Sir Dalton and the Shadow Heart (13 page)

Although he tried not to show it, Dalton was discouraged. What if they never found the canyon? Would anyone—even his best friend—ever believe him? What of the prisoners? Were they doomed to a death of abandonment? What of Si Kon, the brave soul who helped him escape? Dalton closed his eyes and relived the terror of those weeks in his mind to convince himself his ordeal had indeed been real.

“Are you ready, Dalton?” Carliss asked. She sat tall on her horse, Rindy

Dalton opened his eyes and looked at her. He searched her eyes, seeking…he didn’t know what. Hope, perhaps.

She smiled and raised an eyebrow. Dalton nodded.

“Let’s go,” he said and slapped the reins of Chaser.

Dalton, Koen, and Carliss searched the countryside for four days, sweeping across the terrain in search of the box canyon. Each day they traveled, the possibilities expanded and their chances of success seemed to shrink. After three days more, their supplies were nearly exhausted and they were farther from the cave than one person could ever have carried or transported a near-dead man.

On the morning of the eighth day, they rose up to begin their travel back to Salisburg, and Dalton fell into silent despair. Even Koen seemed a bit morose.

“We will resupply and come back to search again,” Carliss said, trying to encourage Dalton. She mounted Rindy.

“It’s no use,” Dalton said as he finished packing his horse. Discouragement pulled at his every movement. “We could search for months and not find it. It’s a hole in the ground. We could be right next to it and not even know it.” Dalton prepared to mount his horse. “What a fool I’ve been,” he said.

Carliss shook her head. “No, you’re not a—”

“Draw your sword.” Without warning, Koen had appeared at Dalton’s side, weapon ready.

Dalton stared at him, bewildered.

“What are you doing?” Carliss asked her brother.

“Draw…your…sword!” Koen took a stance.

Dalton slowly drew his sword. Before he had it completely out of the scabbard, Koen attacked. Dalton instinctively finished his draw and thwarted the slice. Koen thrust again and did not hold back. Dalton defended each cut and slice, and as he did, he felt the power of the Prince rise up within him.

The impromptu duel escalated to a voracious volley of swords. Dalton felt the mastery of his blade and took the offensive against Koen. Faster and faster his blade flew until Koen was in steady retreat. In one blazingly quick maneuver, Dalton crosscut and thrust at Koen’s heart with the speed of a panther. Carliss screamed, and Dalton pulled back on his blade at the last moment, stopping the tip of his sword at Koen’s chest.

Both men were breathing hard. Koen held up his arms, acknowledging his defeat. He then pushed Dalton’s blade aside and sheathed his sword. He walked up to Dalton and stared into his eyes, just inches from his face.

“Three months ago I could have easily defeated you,” Koen said between breaths. “Today you are a master. No imagination or fabricated story could do that.”

Dalton closed his eyes, thankful for the wisdom of his friend.

Koen put his hand on Dalton’s shoulder. “You have been with the Prince, my friend, and no one will ever take that from you.”

Dalton opened his eyes wide as he considered Koen’s statement. Deep in his soul he had known that Master Sejus was someone much greater than a mere Arrethtraen, but he had never suspected that he might truly be in the Prince’s presence.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight. He trembled both from excitement and respectful fear as he realized it was true. All that time he had been with the Son of the King.

Koen sheathed his sword and went to his horse. “We will search again until we find this dreadful place.”

Dalton nodded and walked toward Chaser. He looked at Koen and Carliss as he swung into the saddle, grateful for that day they came to the haven—even more grateful for the day they had become his friends. “Any ideas where we should—”

Caw!
The familiar, terrifying sound made him jerk his head to the left. Far in the distance, a lone raven circled high in the sky.

“There!” he exclaimed. “There is where the canyon is!”

Koen and Carliss looked at the distant bird and then at Dalton.

“Are you sure?” Koen asked.

Dalton kept his eye on the raven. “As sure as I have been with the Prince!” he exclaimed. “Follow me.”

Dalton was once more filled with the confidence of the Prince. He kicked Chaser into a full gallop toward the circling black speck in the sky…but now there were two.

DEATH RAVENS

Dalton, Koen, and Carliss tied their horses a safe distance from the edge of the canyon and carefully made their way through the trees. As they neared the canyon walls, they crawled the last twenty paces on hands and knees. Dalton peered over the edge with Koen on his left and Carliss on his right.

“Is this it?” Koen asked.

Dalton scanned the floor of the canyon more than ninety feet below them, trying to orient what he had experienced down there with his new perspective up here.

“It looks like the same canyon, but I can’t be sure. Wait…yes…I recognize that outcropping. You can just see the cave entrance beside that grove of trees over there.” Dalton pointed down to their left.

“Look!” Carliss whispered as she pointed through a break in the trees to their right.

“I don’t see anything.” Dalton squinted and looked to where she pointed.

“Nor do I,” said Koen.

“Just to the right of those trees—on the ground!” Carliss’s tone indicated urgency.

Dalton leaned close to Carliss to line his sight up with her finger
and followed the line down to the canyon floor. His stomach rose up in his throat as former fearful memories and emotions flushed through him.

“No!” Dalton whispered.

Koen backed away and came up on Carliss’s right side to get a better view. A fellow knight was staked to the ground. Dalton looked up and saw two dozen death ravens circling high above them.

“I’m going down!” Dalton exclaimed, unable to peel his eyes from the man on the ground.

Carliss and Koen stared at him.

“That is not the plan, Dalton,” Koen said firmly. “The three of us can’t take on this stronghold by ourselves. You said there were at least a dozen guards and six Vinceros when you were imprisoned.”

Dalton turned to the right and looked past Carliss to Koen.

“If we don’t do something, that man will die!”

“If we go down there, we will all die!” Koen rebutted.

Koen spoke the truth and Dalton knew it, but he could not—would not—sit by and do nothing. He clenched his teeth.

“I will not let that man die like this! You two ride for help. I’m going down there.”

Dalton glanced from Koen to Carliss. She was staring into his eyes. “I will help you,” she whispered.

He looked back into Carliss’s eyes and nodded.

Koen took a deep breath and looked back at the man. “Perhaps we can free him and get him back up here before Drox discovers us.”

“I’ll get the rope.” Dalton crawled back a few paces, then ran to his horse. As he opened the pack, Carliss appeared beside him.

“You don’t have to do this, Carliss.” He quickly withdrew the rope.

Carliss unfastened her bow and quiver from her saddle and set them across her shoulder. She looked straight at Dalton.

“Yes, I do. I’m a Knight of the Prince. It’s what we do.”

They made their way together back to the canyon edge.

“The death ravens are circling lower,” Koen said.

Dalton quickly tied one end of the rope around a tree. He scanned the rest of the canyon, then threw the rope over the edge. It caught on a ledge that jutted out halfway down.

“I will scale down first,” Dalton said. “You two stay up here. If the man is too badly beaten or too weak, you will need to pull him up using the rope.”

Koen grabbed his arm. “I don’t like it, Dalton. I should come down with you. What if Drox or the others come for you?”

“We may need to get him up fast, Koen. This is the only way. Besides, I won’t be able to keep an eye on the cave entrance down there. You’ll have to watch it for me.”

Dalton looked at Carliss and nodded toward her bow. “How good are you with that?”

Carliss just stared at him.

“She can shoot the eyes out of a mole at fifty paces,” Koen replied for her. “While it’s moving,” he added.

“Good,” Dalton said. “Watch the cave and watch those birds.”

He checked his sword, turned his back to the canyon, and started his descent into the terrifying abode of the evil Lord Drox.

Dalton made it to the ledge where the rope was caught. He gathered the remaining rope with one hand and threw it out and over the ledge, then took a moment to look up at Koen and Carliss. Koen was pointing to the man on the floor, and Carliss was reaching for an arrow.

Dalton felt his heart pound, knowing he was exposed to the whole canyon here, and he wondered if someone was coming. He knew he would have to hurry.

Just then he heard the man below him yell. Dalton looked over the edge of his perch and realized that it was not someone, but something that had concerned Koen and Carliss. The death ravens were now only a few feet above the man, spiraling down on their final descent.

Whoosh!
Carliss’s arrow flew straight toward the staked man, and Dalton wondered if the poor soul would die by her arrow rather than by the death ravens. The man screamed as the first three birds landed right beside him.

Thud!
The arrow landed just on the far side of the man, right next to one of the ravens. The half-dozen ravens bolted into the air in a frenzy.

Dalton decided to quicken his descent, for he knew that Carliss would not be able to hold off the ravens for long. He had positioned himself and made a step downward when he heard a slight whistle from above.

He looked up to see Koen’s eyes wide in angst. He pointed, and Dalton followed the line until his eyes came to rest on the death ravens. They were no longer circling above the staked knight but flying straight for Dalton.

It took him a moment to comprehend what was happening.
Could these ravens be that aggressive?
he wondered. It was almost as if they were guardians of the canyon, like bees guarding a beehive.

Dalton shook himself from the sight of two-dozen death ravens getting closer to him by the moment. He gripped the rope and continued his descent as quickly as possible, but he had made it only a few feet before the first raven swooped in on him.

Caw!
The bird screeched while it dove straight for Dalton’s head. He pulled in tight to the canyon wall and just missed being pecked by the enormous black beak. The double wings of the bird gave it incredible maneuverability, and it turned in an instant for another attack. This time it came closer and sank its beak into Dalton’s back. The pain nearly caused him to lose his grip.

The bird dropped down and back to gain speed and make way for the next attacker. Dalton took the momentary break to take two more steps down, then prepared for the next bird as it closed in. Just as it began its dive, Dalton heard the
swoosh
of another arrow.

Caw-aw!
The bird screeched as Carliss’s arrow pierced its right double wing. It fluttered end over end downward, ending up impaled against the rocky landing below. Dalton breathed a sigh of relief and quickly descended four more lengths. Another arrow
whooshed
, and another raven fell lifelessly to the ground.

The other ravens seemed to hesitate, and Dalton made the most of the pause in their attack. He looked up and realized that with a few more feet of descent, the ledge would put him out of sight of Koen and Carliss and therefore out of their protection from the death ravens. He looked down—nearly thirty feet to go.

The ravens seemed to rally, and two of them dove once more on Dalton. Several more ravens flew toward Koen and Carliss, while three others landed on the ledge that the rope was drawn tight against—a divergent attack that left Dalton amazed. How intelligent were these
birds? Koen and Carliss were now occupied with their own protection, and the three ravens on the ledge set immediately to pecking at the rope.

Dalton tried to descend farther, but one raven tore a piece of skin off the back of his leg, where no chain mail protected him. Another was coming in on his back again. At the last moment, he pushed away from the cliff edge and loosened his grip on the rope, hoping that he could control his descent. The rope screamed through his leather gauntlets, and he squeezed to slow himself

The death ravens swooped again but missed. Dalton’s speed increased beyond what he could control, and he wondered if he would survive the fall.

Just before impact, he gripped the rope with all his might, and it slammed him against the side of the canyon wall. He felt the rope sever above him, and he fell backward the last few feet, crashing onto the jagged rocks below. Half of the rope tumbled down on top of him from the ledge up above.

He rolled out into the open, in view of Koen and Carliss once again, and the ravens swooped down on him. Carliss found a split second to aim and launch another arrow toward the nearest bird. Pierced through one of its wings, it fell to the ground near Dalton, flapping its other three wings wildly in protest.

Dalton was on his back, trying to recover, and the wounded bird came at his face. Dalton held out his hand to protect himself and the bird latched on to it with a viselike beak. Dalton grabbed its neck with his free hand and wrenched it away, hurling it onto a rock beside him. He jumped to his feet, drew his sword, and dived under the nearest tree.

Those blasted ravens. Now how will I get out of here?
he wondered.

After a moment of fruitless pursuit, Dalton’s remaining ravens left him and joined in the attack on Koen and Carliss. He watched his comrades retreat out of sight into the trees behind them, and he paused a second to plot his course. Then he ran and knelt beside the man who was a fellow knight.

“Who are you?” the man asked with wide eyes full of fear.

Dalton didn’t answer. Instead, he sheathed his sword and set to lifting the U-shaped stakes from off the man’s wrists. They were set deep into the ground, and he struggled to lift them even a little.

“I am Sir Dalton,” he said as he strained. “I was once a prisoner here. We haven’t much time.” He finally managed to lift the wrist stakes enough for the man to free his hands, but the stakes at his feet seemed nearly immovable. The man tried to help, but with his legs pinned down, there was little he could do. Being so exposed unnerved Dalton, and with every second he imagined a blade piercing him through from behind. He pulled up with all his might and was able to free one foot.

“Hurry!” the man said in near panic just as Dalton lifted the last stake from his foot…but it was too late.