Sir Kendrick and the Castle of Bel Lione

by Chuck Black

  At sunrise Lady Odette served them breakfast, but most of the food remained untouched. Elise finally excused herself from the table and escaped to the front porch, where she slowly paced from one end to the other. Kendrick remained and tried to comfort Lady Odette.

  Long after their food had grown cold, Kendrick heard Elise call from the porch. “Ancel comes!”

  The three of them ran into the front courtyard and down the roadway toward Ancel. Lady Odette greeted her son as though he had come back from the dead.

  He pulled back from her embrace, his eyes full of sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Mother.”

  Elise grabbed Ancel’s arm. “Where is Duncan?”

  Ancel looked at Elise. There was great pain in his countenance.

  “Where?” Elise shouted and shook his arm.

  Ancel’s chin dropped to his chest. “He is in the castle.”

  Elise’s hand fell to her side, as though it carried the weight of a heavy stone. She began to weep softly. Kendrick turned away, for he didn’t want to show the severity of his anger or his concern.

  “I’m sorry, El.” Ancel’s voice quivered. “I didn’t think anyone would come into the castle looking for me. I …” His voice trailed off to silence.

  Elise turned and ran into the manor. Kendrick turned about and looked at Ancel. “Did you see Duncan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me everything you saw, Ancel—everything!”

  The boy covered his face with his hands.

  “You must tell Sir Kendrick everything,” Lady Odette said, “if there is to be any hope of helping Duncan.”

  Ancel dropped his hands from his face, and his eyes were red. He blinked a few times and gathered himself to share his story.

  “My friends and I entered the castle around the ninth hour. I didn’t want to become like them—truly, Mother. I just wanted to see what the festival was like and learn more about Lord Ra. He was just inside the gate, smiling and greeting all who entered. The castle was full of music and dancing and all kinds of food and drink. At first it seemed like a wonderful celebration. There were hundreds and hundreds of us, maybe thousands … I don’t know. I ate some, but mostly I just watched. After a couple of hours, the celebration became quite … ah … unruly.” Ancel lowered his eyes again. “Many became drunk from the strong ale. Things began to happen that made me very uncomfortable.”

  “What kinds of things?” Kendrick asked.

  “They began to burn strange incense, and people became affectionate with each other. Even the sporting games turned dreadful.”

  “How so?” Kendrick asked.

  Ancel frowned as he recalled the images for Kendrick. “At first there were contests of skill that tested strength and accuracy with the sword. But then Lord Ra ordered that wild pigs be brought in for the participants to practice on. Everyone cheered as the blood flowed, but Lord Ra seemed to enjoy it the most. He watched most of the festival from up above, on the gallery. He’s frightful, Mother, just as Father suspected.”

  Ancel looked to Lady Odette for some assurance that he had not completely lost her trust or her love. She reached down and took his hand in hers, nodding for him to continue.

  “I began to feel sick from the sights and smells and wanted to leave, so I started toward the castle gate.” Ancel looked at Kendrick now. “That’s when I saw Duncan enter. I was so glad to see him. I ran over to him and told him I wanted to get out of the castle, but the warriors inside the gate wouldn’t let us out. They said no one could leave until sunrise.

  “Just then a mounted knight entered through the gate, and Duncan became very nervous—almost afraid. He said I shouldn’t be seen with him there and pushed me into a crowd of people. He said I should stay away from the castle guards until morning and then get out. Then I lost track of him. He just disappeared!”

  “That was the last you saw of him?”

  Ancel shook his head. “A little while later, I saw the same knight talking with Lord Ra up on the gallery. The knight pointed, and soon two huge guards took Duncan deeper into the castle. And … I didn’t know what to do.”

  The boy stared at Kendrick with tears in his eyes. “I should have gone after him. I know that. But I … was afraid. So I did what Duncan told me to. I waited until sunrise and got out as fast as I—”

  Kendrick interrupted. “What were the colors of the knight you saw?”

  Ancel thought for a moment. “They were gold and blue.”

  Kendrick closed his eyes and nodded, certain the man could be none other than Sir Casimir. He struggled to put aside his anger at both Ancel and Duncan, knowing such a response would do no one any good. He needed to act quickly instead of indulging his feelings.

  The trouble was, he had no idea what action to take next.

  He considered riding to Chessington for help, but it would be at least two weeks, and Duncan would surely be dead by then, if he wasn’t already. Besides, it would take more than just a few knights to gain access to the castle. It would take an army.

  He considered his options a moment longer, then turned to leave.

  “What are you going to do?” Ancel asked.

  “I’m going to talk to a crazy old man again. Lady Odette, I will need a horse.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Take Pilgrim.”

  Kendrick knew that Pilgrim was her late husband’s horse, a well-muscled chestnut. Although he had been put to farm work in recent years, he had trained to carry a knight into battle. Kendrick opened his mouth with the intention of refusing her offer, but she held up her hand.

  “He yearns to be the steed of a knight once again. Take him and go!”

  “Thank you, my lady. I shall take good care of him.”

  Lady Odette nodded, and Kendrick ran to prepare the horse.

  Once under saddle, Pilgrim seemed to sense the urgency and importance of their mission. He carried his new rider smoothly and swiftly into town and to the cooper’s shop, where Kendrick heard a ferocious exchange of contemptuous words between the cooper and a customer.

  “Your barrels leaked,” the customer said smugly.

  “Liar!” Morley exclaimed. “Liar, liar, liar!” He pounded his fist on a barrel to emphasize each word. Spittle sprayed from his lips as he spoke. His eyes were wild and full of anger. “You’ll pay the full price o’ those barrels or I’ll—”

  “Or you’ll what?” The man puffed up his chest and looked scornfully down on Morley’s hunched form.

  Morley muttered something incomprehensible.

  “That’s what I thought.” The man placed four coins on the barrel between them. “Take half or nothing at all.”

  Morley leaned over the barrel and eyed the coins. He grabbed them and then pointed a crooked finger at the customer. “You are a thief an’ a liar.”

  The man retreated one step to avoid more flying spittle.

  “I’ll never make another barrel for you. Be gone from here!”

  The man rolled his eyes and left.

  Kendrick hesitated just a moment to let the mood settle, then stepped forward.

  “You again,” Morley said gruffly. “What do you want?”

  “My friend did not return.”

  “I’ve already told ya that I got nothin’ to help you.” Morley placed the coins into his money box and turned about. Pursing his lips in the same odd fashion, he lifted his chin a bit to look more directly at Kendrick. The cooper’s eyes looked as wild as they had the night before.

  “Are you for Lord Ra or against him?” Kendrick asked.

  The old man laughed. “I am neither for nor against, just a witness t’ the passing o’ night upon the land.”

  Kendrick placed two gold coins on the table. “If that be so, then be a witness for me and tell me how I can save my friend.”

  Morley cackled as if to make jest of Kendrick, but he picked up the gold coins and eyed them carefully before placing them in his pocket. “I can’t tell you how to save your friend. But I can tell you which mountain to clim
b.” Morley pointed a gnarled finger at Kendrick’s face and laughed again.

  Kendrick narrowed his eyes and waited for more. The man was surely mad, but Kendrick was desperate enough to listen even to the ravings of a madman.

  “There is a man who does not exist,” Morley said with a gleam in his eye. “But I can tell you where to find him!”

  Kendrick listened and found himself a prisoner to the one shred of hope given him by the wild-eyed cooper of Bel Lione. By midday, Kendrick had set his course for the Northern Mountains.

  LOYALTY’S COURAGE

  The Northern Mountains lay a two days’ ride to the northwest—a far more rugged range than the gentler peaks surrounding Bel Lione. Morley the cooper had insisted that Kendrick make his search on foot, so he found a small farm at the base of the range to quarter Pilgrim. Then he began the arduous climb, following the directions the wild-eyed Mr. Morley had given him.

  By the day’s end, Kendrick was partway up one of the peaks, high enough to feel the bite of snow on his feet. His breath swirled up as white vapor in the evening mountain air as he stopped to look around him. He was sure that he was at the place Morley had told him of, for the landmarks matched the description perfectly, but there was no evidence of the dwelling Morley had described.

  He traversed an area of snow-covered rocks and then passed through a stand of pine trees that released their burden of snow when he jostled the branches. When the pines thinned, he spotted a high ledge and decided to climb toward it to gain a better vantage point. As he stood there plotting his course, he heard a familiar sound, the creak of leather binding upon itself.

  Someone close behind was recoiling for a strike with a weapon.

  The next instant, Kendrick heard the tightened leather clothing of his attacker release and realized he could not escape the blade. Assuming his attacker was right-handed, Kendrick quickly withdrew his sword from his scabbard and inverted it, holding it vertically along his right shoulder with the hilt raised slightly above his head. He braced his shoulder against the flat of his own blade just as the sword of his unseen foe slammed against it.

  Angry with himself for being taken by surprise, Kendrick whirled to face his opponent. But before he could fully position himself, he had to thwart another slice and then a thrust. Kendrick countered the blows and then attacked, hoping to bring a pause to the brief but intense fight and get a better look at his unknown enemy.

  The man before him was at least twenty years his senior. His closely trimmed beard was white, his flowing hair nearly so, but his body was well muscled, and he possessed the fierce demeanor of an experienced fighter. His purpose seemed singular—to kill Kendrick quickly.

  “I come in peace!” Kendrick exclaimed as the blades flew.

  The man didn’t seem to listen. He just used the pause to recover and then launch another furious volley of cuts and slices. Kendrick matched his opponent’s attack, realizing the engagement might well end with someone’s blood staining the white snow beneath their feet. He settled into the fight and searched for the rhythm of this man’s battle.

  It was a masterful duel. Soon both men were breathing hard, and the thick white vapor of their breath testified to their exertion. After a lengthy time of fighting, Kendrick was able to take advantage of a split-second break in the man’s defense. He thrust through the opening but pulled up short before his sword could pierce the man’s side. Then he retreated and paused once again.

  The man hesitated, for it was obvious to a swordsman of such expertise that Kendrick had purposely held back from drawing blood.

  “I do not come to harm you,” Kendrick said, “but to ask for your help.”

  This time the man replied not with his sword, but with a skeptical look. “Vincero Knights do not ask for help. They come only to kill.” Without warning, he launched another attack.

  Kendrick defended and countered. “I am not a Vincero Knight,” he shouted above the clash of swords. “I am a Knight of the Prince.”

  The fight paused again. “I know of no such order,” the man said.

  Kendrick thought of Duncan and felt the urgency of his mission again. He looked the man in the eye. Then, very slowly, he lowered his sword and opened his arms. He took a great risk in doing so, for he would find it difficult to recover in time if the man chose to take advantage of his evident vulnerability.

  “We are an order of peace … and of hope,” Kendrick explained to his opponent. “We have only one enemy—Lucius the Dark Knight and his Shadow Warriors.”

  This statement visibly stunned the man, and his sword lowered slightly. “What is your name?”

  “I am Kendrick of Penwell.”

  The man hesitated, not completely relinquishing his defensive posture.

  Kendrick opened his arms wider. “I am at your mercy, sir, for I come on behalf of a fellow knight. His life and now mine will be determined by your choice this moment.”

  The man hesitated. “Remove your breastplate.” He tightened his grip on his sword as if to ready himself for an attack.

  Kendrick sensed he needed to trust this man, yet struggled with the courage to do so. He thrust the tip of his sword into the snow in front of him with the hilt still within arm’s reach. Then he removed his breastplate and let it fall to the ground.

  The man approached slowly, never taking his gaze from Kendrick’s eyes. He reached up with his left hand, grabbed Kendrick’s tunic by the collar, and pulled it down to expose Kendrick’s chest to the chill of the mountain air. His gaze slowly dropped to Kendrick’s chest—as if probing his heart for his true intentions—then back up to his eyes. Finally he released his grasp on Kendrick’s tunic and stepped back.

  “I am Landor,” he said. “Come with me.”

  Relief flooded through Kendrick as he recovered his breastplate, sheathed his sword, and moved to follow the other man through the snow. Landor walked quickly, despite a slight limp in his gait. He led them deeper into the mountain forest, climbing steadily until eventually they reached a steep and rocky cliff. Once they had scaled it, Kendrick turned about and realized he could see the entire southern approach of the mountain range from this vantage point. Another fifty paces on, behind a thick curtain of pine trees, stood a small secluded cabin.

  Kendrick entered behind Landor and discovered a comfortable, neatly kept dwelling. There was only one room, for the place was obviously meant to shelter but a single man. It appeared to Kendrick that Landor had lived here for a very long time.

  “Sit.” Landor pointed to the single chair next to his table. He placed some bread and an urn of water on the table between them, then retrieved a stool from the corner and sat across from Kendrick.

  Kendrick nodded his thanks but didn’t eat or drink. Neither did Landor. He just sat and looked at Kendrick through narrowed eyes. “Regardless of the words you are about to speak, one of us will die today.”

  Kendrick understood instantly. Landor would kill or die rather than let anyone know of his existence or his location.

  “If this is true,” Kendrick replied, “then I have journeyed in vain to find you. For my quest involves saving lives, not destroying them.” Kendrick met Landor’s hard stare as he searched the man’s deep blue eyes for the slightest hint of compassion. He found something else instead.

  “How did you know to search for me here?” Landor asked. “Why did you come?”

  “You can be at peace. No other sane Arrethtraen knows you live on this mountain.”

  Landor’s brow furrowed as if he didn’t understand.

  “As for my purpose, I have a friend who is in great peril, and I am told that you are the only one who might be able to help me.”

  Landor huffed out a mirthless laugh. “I help no one.” He looked away. “It is not my … purpose in life.”

  “I hear your words,” Kendrick replied, “but I see something very different.”

  At that Landor looked back and nearly sneered at him.

  “I am here, alive, and sitting in your ca
bin,” Kendrick said. “Your allowance of my presence here testifies to something more in you.” He leaned forward to make his argument. “You are a master swordsman, disciplined by nobility. And surely you realize that there is nothing more noble than to save the life of another.”

  Landor gazed down at the table. For one brief instant, the mighty man looked sad and afraid.

  “Tell me, Landor, what do you fear so greatly down there”—Kendrick nodded toward the base of the mountain—“that you would die up here rather than face it?”

  Landor snapped from his moment of reflection. He pushed to his feet with both hands on the table and leaned across it, his face red with defiant anger.

  Kendrick wondered if their fight might resume at that instant. He kept his gaze steady. “I have felt the mastery of your sword. Even the Vincero Knights are no match for you. Why do you fear them?”

  Landor’s face twisted into something between anger and pain. Clenching his fists as if fighting for control, he stalked away from the table, then turned back to face Kendrick.

  “I do not fear the Vinceros,” he retorted with a bitter smile. He opened the top portion of his leather doublet to reveal his chest. “I am one!”

  Kendrick almost stopped breathing.

  On Landor’s chest, over his heart, was the scarred brand of the same insignia Kendrick had seen on the medallion in Chessington.

  A LIFE FOR A LIFE

  Kendrick’s heart pounded as he stared at Landor. He had assumed this man was hiding from the Vincero Knights. That Landor might actually be one of Lucius’s evil henchmen had not occurred to him. Kendrick’s eyes opened wide as he frantically considered his options. Why had he ever disarmed himself in Landor’s presence?

  Landor walked back to the table, and in his eyes Kendrick saw the same darkness that had shadowed Sir Casimir’s face. The emblem on his chest seemed to grow larger with his approach.

  Kendrick stood quickly, his chair toppling behind him as his hand flew to his sword. He instinctively backed away two steps to allow for fighting room, but this time it was Landor who did not reach for his sword.