Sir Quinlan and the Swords of Valor (8 page)

Baylor’s gaze went deep. Quinlan wondered if the man had forgotten his question, but he dared not ask it again.

When Baylor finally spoke, his voice was hushed. “When you made your oath to the Prince, you stepped through the veil of deception and began to see the kingdom as it really is. It is this reality we live and fight in every day.” He gestured to the other men. “Those knights who are truly dedicated to the Prince see the true kingdom well, but those who are not—and there are many—do not see it at all.”

“The true kingdom—is that what I saw yesterday?”

“Yes, partly.”

Quinlan knit his brow. “It’s darker than I want it to be.”

“And brighter than you know,” Baylor replied. “When the veil is gone, you see everything much more clearly, both the dark and the light. You only saw the dark yesterday, but the light is so much greater!”

Quinlan nodded, accepting that. “What is this unit’s mission in serving the Prince, sir?”

Baylor looked away to the horizon. “The highest mission of all is to carry the truth of the Prince into the far regions of the kingdom.
Though we look for opportunities to do that, there are men and women greater than we who accomplish this mission with courage and skill.” Baylor turned again to Quinlan. “We support those men and women … often without their even knowing it.”

Quinlan could not help the smile that crossed his lips. In spite of all of his inadequacies, in spite of all of his awkwardness, he knew he was created for this purpose too.

“How, Commander?” he asked. “How do you support them?”

“After the Son of the King gave His great commission to the Knights of the Prince in Chessington, our missions began to spread across the kingdom in all directions, but Lucius and his minions opposed us every step of the way.” Baylor’s eyes became fierce. “My knights and I support those who carry the truth of the Prince by protecting them from Lucius’s evil plots. Our swords protect and deliver the truth that sets people free. We fight against Lucius and his Shadow Warriors for the sake of those who believe
and
for those who do not.”

Baylor looked away and took a deep breath. “In this kingdom there is little glory in standing between the knights on mission for the Prince and the evil that wants to devour them. What you will sacrifice, Quinlan, may never be known this side of the Great Sea, yet our missions have the potential to change the course of the kingdom.”

Quinlan pondered Baylor’s words. They inspired him and saddened him at the same time.

“This reality I speak of is potentially frightful, and our missions require much from the men in my unit, who are knights of great courage and skill.” Baylor paused and looked once more at Quinlan. “You can still turn back. There are many other ways to serve the Prince other than becoming one of the Swords of Valor.”

Quinlan hesitated, thinking hard. And somehow, deep within, he found a strength he didn’t know was there. He had never experienced anything quite like it before. In one day he already felt changed, and he wondered what a lifetime of such service would do.

“I cannot choose to ignore the truth, nor can I have peace when that truth requires me to respond. No, Commander, I will not turn back. I
have little to offer the Prince and even less to offer you, but if you will have me, I will serve.”

It was nearly imperceptible, but the right side of Baylor’s lips lifted slightly.

“There’s more to you than most people think, young Quinlan.”

Quinlan shook his head. “Tav told me that once before too, but I doubt—”

“Gustav? Really?”

“Yes sir.” Quinlan thought a little sadly of the friend who had been as close as a brother for most of his life. “You remind me of him, sir.”

They were silent for a time.

“My place here belongs to Tav,” Quinlan finally said. “He deserves it more than I.”

“Everyone must choose for himself,” Baylor said.

“He’s been a good brother to me.”

Baylor just nodded and said no more.

That evening they made an early camp, and Baylor began to train Quinlan. Their swords reverberated through the woods, and Quinlan gave his all, but he struggled. By nightfall, he was exhausted, and he could tell Baylor was frustrated.

Drake and Purcell would have almost nothing to do with him. Kessler seemed his only friend. The man’s cheerful spirit eased Quinlan’s feelings of complete inadequacy, and Quinlan rather enjoyed Kessler’s lighthearted jabs at the other knights. Quinlan wondered if perhaps this was Kessler’s way of defending him in the unit. Whatever the reason, Quinlan was grateful for one kind face.

For a late meal, Quinlan speared a slab of venison and some bread, then went to sit beside Kessler. Baylor and Drake were already asleep, and Purcell was off sharpening his knives while taking the first watch.

“Why are we going to Arimil?” Quinlan asked.

“We won’t know till we get there,” Kessler replied.

“I don’t understand,” Quinlan said. “How can we have a mission in a city that is nearly a three days’ ride from Burkfield and not know why we are going there? How does the commander decide on the mission?”

“The commander doesn’t decide the mission,” Kessler said. “It comes from Taras.”

Quinlan scratched his head. “Who’s Taras?”

Kessler hesitated. “He’s a Silent Warrior. He only speaks to Sir Baylor.”

Quinlan looked at Kessler to see if he was joking. He wasn’t. “Have you seen Taras?” Quinlan asked.

“No. None of us have.”

Quinlan took a bite of bread as he thought about Kessler’s answer.

“You must really—”

“Trust him? Yes, we do.” Kessler plucked a blade of long grass and began to chew the end of it. “We get some crazy missions, but his information is always spot-on. Yes, we all trust him with our lives.”

Kessler leaned closer to Quinlan. “You want to know what’s really amazing? The commander can spot a Shadow Warrior a hundred paces away. We’ve all gotten pretty good at it, but not from that distance and not with his consistency. He’s saved our necks many times by putting his own life on the line. He’s a great man, and you’re fortunate to be serving under him.”

Quinlan swallowed his last bite, glad the darkness hid the twitching muscle in his face. “I don’t want to disappoint him … or the others. I just don’t know if I’ve got what it takes.”

Kessler smiled and put a hand on Quinlan’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t be here if the commander didn’t think you have what it takes. I think you need to start trusting him too.”

Quinlan shot Kessler a weak grin. “Thanks.”

Kessler nodded, then went to his bedroll. Quinlan soon found his own and settled in for a night’s sleep. He drifted into slumber, both dreading and anticipating what awaited them in Arimil.

WORTHINGTON

Two more days of travel brought Baylor and his men to the outskirts of Arimil, on Arrethtrae’s western shore. It was beautiful, lush country, and the salty smell of the sea was a new sensation for Quinlan. Baylor led them to a hill overlooking the eastern road that entered the city. Careful to stay out of sight, they watched the road until a small detachment of five knights appeared, traveling from the east.

“There’s our man, gentlemen.” Baylor pointed toward the front of the detachment. “The one in blue.”

Quinlan had assumed this noble-looking knight was the leader, but the one riding next to him also caught his eye. She rode her steed with confidence, and even from this distance, he could tell she was a very attractive young woman.

The other knights, though, seemed focused only on the man Baylor had pointed out. “Who is he, sir?” Drake asked.

“That’s Sir Worthington of Thecia, the one we’ve come to protect,” Baylor said. “Taras tells me he’s a prime target for Lucius, and it’s our job to make sure he stays alive.”

“Why is he a target?” Purcell asked.

“Evidently he has great potential to bring many to the Prince,” Baylor said. “Both the Silent Warriors and the Shadow Warriors have become quite adept at discerning who is going to significantly affect the
kingdom, often even before the person himself knows it. Such is the case with Worthington.”

Quinlan was still adjusting to this new world of warfare. “Do you think he knows?”

Baylor looked at him as if he were waiting for the rest of the question.

“About the war, I mean—and that he’s a part of it?”

Baylor looked back at Worthington. “A man like that knows. He just doesn’t realize how close he is to it—not yet, anyway. Knights of the Prince don’t usually know what’s happening until they are under full attack. By then it’s a retreat-and-defend scenario. We’re going to do our best to keep that from happening here.”

By now the detachment had passed on and entered the city. Baylor turned and addressed his knights.

“The information I have predicts an attack on Worthington here in Arimil. Whether it is simply a disruptive attack to nullify his work in the city or an all-out assassination attempt is unknown. We must be prepared for anything.”

Quinlan watched the other knights as Baylor briefed them. They wore the faces of men called to battle, and he admired their sense of commitment and duty.

“Worthington and his men will be conducting recruitment meetings and specialized training in the haven for the next two days,” Baylor told them. “We have until sundown to learn all we can about this haven, the city, the surrounding area, and Worthington and his knights. We’ll be doing three-stage protection. Drake, you and I will cover outer perimeter and entry routes to the city. Kessler, you have central perimeter, and Purcell, you’ll be on the inside. I need you as close to Worthington as possible. You know what to do.”

“Yes, Commander,” Purcell said with a wink and a grin.

“Quinlan, you do reconnaissance with Kessler for now,” Baylor continued. “We meet back here at sundown. That will give us enough time to report and get positioned before nightfall. Questions?”

Quinlan had a hundred but dared not ask one.

“Do your jobs well, men, so that tomorrow we aren’t surprised.”

The knights saluted and separated. Quinlan rode with Kessler and Purcell toward the city while Drake and Baylor headed southeast to investigate the southern perimeter. Once inside the city, Purcell split from Kessler and Quinlan.

“How many Shadow Warriors will we face?” Quinlan asked Kessler as they rode down a city street.

“Most attacks are by two or three Shadow Warriors, and that is plenty. The Swords of Valor augment the Silent Warriors and take missions of protection that may or may not event out.”

“Event out?”

“Every time we are called, the mission is real, but not every mission ends in a fight. When swords cross, we call that an event.”

Quinlan nodded. “I see.”

“We are given missions when the predicted warrior count is five or less. Anything more than that, the Silent Warriors are involved—and they may be anyway, depending on the importance of the mission. We can never tell. Sometimes the most innocuous missions end up becoming critical events. It also depends on which Shadow Warriors are identified as incoming threats.”

Kessler looked over at Quinlan with as serious a look as he had yet seen on the man. “There are some Shadow Warriors you just don’t ever want to face.”