by Chuck Black
Quinlan’s heart skipped a beat as the commander’s gaze swept over his hiding place and seemed to pause. How far did the powers of this dark warrior go?
“I trust you received my men this morning and secured the area?” Quinlan went limp with relief as the commander turned to address Hatlin.
“Yes, Lord Luskan. Each of the region lords have also reported in. How is Master Lucius?”
“He is impatient with our progress. Come, let’s begin.” Luskan ducked into the tent. Hatlin and four other warriors followed.
A lamp flared in the tent, allowing Quinlan to make out shadowy figures gathered about a table. The warriors bent over to look at what Quinlan assumed was a map.
“Give me a full situation report on each of the regions and their major cities,” Luskan commanded.
“In the southwest, Daydelon is proving to be an excellent location from which to launch our chaos attacks on Chessington. Lord Malizimar is challenged in uniting the Vinceros toward a common cause, but we believe he is making progress. Al Kirut is another city that is …”
Quinlan’s heart became heavy as he listened to Hatlin’s report and realized the impact the Shadow Warriors were having from one end of the kingdom to the other. The sleeping masses of the people had no idea these dark warriors were discussing their future demise.
“Master Lucius is eager for the Rising, but every region and their major cities must be under our control,” Luskan said. “What of the Camerians?”
There was a delay in Hatlin’s answer. “Well?” Luskan demanded.
“The Knights of the Prince there are still strong. We are working on them, but it is proving to be a challenge. Why not just isolate them and proceed with the Rising?”
“Because they are one of the strongest regions in the kingdom, and they will continue to support the King’s people in Chessington.”
The commander’s shadow, projected on the tent walls, paced back and forth. “This is unacceptable, and Master Lucius will not be pleased!” He stopped and slammed his fist on the table. “Get control of Cameria, or you and I will be sent there personally to oversee the operation. Is that clear?”
“Yes … Commander.” Quinlan sensed the slightest edge of insolence in Hatlin’s answer, and he wondered if there wasn’t a measure of contention between the two Shadow Warriors.
“Now, how goes Master Lucius’s project at Burkfield?” Luskan asked. “Has Pathyon made a fool of himself yet?”
Quinlan felt shivers run up and down his spine at the mention of his home city. He hung on every word.
“Do not be so quick to judge Lord Pathyon, Commander. With minimal resources and in short order, he has gained nearly complete control of the city and effectively incapacitated the Knights of the Prince there.”
“So it is true.” Luskan turned away from the table and paced again. “How many Vincero Knights has he employed?”
“None,” Hatlin replied. “I think that’s why the Knights of the Prince were caught off guard.”
“It’s a fluke. That weasel couldn’t conquer a village, let alone a city the size of Burkfield.”
“Perhaps,” Hatlin said. “But evidently Master Lucius thinks more highly of him than you do, and thus far he’s been right.”
Luskan froze, then whirled about. “Are you mocking me, Lord Hatlin?”
Quinlan saw the four other warriors slowly step back as their leaders faced off. He felt the immense tension even from his camouflaged hideaway. After a long period of silence, Hatlin spoke.
“Of course not, Commander Luskan. I’m only suggesting we may have something to learn from the tactics Lord Pathyon has employed at Burkfield. Perhaps a variation of his strategy could be used against the United Cities of Cameria.”
Luskan hesitated with his hand on his dagger. “Ha,” he snorted, “I suppose it is something we’ll have to consider. For now, though, we will continue to carry out Master Lucius’s plan for Burkfield. Its destruction will be an example for the rest of the Knights of the Prince to see. Show me where our warriors are positioned.”
“Here and here.” The tension abated as the two warriors returned their full attention to the map. “Do we move now?” Hatlin asked.
“No. Lucius wants to draw more citizens and knights into the trap. I suspect he’ll want Burkfield’s destruction to occur closer to the Rising. Send two companies of warriors to ensure that Pathyon doesn’t lose what he’s gained. I can guarantee the Silent Warriors are working with the Knights of the Prince to break his stronghold there. If there is even the slightest shift in our domination, I want to know immediately.”
“Of course,” Hatlin replied. “What of Taras and the Swords of Valor? Can we expect any engagements?”
“After Baylor’s death, they completely disbanded.” Luskan sounded pleased. “My assassination squad is watching them closely, however. The Prince can’t protect them forever.”
At that, all six warriors stood straight.
“The time is coming, and the Rising is near, comrades,” Luskan proclaimed. “We will crush the heads of His knights with an iron boot and rule Arrethtrae beside Lucius forever.”
The warriors all placed fisted hands to their chests.
“Praise Lucius!” Luskan shouted.
“Praise Lucius!” the other five warriors echoed.
Quinlan shuddered, repulsed and frightened by the sound of that evil acclamation. He had heard enough, but now he faced the dilemma of how to escape with his information—and his life.
He decided to wait until evening, when the crystal coin would offer him the best detection. While he waited, thoughts and questions raced through his head: Cameria … Assassins … Baylor … the Rising, whatever that was.
Of it all, however, the one that occupied his mind the most was home … Burkfield.
LILAM OF NORWEX
As darkness fell, Quinlan slowly made his way back up the valley. Though his stomach howled in hunger, he did not allow a single move to be rushed. Though the odds of his safe exodus were slim, he kept reminding himself that every minute he wasn’t discovered was one minute closer to escape.
The crystal coin saved his life time and time again. To see and not be seen gave him a great tactical advantage. He kept looking for the violet light of a Silent Warrior, hoping to find Taras, but he could only see as far as the thick trees allowed.
Travel through the black of night was excruciatingly slow, but by early morning, Quinlan had made it to the rim of the valley to discover the security detail had been terminated. He was still extremely careful as he made his way far beyond the valley.
Only when there were no glimmers of green within any line of sight did he finally allow himself to relax. Then fatigue rushed in like a flood. He fed on a handful of blackberries and wild onions before lying down in a well-camouflaged grassy bed.
Quinlan slept until midafternoon, then resumed his journey north along the foothills of the mountain range. Travel proved far more difficult on his own, but Taras had taught him well, and he continued in the world of warriors. He made his way through the Plains of Kerr and into the southern fringes of the north country. The flat countryside was sparsely populated and broadly scattered with farms and ranches that raised cattle, goats, and sheep. Clusters of trees afforded a pleasant break from the green and golden fields that stretched from horizon to horizon.
After twenty days of traveling, Quinlan approached the city of Norwex. Standing on a hill still some distance away, he looked down on the city and considered stopping to resupply for the next leg of the journey. A bed and warm meal held a strong appeal, but he hesitated since Taras had implied he was to avoid all people. Finally Quinlan decided to circumnavigate Norwex and press on to Chesney Isle.
He set a course east of the city that took him through a large grove of trees. As he emerged from their shadows, he heard voices and the sounds of a ruckus.
Before him was a stone-rimmed well surrounded by agitated sheep and goats. Several low stone retaining walls led
up near the well, where two shepherds were facing off. What really caught his attention was the fact that one of them was a teenage girl and the other was a brute half again as big as she.
“You know full well this is my father’s land and his well.” The young woman positioned herself firmly between the man and the water source.
“Not today it’s not,” the man said with a sneer. “I say it’s ours, so move your sheep aside for our goats before I begin slicing them open.”
The man stepped forward, grabbed the girl by the shoulders, and was about to throw her out of the way, but she moved so quickly that Quinlan’s mouth fell open in awe. She wrapped her right arm around the man’s left forearm, then fell to one knee while simultaneously rotating her body, pulling the man forward and down over her firmly planted right leg. The man lurched forward and fell face first onto the ground. Quinlan stifled a laugh, but then he spotted two other men approaching from the direction of the goats.
“Letting a girl get the best of you, Yelton? Father will be so proud!”
The badgering enraged the embarrassed brute further. He jumped to his feet and drew a sword. “You’ll pay for that, wench.”
The girl didn’t hesitate. She ran to a nearby retaining wall, dove over it, and appeared an instant later with a sword unlike any Quinlan had ever seen. It was as long as a typical sword, but the blade was slightly curved and a bit narrower. She placed a hand on the wall and leaped over it with the agility of a cat.
“Now, this ought to be fun,” one of the approaching men said.
Quinlan maneuvered along one of the retaining walls to position himself behind the men as the fight began. He wanted to be ready … just in case.
The two engaged, and within the first few cuts, Quinlan could tell that the girl was twice the swordsman the man was. Twice she parried and countered with a cut that would have severely wounded the man, but she pulled up short each time. Quinlan was impressed, to say the least.
At one point she caught the man’s vertical slice, then countered and thrust just as one of the other men pushed her from behind with his boot. She lurched forward into her opponent and her sword sliced through his left arm.
The fight paused as blood ran down the man’s arm and dripped onto the ground. He looked up with fury in his eyes.
“She cut me!” he screamed. “You’re gonna regret that, wench!”
The man attacked with a vengeance, but the girl held her ground. The other two men, whom Quinlan now assumed were his brothers, looked at each other and nodded. They drew their swords and raised them to strike the girl from the back.
“Now that doesn’t seem quite fair.” Quinlan leaped over the stone wall behind the two men. They turned in time to see him draw his sword.
Both men turned on Quinlan with a rash volley of cuts. To his surprise, he easily handled both at the same time until they spread apart and divided his attention. He worked his way toward the girl to cover her back and afford some protection for himself as well. The two of them fought back to back, frustrating the angry trio of brothers.
Not sure how long the girl could keep her brute at bay, Quinlan thrust at what appeared to be the oldest brother to put him in retreat, then made two powerful cuts on the other, followed by a thrust and a binding move Taras had taught him. The man’s sword flew from his hand, and Quinlan turned to the older brother before it hit the ground. He advanced so quickly that the man stumbled backward and fell. Quinlan quickly set the tip of his sword at the man’s throat.
“Drop your swords,” he commanded.
The man on the ground dropped his sword, but Quinlan could hear the girl still locked in a deadly duel. Quinlan pressed his sword into the prone man’s throat. “Yelton!” the man hollered.
The twang of swords ceased.
“But she cut me!” Yelton gasped, clearly winded by the fight.
“Drop it, you oaf!” the man on the ground yelled.
When Quinlan heard the sword hit the ground, he withdrew and turned to face the others.
“Get your animals off her land,” he ordered.
The injured man clamped his right hand on his wound and joined his two brothers. The three of them began separating the goats from the sheep and moving them away from the well.
“I could have handled them myself,” the girl said. She’d come to stand beside Quinlan. He looked over to see confident hazel eyes staring at him. She tossed her head to flick black hair from her square shoulders. She looked a few years younger than Quinlan but was nearly as tall.
Quinlan hid a smile. “Yes. I could see that.”
“Thanks just the same,” the girl said.
Quinlan nodded. “You handle that sword very well.” He looked back toward the men who had just harassed her as he snapped his own sword into its scabbard. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Of course,” the girl huffed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Quinlan raised an eyebrow and shrugged. He was ready to be on his way. He gave her a farewell nod, looked north past Norwex, and started walking, but he’d gone only a few steps when the girl appeared at his right side.
“Hey, where are you from?” she asked, swinging her sword about with the skill of a trained fighter.
“South of here.”
“No kidding—you and the rest of the kingdom.”
Quinlan shook his head and walked faster.
“If you’re a knight, where’s your horse?” The girl had to hop a bit to keep pace with Quinlan as he lengthened his stride.
“I didn’t say I was a knight,” he replied.
“No, but you fight like one and you look like one … mostly.” She peered into his face to see if she could get a reaction.
Quinlan smirked, and she smiled.
“I need to be on my way.” Quinlan picked up his pace a little more. “You be careful.”
She stopped walking. Quinlan felt bad about shooing her off, but he had too far to go and too much to do to get caught up in some quirky north-country feud. He glanced very briefly over his right shoulder to make sure she was gone and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hey!” The girl’s voice jolted him.
Quinlan snapped his head to the left to find her walking briskly beside him. “Don’t you have sheep to tend?”
She bolted ahead a couple of steps, jumped in front of him, and held up her hand for him to stop. “Look, I’m really grateful you helped me out back there.” Her eyes softened as she turned the flat of her hand on its side to offer it to him.
Quinlan sighed and shook her hand. “You’re welcome.”
She looked down at his tunic. “You’re a Knight of the Prince.”
At that, Quinlan stalled. “How do you know about the Knights of the Prince?”
“A knight came through nearly a year ago talking about the Prince.” She seemed to gaze through him and into her memory of the event.
“Really?” Quinlan tried not to sound too skeptical. “What do you know of Him?”
“I know that He is the Son of the true King of Arrethtrae and that He came to teach all of the kingdom His ways … whether man or woman!”
Quinlan couldn’t help grinning at that. Her exuberance was infectious.
“I also know He died for us and the King brought Him back to life through the Life Spice. He’s coming back for those who are found faithful. The knight explained it all at a meeting outside of Norwex one evening.” The girl glanced toward the city. “I wanted to talk to him, but my father and brothers wouldn’t let me. They said it was all nonsense, but I believed it. I’ve always known we had a good King. The knight’s words gave me hope, and I knew I wanted to belong to the King and His Son.”
The girl looked at Quinlan with yearning eyes. “I decided that night that I would join the Prince no matter what. Then I met Master Kwi.”
The girl smiled, and Quinlan realized the gleam in her eye could come only from one who knew the truth.
“Master Kwi is a Knight of the Prince too?”
“Yes. He came to our region not long after. He knighted me, and I’ve been training under him ever since.” The girl whipped her sword from side to side as if it were an extension of her body.
“It is good to meet a fellow knight this far north. What’s your name, miss?” Quinlan asked.
“My name is Lilam. Will you train me further?”
Quinlan balked at that. He didn’t feel qualified to teach much of anything to anyone, let alone a girl who already seemed an expert in both sword fighting and hand-to-hand combat.
“It looks to me as though Master Kwi has done a thorough job already,” he said. “I should like to meet him sometime.”
She held up the sword she’d been carrying and offered the hilt to Quinlan. He grasped the sword and held it before him. Though much lighter than he was used to, it was a comfortable fit.
“The sword belongs to him,” Lilam said, “but he wanted me to keep it near so I could practice every day … and I do.”
“It shows,” Quinlan said. “This is a beautiful weapon.”
He drew his own sword and offered it to Lilam. Her eyes drank in every detail. She used it to engage an invisible enemy, and Quinlan was impressed once more by her skill. They swapped swords again, and Lilam looked a bit sad.
“It’s what I was born to be.” She held up her sword and stared at it, then turned imploring eyes to Quinlan. “Please train me further. I want to learn more so I can fully serve the Prince.”
“I—I’m sorry, Lilam. I’m on a special mission and must continue this very day. There is much at stake.”
“For the Prince?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Then take me with you. I will help you, and you can train me along the way.”