Sir Dalton and the Shadow Heart (4 page)

Koen scratched his head and looked exasperated.

“That is quite enough on that for today,” Dornan said. “We shall postpone talk of the Code till tomorrow. I grow weary of your badgering, and you are quite the badger,” Dornan teased.

“Yes, lighten up, Badger,” one of the other trainees said. “Let us get to our training, for there’s meat to be eaten and drink to be drunk.”

“What training?” Carliss glared at the other trainee.

The assembly of young men and women fell silent. They looked at Sir Dornan. His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. He then smiled condescendingly at Carliss and Koen.

“Very well,” he said to Koen. “Draw your sword.”

Koen slowly drew his sword, not quite sure what to expect. A
number of the trainees snickered, for the sword was not a glamorous one, but Dalton noticed that the blade had been worked carefully to form a perfect edge.

Dornan motioned for everyone to back away as he and Koen faced off. Koen looked a bit nervous, but he took a swordsman’s stance and did not cower.

“Mastering the sword begins with your feet. As you can see in young Koen’s case, he could easily lose his balance with his stance so narrow.”

Dornan attacked and put Koen in immediate retreat to make his point, and yet Dalton was impressed with how well the recruit handled his sword.

Dornan continued to speak as the sparring ensued. He was an extremely skilled swordsman. He maneuvered Koen at will until he executed a powerful bind and Koen’s sword flew from his grip. Dornan held the tip of his sword at Koen’s chest for a moment, then lowered it and smiled.

“Well you’re certainly not ready to face a real enemy,” Dornan said and slapped Koen on the back. “All of you draw your swords,” he added. “Today we will work on stance.”

An audible groan arose from the recruits, who had been looking forward to refreshments, and Dalton’s friend, Sir Makon, whispered angrily to a trainee next to him. From that day forth, Koen and Carliss were ostracized. Koen became known as Badger, a nickname his sister seemed to despise more than he did. Her brown eyes would spark in resentment, though she said very little. She spent most of her time lurking quietly near the edge of the group of trainees.

Dalton himself didn’t mind the two, though he wished they would make things easier on themselves by being a little more relaxed. He even made a few attempts to draw them into the social circle of the trainees… until Brynn made it quite clear that Koen, and especially Carliss, were not welcome. Dalton had to admit their gatherings were more pleasant
without the tension and disapproval the brother and sister seemed to bring with them.

On two occasions, Koen’s father came to observe the training. This seemed to annoy Sir Dornan in the extreme and served to further isolate Koen and Carliss from the rest of the trainees. Deep down, Dalton knew he should do something to make it better, but the animosity had grown too quickly and he didn’t know how to oppose it. So he chose to ignore the problem as much as possible. His training was nearing its end soon anyway, and then it would be someone else’s problem.

Why do they have to be so serious about it all?
he asked himself as he walked home one evening. Dalton shook his head and set his mind back on his own future…and on Brynn.

THE SEED

Winters in Salisburg were typically mild, and this one was no exception. The crisp air in the evenings and the occasional frost in the mornings were easy to bear compared to the harsher cold that some had to endure near the mountains to the north.

Through the winter months, two trainees had been commissioned and were preparing for their next assignment. Sir Makon had chosen to embark on a mission for the Prince with an experienced knight, while another chose to remain in his family trade and support other knights on mission from home.

Soon it would be Dalton’s turn, and he wrestled with his decision. Leaving meant leaving Brynn. But staying meant that he would probably never get away from the blacksmith trade of his family, and that too could end his chances with Brynn.

In the end, he realized there was only one choice. He had to leave her to win her…or rather to win her father’s blessing.

One evening, during a training session, Sir Treffen rode into the camp with another knight Dalton had never seen before. Dalton was surprised when Koen and Carliss greeted the stranger enthusiastically, while Sir Treffen and Sir Dornan conferred for a time.

“Who do you suppose that is?” Brynn asked.

“I don’t know.” Dalton said. The stranger was a small man who hardly looked a knight. His head was nearly bald and, though trim and fit, he walked with a slight limp.

“Can’t be anyone of importance if the Badger knows him,” Brynn said.

Dalton didn’t laugh, though a couple of the other trainees did. After a few moments, Sir Dornan gathered all the trainees, and Sir Treffen addressed them.

“Young knights,” he began. “Sir Dornan tells me your training is going well. Each of you will soon be commissioned and given the opportunity to embark on a mission for the Prince. It is important that you understand that serving the Prince is a high calling. Whether you choose to serve here at Salisburg or venture into the kingdom on a mission is your choice. Though embarking on a mission may be more dangerous, both are equally important.”

Sir Treffen motioned for the visiting knight to stand beside him.

“Today, I’ve asked a fellow Knight of the Prince from Vendenburg to brief you on some disturbing news. Sir Orland.”

The visiting knight stepped forward and took a few moments to gaze into the eyes of each trainee. When he looked at Dalton, Dalton wanted to look away, but he didn’t. For one brief moment, Dalton felt as though the man was looking for something within him but did not find it. His search went on, quickly scanning the rest of the trainees. His gaze ended with Koen and Carliss, but Dalton could not interpret the private message that passed between their eyes.

Sir Orland lifted his head and began to speak. “Serving the Prince is a noble and rewarding venture. But Sir Treffen speaks the truth: serving the Prince can be dangerous. If you’ve come to seek glory or fame or riches, you’ve come to the wrong order.” Sir Orland paused. Dalton glanced about and knew that the man had already lost some of his audience.

“I have had the opportunity to travel to many havens in the region,”
Orland continued. “Havens much like yours, where we are training our young knights in the art of the sword. But something is amiss.”

This seemed to regain everyone’s full attention. Orland looked right at Dalton. “Some of our young commissioned knights are disappearing.”

“What do you mean, sir?” Dalton asked.

“I have recently visited six havens in this region. More than twenty young knights cannot be accounted for.”

“Are you certain they’ve disappeared?” Sir Dornan asked. “Or is it possible they are just delayed in their mission or have embarked on a different mission altogether?”

“It is possible,” Orland replied, “but I fear something worse. And I suspect this is happening all across the kingdom. I am gathering information to make a report to Chessington.” Orland looked again at the trainees. “You must remember that our enemy is dark and fierce and his minions are formidable. The Shadow Warriors will stop at nothing to destroy the cause of the Prince and His Followers!”

Dalton shifted from foot to foot. Sir Orland’s passionate message made him distinctly uncomfortable, and he didn’t know how to react to it. Should he be afraid, skeptical, nervous? Did this strange knight know what he was talking about? Dalton sensed the same discomfort from the rest of the trainees. Only Koen and Carliss seemed to fully embrace the warning. Their eyes were still fixed upon Sir Orland as they nodded their approval of his final words.

Sir Treffen stepped forward. “Take your training seriously, young knights.” He and Sir Orland then mounted up and left.

Sir Dornan didn’t seem overly concerned by Sir Orland’s warning, and that sentiment was shared by nearly all the trainees. However, Dalton noticed that the evening’s exercises with the sword lasted longer than usual. At one point, a break was called. While Dalton waited for the other trainees to take their fill of drink at the water bucket, he detoured into the forest trees to contemplate the warning of Sir Orland and his own impending decision.

Is there merit to Orland’s warning?
he wondered. When he considered the response from Sir Dornan and even Sir Treffen, he found it easier to dismiss Orland’s words.

Caw! A
raven called from a tree just two paces away. Startled, Dalton looked up. It was a huge bird, larger than any raven Dalton had seen, and its black eyes stared down emotionlessly from its perch. A bit unnerved, Dalton took a wide berth around the tree. The bird fluttered its wings, and chills went up and down Dalton’s spine at what he saw. The raven was a freakish creature, for it had two sets of wings on each side of its body.

Dalton stared at it for a moment and then hurried on toward the water bucket. When he got there, a young lad filled a ladle and offered it to him.

“Thanks, sport,” Dalton said trying to shake the willies from himself. He reached for the ladle. “Where are you from?”

“Nearby,” the boy said with a crooked grin. His dark hair covered most of his ears and matched his brown eyes. “I’ve been watching you train some. What order of knights are you?”

“We’re Knights of the Prince,” Dalton replied.

“The Prince? Who’s that?” the lad asked.

“He’s the Son of the King.”

The boy stood on his tiptoes to look at the other trainees who were gathering on the far side of the training grounds. “Which one is He?” the lad asked.

Dalton laughed. “He’s not here. He lives in the Kingdom Across the Sea.”

The boy scratched his head. “So why do you serve Him then?”

“Well, because He came here, and the Noble Knights of Chessington killed Him.” Dalton flushed, realizing that his words sounded quite ridiculous.

The boy smirked and shook his head. “So you serve a guy in some fairyland who’s dead. Sound’s pretty far-fetched to me.”

“It’s not like that,” Dalton said, trying to keep from sounding like a complete idiot in front of the boy.

“How do you know this Prince you serve was really the Son of the King?” The boy looked up at Dalton with eyes of defiance.

Dalton was at a loss as to how he could possibly explain the Prince to this contrary yet perceptive boy. He opened his mouth to speak but could think of nothing to say.
How do I know?
he asked himself. As simple as the question was, he had never really considered this before.

“Never mind,” he finally blurted out.

“Okay.” The lad held up the bucket for Dalton to refill his empty ladle.

Dalton huffed, then smiled and reached the ladle into the bucket. Just as he drew the water, the lad dropped the bucket, which smashed down onto Dalton’s foot with a thud. The explosion of pain made him drop the ladle and collapse to the ground. Surely something must be broken to hurt this much. He cradled his foot and closed his eyes, trying to bear the pain until some of it dissipated.

“What’s wrong?” Koen knelt beside Dalton.

Dalton tried to take a deep breath and squelch the throbbing with his mind.

“The boy dropped the bucket on my foot,” Dalton said. He began removing his leather shoe.

“What boy?” Koen asked.

By now other trainees had gathered about, and Dalton was beginning to feel sheepish about the attention. He decided to leave his shoe on and brush off the pain, but it was nearly impossible. He looked toward where the boy was, but he was gone.

“You know,” he said, “the boy who was here with the water bucket.”

Koen looked confused.

“What happened, Dalton?” one of the trainees said. “Did you stub your toe?” He and four others laughed and walked away.

Koen reached out his hand, and Dalton took it. Koen lifted him to his feet.

“Thanks,” Dalton said just as Brynn arrived. She looked at Koen.

“Sure,” Koen replied and then left.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Dalton forced a smile. “Of course,” he said and took a step toward the training ground, then nearly collapsed again from the pain.

Brynn steadied him, and he put an arm around her shoulder for support. She helped him walk, but after a few steps he turned and looked back at the water bucket, which was lying on its side.

“What’s wrong?” Brynn asked.

“Nothing.” Dalton shrugged and turned back. Deep in the forest he heard the raspy
caw
of a large raven.