Kingdom's Quest (4 page)

The cool morning air was crisp, and the full light of the day was not yet upon them. The morning dew became a mist under the warmth of the coming day and rose from the greenery to place them as obscure figures on the canvas of a piece of masterful art. Just ahead, a man was pacing back and forth near a stone bench off the main walkway. Gavinaugh assumed that this was the prefect. At their approach, he looked up and beckoned them to come. They were still some distance away when the peace of the courtyard was shattered by the presence of evil.

A huge, ominous form stepped from the shadows of the nearby shrubbery onto the walkway between them and the prefect. His sword was drawn, and Gavinaugh instantly recognized the mark of Lucius on
his armor. The prefect gasped and turned white. Gavinaugh could tell he wanted to run but did not dare. A branch as thick as a man's arm hung in front of the warrior, obscuring some of his form. The warrior growled and made one powerful slice with his sword that cut the branch clean through, exposing all his horrific grandeur to Gavinaugh and Weston. The warrior turned and pointed his sword at the prefect.

“You fool, Sergustine! Did you really think I wouldn't know?”

The prefect cowered in fear and became like stone. Gavinaugh sensed the fear rising in Weston, for he had never seen a Shadow Warrior before. Gavinaugh fought back his own apprehension—his previous encounters with such brutes had been devastating. But then he remembered the words of the Prince:
“Not even the forces of the Dark Knight will prevail against you!”

Gavinaugh spoke in hushed tones to his comrade. “Do not fear, Weston. The Prince is with us.”

The Shadow Warrior turned back to face them as Gavinaugh and Weston drew their swords. “This city belongs to me. I know who you are and why you are here. Leave now or I will kill you and hang your bodies in the city streets for all to see!” The Shadow Warrior's raspy voice was an unnatural sound in such a naturally beautiful place.

Gavinaugh felt a surge of strength pulse through his muscles as he brought the power of the Prince to the forefront of his mind. A burning indignation ignited his soul at the presence of the evil before him. He set his eyes upon the warrior and did not hesitate as he stepped forward with the confidence of one who knows that his life is in the hands of a Man a thousand times more powerful than the warrior before him.

Gavinaugh spoke as he approached. “Hear this, warrior of the Dark Knight. You are an enemy of good, and you pervert the ways of the King. By the power of the Prince, you shall be destroyed!”

The warrior was momentarily stunned by such a reply, and the wrath manifested in his face faltered.

Weston followed Gavinaugh, but the pathway was too narrow to
stand beside him. Gavinaugh rushed upon the warrior, and a clash of steel resounded throughout the courtyard. The warrior recovered his fury and unleashed a volley of wild cuts and slices on Gavinaugh, but the skill of Gavinaugh's training did not waver. He deflected the blows with perfection and felt the rush of power in his blade like he had never felt in any other battle. Within a few moments, Gavinaugh knew the movements of the warrior so thoroughly that his steel arrived in a defensive position before the Shadow Warrior could finish a cut.

Gavinaugh predicted the brute's next attack, deflected it, and spun full circle with his sword so quickly that the Shadow Warrior did not even see the deadly slice that cut through his torso and ended his life.

The dark warrior collapsed on the cobblestones with a thud. Weston had circled behind the Shadow Warrior to protect the prefect, but by the time he had maneuvered into position, the fight was over.

Weston and Gavinaugh approached the prefect, who had not moved and was still stunned by what he had just seen. When they stood before him, the man fell to his knees and grabbed Gavinaugh's feet.

“You have saved me … you have saved us all! We shall be your servants forever!”

Gavinaugh knelt to lift the prefect by his arm. “Prefect, stand up. We have not saved you. The Prince has done this thing. Serve Him and Him only!”

The prefect stood and looked at Gavinaugh. “I heard of your visit to our city and the words you were speaking. I hardly dared to call you here, for I feared for my life, but I was a living dead man anyway. Tell me of the Prince that I might believe!”

The prefect brought Gavinaugh and Weston into his manor and gathered his servants and other city leaders to hear their words. From
that day forth, the city of Kumbria became a strong haven of the Knights of the Prince … a beacon of light in the whole region. They remained many days with the people and trained hundreds of men and women in the ways of the Code and with the sword of the Prince, knighting all who believed and were willing to follow.

After many days, Gavinaugh and Weston departed from Kumbria with a promise to return and a charge to continue the work they had begun. They followed the coastal roadway for a time and then set their path toward the city of Santiok. They had heard that the people there were devoid of hope, for a prime commodity of the city was the souls of men and women, which brought gain to many and pain to many more.

CHAINS OF DESPAIR

Gavinaugh and Weston entered Santiok in midafternoon. It was a large city that was a hub for merchandise and trade in the region. Near the center of the city, a mass of people had gathered for a slave auction in progress. In this region of the kingdom, such barbaric practices were common. The slaves were taken from all regions of the land, and Santiok had become the center of the slave trade. Gavinaugh and Weston were aware of this, but experiencing the culture firsthand was demoralizing.

As they approached the auction platform, Gavinaugh and Weston could hear the voices of crude men bartering for human lives, and Gavinaugh felt the anger rise within him.

Weston grabbed Gavinaugh's arm. “Remember, Gavinaugh, they do not know the ways of the Prince. They have lived in this darkened condition since the beginning of the kingdom,” Weston said, seemingly aware of Gavinaugh's intense emotions.

Gavinaugh looked at Weston and relaxed slightly. Even as a Noble Knight he would have found the practice of slavery abominable, but only with the enlightenment of the Prince did he care about such things beyond the borders of Chessington. Now that Gavinaugh saw
all people as equal in the eyes of the King, what was happening before him was appalling.

They rode near the auction and dismounted. Gavinaugh was amazed at how efficient the leadership of Santiok had become in this barbaric business. The main thoroughfare was crowded with people from all across the region. The traders and their slaves were cordoned off in a holding area, each waiting his turn for the auctioneer to sell the bounty of stolen human lives. The city's leadership received a fee and a commission for each sale as payment for organizing and hosting the trade. Their own guard force kept the whole affair orderly and also served to deny any other such trades from occurring within this region of the kingdom. Their monopoly was efficient and rewarded both the slave traders and the people who purchased slaves within the city. The fate of the slaves themselves varied greatly. Some became servants at large estates. The stronger men were often put to work on large farms or even at the walls of a castle lord. A few unfortunate ones were taken to a distant place where they reputedly served as entertainment in vicious tournaments to the death.

Gavinaugh struggled with being near such base treatment of people, but realized that only the compassion of the Prince could ultimately abolish such detestable practices.

A sale had just finished, and the auctioneer motioned to a guard to bring the next slave forward. A large man in shackles was taken to the front of the platform.

“Here is a fine specimen of brawn that is well suited to labor on any estate. Sir Boron, I hear you are in need of an extra hand. What a fine opportunity for you today! Or perhaps we have a buyer from Thecia looking for a swordsman to entertain his crowd. I tell you, this is one of the best to cross this platform in months. The bidding will start at fifty florins.”

The response from the crowd was apparent, for this was an unusually high starting bid.

A wealthy man nodded, and the bidding began. After an exchange
of bids between the wealthy man and another man with unfamiliar attire, the deal closed at 125 florins. The slave trader smiled broadly in anticipation of his profit.

Gavinaugh and Weston worked their way to the front of the crowd as the next slave was brought onto the auction platform. A young woman with long brown hair that was twisted and gnarled was pushed to the front of the platform. Though her head was lowered, she glanced briefly at the crowd, and Gavinaugh saw bitterness and hatred emanating from the depths of her soul. The shackles on her feet and wrists had worn the flesh beneath raw. The guard pushed her the last few paces, and she turned toward him as if to attack. The guard put his hand to his sword. She turned away and took a final step forward. Once at the front of the platform, she stared at the planks beneath her feet, her hair nearly covering her face. Her body was thin, and a tattered dress hung loosely from her frame.

The crowd began to chortle, and the auctioneer struggled to find the right words to begin.

“Settle down and let's get on with business. Who will open the bidding at twenty florins for this, ah … excellent worker?” he asked.

The crowd roared in laughter.

“Why is everyone laughing?” Gavinaugh asked a fat fellow he was standing next to. He had to ask twice since the man's own laughter was deafening. His double chin jiggled with each guttural expulsion.

“That's Crazy Keanna. They couldn't
pay
someone to take her!” He laughed all the harder.

The auctioneer tried to settle the crowd. “Ten florins is a steal … Who will start at ten?”

Gavinaugh questioned the man further. “Why not?”

“You're obviously not from these parts. Crazy Keanna has run away a hundred times, and she even stabbed her last owner.” He pointed to a man standing near one of the slave traders. His arm was bandaged, and the anger on his face was evident.