by Chuck Black
Dalton looked at Mister Sejus and knew he spoke the truth. Why had it taken him so long to see it? This is what his friend Koen believed, and it was the reason he was a knight of authority.
At the haven in Salisburg, Koen and Carliss had stood firm by the Code in spite of ridicule. Dalton had not. Now he turned away and knelt to the floor on one knee, crushed by the weight of his past compromise. He lowered his head.
“I hardly know the Code,” he said softly. “How can I live by it?”
Dalton felt the gentle hand of Mister Sejus on his shoulder.
“Honor the King with your life. Swear allegiance to Him and to Him only,” the confident voice of his mentor spoke over him. Dalton lifted his eyes and joined his voice with Mister Sejus’s in quoting the Code he had learned by heart when he first became a knight.
“Serve the King in truth, justice, and honor. Offer compassion to the weak, the destitute, the widowed, and the poor. Live for the King, and serve others without cause for personal gain. Never abandon a fellow knight in battle or in peril. Equip, train, and prepare for battle against the forces of the Dark Knight. Serve the King and faint not in the day of battle. Use not the sword to seek selfish gain, but rather to execute justice and the will of the King. Be merciful, loyal, courageous, faithful, and noble, but above all, be ye humble before the King and before men. Let your words be always spoken in truth.”
Dalton stood and turned to look at Mister Sejus. “I understand—and believe. As with Nedehaven, I now see how it is impossible to fully serve the King without the Code.”
“Yes,” Mister Sejus nodded.
“You have taught me so much.” Dalton gazed at the man as if he had just wiped the fog from a window and seen him anew. “Teach me more… Master Sejus.”
SIR DALTON, KNIGHT OF THE PRINCE
Dalton put aside his misconceptions of Master Sejus and freed his mind to accept the powerful teachings of his new mentor. Per Master Sejus’s instruction, Dalton meticulously polished the handle of the sword and discovered the ornate and intricate mark of the King in its pommel.
Master Sejus made a final inspection of the beautiful weapon. “Still some work to do on the edges, but it is a magnificent piece.”
“I had no idea that such a superbly crafted sword was beneath the rust and tarnish,” Dalton said.
“Even the treasures of a king are oft neglected, but it does not diminish their value.” Master Sejus handed the sword to Dalton. “It is yours now.”
“But my labor is my payment to you for your help and kindness,” Dalton protested.
“Help and kindness are not such if they are purchased,” Master Sejus said as he went to the pile of rubble at the back of his cave.
“Besides, how could one’s labor ever repay the saving of a life? Therefore they are a gift—both your life and the sword.”
“Thank you. I shall wield it with skill and not let it break as before.”
Just then Master Sejus pulled another old sword from the rubble and held it before him. “Let us make sure of that,” he said with a smile. “Follow me.”
Dalton followed Master Sejus out of the cave and into a shallow green valley not far away. They faced each other with swords ready. Dalton guarded his mind against the notion that Master Sejus would be an easy spar.
“Remember what I taught you about your stances, and we shall proceed from there.”
After just two quick engagements, Dalton quickly came to understand that Master Sejus’s words of instruction were girded up by a complete mastery of his sword. Their swords clanged in the arena of the valley, and Dalton became a student of a true master. By day’s end, Dalton hardly dared to speak, for today had revealed the silliness of his prior thoughts and words.
As they walked back to the cave, Dalton followed behind and stared at the strong shoulders of his master. He wondered how he could have ever thought this man was feeble and old. There were moments in their training earlier that Dalton saw glimpses of superiority he had never seen in the hands and movements of any other swordsman.
Dalton spent the rest of the evening in quiet contemplation. That night he lay down on the blankets on the cave floor, silently offering the cot back to his mentor.
When morning came, Dalton rose up solemn, with eyes downcast.
“What is on your mind, young knight?” Master Sejus asked as they ate breakfast.
Dalton briefly looked at Master Sejus and then down to his tin plate.
“I am sorry, Master Sejus. I have played the fool and did not know how great a man you were.” He lifted his gaze to the penetrating blue eyes of his mentor. “Please forgive me.”
Master Sejus leaned across the table and placed a hand on Dalton’s forearm. “You saw me as you believed I was. It is not I who have changed, but you. Now set your eyes on the King and His Son, and live the Code!”
“I will. I so swear!”
Over the next three weeks, Master Sejus taught Dalton, and he was transformed into a superb swordsman and a bold knight. Each morning Dalton woke in anticipation and fell to sleep exhausted and amazed. As the strength of his body returned and increased, so did the strength of his heart as a Knight of the Prince. His respect and adoration for Master Sejus became something he could not express in words. He came to expect the unexpected from his teacher.
One morning in the valley, Master Sejus gathered a bundle of sticks and stood five paces away from Dalton.
“You have learned many important techniques for mastering the sword, Dalton, but you must learn to respond quickly to the advances of your adversary. Speed is life.” Master Sejus selected one stick from the pile at his feet. “Ready yourself.”
Dalton was confused until he saw the master throw the stick toward him. He swiped at it with his sword and missed. The stick struck his forehead with a thud. He rubbed his head with his left hand and looked quizzically at his teacher, but Master Sejus simply grabbed another stick and prepared to throw again. After three more attempts, Dalton became frustrated.
“Focus not on the stick, but on one small part of the stick. See small and aim small; then you will hit the stick.” Master Sejus reached for another one.
The stick flew toward him. He missed again, but this time his eyes captured the image of a single knot on the side of the stick as it came tumbling toward him. It was as if his mind was able to freeze the moment in time as the stick hung suspended in air.
“I saw the knot,” Dalton said, amazed that he was able to focus on such a minute detail during its motion.
“Good, now strike the knot.”
Another stick came. Dalton froze the moment and struck with his blade. It hit, and the stick was immediately deflected to his left.
Soon Dalton was successful nearly every time. As he progressed, Master Sejus threw the sticks faster. Dalton’s earlier frustration transformed into enlightenment as his speed and focus as a swordsman reached an entirely new level of expertise. Two days later, he had mastered the drill.
“Now you must learn to apply this to divergent enemies. You will not always face a single warrior, but often two or three will attack at the same time. It is the way of evil.”
Master Sejus instructed Dalton to pretend to fight an invisible warrior as the sticks were thrown. It was difficult at first, but soon Dalton was able to momentarily divert his attention to hit the sticks with hardly a break in his advance or retreat.
That evening, Master Sejus prepared some of the same delicious soup that Dalton had eaten when he first awoke in the cave weeks earlier.
“Dalton, I have shown you Nedehaven and the origins of the kingdom,” Master Sejus said, ignoring his own bowl of soup. “I have helped you see the evidence of the King in everything that surrounds us. You have come to fully believe in the Code, and you now understand the great love the King has for the people of His kingdom. I have also trained you in the art of the sword, and you have mastered it.”
“I am grateful beyond measure, master,” Dalton said as he set his spoon asi
de, sensing the importance of his mentor’s words.
Master Sejus paused. “All of what I have taught you is for naught if you do not understand the cornerstone of it all.”
“Cornerstone?” Dalton asked.
Master Sejus took a deep breath.
“What do most people say about the Prince?” he asked.
Dalton thought about all the comments he had heard throughout his travels with other knights as they tried to proclaim the Prince. He even remembered the conversation with the boy back at Salisburg. Dalton closed his eyes as he realized that those words had influenced and confused him at times.
“There are some who say that the Prince is not truly the King’s Son.”
“Who do they say that He was?”
Dalton opened his eyes. “Some say He was simply a great teacher… and a master of the sword, but that is all. Others say He was a raving lunatic.”
“Consider those statements about the Prince, Dalton, and know that He was neither. If He was simply a great teacher He would not have made such preposterous claims about being the King’s Son. And a raving lunatic will rarely have followers who are willing to lay down their lives for him. Furthermore, I have never found a lunatic to be a true master of the sword. No, young Dalton, the Prince was neither just a great teacher nor a lunatic. He was exactly who He said He was: the King’s only Son. And because of the King’s great love for His people, He sent His Son to Arrethtrae to live, teach, and die for them. Anyone in the kingdom who believes anything less than this is not one of His knights and will not enter into the Kingdom Across the Great Sea.”
Dalton considered Master Sejus’s words and felt the foundation of his knighthood settle upon the rock of truth. From this day forward, he knew he would never be moved from this place. It was as if the bright and shining sun had hardened the flimsy clay of his mind into a wall of commitment to the King and to His Son. Master Sejus had boldly asked Dalton to challenge the core of his service to the Prince and then showed him the way. The doubts that had plagued him for years were wiped away.
He looked at Master Sejus and once again stood in awe at the depth, and width, and height of the wisdom of this man. He was more noble than any knight, lord, or duke he had ever seen, and yet he lived in this cave. How could such a thing be?
He nodded. “I understand, master. The Prince is the cornerstone of it all, and I am fully committed to Him.”
Master Sejus stared into Dalton’s eyes. “I believe you, for I see it in your eyes. You no longer have to be afraid of anything or anyone.”
The following morning, Dalton awoke to see Master Sejus packing his knapsack.
“Where are we off to today, master?” Dalton asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
Master Sejus paused and looked at him. “Prepare yourself, young knight.”
Dalton quickly rose and ate. The stool upon which his clothes lay now also held his chain mail. His armor also lay nearby. He hadn’t worn it since the day Drox’s blade had pierced him through. Both the chain mail and the armor had been repaired.
He looked at Master Sejus. A sadness swept through him as he watched his master finish packing. Dalton quickly dressed but hesitated with the chain mail and armor.
“It is time, Dalton. You are ready,” Master Sejus said.
Dalton hung his head. His heart became heavy as he realized that this would be his final day with Master Sejus. No one had made such a dramatic impact on his life as this man had. He wondered if his newfound confidence would flee from him once out of the presence of this master swordsman.
Dalton donned his chain mail and armor, and they left the cave together. They passed through the training valley and onto a ridge, where it seemed to Dalton that the horizon stretched on forever. He looked far to the south, where he now knew his home lay. As his thoughts turned to Lady Brynn, he felt the strong hand of Master Sejus on his shoulder.
Dalton turned and realized he was looking up into the fiery eyes of a virile, noble knight. How could this possibly be the same feeble old man of six weeks ago? he wondered.
“Dalton, do you see that small village just there?”
“Yes.”
“That is Lewerton. Find the stables and speak to a man named Yergillay Tell him Sejus has sent you.”
Dalton was perplexed.
“He will arrange for your travel back home,” Master Sejus said.
Dalton turned his eyes from the horizon and back to Master Sejus. “You saved my life…in more ways than one. Drox’s prison is full of men and women just like me. I want to help them.”
Master Sejus was still staring at the horizon as he slowly nodded. “Yes. Drox’s prison is a daunting one. He imprisons only the Knights of the Prince. And its strongest bars are not of iron.” He turned to look at Dalton. “Drox’s prisoners are not all like you, Dalton.”
“Why do you say that, master?”
“Because you fought to leave that place and most do not. You were seeking the truth and lost your way in the wilderness. Many lose their way in the wilderness seeking to avoid the truth. Such are some of them.”
Dalton stood there many minutes, pondering what his mentor had said. “I have so much more to learn from you, master. I don’t want to leave you.”
Master Sejus smiled. “The skills I have taught you, Dalton, will stay in here forever,” he said as he put a finger to Dalton’s temple. “But I will be in here forever,” he said and placed his hand on Dalton’s heart, “just as you will be in here forever,” and placed his other hand on his own heart. “Besides, there is a young lady out there who needs you.”
Dalton could not resist the urge to kneel before him, though he didn’t fully understand why. There was something beyond noble about Master Sejus, and only as Dalton’s wisdom and skill increased had he been able to see it.
“You are so much more than a collector!” Dalton said.
“Yes, but that is my most important role. You see, Dalton, I collect broken and tarnished treasures and make them priceless!”
Dalton saw himself in those words, and his eyes welled up with tears. “I will never know how or why you came to me when I was dying in Drox’s canyon, but I thank you. I owe you my life, Master Sejus.”
Master Sejus smiled and gripped Dalton’s shoulder.
“Rise up, Sir Dalton, Knight of the Prince. Rise up and be strong!”
Dalton stood, and the two men embraced. Master Sejus grasped Dalton’s shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes.
“Drox will come for you, and you must face him alone.”
Dalton lowered his eyes but Master Sejus squeezed his shoulders tighter.
“You are able. Remember who you serve.”
Dalton lifted his eyes and felt the power of the Prince renew his strength.
“The King reigns,” Master Sejus said.
“And His Son!” Dalton exclaimed with authority he had never spoken nor felt before.
Master Sejus smiled and nodded. He turned to travel west, and Dalton set his eyes to the south. Master Sejus walked a few paces but turned to face Dalton once again.
“Dalton, I came to you because you called for me.”
He then turned again, walked down the ridge, and disappeared into the trees.
“I called for you?” Dalton whispered to himself, puzzled, as he thought back to that dreadful day.
BACK FROM THE DEAD
Dalton’s walk to Lewerton took most of the morning. It was just as Master Sejus had said. Yergillay gave Dalton a courser, a horse trained for travel and war, to make his trip to Salisburg. Dalton promised to treat the animal well and return him in a few days’ time.
By midmorning of the third day, Dalton arrived home. His father and mother wept with joy, for they had thought him dead. They talked at length, and Dalton shared his incredible story with them over the delicious meal his mother hastened to prepare. Dalton learned that his parents had asked Koen to quarter Chaser for a time. He would need to ride out tomorrow to collect the horse—but toda
y he was much more concerned about another reunion. As soon as he felt he could leave his parents, he hurried to see Lady Brynn.
Dalton rode up to the manor, and a servant took his horse. He was escorted into the parlor and waited for Lady Brynn to come. Another servant disappeared up the staircase, and moments later he saw Brynn rush to the top of the rail, looking down in disbelief.
“Dalton?” she whispered.
Her eyes opened wide as she realized that it truly was him. She ran down the staircase and fell into him as he wrapped his arms around her.
“I can’t believe it’s you,” she said through her tears.
“I’ve returned and have so much to tell you.”
Brynn stepped back and wiped her tears. She laughed, then cried more, then became angry. “Why did you wait so long to return?”
Dalton grabbed her hand and led her to a bench nearby. They sat, and Dalton told his bizarre story. It was strange for them both, for Dalton had never spoken so passionately about the Prince. The words felt and sounded strange to him, which he did not expect. Lady Brynn squirmed at times, not from his portrayal of the hounds of despair or the death ravens or even his near fatal wound, but from the fervor of his newfound devotion to the Prince. He realized this was new for her, and he tried to soften his words a little, allowing her space to adjust.
When he finished, she looked up at him and smiled—a little indulgently, he thought. She lifted a hand to his cheek. “I’m just so glad you’re back. Please don’t ever leave me again.”
Dalton smiled but could not respond, for his thoughts were already preoccupied with devising a way to set his fellow knights free from the bondage of Drox.
“I’m glad to be back too,” he finally said.
They enjoyed many hours together, and Dalton was amazed at how often he spoke of the Prince. For some strange reason he didn’t yet understand, it brought tension to their relationship. Brynn always seemed eager to change the subject, and she talked a lot about her plans to travel and see the rest of the country.