Sir Quinlan and the Swords of Valor

by Chuck Black

  Lilam looked over her shoulder at Quinlan, who still stood with a perplexed look on his face.

  She grinned at Kessler. “Mostly.”

  Quinlan ran and caught up with them. “Kessler, what’s going on?”

  Kessler laughed. “I’m the one who’s supposed to ask that question.”

  “You—you seemed to know that I was coming. How?”

  Kessler turned about to face Quinlan. He wiped his forehead again with a corner of his shirt, then put the garment on, his face uncharacteristically serious.

  “Do you remember the first time I met you?”

  “Yes,” Quinlan replied. “You and the other knights fought off Shadow Warriors on Mount Resolute. I just happened to have stumbled into the skirmish, as I remember.”

  Kessler shook his head. “That wasn’t an accident. You were their target. I analyzed their attack—they came specifically for you. At first it made no sense to me at all, considering … well, considering your abilities.”

  Quinlan smiled, trying not to take too much offense at the comment.

  Kessler continued. “But later, when Baylor said you were the fifth member of the Swords of Valor, I knew something was strange. Baylor hadn’t picked you—I could see it in his eyes. Someone else had.”

  Kessler grinned. “So it wasn’t a matter of if you would come, just a matter of when.”

  Kessler motioned for Quinlan and Lilam to follow as he led them toward a barrel-chested man who was yelling at two other hands to quicken their pace.

  “Guthrie,” Kessler shouted. “I’m off.”

  “What?” the man shouted. “You can’t leave, Kessler. You’re my best man. Take an hour and then finish up the day.”

  “Sorry, Guth,” Kessler said. “I’m done for good. I told you the day would come. You can keep the day’s wage.”

  Guthrie looked like he wanted to protest, but he just shook his head. As they walked by him, the man nodded.

  “You take care of yourself, Kessler.”

  “And you, Cap.”

  They walked a few paces as Quinlan considered Kessler’s words.

  “We aren’t meeting for another week,” Quinlan said.

  “I don’t need a week. I’ll come with you now,” Kessler said. “After I clean up, of course,” he said with a smile and winked at Lilam. “Are Purcell and Drake coming?”

  “Doubtful.”

  Kessler put his hand on Quinlan’s shoulder. “You might be surprised.”

  COMMON ENEMY, COMMON FRIEND

  Quinlan had chosen Stockford as a meeting place for one reason—its proximity to Burkfield. When Quinlan, Lilam, and Kessler arrived there two days ahead of time, Drake was waiting for them.

  “What changed your mind?” Quinlan asked.

  “I don’t know,” the large man said with a frown. “I tried to stay away, but I just couldn’t. I guess it’s the little ones—that’s who I’m fighting for.”

  Quinlan slowly nodded. “Can’t think of a better reason. Drake … Lilam. Lilam … Drake.”

  Drake tilted his head, and Lilam nodded.

  They waited the next two days for Purcell. Each evening, Quinlan made a point of riding out to where Kalil waited. For now, he had decided to keep the penthomoth a secret from Kessler and Drake and anyone else they might meet. Kalil had learned to be as silent and stealthy as a Silent Warrior and had little difficulty staying out of sight. He didn’t seem to mind waiting for Quinlan to appear, but his joy over their time together, even if it was just a few minutes, reminded Quinlan how good it was to have a friend.

  When Purcell failed to show on the appointed day, the unit rode on to Burkfield without him. Everyone in the unit felt the oppression hidden behind the peaceful, prosperous facade.

  “What’s that?” Lilam pointed to a creature perched on a man’s shoulder.

  “It’s a paytha,” Quinlan replied. “They’re nasty little things.”

  “They don’t look it,” Kessler said, watching the animal nuzzle next to its owner’s neck.

  The farther they rode into Burkfield, the more paythas they saw. In fact, the animals were everywhere, and not all of them rode on people’s shoulders. Some leered from the corners of shops and skulked in alleyways. Quinlan gave them all wide berth.

  The group made their way to the haven, but it looked practically abandoned. The other knights scouted about the haven grounds while Quinlan knocked and knocked on Sir Edmund’s door. There was no answer.

  “Sir Edmund?” Quinlan slowly opened the door and saw a man sitting at a table, his head between his hands.

  “Sir Edmund,” Quinlan repeated, wondering what was wrong.

  The man slowly lifted his head and stared at Quinlan. “Can I help you?” he said somberly.

  “Sir Edmund, it is I—Quinlan.”

  Edmund tilted his head, looking confused.

  “Twitch,” Quinlan said.

  Slowly a weak smile lit across Sir Edmund’s face. “Twitch … it’s been a long time. You look—”

  “Where are the other knights, sir?” Quinlan interrupted. “What’s happened here?”

  The smile on Edmund’s face disappeared, and he seemed to awaken from his lethargic state.

  “I tried, Twitch. I really, really tried.” Edmund shook his head. “I even brought Sir Worthington in, but one by one I lost them all. I don’t think there are any Knights of the Prince left in Burkfield. If there are, they don’t care. I’ve failed, and now I must leave too.”

  Quinlan strode over to Edmund’s table. “You can’t leave yet, sir. I’m here to help you.”

  Edmund shook his head. “What could you possibly do, Twitch? I’ve spent the last two years fighting this decay, and now it’s over. I’m leaving tomorrow. Perhaps some other haven leader will allow me to assist him.”

  Quinlan grabbed a chair sitting next to a wall and set it across the table from Edmund. He sat down so he could look directly into Edmund’s eyes.

  “Give me one month, Sir Edmund,” he pleaded. “Promise me you’ll stay for just one more month.”

  “Why? What difference would it make?” But Quinlan saw a glimmer of hope in the man’s eyes.

  “This is much bigger than you realize,” Quinlan said. “Give me a chance, sir, and it may make all the difference in the kingdom.”

  Edmund stared at Quinlan for a moment. “What happened to you, Twitch? You’re … different.”

  “I met the Prince, Sir Edmund, and He changes everything!”

  A corner of Sir Edmund’s mouth lifted, although Quinlan couldn’t tell if the man really believed him.

  “All right,” Edmund said. “I’ll wait one month. But I can’t imagine what difference it’s going to make.”

  “Thank you!” Quinlan reached across the table and grabbed Edmund’s arm. Then he stood and walked toward the door.

  “Quinlan,” Edmund called after him.

  Quinlan turned.

  “I met Him once too,” Edmund said with a distant smile.

  “I know,” Quinlan said. “I can tell. I always could tell.”

  They camped that evening near the banks of Jewel Lake. After his comrades had settled for the evening, Quinlan went to spend time with Kalil. The penthomoth met him with the usual enthusiasm, and Quinlan put him through some of the commands they had been practicing. Then, in the middle of an exercise, Kalil stiffened and stared into the underbrush.

  At first, Quinlan assumed the animal had spotted a night creature. But when Kalil remained motionless, Quinlan began to wonder. He lifted the crystal coin to his eyes and scanned the area. In the distance, a very faint violet glow was coming toward them.

  Quinlan commanded Kalil to disappear and ducked into the bushes himself. When the Silent Warrior passed by, he followed him to the edge of their camp and watched as the warrior knelt and waited. Quinlan silently made his way up behind the warrior. When he was within ten paces, the Silent Warrior stood up.

  “I see my training has paid off,” the warrior said. “Not even
Baylor could get that close.”

  Quinlan stepped out of the brush. “It’s good to see you, Taras.”

  Taras nodded toward the camp. “I see you’ve been fairly successful gathering the knights.”

  “All but one,” Quinlan said. “But we’re ready.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Taras said. “You have a mission.”

  This was what Quinlan was waiting for. He knew Burkfield was a focal point for Lucius, and he was eager to see how the Swords of Valor could contribute to its rescue and restoration.

  “What’s the mission?” he asked eagerly.

  Taras gave a businesslike nod. “You and the other Swords of Valor are to escort a shipment of swords that are arriving from Cameria and being delivered to Chessington. From there they will be delivered to havens throughout the kingdom.”

  Quinlan stared at Taras, not believing what he heard.

  Taras continued. “Your escort point begins at Whighton, and you must be there in four days.”

  “But what of Burkfield?” Quinlan asked. “I thought that all this time I was being trained so the Swords of Valor could defend Burkfield.”

  Taras crossed his arms in his usual commanding way.

  “We’re not fighting a battle, Quinlan. We’re fighting a war. Burkfield has been a battle zone between our forces for a long time. Why do you think Baylor and the Swords of Valor were there when they found you? We have committed thousands of Silent Warriors to defending the city. But the fact is, when the Knights of the Prince quit caring, they and the whole city became vulnerable to Lucius’s attacks, and there is very little we can do about it now. It is almost impossible to recover a city once it reaches this point. Only the Prince Himself could bring it back now.”

  “But we could—”

  “I’m sorry, Quinlan. Sometimes you have to lose a battle to win the war, and that’s what we’re facing here.”

  Quinlan stared up at the huge warrior as he thought of Tav, his family, and especially of Sir Edmund.

  “Sir Edmund cares,” he said, “and I made a commitment to him. There are others who care too. They just need help, and I know how to help them.”

  Taras looked sternly at Quinlan and was about to speak, but Quinlan continued.

  “Please, Taras, let me try. Burkfield can be saved, and I know in my heart that the Prince has called me there.”

  At that, Taras hesitated. He turned and walked away a few paces, then turned back and stared at Quinlan. “Sir Edmund is a good man, but it takes more than one to save a city. Burkfield is so far gone now it would take thousands.”

  Quinlan’s heart began to sink.

  Taras shook his head as if in regret. “I can’t promise support from the Silent Warriors. Our missions lie elsewhere now.”

  Quinlan’s eyes opened wide. He closed the few paces between them. “Thank you, Taras.” Quinlan reached out his arm, and Taras took it.

  “You have four weeks,” the Silent Warrior said, “no more.” Then he disappeared as quietly as he had come.

  Quinlan stood there a long time, staring after his mysterious friend. The world of the warriors slowly drifted away as he set his course and mind to the world of men and women. Though he had trained in both worlds, his heart had always remained right where the Prince had found him … in Arrethtrae. This was his battle, even if he had to fight it alone.

  When he arrived back with his knights, they knew in an instant that something had changed.

  “What is it, Commander?” Kessler asked.

  Quinlan drew a deep breath. “Fellow knights, from the lips of Lucius’s own lieutenants I heard that Burkfield’s destruction is an integral part of the Dark Lord’s plan to take over the kingdom. I cannot stand by and watch that happen. I will fight beside Sir Edmund for the haven, the people … and the children.” Quinlan glanced at Drake. “But I have just learned the Silent Warriors might not be available to support us in this mission, so it may well be a futile fight.”

  He gazed around at his assembled colleagues. “You are all free to go—without shame.”

  Silence hung in the air a long minute. Then Lilam drew her sword. “I’m with you, Commander.”

  “And I,” Kessler and Drake said together and drew their swords.

  Just then a horse galloped up behind them and stopped in a wash of dirt and wind.

  “I don’t know what we’re voting for,” Purcell said, reaching for his sword, “but count me in.” He looked at Lilam and smiled. “Finally … someone prettier than I in this ragged unit.”

  Lilam rolled her eyes while Quinlan exchanged a nod with Purcell. Then he drew his own sword. “Remember who you serve, Knights of the Prince.”

  They brought their swords together.

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

  The next morning, the unit rode together to the nearest main road. Quinlan sent Drake, Kessler, and Purcell in three different directions, with orders to meet back in Burkfield in ten days. Then he and Lilam set their course for Thecia, a three-day journey to the northeast. There, Quinlan hoped to meet with a man with whom he had a common friend … and a common enemy.

  The haven at Thecia was large and bustling. Quinlan and Lilam followed directions to a building across a busy courtyard. Once inside the door, however, they were halted by the same young woman Quinlan had bumped into in Burkfield the year before. His face burned as he requested an audience with Sir Worthington.

  “Sir Worthington is preparing for a mission and can’t be disturbed.”

  “Will you give him a message then while I wait?” Quinlan said.

  “I’ll give him the message, but it won’t do you any good to wait … Do I know you?” The woman leaned closer and stared at Quinlan with narrowed eyes.

  Quinlan took a step back, once again unnerved by her presence. She was just too pretty, too blunt … and way too close.

  “No, you don’t,” Quinlan said quickly. “Listen, I have an urgent message, and I really need to see—”

  “I remember you from Burkfield!” she exclaimed, quite pleased with herself.

  Great, Quinlan thought. Now she’ll never let me see him.

  “Raisa?” An inner door opened, and Worthington looked out.

  The woman spun about. “Yes, brother.”

  Brother? Quinlan looked back at the woman.

  Worthington stopped and opened the door fully when he saw Quinlan. His eyes widened. “You’re the man from Arimil.” He held out his hand. “That was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life, and I’ll never forget the men who saved me.”

  Raisa raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think you’ve got the right man, brother. This is the one—”

  “You’re welcome, sir.” Quinlan grabbed the hand while simultaneously putting his left hand on Worthington’s shoulder and walking him back toward his chamber. “Sir, there is a dire situation I need to talk to you about.”

  Several hours later, Quinlan finally emerged from Worthington’s chamber. Lilam sat in a chair across the room from Raisa with her arms crossed. Quinlan nodded for her to follow him, hoping she wasn’t too upset about being abandoned. Raisa glared at Quinlan as he passed.

  “Thank you, miss.” He tilted his head to her. “And by the way, I was brave enough to come back after all.”

  Raisa opened her mouth to say something, but Quinlan and Lilam were out the door before she had a chance.

  “I don’t like that woman,” Lilam groused as they crossed the courtyard toward their horses.

  Quinlan laughed. “I know what you mean. I don’t much like her either.”

  “So,” Lilam asked, “were you successful?”

  Quinlan shrugged. “We shall see.”

  “Where to now?”

  “To start a battle!”

  Quinlan and Lilam arrived back in Burkfield three days later and waited for Kessler, Drake, and Purcell to return. He and Lilam put those four days to good use conducting extensive reconnaissance on the city and the surrounding area
. He even met with the prefect of Burkfield to warn him of the impending battle, but it didn’t go well.

  “Your warning is preposterous,” the stocky, gray-haired man said. “And you’d better not make a stir in my city, or you’ll be asked to leave!”

  Quinlan looked at the prefect and realized he was asking a blind man to see the colors of a rainbow.

  “There will not be a stir in your city, sir,” he said soberly. “It will be a battle—one that you cannot stop. I am committed to fighting for the city and her people. All I’m asking for is your cooperation.”

  The prefect huffed. “We are a city at peace with all orders in the kingdom. I will not disrupt our lives because of some wild-eyed warning.”

  Quinlan stared at the prefect for a moment. “Thank you for your time, sir.” He turned to leave, but stopped at the door and looked back. “In truth, sir, there are only two real orders in the kingdom. One is coming to destroy you. The other will try to save you. At some point, everyone must choose to which one they will belong.”

  Quinlan left the prefect’s chamber wondering if it was even possible to save someone who could not see he needed to be saved.

  In the evening of the following day, Quinlan made a secret visit to a shop on a merchant street just off the main thoroughfare. All the shops had closed except one. Quinlan waited in the shadows until the back door opened and the bald, whistling shop owner stepped out.

  “You’re a busy man,” Quinlan said.

  The man turned with a start. “Who goes there?”

  Quinlan stepped into the light that shone from the door. “My name is Quinlan, and I’m a very dissatisfied customer.”

  “Ha! Do you think I really care?” The man’s voice changed from that of a perky, whistling merchant to something dark and threatening.

  Quinlan grabbed him by the collar and shoved him up against the back of the shop, not caring that the man was larger than he. “You’d better care,” Quinlan growled, just inches from his face. “Because if you don’t, you’ll die early.”

  “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, Knight of the Prince.” The man’s eyes practically glowed with hatred.