by Chuck Black
Quinlan’s heart sank at Taras’s words. He had thought he’d endured the worst part of his training, but now there was much more to come. It was a shock for him to realize how weak and protected he had been his whole life. This kingdom was a hard place, and the ways of it even harder. Every step he took toward understanding that truth took him further and further away from his comfortable life in Burkfield, and he realized he could never go back, not even if he wanted to. It would be like trying to unlearn how to ride a horse. This was a one-way journey.
Taras reached into a pocket and removed the crystal coin Quinlan had given him six weeks earlier. He handed it to Quinlan.
“You will need it in this world.” He pointed to a peaceful-looking valley not far away, in the shadows of the mountain range. “Look there.”
Quinlan slowly brought the crystal coin up to his eye and looked through it. By holding it at different distances he found he could cause the image to shrink or magnify. He looked toward the valley Taras pointed to, and the air nearly left his lungs. The entire valley glowed a faint green, and many hundreds of individual green glimmers showed in the hills surrounding the valley.
He swallowed hard and fought the fear that swelled within him. He quickly scanned other regions of the mountain and then the plains to the west. Every so often he caught both individual green glimmers and clusters of them. To see farther, he held the crystal coin further away from him, but the image became too blurry to discern anything.
He slowly lowered the crystal coin and stared back at the seemingly peaceful valley. He had just seen what was not supposed to be seen by Arrethtraen eyes, and it shook him.
Is the entire kingdom like this? he wondered.
Quinlan stood in silence, trying to decide if he really wanted to be part of this terrifying world, then realized that everyone in the kingdom already was—they just didn’t know it.
“You didn’t look through the crystal? How did you know they were there?” he asked Taras.
“I cannot see as clearly as you can through the crystal, but I have learned to see my enemy just the same.” Taras finally broke his gaze from the valley and looked at Quinlan. “It is a matter of survival.”
“I don’t think I can—”
“Remember lesson two—know who you want to become,” Taras interrupted. “The Prince sees you not for who you think you are, but for who He knows you are. The truth is that when He died for you on that tree long ago and when you accepted Him as the Son of the King, you already became that which you hope you will become.”
“I don’t understand,” Quinlan said. Taras’s words seemed like a convoluted riddle.
Taras took a deep breath, apparently frustrated at trying to explain the significant to the simple.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Quinlan hesitated, confused by the question. “I am Quinlan of Burkfield.”
“No!” Taras’s eyes glowered. “You are a Knight of the Prince—royal son of the King, heir to the kingdom of Arrethtrae and beyond!”
Taras paced in agitation as he continued. “I and my brothers live and die in service to the King, protecting the Knights of the Prince from the plots and deceptions of Lucius, and yet most of the knights don’t even understand who they are in the Prince. We will never be what you already are!”
Quinlan looked up at the mighty warrior in fearful wonder, unnerved by the depth of Taras’s emotion. And Taras was not through. “When you believe the truth about who you are in the Prince,” he said, “you will be that which you want to become. You cannot add anything to that which the Prince made perfect. All you can do is believe Him who made it so. Then and only then will you be ready.”
“Ready for what?” Quinlan asked.
“The Swords of Valor. They need you.”
Quinlan froze, stared, then finally shook his head. “I’ll never be the knight that Kessler, Drake, or Purcell is.”
“I trained Baylor,” Taras said bluntly. “I can train you.”
“I am no Baylor,” Quinlan retorted. “And I never will be.”
“You’re not supposed to be,” Taras replied angrily. “You’re supposed to be Quinlan.” He strode to the far edge of the knoll.
“Where are you going?”
“Over here, so I don’t strike you,” Taras replied with his back to Quinlan.
Quinlan’s eyes widened, and he stayed silent. Evidently even a Silent Warrior could be pushed too far, and Taras was closer to the edge than Quinlan had realized.
After a few moments Taras walked back across the knoll. He stared at Quinlan for a long while.
“I’m sorry, Taras,” Quinlan said, “but the thought of my becoming a true knight of the Swords of Valor seems … far-fetched. Kessler, Drake, and Purcell would never fight with me now. If that is what this is for, then—”
“You were chosen for this training, Quinlan.”
Quinlan was confused until he realized his meeting with Taras had not been a coincidence after all.
“Why?” he asked. “Kessler, Drake, or Purcell would do so much better with your training. Why not choose one of them?”
“I do not choose. The Prince chooses.”
Quinlan looked at Taras in disbelief, then turned away, overwhelmed by the thought.
“Besides,” Taras said, “the others cannot see through the crystal as you do.”
Quinlan recovered himself and turned back to Taras, a question on his face. “Not everyone can see the glowing green and violet?”
“No. Only those chosen by the Prince. Do you remember the fire that killed your parents?”
Quinlan nodded, wondering what that long-ago tragedy had to do with the crystal coin.
“Do you remember how the smoke and heat burned in your eyes?” Taras continued.
“Yes.” Quinlan winced at the painful memory. “When I awoke that night, the fire was raging everywhere. I screamed for my mother and father, but … it was already too late. The heat and the smoke were so intense I knew I was going to die. I could hardly see—everything was a blur, and my eyes hurt so much. A man carried me out of our house and set me beside a tree. He rubbed some kind of ointment into my eyes. I started to scream, but he told me to be calm. Slowly the pain diminished, but I couldn’t see anything. I thought I’d gone blind.”
Quinlan closed his eyes. “Others came and tried to save my parents, but the house collapsed. When they came to me and washed my eyes, everything was still blurry, but the pain was gone. Then, over the next few days, I began to see clearly again.”
“Who was the man that saved you?” Taras asked.
Quinlan shook his head. “I don’t know.” He looked up at Taras. “Was it—”
“The Prince knows how to use the catastrophes of our lives to make something good. That is why you can see warriors through the crystal coin. Many people have such gifts, but until they yield to the King’s calling, they will never know it. The day you knelt on Mount Resolute and swore your complete allegiance to the Prince was the day that put the rest of your life in motion. The Prince had been waiting for you all these years.”
Quinlan’s brow furrowed. “But Sir Baylor came for Tav.”
“Sir Baylor assumed he came for Tav because of his skills, but in truth I sent him for the one who was willing to give all to the Prince.”
Taras looked as though he was preparing to start the day’s journey. “In time, and if you complete the training, you won’t even need the crystal coin to see the enemy. The Prince gave to you what is in the coin. You just don’t believe it yet.”
I believe, my Prince, Quinlan said within himself. Please help me when I don’t believe.
Quinlan lifted the crystal coin to his eye once more and gazed at the luminescent valley.
“So many evil hearts in one place,” he said in a hushed tone. “What are they doing there?” he asked as he lowered the crystal coin … but Taras was not there.
The hairs on Quinlan’s neck stood straight. He instinctively dropped to the ground, t
hen crawled to the cover of a small tree. A twig snapped to his left, followed by silence. His heart began to race. Though the valley was a fair distance away, he had seen green glimmers all over. Surely they were in this area too.
He peered through the crystal and saw two glowing green figures perhaps fifty paces away, coming closer. He scanned farther until he saw the slightest hint of violet light emanating from the undergrowth on the far side of the knoll.
He returned the coin to his pocket and carefully drew his sword, hoping they hadn’t spotted him. He didn’t feel ready to face a Shadow Warrior one on one yet. He quietly retreated to heavier vegetation and slid his bright sword beneath the pine needles and soft soil as Taras had taught him. He soiled his face with the black dirt of the forest floor to dull the shine of his pale skin, then grabbed the hilt of his sword and listened. He could just see their approach out of the corner of his eyes.
“I’m tired of patrolling this forsaken mountain,” one of the Shadow Warriors said.
The two warriors walked close to the spot where Taras and Quinlan had just been standing, and stopped. The first warrior held up his hand to shush his comrade and knelt down. Quinlan’s heart was now beating so loudly he was sure the warriors could hear it. He held his breath, gripped his sword tightly, and waited.
“What is it?” the standing warrior asked.
The other warrior looked all around, then stood. “Nothing. Let’s go.”
The two warriors proceeded on, and Quinlan started to breathe again. He waited to move until he saw Taras stand and then quietly joined him.
“They didn’t see us,” Quinlan whispered.
“Perhaps not.” Taras kept his eyes in the direction the warriors had gone. “But they know we are here.”
“How could you tell?” Quinlan asked.
“That was Baraat.” Taras scowled. “He doesn’t miss anything. He just didn’t know how many of us there are and considered the risk too great to give alarm. But he will report our presence, and now your mission will be all the more difficult.”
“What mission?”
“Discover why that valley is glowing so green.”
CLOSE TO THE ENEMY
Quinlan and Taras navigated their way closer to the valley. Taras grew more uneasy with every stealthy step.
Quinlan kept the crystal coin close at hand and was able to help them avoid multiple patrols. As the sun rose higher into the sky and the western face of the mountain became brighter, however, his range of identification lessened, so he and Taras staggered their advance. One would serve as lookout while the other moved ahead and found cover.
They had just evaded a group of three Shadow Warriors near the rim of the small valley when two more mounted warriors appeared. “Lord Hatlin,” one of the newcomers said, “the patrols are reporting all clear.”
The warrior named Hatlin glared at his subordinate, then slowly scanned the area himself. The mere sight of him made Quinlan shudder. He was a massive figure who wore a constant scowl, creased by decades of evil deeds. Quinlan imagined his face was but a faint image of the darkened mind and heart behind it. His silver armor fit his muscular torso snugly and was ornately decked with gold and red markings that apparently signified his position and allegiance. The other four warriors, though intimidating, seemed inferior in every way.
“Widen the patrols,” Hatlin commanded. “Lord Luskan makes his report to Master Lucius tomorrow, and I don’t want to tell him we’ve been compromised.”
“Yes, my lord.” The reporting warrior galloped off with his comrade, clearly anxious to be out of Hatlin’s presence. Hatlin sat still on his mount for another moment while the other two warriors waited tensely.
“I smell something, Ectar.” Hatlin turned to his lieutenant. “I’m holding you personally responsible for security within the inner ring. Do you understand?”
The warrior named Ectar saluted. “Yes, my lord.”
“Get the warriors you need. I brief Lord Luskan this afternoon. Notify me immediately if you discover anything.” Hatlin pulled on the reins of his horse and wheeled around.
“Even if it means interrupting your briefing?” Ectar asked.
“Of course, you imbecile!” Hatlin kicked his horse, who reared and bolted off in the direction from which they’d come.
Ectar scowled after Hatlin, then turned on the remaining warrior. “Don’t sit there gawking, dolt. Fetch me thirty warriors immediately!”
Quinlan and Taras waited until both warriors had left; then Taras crawled the short distance to Quinlan. A look of grave concern was on his face.
“How many warriors did you see through the crystal earlier?” he whispered.
“I’m not sure,” Quinlan replied. “Perhaps a thousand.”
Taras’s eyes widened. “We need to get out of here now!”
“What’s happening?” Quinlan asked.
“Had I known how many there are—or who they are—I would have never risked this.” Taras clenched his jaw. “Luskan and Hatlin are Lucius’s top two commanders. Whatever is happening here is serious—very serious.”
He looked for the best cover for their retreat and pointed. “We’ll travel northeast and give a wide berth to this valley. Once we’re clear, you must travel to Chesney Isle just off the coast in the north country, due west of the Wasteland. A Silent Warrior named Rafe will continue your training in my absence. Here, you’ll need this.”
Taras handed Quinlan a vellum map of the kingdom, and Quinlan stuffed it into his tunic. “Where are you going?” he asked, a little disconcerted.
“I must report our findings to headquarters. If we get separated”—Taras hesitated, apparently contemplating his own words—“you must continue your travel north as planned.”
Quinlan nodded, though the idea of navigating in this hostile country without Taras seemed unthinkable.
Moving slowly and carefully, Taras led the first leg out away from the valley. Quinlan looked through the crystal coin for some sign of the enemy while he waited for Taras to find cover. Taras was perhaps fifty paces northeast when he signaled for Quinlan to come, but just as Quinlan began to move, he heard a horse snort. He ducked back into his hiding place and looked through the coin again. An entire contingent of mounted Shadow Warriors was coming his way.
Quinlan pressed himself into a thicket of heavy brush, then peered out to see thirteen warriors halted right between him and Taras. He recognized the one named Ectar, who ordered, “Set your posts up along this line within sight of each other across the valley rim. Any breach of this inner circle, and I will personally see to your lashings.”
Ectar slapped his steed and rode off. Two of the remaining warriors dismounted and separated, remaining just within visual range of each other, which was not far considering the thick foliage of the area. The other ten split and rode farther left and right to set up their posts.
Quinlan tried to stay calm as he considered his options. Evidently he was already in the inner circle of the Shadow Warrior patrols, and Taras had just crossed outside of it. There was no way they could reconnect without being identified. Quinlan doubted he could even move without being spotted.
He stayed perfectly still for a long while, waiting for the Shadow Warriors to become bored at their posts. Fortunately, as the day warmed, the wind began to blow. The forest trees rustled and creaked, affording him a sound cover from which to attempt a move.
The two nearest guards were still directly between him and Taras. Inch by inch, timing each painfully slow movement with the sounds of the wind, Quinlan was able to move away from them, down into the valley below. He was traveling the wrong direction, but he had no choice. He hoped to find a better location to breach the inner circle of patrols, but the farther he crawled, the more impossible that seemed. As he continued inward toward the base camp, however, he noticed that the security actually decreased. Presumably the camp patrols had been pulled out to the inner circle.
At that point, Quinlan conceived a bold yet potentia
lly foolish idea. He was already trapped, so why not learn as much as possible? Taras needed to report the situation, but they still didn’t know what it was really all about. If Quinlan could get close enough to actually hear something of importance, the information could be invaluable.
Quinlan tried to implement every detail of Taras’s training as he maneuvered closer and closer to the heart of the Shadow Warrior camp. The crystal coin saved him twice and helped him avoid a dozen other encounters.
He finally stopped at a shallow ridge line to collect himself. He knew that being discovered would mean instant death, and he was amazed that the timid Twitch of Burkfield was even considering his next action. He knew he dared not hesitate long. Given enough time, his fear of entering one of the darkest abodes of evil would overcome the courage that drove him onward.
The ridge line gave him the first view of the camp below. It was hardly a camp at all, just a single, heavily guarded tent, but everything about the place whispered secrecy.
Quinlan cut leafy branches from shrubs and tied the stems to his arms, legs, and back. Then he slowly moved closer, crawling the last one hundred paces to the outskirts of the camp. The near side of the tent was less heavily guarded, but Quinlan still had a difficult time getting close enough to hear anything.
Using painstakingly slow moves, he finally maneuvered to within a few paces of the tent. He sank into a natural recess near a group of trees, covered himself in pine needles, dirt, and brush, and waited.
He heard insignificant chatter among some of the warriors within and an occasional order by a warrior he thought was Hatlin. But after two hours of fruitless waiting, he wondered if he had risked his life for nothing. By now the sun was well along on its journey to the western horizon, and Quinlan began to think about retreating from the camp to prepare for an escape at nightfall. Just as he was preparing to move, however, he heard a flurry of activity in the camp.
“Commander approaching,” a warrior called out. A minute later, Quinlan heard the hoofbeats of many heavy horses. From his vantage point, he could only get a brief glimpse of the arriving warriors but could tell that their leader was as formidable as Hatlin, if not more so, with cropped black hair, piercing eyes, and a long, arrogant-looking nose. This commander dismounted and handed his reins to a subordinate, then took a moment to scan the camp.