The day the Prince came for His faithful knights was a day of great joy … and of great sorrow. The grand ships arrived to take the Knights of the Prince home, and I, Cedric, was aboard the ship when Sir Quinlan came to the dock where the Prince stood. Quinlan fell to his knees before the mighty One, and the Prince lifted him up.

“Well done, my good and faithful knight,” the Prince said with joy in his voice. Quinlan was received and entered the ship with gladness.

Then, as we were about to embark, Sir Gustav—Quinlan’s friend Tav—came running for the docks. His paytha, snarling and growling, dug its claws into Gustav’s shoulders, but he came anyway. As he approached the docks, however, the paytha could not take being in the
presence of the Prince. It jumped from Gustav’s shoulder and fell into the sea.