Sir Quinlan and the Swords of Valor (21 page)

A WARRIOR’S WORLD

The Silent Warriors didn’t row straight to Chesney Isle. They traveled around the northern tip of the island and into a small harbor. Quinlan was surprised to see a gallant three-masted ship waiting there, with sails ready to be set for sea.
So Chesney never was the destination
, he thought. Anticipation mixed with anxiety as he wondered where his journey would take him next.

Once aboard the ship, Quinlan briefed the captain on what he had learned from spying on the Shadow Warrior tent back in the Tara Hills. His information was received with the utmost attention, and he was asked to write out a full report of the conversation and his observations on parchment.

Four slightly seasick days later, Quinlan disembarked at a long dock leading to yet another island. His footsteps echoed on the planks as he followed his guides along the dock and down a path leading to the island’s heart. There Quinlan discovered an entire garrison of Silent Warriors and a training camp the likes of which he had never seen. The camp took up nearly half of the large island. There were fighting arenas, obstacle courses, simulated shops and streets, cliffs, and some places he could not name. He was as deep into the secret world of warriors as he could possibly be.

Quinlan was amazed at how simply saying yes to the Prince one
evening on Mount Resolute had dramatically changed his life. He thought of Burkfield, where Tav still lived in comfortable ignorance, and was thankful to be free from the mundane walk many Knights of the Prince chose.

Quinlan was brought before a large fellow who looked like he could wrestle a full-grown penthomoth and win. He suspected the warrior’s bronzed skin revealed untold hours of outdoor training at this secret camp in uncharted Great Sea waters.

“I’m Rafe,” the warrior said tersely. “Taras said you might be coming, although I expected you earlier.”

“I had a bit of a delay in the Dunes of Mynar,” Quinlan replied.

“Yes, we saw you enter, and usually a delay there means a person doesn’t come out. You’re fortunate.” Rafe scrutinized Quinlan. “I will oversee your training. You should know that failure to master one aspect of training is failure to master all, and you cannot leave until you master all. The easy preliminary training Taras began I will perfect and complete. In the end, the warrior-spirit test will determine if you are worthy. If you can’t accept this, you must leave immediately.” Rafe squinted at Quinlan. “Choose now.”

Quinlan did not hesitate. “I traveled from one end of the kingdom to the other to come to this point,” he said. “I’ll not walk away now.”

“Perhaps.” Rafe turned on his heel. “But you may wish you had. Follow me.”

Rafe took Quinlan deeper into the camp, to a place where four warriors stood waiting.

“Gentlemen, this is Sir Quinlan, a recruit from Taras.”

The veteran warriors all turned and eyed Quinlan. He felt small and insignificant in their presence and almost questioned his resolve, but the momentum of his earlier actions propelled him onward.

“This is Tarick. He’ll be instructing you on weapons.” The warrior nodded, and Quinlan responded likewise.

“Zeke is hand combat,” Rafe continued. “Kird is reconnaissance and evasion. Moui is Shadow Warrior tactics, and I’ll be instructing tactical and strategic maneuvers. Training begins at daybreak. You’ll spend
three hours with each instructor each day, with meals after every other session.”

Rafe crossed his arms and glared at Quinlan. “Any questions?”

“No sir,” Quinlan replied.

“Very well. We have time for one session today yet. Zeke, you take it.”

“Yes sir.” The warrior motioned for Quinlan to follow him.

That evening after Quinlan had eaten, he lay down exhausted, wondering how he would survive five training sessions each day. The hand combat session had reduced him to a sore bag of bones and bruised muscles.

Rafe was right. Quinlan’s training with Taras had been simple and easy by comparison.

The days that followed seemed like weeks, and the weeks seemed like days. Quinlan knew he was improving, but he had no idea what standards Rafe was measuring him by.

Quinlan learned the art of the sword and became a master. Tarick also taught him daggers and knives, multiple polearms and axes, and a sundry of blunt weapons. From Zeke, he learned hand combat, both with and without daggers. He recognized that Lilam had used a style similar to one of the three Zeke was teaching him. Zeke’s training was the most intense and exhausting, for it required great physical stamina and strength and therefore emphasized physical conditioning.

Reconnaissance and evasion, on the other hand, was more of a mental challenge, and Kird took this training to a whole new level, schooling him extensively in Shadow Warrior tactics and how to counter them. Quinlan discovered he had a mind and a body for this kind of work, and the sessions with Kird quickly became his favorites—along with Rafe’s sessions in tactics and strategy. Though the physical training was a critical part of the process, Quinlan came to believe that the mental prowess of a warrior was his best weapon—and defense.

The training continued through the rest of the summer and into the fall, and it didn’t stop for the mild island winter. After nine months in the
warrior camp, Quinlan had learned much—though compared to his instructors, he felt he was still just beginning. One spring afternoon near the end of his training, Quinlan was heading for the meal tent when he spotted a familiar face.

“Taras! It is good to see you,” Quinlan said with a broad smile. “It’s been such a long time.”

Taras smiled. “It is good to see you too, Sir Quinlan. Rafe tells me your training is going well.”

“Really?” Quinlan asked, genuinely curious. “I really wouldn’t know. I just try to do my best each day and hope that I’m improving.”

Taras nodded. “It’s our way.” Quinlan laughed and nodded his agreement.

“It was my intention to be one of your instructors,” Taras told him. “But after our discovery at the Tara Hills—and especially after the courier delivered your report to headquarters—I was called away on a mission. By the way, your discovery at the Shadow Warrior camp was … significant, to say the least.”

“Thank you,” Quinlan replied.

“But as of now, I will be overseeing the remainder of your training.”

“I look forward to it,” Quinlan said, not sure if life was going to get easier or harder.

“As a matter of fact, I have a training exercise for you right now.” Taras motioned for Quinlan to follow.

“I … ah … the meal—” Quinlan stammered. His stomach was howling in hunger.

“The best training happens when you simulate real conditions.” Taras spoke over his shoulder. “Do you think you’ll always have a night’s rest and food in your stomach before each mission?”

Definitely harder
, Quinlan told himself as he hurried to catch up to Taras.

They walked to the outskirts of the training camp, where Taras pointed toward the uninhabited half of the island. Quinlan had never been there, but he knew it covered many miles.

“I have a warrior somewhere out there.” Taras’s voice had transformed
from friend to detached instructor. “I want you to find him, do reconnaissance, and report back to me.”

Quinlan stared at the tangle of foliage before him, then looked up at Taras. “There are only three hours of light left.”

“It might take you three hours; it might take you a month. When you’ve found him and reconned, report back.” Taras turned and walked away, but stopped. “By the way, he’s one of our best, so be careful.”

Quinlan steeled himself, then plunged into the underbrush. He wanted to cover as much ground as possible while the light was still available.

After about an hour of traveling, he realized that all his training was paying off. His movements were natural and his methods instinctual. With every foot of ground he covered, his eyes scanned effortlessly for signs of a prior passerby.

After the second hour, he climbed a hill and charted his progress, mapping out a mental grid of the remaining island based on how far he had already come. He shook his head over the task before him. It seemed nearly impossible, given the area he needed to cover.

Quinlan finally made the mental leap to the reality that he would need to search for days. His first priority was a source of water, then food. The island had enough edible vegetation to allow him to stay on mission without having to hunt. Surviving on grasses and berries wasn’t a pleasant prospect, but the quicker he could find his target, the quicker he would be back to solid meals.

By late afternoon of the second day, Quinlan had an epiphany that made him feel like an ignoramus. He had been so immersed in training with the Silent Warriors over the past months that he had completely forgotten about the crystal coin.

I could have been out and back before sundown last night
, he told himself.

He made his way to the nearest hill with a good vantage point, then looked through the forgotten crystal coin for the first time in months. He glassed the entire island, looking for that subtle glimmer of violet
that would reveal his target to him. He saw nothing but rocks, vines, and fresh spring foliage—no glimmers at all.

When his eyes came to the northern coastline, however, he did spot a bright white light. This surprised him until he lowered the coin and realized he could see the same spot with his naked eye.

“A fire?” Quinlan pondered out loud. “That seems rather obvious. Maybe this warrior isn’t nearly as good as Taras thinks he is.”

Quinlan reset his camouflage and hurried in the direction of the fire. The closer he came to the coastline, however, the more slowly and silently he moved. As a precaution, he assumed that his target had set the fire to draw him in and was really waiting in ambush. Therefore, Quinlan carefully circled the fire, actually looking for his target at a peripheral distance of a hundred paces. He peered through the crystal coin again and again, trying to spot the warrior, but all he could see was the distant glow of the fire.

When his search came up empty, Quinlan felt he had no choice but to investigate the fire itself. He had decided that this warrior was either incredibly brilliant or incredibly careless. A visit to the campfire would reveal which was true.

Quinlan crawled the last one hundred paces on his belly more quietly than when he had entered the Shadow Warrior camp. At thirty paces away, he could make out a lone hooded figure sitting on a log near the fire. The smell of wood smoke hung in the air, along with another, more enticing aroma—roasted meat.

Quinlan tried the crystal coin again, but the kasilite crystal seemed to amplify the firelight, blinding him to anything else. Quinlan lowered the crystal coin and peered more closely at the figure by the fire.

Could be a decoy
, he thought. He redirected his focus to his surroundings, suspecting the warrior was looking for him. He nearly retreated at that point but decided to go just a little closer. To be safe, he adjusted his direction so he could approach the figure directly from behind. When he was within fifteen paces, he peered closely at the lone figure to make sure it wasn’t just a stuffed tunic and trousers.

“Why don’t you come and warm yourself by the fire, Quinlan,” the man said without turning around.

Quinlan lowered his head.
Impossible!
he thought. Then he realized this could be a trick. Maybe the warrior was calling out randomly, just to get him to reveal his location.

“Fifteen paces, directly behind me,” the warrior said. “I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

Quinlan shook his head in defeat, pushed to his feet, and walked the last few paces into the light of the fire. As he did, the meat smell hit him hard, and his empty stomach clenched.

“How did you know?” Quinlan sat down on a log opposite the warrior and began removing grass and branches from his clothing. He now saw that the man was roasting chunks of meat on a stick over the fire.

“That’s not important.” The warrior stood and walked over to Quinlan. “Here … eat.”

Quinlan hesitated, still not quite sure how to respond. Slowly he reached to take the roasting stick.