Sir Quinlan and the Swords of Valor

by Chuck Black

  By late afternoon of the second day, Quinlan had an epiphany that made him feel like an ignoramus. He had been so immersed in training with the Silent Warriors over the past months that he had completely forgotten about the crystal coin.

  I could have been out and back before sundown last night, he told himself.

  He made his way to the nearest hill with a good vantage point, then looked through the forgotten crystal coin for the first time in months. He glassed the entire island, looking for that subtle glimmer of violet that would reveal his target to him. He saw nothing but rocks, vines, and fresh spring foliage—no glimmers at all.

  When his eyes came to the northern coastline, however, he did spot a bright white light. This surprised him until he lowered the coin and realized he could see the same spot with his naked eye.

  “A fire?” Quinlan pondered out loud. “That seems rather obvious. Maybe this warrior isn’t nearly as good as Taras thinks he is.”

  Quinlan reset his camouflage and hurried in the direction of the fire. The closer he came to the coastline, however, the more slowly and silently he moved. As a precaution, he assumed that his target had set the fire to draw him in and was really waiting in ambush. Therefore, Quinlan carefully circled the fire, actually looking for his target at a peripheral distance of a hundred paces. He peered through the crystal coin again and again, trying to spot the warrior, but all he could see was the distant glow of the fire.

  When his search came up empty, Quinlan felt he had no choice but to investigate the fire itself. He had decided that this warrior was either incredibly brilliant or incredibly careless. A visit to the campfire would reveal which was true.

  Quinlan crawled the last one hundred paces on his belly more quietly than when he had entered the Shadow Warrior camp. At thirty paces away, he could make out a lone hooded figure sitting on a log near the fire. The smell of wood smoke hung in the air, along with another, more enticing aroma—roasted meat.

  Quinlan tried the crystal coin again, but the kasilite crystal seemed to amplify the firelight, blinding him to anything else. Quinlan lowered the crystal coin and peered more closely at the figure by the fire.

  Could be a decoy, he thought. He redirected his focus to his surroundings, suspecting the warrior was looking for him. He nearly retreated at that point but decided to go just a little closer. To be safe, he adjusted his direction so he could approach the figure directly from behind. When he was within fifteen paces, he peered closely at the lone figure to make sure it wasn’t just a stuffed tunic and trousers.

  “Why don’t you come and warm yourself by the fire, Quinlan,” the man said without turning around.

  Quinlan lowered his head. Impossible! he thought. Then he realized this could be a trick. Maybe the warrior was calling out randomly, just to get him to reveal his location.

  “Fifteen paces, directly behind me,” the warrior said. “I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

  Quinlan shook his head in defeat, pushed to his feet, and walked the last few paces into the light of the fire. As he did, the meat smell hit him hard, and his empty stomach clenched.

  “How did you know?” Quinlan sat down on a log opposite the warrior and began removing grass and branches from his clothing. He now saw that the man was roasting chunks of meat on a stick over the fire.

  “That’s not important.” The warrior stood and walked over to Quinlan. “Here … eat.”

  Quinlan hesitated, still not quite sure how to respond. Slowly he reached to take the roasting stick.

  “Thank you.” He raised it to his lips and nibbled the hot, succulent meat.

  “Well,” he said when he had finished the first bite, “since I’ve miserably failed this training exercise, what happens now? A repeat?”

  The warrior reached down and put another log on the fire, then returned to his previous seat. By now the sun was down, and night was upon them. Quinlan looked across the dancing flames into the darkened face of the hooded warrior. He did not recognize him as anyone he had seen at camp, and yet.

  “You haven’t failed,” the warrior said. “Not yet.”

  Now Quinlan was really confused. After nine months of intensive training in the world of Silent Warriors, he thought he had grown used to their mysterious ways, but apparently not. It was as if there was always something more to know, learn, try, and discover. Everything always seemed just out of his reach. He could never quite feel comfortable.

  Quinlan finished chewing another delicious bite and looked across the fire once more at his companion. He couldn’t help feeling that he had met this warrior before.

  “Do I know you, sir?” Quinlan finally asked.

  The man threw back his hood. His eyes reflected the bright flames of the fire.

  “Now that is an important question,” he said, “one that all Arrethtraens should ask. Do you know me, Quinlan?”

  Quinlan sat motionless, mesmerized by the gaze of the man. Suddenly chills flowed up and down his spine, and he began to tremble. He hardly dared consider what his heart already knew. Could it be? he wondered. Could it truly be?

  “My Prince,” he whispered.

  The Prince stood once more and walked around to him. Quinlan dropped the roasted meat into the fire and fell to one knee. He dared not look into the face of his Prince, and yet he dared not look away. He was speechless before the One he had vowed to serve.

  “Yes,” the majestic voice said. “It is I. Rise up.”

  Quinlan slowly stood. His eyes welled up for a hundred reasons, yet he could only think of one. Before him was the One who had died for all of Arrethtrae, who had come back to save as many as would follow Him, who would one day take His rightful place as ruler of all the kingdom. He had chosen to meet this night with Quinlan, a young man with a failed past … a man who lacked so much.

  “Do you know who you are, Quinlan?” the Prince asked gently.

  Quinlan hesitated, vaguely remembering the words of Taras from many months before. Lesson one—know who you are …

  He straightened. “I am and always shall be Your servant, my Lord.”

  “Yes … and so much more. You are my friend and my brother, fellow heir to the kingdom as a son of the King. Do you believe this?” the Prince asked.

  Quinlan faltered, for what he felt was something so completely different. For the first time in many months, Quinlan felt his cheek tense up. He struggled for words.

  “I believe it because you speak it, my Prince, and therefore I know it to be true regardless of what I feel, for You speak only truth.”

  The Prince put his hands on each side of Quinlan’s neck. “Yes, now live what you believe. You need not be afraid … of anything!”

  The warmth of the Prince’s hands radiated throughout Quinlan’s neck and face, and he felt the tense muscles ease. The Prince smiled. Quinlan let go of all that he was and became all that he wanted to be … simply because the King made it so.

  The Prince lowered his hands. “Do you know why you are here, on the island of Silent Warriors?”

  “To train so I can serve You as one of the knights of the Swords of Valor,” Quinlan replied.

  Lesson two—know who you want to become.

  “Look into the fire,” the Prince commanded, and Quinlan obeyed.

  “Now close your eyes. What do you see?”

  “Nothing, my Lord,” Quinlan said. “How can I see anything with my eyes closed?”

  “Keep looking,” the Prince said patiently.

  Then Quinlan saw it. He had never thought of “seeing” with his eyes closed, but now he saw a remnant image of the glowing fire. The more he concentrated, the clearer it became; then it slowly faded away.

  He opened his eyes and looked up at the Prince. “I saw the glow of the fire.”

  “Much like the glow you see when you look at warriors through the kasilite medallion.” The Prince turned and walked a few paces away.

  Quinlan thought about what he’d said and realized it was true.

  �
�Your eyes can see them the same way,” the Prince said with His back to Quinlan.

  Quinlan was stunned as he considered the ramifications of possessing such a skill.

  “Only the commander of the Swords of Valor sees like this.” The Prince turned and pointed at him. “You, Quinlan.”

  Quinlan’s eyes widened. What was He saying? Surely not … Everything in him wanted to deny what the Prince was asking of him, but he dared not.

  The Prince walked toward him once more. “I have called you and equipped you. Through me you are more than a conqueror.”

  Quinlan bowed his head. “My Lord, what you are asking of me seems impossible. I had hoped to once more serve with the unit, but the others will never accept me as their leader. Not after what I’ve done.”

  Quinlan looked up into the Prince’s compelling eyes. He found no release from the call.

  “Will you go and live what you believe?” the Prince asked.

  Quinlan took a deep breath, then submitted to the call that demanded the impossible. He bowed his head. “I will go, my Prince.” Speaking the words made everything real, and he established his heart to be confident in Him.

  “Then it is done, and you are ready to return to Arrethtrae.” The Prince placed a firm hand on Quinlan’s shoulder. “Be strong, for I am strong in you.”

  The Prince turned and began to walk away. Quinlan just stood and watched him, realizing that in those few moments he had changed forever. Ten years of special training could not have done what the Prince had just accomplished for Quinlan. He would never be the same nor live in past failures ever again.

  “My Lord,” he called after the Prince’s retreating figure, “what of the warrior-spirit test Rafe spoke of?”

  The Prince stopped and looked back.

  “It is already done. You were worthy when you fed and cared for me. That is why I allowed you to come here, and that is why you will be commander of the Swords of Valor.”

  “When did I feed you and care for you, my Lord?” Quinlan asked, befuddled.

  The Prince just smiled, placed the hood back onto his head, and walked into the night. The smoke of the fire wafted up into Quinlan’s eyes, and he shut them for a moment. As he did, he saw the glowing outline of the Prince behind his eyelids and marveled. But the light was not violet. It was bright white. Would it always be thus? he wondered. How could he discern between Silent Warrior and Shadow Warrior if the glow was always white?

  Quinlan opened his eyes and reached for the crystal coin in his pocket. He lifted it to his eyes and nearly dropped the coin. He had to squint in order to see, because the light emanating from the Prince was brighter than the sun.

  Quinlan lowered the coin, and the blackness of night swallowed the regal form of the Prince once again.

  RETURN TO ARRETHTRAE

  Quinlan and Taras stood on the dock, gazing westward over the glittering expanse of the Great Sea. Somewhere on the other side was a kingdom and a King waiting for Quinlan—one day. The ship next to them was in its final stages of preparation for a voyage to Chesney Isle.

  “If you’ll wait,” said Taras, “we have a ship that arrives and departs in three weeks. That one can take you closer to Mankin, where I’ve arranged for Kobalt to be waiting for you. I’m sorry the options aren’t better, but there are certain missions we cannot change.”

  Quinlan shook his head with a smile and offered his arm in a farewell gesture. Burkfield weighed heavily on his mind, and waiting was not an option.

  Taras grabbed his forearm and stared into Quinlan’s eyes. “I understand,” the Silent Warrior said. “The Prince has that effect on people. You’ve done well, knight.”

  “Thank you, Taras. I assume I’ll be hearing from you?”

  Taras nodded. “Gather the team, but be careful. We’re watching Lucius watch them. The Shadow Warriors know the danger.”

  “And if the knights won’t follow?” Quinlan swung his small pack onto his shoulder.

  “Every man chooses his own path.” Taras turned back up the dock. “If they don’t follow, you’ll know what to do.”

  Four days later, Quinlan found himself on the sandy shores of Arrethtrae near the Dunes of Mynar. He was a different man, but no one else knew it yet. The Prince had equipped him with skills to match his passion for service—service that would begin today. Quinlan needed the best knights for his mission, so he would seek for those he knew to be the best—no matter what they thought of him.

  “But I think I shall start and end with a friend,” he mused as he looked southward toward Norwex.

  He walked a few paces down the beach, remembering his time in the Dunes of Mynar with Kalil. He smiled a little sadly, wondering if the beast had successfully assimilated back into the wild.

  He didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  The next instant, a familiar multitoned trumpet sounded. The bushes shook and split as a fearsome creature burst through and charged toward Quinlan.

  Quinlan froze, unsure what to do. He drew his sword and held it firmly at his side—just in case. Seconds later, the penthomoth plowed into Quinlan, wrapped its five trunks about him and licked him until Quinlan’s neck and shoulders were wet with saliva.

  “All right, Kalil,” Quinlan laughed. “It’s good to see you too. I can’t believe you waited for me.”

  Kalil mumbled joyfully and rolled on his back for Quinlan to scratch his belly.

  The journey back through the Dunes of Mynar was uneventful, though Quinlan appreciated Kalil’s protective presence during the sandy trek. The animal even seemed to have overcome its nocturnal instincts so it could live in the same space of the day as Quinlan. But what would happen once they reached the borders of Mynar?

  After four days of steady travel, they reached the hills that separated Mynar from the region south of it. Quinlan looked over at Kalil, wondering what to do. Kalil looked back with loyal golden eyes that seemed to say, what are we waiting for?

  Quinlan shrugged and started up the first hill. Kalil stayed right beside him. When they reached the plains beyond, Quinlan realized he would have no small difficulty traveling through Arrethtrae and conducting secret missions with a penthomoth at his side.

  “Well, Kalil,” he said, “if you’re going to stay with me, you’re going to need some serious training.”

  As they traveled south, Quinlan worked to train Kalil and was amazed at the animal’s ability to understand and respond. He used voice commands to teach him all of the tricks one might teach a hound. Through whistles and hand motions, he taught him to come or to disappear.

  Disappearing, which meant leaving Quinlan, proved to be the most difficult trick for Kalil to master. Quinlan gradually lengthened the time he could spend away until he could go an entire day without seeing Kalil at all. It helped that the animal seemed to prefer the trees and brush to the open plains, apparently feeling more secure in closed-in areas that reminded him of his sandy den in the desert. That preference made traveling a little easier for Quinlan, who could travel in the open while Kalil was foraging and traveling under cover of vegetation.

  One evening when they were nearly to Norwex, Quinlan lay down next to Kalil, musing at the difference between the two strange animals that had attached themselves to him. The more time he had spent with Bli, the more the paytha had become his master. But the more time he spent with Kalil, the more Quinlan became Kalil’s master. Bli was as appealing as an animal could be, while Kalil was quite ugly, at least according to the kingdom’s standards. But Bli had abandoned Quinlan when he chose the Prince, while Kalil followed him faithfully. Perhaps the difference was simply due to coincidence or the personalities of the creatures, but Quinlan couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more involved.

  The next morning, before the sun began spilling its vibrant rays over the distant horizon, Quinlan arrived at a familiar ranch home. As he knocked, he heard the clatter of pans and dishes as the morning meal was being prepared. The door opened, and there stood Lilam. One hand r
ested on the hilt of her sword, and the other was on her hip.

  “You came back,” she said a little doubtfully.

  Quinlan nodded. “I said I would.” He smiled. “Where I’m going, I’ll need the best fighters in all of Arrethtrae, and I heard there was one here.”

  Lilam’s lips slowly curled into a smile. She pushed the door open wider and called over her shoulder, “Set another place at the table, Aven.” She looked back at Quinlan. “I’m glad to see you. Come in.”

  Quinlan’s reunion with Lilam’s family was joyful. And this time, though her parents were still hesitant, they admitted they could not keep Lilam from what seemed to be her destiny. While Quinlan was gone, apparently, Lilam had intensified her training with Master Kwi, and the skills she showed him were impressive. Her intelligence and assertive personality seemed a perfect fit for the Swords of Valor. Quinlan had no concerns about her being able to hold her own against the likes of Purcell—if he agreed to join the unit again.

  By midafternoon, Quinlan and Lilam had said their farewells to her family and set their course toward the village of Mankin. When evening came they built a fire, and Quinlan asked Lilam to stand up and face him. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said. “I thought about keeping it a secret, but I just don’t think that would work.”

  Lilam raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

  “Someone else is going to be traveling with us.”

  “Well, I rather expected that,” she said with a smirk.

  “Believe me, this isn’t like anything you would expect.”

  “Try me.”

  “Very well. Keep your eyes on me.”

  Quinlan whistled, and the bushes behind Lilam parted. Quinlan held out his hand to signal a quiet approach and Kalil sank low to the ground, creeping up behind Lilam. Quinlan even had second thoughts as he watched the powerful muscles tense as for an attack.