Sir Quinlan and the Swords of Valor (18 page)

The man attacked with a vengeance, but the girl held her ground. The other two men, whom Quinlan now assumed were his brothers, looked at each other and nodded. They drew their swords and raised them to strike the girl from the back.

“Now that doesn’t seem quite fair.” Quinlan leaped over the stone wall behind the two men. They turned in time to see him draw his sword.

Both men turned on Quinlan with a rash volley of cuts. To his surprise, he easily handled both at the same time until they spread apart and divided his attention. He worked his way toward the girl to cover her back and afford some protection for himself as well. The two of them fought back to back, frustrating the angry trio of brothers.

Not sure how long the girl could keep her brute at bay, Quinlan thrust at what appeared to be the oldest brother to put him in retreat, then made two powerful cuts on the other, followed by a thrust and a
binding move Taras had taught him. The man’s sword flew from his hand, and Quinlan turned to the older brother before it hit the ground. He advanced so quickly that the man stumbled backward and fell. Quinlan quickly set the tip of his sword at the man’s throat.

“Drop your swords,” he commanded.

The man on the ground dropped his sword, but Quinlan could hear the girl still locked in a deadly duel. Quinlan pressed his sword into the prone man’s throat. “Yelton!” the man hollered.

The twang of swords ceased.

“But she cut me!” Yelton gasped, clearly winded by the fight.

“Drop it, you oaf!” the man on the ground yelled.

When Quinlan heard the sword hit the ground, he withdrew and turned to face the others.

“Get your animals off her land,” he ordered.

The injured man clamped his right hand on his wound and joined his two brothers. The three of them began separating the goats from the sheep and moving them away from the well.

“I could have handled them myself,” the girl said. She’d come to stand beside Quinlan. He looked over to see confident hazel eyes staring at him. She tossed her head to flick black hair from her square shoulders. She looked a few years younger than Quinlan but was nearly as tall.

Quinlan hid a smile. “Yes. I could see that.”

“Thanks just the same,” the girl said.

Quinlan nodded. “You handle that sword very well.” He looked back toward the men who had just harassed her as he snapped his own sword into its scabbard. “Are you going to be all right?”

“Of course,” the girl huffed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Quinlan raised an eyebrow and shrugged. He was ready to be on his way. He gave her a farewell nod, looked north past Norwex, and started walking, but he’d gone only a few steps when the girl appeared at his right side.

“Hey, where are you from?” she asked, swinging her sword about with the skill of a trained fighter.

“South of here.”

“No kidding—you and the rest of the kingdom.”

Quinlan shook his head and walked faster.

“If you’re a knight, where’s your horse?” The girl had to hop a bit to keep pace with Quinlan as he lengthened his stride.

“I didn’t say I was a knight,” he replied.

“No, but you fight like one and you look like one … mostly.” She peered into his face to see if she could get a reaction.

Quinlan smirked, and she smiled.

“I need to be on my way.” Quinlan picked up his pace a little more. “You be careful.”

She stopped walking. Quinlan felt bad about shooing her off, but he had too far to go and too much to do to get caught up in some quirky north-country feud. He glanced very briefly over his right shoulder to make sure she was gone and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hey!” The girl’s voice jolted him.

Quinlan snapped his head to the left to find her walking briskly beside him. “Don’t you have sheep to tend?”

She bolted ahead a couple of steps, jumped in front of him, and held up her hand for him to stop. “Look, I’m really grateful you helped me out back there.” Her eyes softened as she turned the flat of her hand on its side to offer it to him.

Quinlan sighed and shook her hand. “You’re welcome.”

She looked down at his tunic. “You’re a Knight of the Prince.”

At that, Quinlan stalled. “How do you know about the Knights of the Prince?”

“A knight came through nearly a year ago talking about the Prince.” She seemed to gaze through him and into her memory of the event.

“Really?” Quinlan tried not to sound too skeptical. “What do you know of Him?”

“I know that He is the Son of the true King of Arrethtrae and that He came to teach all of the kingdom His ways … whether man or
woman
!”

Quinlan couldn’t help grinning at that. Her exuberance was infectious.

“I also know He died for us and the King brought Him back to life through the Life Spice. He’s coming back for those who are found faithful. The knight explained it all at a meeting outside of Norwex one evening.” The girl glanced toward the city. “I wanted to talk to him, but my father and brothers wouldn’t let me. They said it was all nonsense, but I believed it. I’ve always known we had a good King. The knight’s words gave me hope, and I knew I wanted to belong to the King and His Son.”

The girl looked at Quinlan with yearning eyes. “I decided that night that I would join the Prince no matter what. Then I met Master Kwi.”

The girl smiled, and Quinlan realized the gleam in her eye could come only from one who knew the truth.

“Master Kwi is a Knight of the Prince too?”

“Yes. He came to our region not long after. He knighted me, and I’ve been training under him ever since.” The girl whipped her sword from side to side as if it were an extension of her body.

“It is good to meet a fellow knight this far north. What’s your name, miss?” Quinlan asked.

“My name is Lilam. Will you train me further?”

Quinlan balked at that. He didn’t feel qualified to teach much of anything to anyone, let alone a girl who already seemed an expert in both sword fighting and hand-to-hand combat.

“It looks to me as though Master Kwi has done a thorough job already,” he said. “I should like to meet him sometime.”

She held up the sword she’d been carrying and offered the hilt to Quinlan. He grasped the sword and held it before him. Though much lighter than he was used to, it was a comfortable fit.

“The sword belongs to him,” Lilam said, “but he wanted me to keep it near so I could practice every day … and I do.”

“It shows,” Quinlan said. “This is a beautiful weapon.”

He drew his own sword and offered it to Lilam. Her eyes drank in every detail. She used it to engage an invisible enemy, and Quinlan was impressed once more by her skill. They swapped swords again, and Lilam looked a bit sad.

“It’s what I was born to be.” She held up her sword and stared at it, then turned imploring eyes to Quinlan. “Please train me further. I want to learn more so I can fully serve the Prince.”

“I—I’m sorry, Lilam. I’m on a special mission and must continue this very day. There is much at stake.”

“For the Prince?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Then take me with you. I will help you, and you can train me along the way.”

Quinlan stared at her, dumbfounded. “Surely you jest,” he said, but Lilam’s face was serious. “That just isn’t something I can do,” he added. “Besides, you have a family here and sheep to tend. You are too young to be on a mission just yet.”

Her eyes sparked. “I’ll be twenty next month—probably not much younger than you.”

She was right, Quinlan realized. She was older than she looked, nearly his own age. He shook his head and rubbed his neck, wondering how to convince her.

“It’s impossible, Lilam,” he said as gently as possible. “Surely your father would never allow such a thing.”

Lilam continued to plead with her eyes. “Before I became a Knight of the Prince, I ached for purpose in my life. Now that I have found it and am called to fight for Him, I’m left to tend sheep. One more day here, and I think I shall—”

“Lilam!” a voice called from near the well where the skirmish occurred.

Lilam turned about and sighed. “I’m here, Father.”

A stocky gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair hurried toward them.

“What’s going on, Lilam? You’re supposed to be bringing the sheep in, and they are scattered all over the place.”

“Father, the brothers from Brouwer ranch attacked me and tried to take our well again,” Lilam said.

“What?” her father exclaimed. “Are you hurt? I knew I should’ve sent one of your brothers with you.”

Lilam placed her hands firmly on her hips. “I’m fine, but Yelton will be nursing a wound for a while.”

Her father shook his head. “I’m not surprised, daughter. But you’re lucky they didn’t do the same to you.”

“They tried, but this gentleman stepped in and sa—
helped
me. Father, please meet Sir—” Lilam turned to Quinlan with a look of embarrassment. “I don’t even know your name!”

“Quinlan, sir—pleased to meet you.”

The man took Quinlan’s hand. “Nelson’s my name. I’m indebted to you, sir, for helping my daughter. Will you join us for dinner this evening?”

“Yes,” Lilam said with a sly smile. “We insist on showing our gratitude. You simply must come for dinner.”

Quinlan glared briefly at Lilam. “I should really be on my—”

Nelson held up his hand. “I insist. You look like you could use a good meal anyway, son.” He turned and walked away, apparently expecting Quinlan to follow.

With a sigh, Quinlan gave in, and soon he was helping herd sheep back to a large ranch. “I should have listened to Taras,” he muttered to himself as he cleaned up for supper with Lilam and her family.

The meal was beyond superb—roast lamb, fresh greens, boiled potatoes, and baked apples—and the conversation was pleasant and noninvasive. Quinlan learned that Lilam was the third of eight children and that her two older brothers had just gotten back from selling some sheep in the city. He shared a little about his own home and thanked Lilam’s mother for a second helping.

Quinlan was surprised how comfortable he felt with the family—until one of the youngest brothers blurted, “Lilam says you’re a knight on a mission. Where are you going?”

Quinlan smiled at the lad. “North.”

Lilam looked at her father and her brothers.

“How far north?” her oldest brother asked.

Quinlan caught the subtle concern. “Far north,” he replied. “To Chesney Isle.”

At that, the family stopped eating—all except the nine-month-old. “What takes you up that far north?” Lilam’s father asked, breaking the silence.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Quinlan replied. “Is there something I should be concerned about?”

Lilam looked him straight in the eye with grave concern on her face. “If you’re going to Chesney Isle, you’ll have to pass through the Dunes of Mynar. That’s a very treacherous land, especially near the Kang River.”

“Why’s that?” Quinlan asked.

“First, the land before the river is very dry,” she said. “Second”—Lilam hesitated and looked around the table at her family—“some say it is inhabited by sand monsters called penthomoths.”

“Penthomoths?” Quinlan didn’t care much for monsters. “Are we talking about creatures with long teeth and sharp claws? Poisonous perhaps?”

“No,” her older brother replied. “None of that.”

“How bad can they be, then?” Quinlan smiled to ease the tension. No one else smiled.

“We don’t really know what they look like,” Nelson said, “just that when they attack, tentacles come up from the sand and the victim disappears … forever.”

“And there are other critters, large and small, along the river that are just as dangerous,” Nelson said. “People just avoid that region.”

Quinlan swallowed hard. “I appreciate your warning, but I must travel there all the same. I’ll keep a sharp eye out.” He changed the subject, mostly for his own peace of mind, and before long the pleasantness of the meal was restored.

Quinlan found Lilam’s family delightful—so delightful, in fact, that he let himself be talked into spending the night. He drifted off to sleep in a soft bed and only woke up once with tentacles wrapped around his leg, but then they disappeared, and he was once more fast asleep.

THE DUNES OF MYNAR