Sir Quinlan and the Swords of Valor (26 page)

“Your warning is preposterous,” the stocky, gray-haired man said. “And you’d better not make a stir in my city, or you’ll be asked to leave!”

Quinlan looked at the prefect and realized he was asking a blind man to see the colors of a rainbow.

“There will not be a stir in your city, sir,” he said soberly. “It will be a battle—one that you cannot stop. I am committed to fighting for the city and her people. All I’m asking for is your cooperation.”

The prefect huffed. “We are a city at peace with all orders in the kingdom. I will not disrupt our lives because of some wild-eyed warning.”

Quinlan stared at the prefect for a moment. “Thank you for your time, sir.” He turned to leave, but stopped at the door and looked back. “In truth, sir, there are only two real orders in the kingdom. One is coming to destroy you. The other will try to save you. At some point, everyone must choose to which one they will belong.”

Quinlan left the prefect’s chamber wondering if it was even possible to save someone who could not see he needed to be saved.

In the evening of the following day, Quinlan made a secret visit to a shop on a merchant street just off the main thoroughfare. All the shops had closed except one. Quinlan waited in the shadows until the back door opened and the bald, whistling shop owner stepped out.

“You’re a busy man,” Quinlan said.

The man turned with a start. “Who goes there?”

Quinlan stepped into the light that shone from the door. “My name is Quinlan, and I’m a very dissatisfied customer.”

“Ha! Do you think I really care?” The man’s voice changed from that of a perky, whistling merchant to something dark and threatening.

Quinlan grabbed him by the collar and shoved him up against the back of the shop, not caring that the man was larger than he. “You’d better care,” Quinlan growled, just inches from his face. “Because if you don’t, you’ll die early.”

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with, Knight of the Prince.” The man’s eyes practically glowed with hatred.

“I don’t?—Pathyon, pawn of Lucius!”

The Shadow Warrior smiled. He moved just slightly, and Quinlan suddenly felt a knife press into his side.

“I’ve spent the last two years killing fools of the Prince like you. What makes you think you’re so different, my ignorant little—”

Four brilliant swords appeared out of the dark and came to rest with their tips against the Shadow Warrior’s neck.

“Because we’re here with him,” Drake said.

Pathyon’s smile evaporated. He lowered the knife and lifted his chin to keep his blood from spilling.

Quinlan jerked his forearm away from the warrior’s chest. “You have five days to rid the entire city of your paythas and leave. If you don’t, you’ll not live to day six.”

The Swords of Valor released Pathyon, and he slipped away into the night.

“He’ll never do it,” Lilam said.

“Of course not,” Quinlan replied.

“Then why didn’t we just kill him and be rid of him?” Purcell asked.

“Because he’s just a little fish carrying a message for us.” Quinlan took a deep breath. “And I think it worked.”

A ROARING LION

“There’s trouble, my lord.” Luskan spoke with great hesitation.

Lucius looked up furiously from his intricately carved throne. “What did you say?”

“Lord Pathyon has reported that a Knight of the Prince named Sir Quinlan has resurrected the Swords of Valor, and they are in Burkfield. I think—”

“Burkfield!” Lucius screamed and rose up out of his chair. “I don’t hear about this until they are all the way to Burkfield?”

Lucius clenched his jaw and wrapped his powerful fingers around his sword. Luskan cringed and took a step backward.

“Destroy the city now!” Lucius commanded with a fist in Luskan’s face. “See to it personally, Luskan, and do not fail me. Take two legions of Shadow Warriors
and
your Assassins. Decimate Burkfield, and I want all of the Swords of Valor dead—do you hear me? Dead!”

THE BATTLE FOR BURKFIELD

Quinlan let out a low whistle as he stood on Mount Resolute and scanned the countryside surrounding Burkfield. Like a collapsing circle of phosphorescent green, the Shadow Warriors came—thousands of them. They were still at least two hours away. That should give Quinlan and the Swords of Valor just enough time.

Quinlan lowered the crystal coin and swallowed. “They got the message.”

“Let me see that,” Purcell grabbed for the crystal coin. He looked in all directions. “I don’t see a thing.”

Kessler laughed and slapped Purcell on the back. “That’s why he’s commander, chum.”

“How many?” Drake asked.

Quinlan hesitated. “Difficult to say. Many thousands.”

The five knights looked at Quinlan soberly, fully understanding the implications. At that moment, Quinlan understood Baylor’s words about feeling responsible for his comrades’ lives. The trust in their eyes made the burden all the heavier.

He drew his sword and they followed suit. “Remember who you serve, Knights of the Prince,” he said as he placed his sword in the middle of their circle.

“Swords of Valor for Him!” they chorused.

“It’s time to move,” Quinlan commanded. “Sir Edmund has gathered any Knights of the Prince left in the city to the haven, so we’ll start there. We must take care of the paythas first; then we’ll worry about the Shadow Warriors.”

They mounted up and galloped toward the haven. Before entering, Quinlan gathered the four together.

“Do not attempt to kill a paytha unless its host allows it … or you may end up killing the knight.”

The other knights looked at him in disbelief.

“They’re vicious,” he insisted. “Get ready.”

Sir Edmund had gathered forty-three knights in the main training arena, all with very agitated paythas on their shoulders. More than half of the knights no longer even carried swords. Quinlan was glad to see Tav among them. His old friend smiled broadly and walked toward Quinlan, but Quinlan held up a hand to stop him.

“Knights of the Prince”—he shouted to get their attention—“Burkfield is under siege and soon will be attacked by a large force of Shadow Warriors.”

The knights fell silent. Two of the paythas began to growl.

“The paythas on your backs are part of Lucius’s plan to destroy you and this city. If you want to survive, you must be rid of them.”

At that there was a stir among the knights. More of the paythas growled, and their hosts could hardly keep them under control. Quinlan could tell that his comrades were surprised by the rising intensity of the situation.

One of the female knights had a paytha on her back that was so large she could hardly carry it anymore. She stepped forward and the beast growled, sinking its claws deep into her shoulders and back.

“Please take it away,” she cried, falling to the ground.

Drake and Kessler moved closer, but the paytha snarled and bared its teeth. The knight screamed as it clung more tightly to her. One little arm wrapped itself around her neck, ready to tear into her with its claws.

Purcell stepped up behind Drake and pulled his knife. Kessler
diverted the creature’s attention by coming close to it on the opposite side. Purcell timed his throw perfectly. As the animal swiped at Kessler, the knife sank deep behind its outstretched arm and into its heart. The beast let out one loud cry and went limp.

Lilam and Kessler ran to the knight and pulled the slain beast from her back. They helped her to her feet and pulled her away from the others knights, who looked on in horror. The paythas were now in a complete state of agitation and fury.

“These creatures are straight from Lucius,” Quinlan said to them. “We will help you.”

At that, some of the knights ran for the gate. Some stayed and fell to the ground pleading for help, while others seemed frozen in indecision. Sir Edmund and the Swords of Valor began helping those who asked for help. The smaller paythas proved easy to dislodge and kill, but others proved very painful for their hosts.

In the midst of the confusion, Tav ran over to Quinlan. “What are you doing?”

“Tav, that beast is evil.” Quinlan pointed at Disty, who snarled viciously from Tav’s shoulder. “Let me help you,” Quinlan urged. “We need you in the battle that’s coming.”