by Chuck Black
Twitch reached for his chest with his left hand and his sword with his right. His response seemed like slow motion compared to Baylor’s. His confusion mounted as Baylor turned his back to him. The mighty knight assumed a two-handed hanging guard stance, facing something Twitch had only imagined in his nightmares.
Just beyond Baylor stood a massive dark warrior, who growled and cursed as he recovered his sword from a vertical cut that had split the ground where Twitch had just been kneeling. The warrior unleashed a volley of cuts and slices toward Baylor. Their swords collided in brilliant, ear-piercing clashes.
Twitch instinctively backed away on his elbows, still trying desperately to regain his air. The grip on his lungs finally released, and he drew a shaky breath.
Twitch rose up to one knee as he saw Baylor catch a slice with his sword and quickly counter with one of his own that caught the dark warrior off guard. The warrior cursed and stepped back, and Baylor capitalized on this slight advantage. He feigned a thrust but then quickly changed to a powerful two-handed slice that blasted into his enemy’s shoulder. Thrown off balance, the warrior stumbled toward the ridge. Baylor advanced with a thrust, and the warrior lost his footing. He screamed and grasped for the edge of the ridge as he tumbled over. Baylor then turned to engage another massive warrior who had come at him from behind.
“Move, kid!” Twitch heard a different voice scream from his right. He turned just in time to glimpse another grisly blade arcing toward him.
Twitch’s stomach rose to his throat. He dove forward, away from the deadly cut, and felt the tip of the blade slice through the back of his tunic, grazing his right shoulder. He hit the ground and rolled to his back again.
What is happening? he wondered, fear filling his heart as yet another dark warrior loomed over him. There was nothing Twitch could do to stop the inevitable. He closed his eyes and turned his head away as the glinting steel thundered down like a lightning bolt.
This time, the clang of metal on metal was so close to his head it hurt his ears. The scuffle of boots cast dirt and pine needles into his face. He looked up to see a knight maneuvering his sword so deftly that Twitch could hardly follow it. Slowly the warrior retreated as the knight advanced. Twitch once again crawled away from the fray and quickly regained his feet.
The clearing now vibrated with the intensity of battle. Two other knights had appeared from the woods to join Sir Baylor and his comrade. Each knight was engaged in a life-or-death duel with an evil warrior who seemed to defy Twitch’s perception of reality. The knights’ clothing was subdued, but each clearly bore the mark of the Prince. They seemed fearless. Each fought for his life and yet for something more.
These men fought not as individuals, but as a finely honed team. When one knight faltered, another deftly moved to protect his companion, then quickly reengaged his foe again. As a force of four, the knights formed an impenetrable wall of protection. Twitch finally drew his sword as well, but it seemed a paltry action when he realized just how inadequate his skills were in comparison.
“Kessler, Drake’s flank!” Twitch heard Sir Baylor command as he wounded an opponent, then ran to assist another knight. The one named Kessler moved with the speed of a panther to engage the warrior attacking the knight who had saved Twitch. After a few more moments of tenacious fighting, the dark warriors disengaged and retreated into the surrounding trees.
“Where did they come from?” the knight named Kessler asked as he and his comrades scanned the area for more threats. Sweat dripped from ringlets of black hair that hung around his handsome, dark-skinned face. He was the first to sheath his sword.
Sir Baylor just shook his head. With narrow eyes he continued his scan.
“Yes, what happened, Commander?” The one called Drake turned to face Baylor. He was a large knight, nearly equal in size to the warriors they had just faced. His sandy hair and bright blue eyes did little to diminish the fierceness of his countenance. “You know as well as we that they don’t attack without a purpose.”
“You’re right, and I didn’t expect them here.” Baylor sheathed his sword and turned to face Twitch for the first time. “Where’s Gustav?”
Twitch was still stunned by what he’d just experienced. He shook his head as if to awaken from a bad dream. “He didn’t come, sir.”
The fourth knight abandoned his search at the perimeter of the clearing and walked toward the rest of the group, his sword and long knife still firmly in his grip. He walked past Twitch as if he wasn’t there and stood before Baylor.
“We delayed another day for nothing? And risked this exposure?” he asked Baylor. The intensity of battle still lingered in his brown eyes. A half-grown mustache and sparse goatee gave his youthful face a roguish appearance.
“Easy, Purcell,” Baylor said. “We lost nothing.”
“And gained nothing,” Drake added.
Kessler grinned. “You blokes needed to sharpen up a bit anyway.” He slapped Purcell on the shoulder as he walked to the ridge leading down from the mountain. “What’s next, Commander?”
Purcell sneered briefly at Kessler, then sighed and sheathed his sword. He spun his long knife about his palm before snapping it into its own sheath. “Shall we prepare to leave, sir?”
“It appears so.” Baylor shot a quick glance toward Twitch. “Rendezvous at the river. I’ll be there to join you shortly.”
The three knights saluted and began their descent down Mount Resolute. Baylor stared hard at Twitch, who was keenly aware that his cheek was convulsing again.
Baylor crossed his arms across his chest. “Why didn’t Gustav come with you … and why are you here?”
“I … I wanted to talk to you about—sir, what just happened?” Twitch rubbed his chest, wondering if he found it difficult to breathe because of what he’d just seen or because of Baylor’s impact on him.
“That was just a glimpse of the war I warned Gustav about.” Baylor looked from one side of the clearing to the other, then settled his eyes back on Twitch. “Why they attacked you is peculiar. Perhaps they thought you were Gustav.”
“I don’t understand,” Twitch said.
“You don’t have to.” Baylor walked to the edge of the ridge. “You’d best follow me down and be on your way.”
Twitch stayed close to Baylor. The first part of the descent was steep, but the grade became gradual enough for Twitch to walk beside Sir Baylor.
“Who were those warriors?” he finally mustered the courage to ask.
Baylor seemed to ignore the question, and Twitch didn’t dare ask twice. Somehow he felt guilty about the recent skirmish, as if it were somehow his fault.
They walked a few more paces.
“They were Shadow Warriors under the command of Lucius.” Baylor said it matter-of-factly, but chills ran up Twitch’s spine.
They came to another lesser ridge that led to their final descent. Baylor hesitated, briefly peering into the gathering dusk.
“Who are those knights who fought with you?” Twitch asked. “Who are you … really?”
Baylor looked over at Twitch.
“Look, son. You’ve already seen too much, and you shouldn’t even be here. These men—they are the tip of the Prince’s sword. Their commitment is total, their sacrifice is great, and their skills are unmatched. I’ve searched the kingdom over to find them. They put their lives on the line for the King and His Son every day, and sometimes …” Baylor turned away. When he turned back, his jaw was clenched and his eyes red. “Sometimes they fall. What I ask from them—what the Prince asks of them—is much, and I would give my life to protect them. Their secrecy is part of that protection.”
Twitch swallowed hard. Something stirred deep within him, something he had never felt before. For one brief moment of his life he had been witness to a whole new world of conflict and purpose. It was a glimpse he couldn’t forget. It also told him that Sir Baylor was everything he seemed to be and more.
“I want to join you, sir.” Twitch could not stop
the words if he’d tried. They had formed deep in his soul and spilled out before he could think them away. It was a defining moment, a moment that might thrust him into a whole new world about which he knew nothing—a world of battle!
Baylor halted and stared at Twitch; then a slight smile crossed his lips. His gaze softened as he put a hand on Twitch’s shoulder.
“Don’t take this wrong, son, but this unit isn’t something you join. My knights are carefully selected, and Gustav—”
Baylor froze, and his eyes regained their steely gaze. He grabbed Twitch’s tunic and shoved him up next to a tree. He held his finger to his lips, then quietly drew his sword. Twitch’s heart began to race again. Were the Shadow Warriors back? Were there more this time?
Baylor readied his sword. He turned away from Twitch, his muscles taut and ready to fight. Twitch saw him reach for a chain around his neck and lift a small silver disk out of his tunic. He turned away and brought his hand to his face, then replaced the disk inside his shirt.
“Stay here,” Baylor whispered over his shoulder.
Twitch watched as the man stealthily made his way through the trees along the ridge. His face began convulsing again. He drew his own sword and tried to see through the shadows of the retreating day. In another moment, Baylor had disappeared completely, and Twitch struggled to keep his fear in check.
Something shuffled behind him, and he spun about with his sword, fully expecting another grisly weapon to be descending on him. A squirrel raced across the forest floor and scurried up a tree. Twitch exhaled with relief. The faint sound of deep voices filtered through the foliage, but the words were unintelligible. Finally Baylor appeared again, his sword sheathed. Twitch quickly sheathed his own and waited.
Baylor walked directly to Twitch and put his fists on his hips. He eyed him up and down with a perplexed look on his face. It was an awkward moment, and Twitch’s cheek seemed worse than ever.
“What’s your name?” Baylor asked bluntly.
“Twitch, sir.”
Annoyance flashed across Baylor’s face. “What’s your real name?”
Twitch studied the ground. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked him for his real name. He looked back up at the stern face of Sir Baylor.
“My name is Quinlan.”
LEAST OF THE LEAST
Baylor motioned toward the ridge.
“Come, Sir Quinlan. You’re riding with us.”
Baylor immediately stepped over the ridge and on toward the base of Mount Resolute. Quinlan stood still, stunned by Sir Baylor’s apparent change of mind. He had fully expected his request to be denied, for his skills as a knight were nothing compared to Tav’s, not to mention the knights who rode with Sir Baylor. Quinlan knew he could spend his whole life in training and still not achieve what he had just seen.
He ran to catch up to Sir Baylor. “I should tell Tav and his parents. They are my only family and will want to know.”
“We need to leave immediately.” Baylor’s words felt cold, and his demeanor toward Quinlan seemed to harden. “However, we can afford to give you a few minutes to gather your things and say good-bye.”
Quinlan didn’t say another word. He knew Baylor’s offer to join him would only happen once, and he didn’t want to jeopardize that in any way. Yet second thoughts began even before he had mounted Kobalt. Quinlan had come to Mount Resolute looking for answers to a few questions, not seeking to abandon everything in his life in a moment. Yet here he was, following a man he knew almost nothing about into a completely unknown future. The only thing he really knew was that he was ill-equipped and unprepared—the least of the least—for whatever lay ahead.
When they arrived at Quinlan’s home, Baylor waited outside. Tav was still away with Mirya. After explaining the scratches on his face and hands to Tav’s parents, Quinlan told them what he’d decided to do. Tav’s father looked sternly at him, then went outside to speak with Baylor. Tav’s mother put her hand on Quinlan’s arm. “Are you sure about this, Twitch?”
Quinlan nodded at the woman who had been his substitute mother for the past nine years. “Yes … I’m sure.” He put his hand on hers. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me. Someday I hope to be able to repay you.”
She squeezed his arm. “Sons don’t repay a father or a mother for raising them.”
Quinlan lowered his head, moved by her words. He looked into her worried face and quickly hugged her, then headed for his room to gather a few belongings.
He was nearly ready when Tav burst into his room. “What crazy nonsense is this?”
Quinlan finished tying up his knapsack and turned to face his friend.
“What happened to you?” Tav took a few steps closer to inspect the scratches across Quinlan’s face.
Quinlan realized that Disty was glaring at him from Tav’s shoulder and baring its teeth. He pointed at the paytha, which growled. “Tav, you need to get rid of that thing!”
“What are you talking about?” Tav reached up to pet Disty, who settled a bit.
Quinlan held up his hands to show Tav the bite marks. “Bli attacked me for no reason. It just went mad.”
Tav looked confused. He walked over to a table and tapped on it. Disty scurried down his arm onto the table and chortled softly while Tav stroked its neck.
“That probably had something to do with Baylor too,” he said. “What’s going on, chum?”
“Sir Baylor said I could go with him, Tav.” Quinlan hesitated. “And I’m going.”
“You can’t do this.” Tav lowered his voice. “Baylor is crazy! There’s no telling what will happen to you.”
“He’s not crazy, Tav. You and I both know that. Tonight I saw something …” Quinlan looked at the ground and slowly shook his head. He looked up and took a step toward his friend. “You should come with me!”
Disty growled again, and Quinlan backed away.
“Whoa, Disty—what’s wrong with you tonight?” Tav said. The critter scurried closer to him and begged to be lifted back onto Tav’s shoulder. Tav obliged.
“You are what Sir Baylor needs, much more so than I.” Quinlan imagined both of them on a quest of great purpose for the Prince, just as they had dreamed of years ago. “We could do this together.”
“Leave my father without any help at all? Leave Mirya? I don’t think so, chum.” Tav looked deep into Quinlan’s eyes, then forced a weak smile. “This isn’t for me. It’s for you.”
He held out his arm, and Quinlan grabbed it.
“You be careful,” Tav said. “Whether Baylor’s crazy or not, you be careful.”
Quinlan nodded, then walked outside, where Tav’s father was exchanging heated words with Sir Baylor. He hushed when Quinlan appeared. Quinlan’s farewell to Tav’s father was wordless in keeping with their reserved relationship, but he still rode away with a lump in his throat.
Quinlan trailed closely behind Sir Baylor until they reached the little grove near the river where Sir Drake, Sir Kessler, and Sir Purcell were waiting. “Gentlemen,” Baylor announced as he dismounted, “this is Sir Quinlan, the newest member of our unit.”
The look of consternation on the faces of the knights made Quinlan cringe, which set his cheek to twitching.
“You’re kidding,” Purcell said. “What’s going on, Commander?”
Baylor crossed his arms. “Quinlan is our fifth knight. We will train him as such.”
“Commander”—Drake motioned with his head—“can we have a word with you?”
Baylor clenched his jaw and walked a few paces away with the three knights. Their conversation was hushed and unintelligible to Quinlan at first, but soon the volume of the voices rose.
“Commander, our lives depend on each other’s skills.” Drake’s deep voice carried to Quinlan’s ears. “This lad can hardly handle a sword, let alone handle himself in a fight.”
“That’s right,” Purcell joined in. “He’s no replacement for Sir Freyton and certainly not his equal. One or all of us could g
et killed because of his inexperience. You must reconsider!”
That Kessler remained silent was small compensation for the humiliation Quinlan felt. He walked to the far side of Kobalt, intending to ride back to Burkfield and forget this day had ever happened. He checked the girth and set his foot into the stirrup.
“Do you two have anything else you want to say?” Quinlan heard Baylor ask sternly.
Silence was the only reply.
“Then mount up. We ride for Arimil—all of us. We only have a few hours of moonlight.”
Quinlan hesitated with his foot in the stirrup. He completely agreed with Purcell and Drake. He could never truly be a replacement for any of them, and he was just as confused as they were about why Baylor had chosen him.
He slowly lifted himself onto Kobalt as the other knights recovered their steeds. He felt trapped. Nothing he could do would feel right now. He watched with great trepidation as Baylor led the knights toward the road that led to Arimil. Quinlan delayed until he was last in line, but he followed.
Not long after they began, Kessler broke from Purcell and Drake and joined Quinlan at the rear. “Is Burkfield home for you?” he asked.
“For as long as I can remember,” Quinlan replied.
“So you’ve got family there?”
“Not really,” Quinlan said. “Tav’s—Gustav’s—family took me in when I was just a lad, after my parents died. They’re as close as I have to family.”
Kessler nodded. He leaned over to Quinlan and spoke more softly than usual. “Don’t let Drake and Purcell rattle you. They’re good men once you get to know them.”
Quinlan glanced at Kessler and caught a quick wink accompanied by a crooked grin. He forced a smile in return, grateful for Kessler’s attempt to make him feel better. The overture couldn’t change reality, though. Everyone in the unit knew Quinlan shouldn’t be there—everyone, apparently, except Baylor.
They had not ridden far before the moon set and the roadway grew too dark for the horses to navigate. Baylor chose a secluded grove of trees for their camp. The following morning they were on their way by daybreak.