Sir Quinlan and the Swords of Valor (9 page)

Quinlan swallowed hard as Kessler continued. “Five warriors or less is a skirmish. Fifteen or less, a fray. Fifty, a conflict. More than that is a battle.”

“How about a war?”

Kessler smiled. “That’s what we’re in right now, my friend, and it’s all around us.”

“Of course,” Quinlan said with a sheepish grin. “The commander mentioned three-stage protection. What is it?”

“Stage one is outer-perimeter protection. Baylor identifies the size and direction of the approaching Shadow Warrior force. With early detection, Baylor has often been able to thwart an attack before it starts, especially if it’s a single warrior. Stage two is inner-perimeter protection,
the primary and preferred fight zone for anything greater than four warriors. Stage three is protection right next to the target. If the fight gets that close, we haven’t done our job and things are getting desperate. Depending on the situation, target extraction is a possibility. That’s part of Purcell’s reconnaissance—to determine a safe extraction route. By then our cover is blown and all bets are off.”

Quinlan shook his head, again feeling completely out of his league. It would take a decade of training before he could contribute anything to the unit … if he didn’t get killed first. He imagined Tav in his place—clearly the wiser choice—but thinking that way brought instant discouragement, so he forced himself to concentrate on the mission at hand.

Quinlan spent the next three hours learning as much as possible from Kessler—asking questions when necessary while trying not to be a hindrance to their work. He was extremely grateful for being assigned with him and knew that Baylor had matched them for more than just mission fulfillment.

At sundown the five men met once again on the knoll overlooking the city. Baylor reached down with a stick and drew a rough outline of Arimil and the coastline in the dirt. “Purcell, you first,” he commanded.

“The haven meets on the stable grounds on the southeastern edge of the city. Worthington and his team sleep in tents nearby.” Purcell pointed to the location of the haven and the tents on the ground map.

Baylor looked disappointed.

“That’s tougher to defend,” Kessler whispered to Quinlan. “Get ready for double night watches.”

“There are four other Knights of the Prince on Worthington’s team,” Purcell continued. “Three look like they can handle themselves well. Worthington himself is solid. The haven is small and ill-prepared for anything significant. Other than their leader, Sir Borden, I wouldn’t count on any of their swords in a fray. The training and meetings begin after the morning meal and finish just before sundown. Near as I can tell, they’re expecting forty to fifty attendees. I should be able to stay close to Worthington all day.”

“Good,” Baylor replied. “Coordinate with Kessler on communication signals and possible extraction routes. Kessler, what did you find?”

“There’s a seven-foot stone wall here”—he drew it on the ground map—“that will offer some protection on the northern and eastern sides of the location, although there are trees and some fencing that could also provide cover for an attacker.” He added more detail to the map as he talked. “A wooden fence borders the southeast. There are numerous shops inside the city to the west with the main thoroughfare two streets away. If warriors make it into the city undetected, they’ve got multiple access points to the stables—tough to cover with just two men.”

“If my information is correct, they shouldn’t be in the city yet,” Baylor replied. “Unless they’re seafarers, but Taras assured me they had that covered. Anything else?”

Kessler shook his head. “If an event happens in the city, things could get messy.”

Baylor nodded. “In that case, Drake, you’re with Kessler guarding the city side of the haven. There’s moderate cover in the surrounding country, so I should be able to spot warriors readily if they approach from the east. The key to success for this mission will be communication. Quinlan, that’s where you come in. I want you positioned out of sight of the attendees, north of the stone wall.” He pointed to the spot on the map. “That will allow you to see my signals as to warrior force size and direction. Do you have the flag and hand signals down?”

Quinlan nodded.

“Good. You need to patrol the outside of that stone wall and also be able to see Kessler or Drake in case the attack comes from the city. You will relay information either direction, depending on what happens. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Commander.” Quinlan tried to sound confident.

“Very well.” Baylor wiped the ground map clean and stood up. “At night we’ll collapse to a close perimeter around Worthington’s tents. Purcell, Quinlan, you have the first watch—then Drake and Kessler. I’ll take the third watch.”

Baylor gathered his men in a circle, then drew his sword. “Remember who you serve, Knights of the Prince.”

The other men drew their swords and brought them together in the center of their circle.

“Swords of Valor for Him,” the men said in unison.

The Swords of Valor were in position before breakfast the next day. Quinlan settled into his place just on the north side of the stone wall, near a spot where the stones had partially fallen. He could see Baylor on a knoll east of the haven and would easily be able to relay any flag signals the commander gave. He could also see Kessler across the outer yard and one street into the city. Kessler was dressed as a commoner, browsing shops. Drake was nearby but not visible to Quinlan.

The hours wore on. Quinlan struggled to keep his attention keen, reminding himself that Shadow Warriors could arrive at any moment. The clang of swords wielded by knights and trainees just inside the wall helped with the boredom. In the afternoon, Quinlan heard the distant sure voice of a young man teaching others, though the words were too faint for Quinlan to discern any content. He assumed the voice belonged to Worthington.

Later, Quinlan heard a different voice much closer—just on the other side of the wall, in fact. It was a female voice with an unusual accent that enticed him to listen closely to every word. “The sword is the embodiment of the Code, our primary weapon to defend the weak and protect the innocent. It is our greatest defense against the forces of evil.”

The voice was confident and yet lovely. Quinlan was grateful he couldn’t see the speaker, for he imagined she would be as charming as she sounded, and that would send him into his typical awkward state. Still, hearing her instruct trainees for the rest of the afternoon provided a delightful distraction from Quinlan’s tedious lookout duties.

The day ended as uneventfully as it had started, much to Quinlan’s relief. After Purcell shared more information he had gathered about the
haven and Worthington himself, the valor knights retreated to their night watches.

The next day passed much as the previous one had. By late afternoon, the meetings were wrapping up. Quinlan looked toward Baylor—all clear. Then he looked toward Kessler and passed on the signal. He could hear the final bout of sword training just over the wall and wondered how many trainees were taking the exercises seriously.

“Been standing here long?”

Quinlan jumped at the voice behind him. He reached for his sword as he turned.

“Whoa, sir. I’m a friend.” The man offered his hand. “Worthington of Berwick, in Cameria.”

Quinlan relaxed and grasped the man’s hand. “It’s an honor, sir.”

Worthington tilted his head slightly, then smiled. Wavy brown hair flowed back from a handsome face, and his weary gray eyes held a down-to-earth friendliness. If he was supposed to be someone great, he didn’t seem to know it.

“Are you from Arimil?” The man spoke with the same intriguing accent as the young female knight. Quinlan suspected they were both from the same region—perhaps husband and wife.

“No, I’m not from here.” Quinlan wondered how important it was to keep his identity a secret from Worthington. They were both Knights of the Prince, after all, fighting for the same cause.

“So what are you doing here?” Worthington asked.

At that instant, over Worthington’s shoulder, Quinlan spotted Baylor’s signal—three Shadow Warriors approaching from the north! His heart began to race. He glanced north but saw nothing; then he turned and saw Kessler drawing his sword. Kessler signaled that two warriors were approaching from the south, then disappeared before Quinlan could pass Baylor’s message on.

Five Shadow Warriors! Quinlan wasn’t sure what to do. Where was Purcell?

“You seem concerned,” Worthington said. “Is there something I can help you—”

Quinlan drew his sword and Worthington backed away, his hand to the hilt of his own weapon. “What’s the meaning of this?” he asked sternly.

“Sir Worthington, I am a fellow Knight of the Prince,” Quinlan said quickly. “Shadow Warriors are coming this way. We need to get you back into the haven.”

At first Worthington looked as if he thought Quinlan was crazy. Then his eyes opened wide, and he drew his sword. “Watch out!” he screamed.

Quinlan turned just in time to see a Shadow Warrior lunging toward them from behind a group of trees. Another warrior was behind him, closing in quickly. The closest warrior slammed his sword into Quinlan’s and sent him stumbling to the side, then immediately attacked Worthington, the obvious target.

Quinlan recovered to one knee and prepared to face the second charging warrior, hoping that Worthington could hold his own until Baylor arrived. Just then, he saw Purcell leap through the broken-down section of the stone wall to face the second warrior. His knife was drawn before his feet hit the ground.

Quinlan turned to help Worthington, who appeared to be in dire trouble. The young knight watched in horror as the first warrior finished a crosscut, followed by a thrust toward Worthington’s heart. But then Quinlan caught a glimpse of steel pass just above his right shoulder. Purcell’s perfectly thrown knife sank into the Shadow Warrior’s side, causing him to pull back on his deadly thrust.

The warrior screamed and turned on Quinlan in fury. Fear washed over Quinlan as he readied himself to face his first real enemy.

He caught a vertical cut and tried to counter, but the warrior quickly blocked it and advanced with another slice. Just then Quinlan heard Worthington shout behind him and engage with what Quinlan realized had to be the third warrior Baylor had seen. The clash of steel from the three fights meshed with the sound of training just on the other side of the haven wall.

In spite of his wound, the warrior Quinlan was facing made cuts
and slices so powerful that Quinlan found himself in constant retreat. After two more advances, however, the injured warrior began to falter, and Quinlan risked an advance. The warrior deflected two of his cuts, then backed away, stumbled, and disappeared into the trees.

Thankful that the fight was over and that he had survived it, Quinlan turned to help Worthington. But Worthington’s opponent had maneuvered him away from Quinlan and Purcell, toward the end of the stone wall, and looked to be one slice shy of overpowering the man. Quinlan started toward them, knowing there was no way he could reach them in time. Just then Sir Baylor appeared on horseback from around the end of the wall and charged the warrior, bringing him off of Worthington. Behind him appeared the young female knight, sword drawn and ready.

Relieved, Quinlan turned back to help Purcell. Once Purcell’s Shadow Warrior saw another knight coming, he too backed out of the fight and disappeared into the trees.

“Kessler signaled two more in the city,” Quinlan said.

“Come.” Purcell took off in that direction. Quinlan followed, looking over his shoulder to see that the warrior attacking Worthington had abandoned his fight as well. The young woman stared in Quinlan’s direction as other knights from Worthington’s unit began appearing from behind the wall. Worthington would be well protected now.

Quinlan and Purcell ran to the street where Kessler had last been seen.

“He went south,” Quinlan reported.

They ran past three shops and then saw both Drake and Kessler walking toward them from an alleyway. Bright red blood spilled from a cut on Drake’s arm. He didn’t seem to notice it.

“They attacked from the south,” Kessler said, “but we were able to hold them off—quite easily, for some reason.”

“It was a diversion,” Purcell said. “Three more attacked from the north at the same time.”

Kessler’s eyes widened. “Worthington?”

“Safe,” Purcell replied. “But it was close—a third-stage event. Baylor showed up at the last moment.”

Drake shook his head. “Five warriors, split attack, single target—that’s a first.”

The four men stood in silence for a moment.

“They’re on to us,” Purcell said gravely, “and adjusting.”

“Yes, feels a bit like a game of chess with high stakes, doesn’t it?” Kessler said, then smiled broadly. “Are we knights or are we pawns, gentlemen?”

“Must you be so cheerful about everything?” Purcell grumbled, turning back toward the haven. Drake and Kessler laughed and followed behind. Quinlan joined them, but not in the laughter, for he was feeling quite like a pawn.

A NEW KIND OF ENEMY