Sir Dalton and the Shadow Heart

by Chuck Black

  Brynn jumped down from the stump, grabbed his hand, and ran ahead, towing him behind.

  “Come on,” she said gleefully. “I’ll race you to the haven!” She let loose and bolted ahead, turning to see if he would follow. Dalton laughed and then joined in the sprint.

  “This is Sir Dornan of Drearick,” Sir Treffen announced as he stood before the thirty-two young trainees of Salisburg, some new recruits and others almost ready to be commissioned. “He will be conducting your training from now on. He’s just returned from a mission, and I’m sure he’ll be glad to tell you of it if you implore him to do so.”

  Sir Treffen lifted his hand toward the tall man with a tightly cropped goatee who came to stand beside him. Dornan seemed young for a trainer, and Dalton thought he must be either extremely skilled with the sword, or very wise, or both to be given charge over the training at the haven. Dornan nodded toward Treffen and then addressed the young knights.

  “It is my extreme privilege and honor to assume responsibility for training you in service to the Prince. I consider this duty to you and to the other knights at the haven to be of the utmost importance.”

  The well-spoken introduction seemed to be exactly what Sir Treffen wanted to hear. He smiled and nodded as he stepped forward to address the trainees again.

  “As each of you finish your training and embark on your own missions for the Prince, we will talk again. But for now Sir Dornan will be your source of instruction and guidance.” He turned to Sir Dornan. “I’ll be leaving now. Keep us informed.”

  “I will, sir,” Dornan nodded.

  The following day, two new recruits joined them at the training camp. Dalton thought them a bit strange. They seemed pleasant enough, but a little awkward—and much too serious for their young age. He guessed Sir Koen was perhaps eighteen, his own age. Lady Carliss, Koen’s sister, appeared about two years younger.

  “Welcome to Salisburg.” Dalton held out a hand. Koen looked at Dalton with skeptical eyes before taking his hand. His light brown hair was a little unkempt.

  “This is Carliss.” Koen gestured toward his sister. Her brown eyes stared straight into Dalton’s. Something about them told Dalton that she viewed the kingdom differently than most youth. Her hair, nearly the same color as her brother’s, hung to her shoulders in casual waves of inattention. The resemblance between her and Koen was unmistakable.

  “Hello.” She offered him her hand and gave him a small smile. A few of the other trainees broke from their groups and joined Dalton in the greeting.

  “Where do you come from?” asked Makon.

  “We used to farm east of Bremsfeld,” Koen replied. “Things got tough there, and some of our kin have land near Salisburg, so…” He looked a little uneasy.

  “Been training long?” Dalton asked.

  At that, Koen’s face lit up. “Since we were young—by our father.”

  “But you said your father was a farmer,” one of the trainees said.

  “Yes, but he knows the art of the sword,” Carliss responded.

  “Sir Orland often visited us on our farm and helped train us too,” Koen added. “Do you know Sir Orland?”

  Dalton shook his head and looked at his companions. The name seemed unknown among all of them.

  “He came through our area some time ago and told us about the Prince,” Koen said with enthusiasm. “Our whole family became Followers, and he helped train us with the sword.” Koen glanced toward Carliss and allowed a slight smile to crease his lips. “We’re excited to be part of the haven and continue training.”

  Three more trainees came to greet Koen. Dalton noticed that Carliss stepped aside and was soon left by herself. He looked over at Brynn, but she was deep in discussion with three other female trainees.

  “Gather around, my young apprentices,” Sir Dornan called to begin the day’s lesson.

  The trainees formed a semicircle around him. Dornan drew his sword and held it out. It was a magnificent weapon, a true work of art. Dalton glanced toward Koen and Carliss, and their eyes seemed to swallow up the sword with anticipation. Oddly, Dalton’s heart stumbled slightly, and he was confused by his response. It was as if he had been thirsty for water but hadn’t known it until he saw thirst in the faces of these newcomers.

  “This is why you are here—to learn the art of the sword and to become trained Knights of the Prince.” Dornan drew his sword in a wide, slow arc over the heads of the trainees and then quickly sheathed it.

  “But you must first understand the kingdom and its people to be effective as a knight. There are many peoples, many cultures, many viewpoints, and we must adapt if we are to reach them and bring them freedom.”

  And so the daily instruction of the trainees began under the tutelage of Sir Dornan. He would lecture briefly on knighthood and then engage the trainees in dialogue on a variety of topics. Often the discourse would center upon an ethically challenging situation, with each trainee invited to voice an opinion. Dornan began to open their eyes to the many belief systems in the kingdom by sharing his own experiences. He spoke of his encounters with the nomads of Nan and also of the widely varying cultures now occupying the Kessons’ Territory. Afterward, he would lead the trainees in a few skill exercises, usually involving horses and the lance, and the sessions always ended with food, drink, and song. But of the sword there was little training. All of the trainees were happy and content—or almost all.

  Three weeks later, Dalton once again joined Brynn on the roadway to the haven training camp.

  “So what do you think of Sir Dornan?” Dalton asked.

  Brynn shrugged. “He’s certainly wise and experienced, and what he says is interesting. I’d say we’re fortunate to have him.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Dalton replied. “Everyone seems to like him, but the training seems…”

  “Seems what?” Brynn prompted.

  “Easy—or at least easier than before.”

  “What’s so bad about that?” Brynn asked. “Who says it has to be hard? Besides,” she said with a smile, “it’s sure a lot more fun.”

  Dalton smiled back. “I guess you’re right.”

  When they arrived, Sir Dornan was talking with a few of the younger trainees, and they all burst into laughter as he finished a quip. Soon they were all gathered about to begin their training.

  Before Sir Dornan could address the trainees, Koen stepped forward.

  “Sir Dornan, when do we begin seriously training with the sword?” he asked bluntly. “After all, we are knights, and that is perhaps the most important part of being a knight.”

  Dalton had noticed that Koen and Carliss both had become increasingly agitated with the training at the camp over the past week. Some of the trainees even began to tease them for being too stiff.

  Dornan looked slightly perturbed and glared at Koen.

  “Now that’s an interesting thought,” Dornan said whimsically. “How can you be a knight when you haven’t completed your training, let alone had any experience? Seems a bit backward, don’t you think? I myself trained for years before becoming a knight. Only then did I join the Knights of the Prince.”

  “But Sir Orland says that the ways of the Prince are different,” Koen replied. “The Prince changed the order of the kingdom, so that we become knights as soon as we choose to follow Him; then we begin our training.”

  “Yes, well, the ways of the Prince have often been misrepresented in many instances. Wouldn’t you agree?” Dornan said.

  “Perhaps, but we have been given the example of Sir Gavenaugh and the Prince Himself on such things,” Koen rebutted.

  “Were you there?” Dornan asked with a wry smile. “Did you see this with your own eyes or hear it with your own ears?”

  Koen’s face turned red. “Well, no…but—”

  “Listen, I am fully committed to all that the Prince taught,” Dornan interrupted. “But life as a Knight of the Prince just isn’t as simple as you seem to want to make it. You need to understand
that the kingdom is vast and its people varied in how they will receive such new teachings. We must be creative in how we present the Prince and adjust our methods to accommodate the widely varying cultures that exist out there. I know; I’ve been there.”

  “But Sir Orland says that the Code—”

  “I don’t even know who this Orland fellow is. And as for the Code, it is clearly a guide, not a mandate. Besides, it was given so long ago—even before the Prince—that it is an antiquated document by now. Forcing the rest of the kingdom to live under such an archaic doctrine would never work. Our King is much more universal than that.”

  Koen scratched his head and looked exasperated.

  “That is quite enough on that for today,” Dornan said. “We shall postpone talk of the Code till tomorrow. I grow weary of your badgering, and you are quite the badger,” Dornan teased.

  “Yes, lighten up, Badger,” one of the other trainees said. “Let us get to our training, for there’s meat to be eaten and drink to be drunk.”

  “What training?” Carliss glared at the other trainee.

  The assembly of young men and women fell silent. They looked at Sir Dornan. His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. He then smiled condescendingly at Carliss and Koen.

  “Very well,” he said to Koen. “Draw your sword.”

  Koen slowly drew his sword, not quite sure what to expect. A number of the trainees snickered, for the sword was not a glamorous one, but Dalton noticed that the blade had been worked carefully to form a perfect edge.

  Dornan motioned for everyone to back away as he and Koen faced off. Koen looked a bit nervous, but he took a swordsman’s stance and did not cower.

  “Mastering the sword begins with your feet. As you can see in young Koen’s case, he could easily lose his balance with his stance so narrow.”

  Dornan attacked and put Koen in immediate retreat to make his point, and yet Dalton was impressed with how well the recruit handled his sword.

  Dornan continued to speak as the sparring ensued. He was an extremely skilled swordsman. He maneuvered Koen at will until he executed a powerful bind and Koen’s sword flew from his grip. Dornan held the tip of his sword at Koen’s chest for a moment, then lowered it and smiled.

  “Well you’re certainly not ready to face a real enemy,” Dornan said and slapped Koen on the back. “All of you draw your swords,” he added. “Today we will work on stance.”

  An audible groan arose from the recruits, who had been looking forward to refreshments, and Dalton’s friend, Sir Makon, whispered angrily to a trainee next to him. From that day forth, Koen and Carliss were ostracized. Koen became known as Badger, a nickname his sister seemed to despise more than he did. Her brown eyes would spark in resentment, though she said very little. She spent most of her time lurking quietly near the edge of the group of trainees.

  Dalton himself didn’t mind the two, though he wished they would make things easier on themselves by being a little more relaxed. He even made a few attempts to draw them into the social circle of the trainees… until Brynn made it quite clear that Koen, and especially Carliss, were not welcome. Dalton had to admit their gatherings were more pleasant without the tension and disapproval the brother and sister seemed to bring with them.

  On two occasions, Koen’s father came to observe the training. This seemed to annoy Sir Dornan in the extreme and served to further isolate Koen and Carliss from the rest of the trainees. Deep down, Dalton knew he should do something to make it better, but the animosity had grown too quickly and he didn’t know how to oppose it. So he chose to ignore the problem as much as possible. His training was nearing its end soon anyway, and then it would be someone else’s problem.

  Why do they have to be so serious about it all? he asked himself as he walked home one evening. Dalton shook his head and set his mind back on his own future…and on Brynn.

  THE SEED

  Winters in Salisburg were typically mild, and this one was no exception. The crisp air in the evenings and the occasional frost in the mornings were easy to bear compared to the harsher cold that some had to endure near the mountains to the north.

  Through the winter months, two trainees had been commissioned and were preparing for their next assignment. Sir Makon had chosen to embark on a mission for the Prince with an experienced knight, while another chose to remain in his family trade and support other knights on mission from home.

  Soon it would be Dalton’s turn, and he wrestled with his decision. Leaving meant leaving Brynn. But staying meant that he would probably never get away from the blacksmith trade of his family, and that too could end his chances with Brynn.

  In the end, he realized there was only one choice. He had to leave her to win her…or rather to win her father’s blessing.

  One evening, during a training session, Sir Treffen rode into the camp with another knight Dalton had never seen before. Dalton was surprised when Koen and Carliss greeted the stranger enthusiastically, while Sir Treffen and Sir Dornan conferred for a time.

  “Who do you suppose that is?” Brynn asked.

  “I don’t know.” Dalton said. The stranger was a small man who hardly looked a knight. His head was nearly bald and, though trim and fit, he walked with a slight limp.

  “Can’t be anyone of importance if the Badger knows him,” Brynn said.

  Dalton didn’t laugh, though a couple of the other trainees did. After a few moments, Sir Dornan gathered all the trainees, and Sir Treffen addressed them.

  “Young knights,” he began. “Sir Dornan tells me your training is going well. Each of you will soon be commissioned and given the opportunity to embark on a mission for the Prince. It is important that you understand that serving the Prince is a high calling. Whether you choose to serve here at Salisburg or venture into the kingdom on a mission is your choice. Though embarking on a mission may be more dangerous, both are equally important.”

  Sir Treffen motioned for the visiting knight to stand beside him.

  “Today, I’ve asked a fellow Knight of the Prince from Vendenburg to brief you on some disturbing news. Sir Orland.”

  The visiting knight stepped forward and took a few moments to gaze into the eyes of each trainee. When he looked at Dalton, Dalton wanted to look away, but he didn’t. For one brief moment, Dalton felt as though the man was looking for something within him but did not find it. His search went on, quickly scanning the rest of the trainees. His gaze ended with Koen and Carliss, but Dalton could not interpret the private message that passed between their eyes.

  Sir Orland lifted his head and began to speak. “Serving the Prince is a noble and rewarding venture. But Sir Treffen speaks the truth: serving the Prince can be dangerous. If you’ve come to seek glory or fame or riches, you’ve come to the wrong order.” Sir Orland paused. Dalton glanced about and knew that the man had already lost some of his audience.

  “I have had the opportunity to travel to many havens in the region,” Orland continued. “Havens much like yours, where we are training our young knights in the art of the sword. But something is amiss.”

  This seemed to regain everyone’s full attention. Orland looked right at Dalton. “Some of our young commissioned knights are disappearing.”

  “What do you mean, sir?” Dalton asked.

  “I have recently visited six havens in this region. More than twenty young knights cannot be accounted for.”

  “Are you certain they’ve disappeared?” Sir Dornan asked. “Or is it possible they are just delayed in their mission or have embarked on a different mission altogether?”

  “It is possible,” Orland replied, “but I fear something worse. And I suspect this is happening all across the kingdom. I am gathering information to make a report to Chessington.” Orland looked again at the trainees. “You must remember that our enemy is dark and fierce and his minions are formidable. The Shadow Warriors will stop at nothing to destroy the cause of the Prince and His Followers!”

  Dalton shifted from foot to foot. Sir Or
land’s passionate message made him distinctly uncomfortable, and he didn’t know how to react to it. Should he be afraid, skeptical, nervous? Did this strange knight know what he was talking about? Dalton sensed the same discomfort from the rest of the trainees. Only Koen and Carliss seemed to fully embrace the warning. Their eyes were still fixed upon Sir Orland as they nodded their approval of his final words.

  Sir Treffen stepped forward. “Take your training seriously, young knights.” He and Sir Orland then mounted up and left.

  Sir Dornan didn’t seem overly concerned by Sir Orland’s warning, and that sentiment was shared by nearly all the trainees. However, Dalton noticed that the evening’s exercises with the sword lasted longer than usual. At one point, a break was called. While Dalton waited for the other trainees to take their fill of drink at the water bucket, he detoured into the forest trees to contemplate the warning of Sir Orland and his own impending decision.

  Is there merit to Orland’s warning? he wondered. When he considered the response from Sir Dornan and even Sir Treffen, he found it easier to dismiss Orland’s words.

  Caw! A raven called from a tree just two paces away. Startled, Dalton looked up. It was a huge bird, larger than any raven Dalton had seen, and its black eyes stared down emotionlessly from its perch. A bit unnerved, Dalton took a wide berth around the tree. The bird fluttered its wings, and chills went up and down Dalton’s spine at what he saw. The raven was a freakish creature, for it had two sets of wings on each side of its body.

  Dalton stared at it for a moment and then hurried on toward the water bucket. When he got there, a young lad filled a ladle and offered it to him.

  “Thanks, sport,” Dalton said trying to shake the willies from himself. He reached for the ladle. “Where are you from?”

  “Nearby,” the boy said with a crooked grin. His dark hair covered most of his ears and matched his brown eyes. “I’ve been watching you train some. What order of knights are you?”