Sir Dalton and the Shadow Heart (14 page)

THE SWORD AND ITS KNIGHT

“Once a prisoner, always a prisoner!” A deep, dark voice echoed off the canyon walls and filled Dalton’s heart with dread.

Dalton turned on his knee to see Drox coming toward them. The knight next to Dalton cowered like a beaten puppy. “No…no…no,” he moaned.

Dalton fought the urge to join in his abhorrent fear as the ominous form of Drox loomed larger with each step.

“I must say that you have surprised me, knave,” Drox taunted as he drew his grisly weapon. “I have never had an escaped prisoner of mine actually come back to my stronghold on his own. You must be a fool of fools,” he bellowed in laughter.

Dalton’s mind flashed to his previous encounters with Drox, and he remembered the absolute power of his sword. This felt the same. Rattled by a powerful sense of déjà vu, he cowered for an instant…until he remembered his time on the mountain and his calling as a Knight of the Prince.

He had been with Master Sejus.

This was not the same.

He felt a surge of strength well up inside him as never before. He rose to his feet and stood tall, his muscles quivering in anticipation of the fight to come. No longer did he doubt his purpose. No longer did he doubt the King—or the Prince! And in that knowledge of truth, he found great authority and power.

He turned and looked at the knight cowering on the ground, mesmerized by the form of Drox.

“Go tell Si Kon I’m coming,” he said quietly but firmly.

The man looked at Dalton, bewildered.

“Go!” Dalton yelled.

“Yes, go knave. I will kill you later!” Drox screamed at the man as he retreated toward the prison-cave.

Dalton turned and glared at Drox. The evil lord was now within striking distance, and Dalton had yet to draw his sword.

Drox locked eyes with him, and Dalton felt the monster tremble.

“I thought I had killed you,” Drox said.

“You thought wrong,” Dalton answered.

Dalton slowly drew his sword, the sword he had polished with Master Sejus, and its blade gleamed brilliantly in the brightness of the sun. The reflection landed on Drox’s face, and he momentarily turned away.

“I have been with the Prince,” said Dalton, “and I’ve come to destroy you, Drox!”

“Never!” Drox screamed, and unleashed a volley of cuts and slices at Dalton.

Dalton focused on the lessons of Master Sejus and found his power in the techniques he had been taught. His sword held firm, and he felt for the subtle faults in Drox’s attack. He did not retreat from the evil lord, but instead brought a steady advance against him. The crash of the swords echoed off the canyon walls in a continuous melodic rhythm of clashing steel.

At one point Drox paused and looked stunned. His eyes opened
wide as Dalton assumed one of the stances that Master Sejus had taught him. It was the look of recognition—and the look of fear.

Drox raised one hand high in the air and motioned. Dalton caught movement out of the corner of his eye but dared not take his gaze from Drox.

“I don’t care what you think you’ve learned, knave. I will kill you and feed your measly flesh to my ravens!” Somehow now the words sounded hollow, as if Drox himself only half believed them.

Drox attacked again, just as a death raven swooped from Dalton’s right side. Dalton ducked from the raven and momentarily lost his concentration on Drox. This felt too familiar—and deadly. He recovered just in time to see another two-handed cut flying toward his left arm. Taking the brunt of Drox’s blade would shatter his arm again, and Dalton despaired. He had fallen for the same trick, and this time there would be nothing to keep him from dying at the hands of this bloodthirsty warrior.

In the split second that remained, Dalton was tempted to jump back, hoping by some miracle to avoid the bone-crushing blow of Drox’s blade. Instead, he thrust himself forward, directly into Drox’s body. Drox’s blade still struck Dalton, but near the hilt of his sword, with only a fraction of the original force. They both tumbled to the ground in a fray of armor and swords. The ravens fluttered wildly above them, not knowing what to strike at.

Dalton finally was able to set his foot against Drox’s chest and push away. He rolled backward and onto his feet just as he saw a raven dive toward his head.

See small and aim small; then you will hit the stick.
The words of Master Sejus flashed across his mind as Dalton picked one feather on the forward set of wings, just behind the head of the raven. He swung his sword in a blaze of speed and sliced the raven in two.

By now Drox was on his feet, and he stared at Dalton in shock.
Drox motioned again with his hand, but this time Dalton heightened his focus on the divergent attack and did not duck.

Drox brought a diagonal cut from the right just as a raven swooped in. Dalton met Drox’s cut while simultaneously sighting a feather on the raven’s underbelly. He quickly slid his blade from Drox’s and swung it in a downward, then upward arc that sliced the bird from neck to tail. It hit the ground with a thud. Drox hesitated, giving Dalton a chance to cut the left wings off of the next attacking bird.

Drox and Dalton locked eyes again, but the moment was interrupted by the neigh of a horse from above. Both Drox and Dalton looked up at the canyon ridge to see a contingent of mounted knights. A glimpse of their banner brought renewed courage to Dalton. Sir Orland had arrived.

Drox stepped back, shaking his head. Another raven attacked Dalton, but he was ready. Its headless body flew into Drox’s chest and splattered him with blood. Dalton felt the power of the Prince in each slice of his magnificent sword and wished for every dreadful raven in the canyon to come to him.

Drox and Dalton both stood motionless for a second. Then Drox gestured for his ravens to continue as he turned and ran headlong toward his prison.

Dalton sliced through four more death ravens until the last few disappeared over the rim of the canyon. He looked toward the retreating Shadow Warrior and found himself in a quandary. What should he do next?

He imagined Drox and his henchmen in the prison conducting countless hasty executions and realized there was no turning back now. He was too far away to give any instructions to Sir Orland, and he wouldn’t know what to tell him anyway. So he pointed in the direction of the cave and ran after Drox, hoping Sir Orland would meet up with Koen and Carliss to form a plan before everyone, including himself, was dead.

He neared the cave entrance just as his enemy was about to duck out of sight.

“Drox!” he yelled, hoping to keep him out in the open, away from his reinforcements.

Drox stopped and turned.

“Is this what you truly are—a coward?”

Drox hesitated as Dalton closed the distance between them.

“You are no warrior,” Dalton taunted. “You are a parasite feeding on the fears of others. You have no real power over any of the knights you hold!”

Drox could take the insults no more. He lifted his sword and took a step toward Dalton—but stopped when the sounds of fighting drifted from the tunnel behind him. He turned and ducked into the cave. Dalton reached the tunnel mouth a few steps behind him and followed him through the twisting passageway.

The sound of clashing swords grew louder as Dalton pressed onward through the corridor, his eyes gradually adjusting to the dim light.
Which prisoner has dared to draw a sword against the Vinceros?
he wondered. He could imagine only his friend Si Kon having the courage to do so, but Si Kon would not last long by himself, and neither would Dalton. Even with the strength of the Prince in him, Dalton knew that alone he was no match for Drox’s force. He couldn’t wait for reinforcements, though. If he delayed his aid to the imprisoned knights, they all might die. He had to reach them, to persuade them somehow to take up arms against Drox.

He had just reached a bend in the tunnel when he heard the dark voice of Drox echo through the tunnel, and the words pierced him like a dagger.

“Kill them all!”

A WARRIOR’S BLADE

“Drox!” Dalton shouted as he rounded the bend and ran onward.

In the dim torchlight of the tunnel he saw the Shadow Warrior’s large form pass by four figures locked in deadly sword fights at the junction of two tunnels. Dalton remembered passing the darkened tunnel branch when he exited the cave months earlier. But who—?

His eyes adjusted, and he saw the swish of long hair from one of the defenders of the darkened tunnel. Carliss! She and Koen were in the fight of their lives against two Vincero Knights.

Dalton attacked from the blind side of Carliss’s opponent, and he fell to the tunnel floor instantly. Carliss took the opportunity to bring her sword against Koen’s opponent. His yell for help was cut short by her blade.

“Koen! Carliss! Praise the King you are here!”

“We searched for another way in,” Koen said.

“I’m afraid this is going to be…” Dalton paused.

“Let’s go,” Koen and Carliss said in unison, and the three knights ran into the darkness as soldiers of light.

“I saw Sir Orland and his men on the canyon ridge,” Dalton said as they ran.

“They should see our horses near the back tunnel entrance,” Koen replied. “They’re in plain view.”

“We can only hope,” Dalton said. “Carliss, when we enter the prison area, be ready with your bow.”

“I only have two arrows left,” she replied.

“It will have to do,” Dalton looked over at her as they passed by a torch on the wall. He was momentarily dazed by this spunky girl of yesteryear who had become a courageous woman of strength. What others had found so annoying years earlier at the haven, he now found captivating…her serious resolve to serve the Prince.

If only Lady Brynn…
, he found himself thinking.

The light ahead outlined the huge figure of Drox standing near the entrance of the underground prison area.

“I said to kill them all,” Drox was shouting. “Do it now!”

Dalton, Koen, and Carliss entered into the chaos of a bloodbath in the making. Shouts and exclamations filled the prison as a dozen guards and Vincero Knights entered the chamber. Drox’s hounds of despair added their unearthly howling and vicious snarls.

Then, seconds later, the screams began.

Dalton swallowed hard, then added his voice to the commotion: “Rise up, Knights of the Prince, and fight!” He and his friends were immediately engaged by four Vincero Knights, and they maneuvered to cover each other’s backs.

Dalton parried a thrust from one of his opponents and countered with a crosscut that found its mark. He saw Koen’s opponent fall, and he disengaged to leave them at even odds.

“Drox!” Dalton shouted at the top of his lungs.

The mayhem subsided, and there was a peculiar pause in the havoc, broken only by the moans and cries of the wounded.

Drox turned, and Dalton hurtled toward him. “I come for you!” he shouted.

Even the Vincero Knights seemed stunned at that. No one had ever challenged the mighty Lord Drox.

Drox glared at Dalton, then glanced quickly at the odd array of spectators. He whistled and pointed to Dalton. The four hounds of despair bolted toward Dalton from various places in the chamber. Dalton stopped his advance, for it was impossible to survive the attack by four snarling dogs. Two of the hairless hounds flew past Drox and on toward Dalton, baring their fangs in anticipation of the carnage.

Swish!
An arrow flew within inches of Dalton’s shoulder and on toward the leading hound, but it flew wide and to the right of its target. Dalton timed a wide, powerful cut to meet the hound that was now leaping toward his throat. His sword cut through the hide of the beast. Dalton continued his slice, simultaneously turning his body to the left and ducking beneath the blur of brown hide and snapping teeth. The animal flew over the top of Dalton and landed in a motionless heap just behind him.

Dalton was now vulnerable to the second hound’s attack, but another arrow
swished
passed his shoulder just as the hound was nearly to him. This time the arrow sunk deep into the animal’s chest. It yelped and tumbled to rest at Dalton’s feet.

The last two hounds were larger but slower. Dalton had enough time to recover for one more attack, but he could not imagine how to take two of them at once. He saw Koen attempt to come to him, but a guard impeded his progress. One hound outdistanced the other, and as Dalton prepared himself, a moment of hope filled his heart. He glimpsed his friend Si Kon lunge from a rocky ledge at the trailing hound, a dagger in his hand.

The last hound was nearly to Dalton, and he swung his blade just as before. This time the hound hesitated, and Dalton’s sword cut only
through air. With his body now turned to the left, he was vulnerable, and the hound lunged for Dalton’s chest.

Dalton quickly dropped his sword and drew his dagger in the split second that remained. The force of the attack pushed him backward, and he felt the powerful jaws of the beast sink into his side as he fell to the ground. His chain mail held, but the pain was severe just the same.

Dalton grabbed the dagger handle and plunged the blade deep into the side of the beast. It instantly released its bite and clamped onto Daltons forearm. He struggled to free his arm, but the crushing jaws held firm.

Dalton dropped the knife, rolled, and grabbed the knife with his left hand as he passed over the top of it. The hound released his grip on Daltons arm and lunged for his neck. Dalton sunk the knife once more deep into the chest of the vicious beast and this time pierced its heart. It fell lifeless on top of Dalton, and he pushed it off himself only to see a greater horror waiting.

Drox stood over Dalton with his sword pointed at his chest.

The entire chamber of the prison now fell silent as the epic conclusion of the battle between the evil master of darkness and the courageous young knight who dared return to his lair played out before them.

“Oh, how I love to kill the incompetent Knights of the Prince!” Drox’s words echoed from Dalton’s past. He raised his sword high in the air to strike. This time, Dalton knew Drox’s target would be his heart.

“No!” Carliss’s scream pierced the silence.

Dalton’s courage vanished. Had his encounter with Master Sejus meant anything at all if his ending was to be the same as before?

Drox’s blade began its death plunge as Dalton’s mind raced through the circumstances that had brought him to this moment in time. He turned his head to the right and saw Si Kon covered in blood but standing victoriously over the brown mass of the last hound. His eyes were full of fear as he watched. This would not simply be the execution of another friend, but the final blow to his own courageous attempt to hope once more.

A glint of light shone off Dalton’s blade, which lay on the ground just an arm’s length away, and it told him something was different. This sword was not broken. It whispered to be used against the darkness of Drox.

Dalton once more felt the power of the Prince rise up within him as he reached to grasp the hilt of his mighty sword and brought it up to intersect the path of Drox’s descending blade. There was a clash of metal, and Drox’s blade was deflected to the left, where it imbedded itself in the hard ground of the chamber floor.

Drox struggled for a moment to dislodge his sword. Looking up from the ground at his nemesis, Dalton deftly set the tip of his blade just beneath the bottom edge of Drox’s breastplate. He thrust upward with all his might, and there was nothing to stop the plunge of his double-edged sword.

Drox’s eyes bulged in disbelief. He slowly looked down at Dalton,
and his face turned ashen white. In that instant, Dalton saw three familiar faces—the mighty warrior, the young man of crafty words, and the boy of doubt years ago at the well. Three enemies who had stalked and hurt him. Three foes in one body—now stripped of power.

Dalton withdrew his sword, and Drox stumbled backward. He fell to his knees, his face contorted in anguish and rage. With one hand he clutched his chest, and with the other he raised a clenched fist into the air.

“My brothers will seek you out,” he tried to scream, “and kill you all!” His weakened cry was his last. He fell face forward to the chamber floor.

Dalton stood and walked to the massive hulk of Drox’s prone form. His own heavy breathing seemed to be the only sound in the midst of many hundreds of onlookers.

Dalton lifted his sword into the air. “Skia Ek Distazo…Lord Drox…is dead!” He slowly turned to see the faces of guards, Vinceros, and prisoners stunned by the moment. “By the power of the Prince, you are free!”

There was an absence of response from the prisoners, and it seemed as though the guards and Vincero Knights also didn’t know what to do.

There was a clamor from the cave entrance, and all turned to see Sir Orland enter with a contingent of forty knights. At that, the Vinceros dropped their swords, and some of the prisoners began to cheer.

Si Kon stumbled over to Dalton and slowly shook his head. “You came back”—he looked once at Drox and then back to Dalton—“and defeated him. I dared not hope for such a thing.”

Dalton stepped toward his friend and put a hand on his shoulder. “Together we defeated him, my friend,” he said. “By the power of the Prince, we defeated him.”

Si Kon’s lips slowly curled into a smile. He raised his hands and yelled as Dalton had never heard before. Si Kon then fell to his knees and wept.

“I will see my family once more,” he murmured through tears.

Dalton knelt down. “Yes, Si Kon.”

“And I will teach my children never to doubt the Prince as I once did. Through you I have seen His might, and I will never lose faith again.”

Dalton smiled and lifted his friend to his feet just as Koen and Carliss reached them. Koen grasped Dalton’s arm. Carliss looked as though she wanted to hug him. She smiled instead and then quickly turned away.

“The King reigns!” Koen shouted.

“And His Son!” came the cries of hundreds in unison.

Dalton smiled at Koen. “It was your courage that inspired me,” he said as Carliss turned back to him. “Both of you. Thank you!”