Sir Dalton and the Shadow Heart (6 page)

THE ATTACK

“This one’s mine.” A fierce warrior had stepped in front of the marauder.

“Yes, my lord.” The man stepped back and away, toward the rest of the fray.

This new enemy seemed strangely familiar. Dull black hair hung to his shoulders, and there was a small scar on his neck. He leered with thin lips, revealing yellow teeth.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said.

The warrior’s raspy voice rattled Dalton further. Fear mounted within him—fear that was also familiar, but much stronger this time. He stepped back and tried to recover himself, but he fumbled with his sword. He gripped it tighter and prepared for the fight, but felt awkward, as if he had never held a sword before.

“I am a Knight of the Prince,” Dalton said to steady himself. “He is my strength.”

“We shall see about that,” the warrior said with another condescending leer. Then he attacked with a vengeance.

Dalton found himself in a terrifying fight for his life. The warrior was quick, powerful, and devious. Dalton had never faced such a foe, and his training seemed wholly inadequate for the task. His sword flew
to meet a wide slice from the left, and he countered with a slice of his own. It was easily thwarted, and the warrior made a quick vertical counter that sliced through Dalton’s tunic. The tip of the sword grazed his shoulder, but that was all.

Dalton recovered and tried to quicken the movement of his sword, but the warrior matched his speed, and Dalton knew his own skills were inferior. He heard the clash of the battle to his left and wondered if he could survive long enough for someone to come to his aid.

Movement caught Dalton’s eye, and he chanced a quick glance to see two large ravens swooping toward him from the trees. He instinctively ducked just as the warrior executed a wide slice, and the diversion hindered his efforts to meet the slice. He managed to halt the enemy’s blade, but its tip was now aimed at his heart.

The ruthless warrior thrust against Dalton’s sword. Dalton pushed back against the blade of his adversary and moved it slightly, but the icy steel penetrated deep into his right shoulder. Dalton screamed and withdrew, but the warrior slammed another crosscut against Dalton’s sword and it flew from his weakened hand. Gasping with pain, Dalton grasped his shoulder with his left hand.

The warrior held his blade at Dalton’s chest, his face full of scorn.

“Where is the strength of your Prince now, knave?” the warrior chided. “There is only true strength in the steel of a blade, not in a foolish fairy tale.”

Dalton looked up at the warrior and knew there was nothing he could do to stop the deathblow that was sure to follow. He knelt to the ground, weak and afraid.

“Have mercy,” he pleaded.

The warrior began to laugh hideously. “Mercy? There is no place for mercy here, imbecile.” He lifted his sword to cut Dalton through.

Thump!
Dalton blinked as something flashed across his shoulder. The warrior screamed in fury and reached for the handle of a knife blade that was embedded in his right arm.

“Move, Dalton!” A voice came from behind him as the warrior tried to execute the interrupted cut.

Dalton fell to the ground and rolled away as the blade of the warrior passed just above him. That gave enough time for his ally to jump over him and bring his sword to the fight. The air was filled once again with the clash of swords as a fellow Knight of the Prince boldly stood between Dalton and his adversary warrior. Dalton could not see the knight’s face, but he was intensely grateful for his presence.

He recovered himself enough to find his sword. He held it with both hands and stood to help his fellow knight, but there was no need. The warrior was in full retreat against the knight’s mighty sword. A moment later the warrior fled the fight altogether.

“I’ll be back for you, knave!” he called out in the distance.

Dalton shuddered.

“Thank you for saving my life, sir,” Dalton said.

The knight turned around, and Dalton’s jaw dropped.

“It is the Code, Dalton,” the knight said. “To live for any other reason is vanity.”

“Koen!” Dalton exclaimed.

Koen sheathed his sword to help Dalton, for his cut shoulder was bleeding badly.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Dalton said. He hadn’t seen Koen for nearly two years, and something was different. Although Koen’s facial features had lost the subtle remnants of boyhood and been replaced by the firmer lines of manhood, this was not the change Dalton saw. Koen seemed more mature and seasoned as a knight—far beyond Dalton.

“Sit here.” Koen motioned for him to lean against a tree, and he set to bandaging Dalton’s shoulder. “Our unit was called to the battle too,” Koen replied. “I happened upon your fight by pure circumstance.”

“You fought that warrior well,” Dalton said.

Koen paused in his labor and looked at Dalton with a countenance of discernment.

“Thank you,” he said with a quick nod.

Then Dalton realized that it was not only Koen who had changed, but he himself Koen’s serious resolve to serve the Prince had been ever present. But only now, after having experienced the reality of the kingdom battle, did Dalton see this resolve as a mark of true nobility and character rather than an awkward and foolish intensity.

Dalton was ashamed. Years earlier at the haven, Dalton had been the young man everyone looked up to. But here on the battlefield of life, Dalton was the one who looked up to Koen.

Koen finished the bandage and grasped Dalton’s left hand, lifting him to his feet. Dalton held on to Koen’s hand a moment longer.

“I owe you an apology, Koen.”

Koen hesitated with his response again, unsure of what was coming.

“For what?”

“For not befriending and defending you at Salisburg.” Dalton dropped his gaze briefly and then looked straight at Koen. “I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

Koen’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded. “I forgive you…friend.”

Dalton grimaced, then smiled. “Friend.”

Dalton helped Koen and the other knights tend to the wounded, but his strength quickly waned. When they prepared to leave, Dalton found it difficult even to mount his steed. Koen stayed close by him.

“Our farm is not far from here. I think you should rest there until you are stronger.”

“Thanks, but it’s not much farther to Salisburg,” Dalton said. “I’ll be all right.”

After a few miles, however, Dalton was struggling to stay coherent, and he continued to weaken. He didn’t resist Koen when they broke from the other knights and his friend brought him to his family farm.

Koen’s mother removed Dalton’s bandage and cleaned the wound. She tightly bound it up again with a fresh bandage. He fell onto a soft bed they had prepared for him and slept the rest of the day and on through the night.

Dalton awoke to the giggling sounds of a little girl with cheerful eyes and reddish blond hair.

“You sound funny,” she said.

Dalton guessed he must have been snoring. It took him a moment to remember where he was and why a child might be standing next to him.

“Hi there—”

“Lacy!” a hushed but urgent voice called out.

“Uh-oh!” the little girl said. Her smiled vanished.

“Quick, hide on the other side of the bed,” Dalton said with a wink.

The little girl grinned, eyes twinkling, and ran around the bed, kneeling down as the door opened. Carliss peeked into the room and realized that Dalton was awake.

“Oh…I’m sorry… I thought you were still… Lacy!” Carliss said, unsure whether to enter the room or go back outside and knock.

“Come in. I haven’t seen any Lacy around here,” Dalton said with a look of surprise.

A slight giggle escaped from the far side of the bed. Carliss opened the door wider and seemed at a loss.

“She wasn’t supposed to disturb you,” Carliss said. “Lacy! Out of the room.”

A small head slowly rose up from behind the bed like a sunrise in the morning. The girl looked sheepishly at Carliss.

“Out,” Carliss commanded.

The little girl’s lower lip stuck out as she slowly made her way around the bed and toward the door.

“Goodbye, Lacy,” Dalton called.

She turned to look at him, and Dalton winked. A smile creased her impish face, and she vanished behind the slender form of Carliss.

Dalton looked up at Carliss and was quite stunned by how much she had changed. Two years of maturity suited her well, something he hadn’t expected. She was no longer a girl, but a striking young woman.

“Hi, Carliss.” Dalton tried to sit up and winced at the pain that hit him with the movement.

“Are you all right?” Carliss hurried toward the bed. “Mother has gone to the neighbors and asked me to check on you.”

The sheet fell from his shoulder to reveal his blood-soaked bandage.

“I’ve been better,” he said, and grimaced a smile. He fell back to the bed.

Carliss inspected his shoulder more closely. “That bandage needs to be changed. I’ll be right back.”

Carliss returned a few moments later with water and a clean dressing and began to work on his wound. While she focused intently on her work, Dalton’s gaze settled on her face. The process of cleaning was painful, and watching her brown eyes seemed to ease the pain. She glanced at him from time to time to gauge the level of discomfort her work was causing. When she was finished, she inspected her work and let a quick and subtle smile cross her lips.

“You ought to do that more often,” Dalton said.

Carliss looked at him and furrowed her eyebrows. “Dress wounds?”

Dalton laughed. “No…smile.”

Carliss blushed and busied herself cleaning up the mess of dirty bandages.

“Thanks, Carliss. You and your family have been so kind to me—something I don’t deserve.”

Carliss stopped and looked at him. “You’re welcome. Are you hungry?”

“Starved!”

“I’ll fetch some food and water for you.”

“I’d be most grateful.” Dalton watched her leave the room.
She doesn’t seem like much of a brat to me
, he thought as he remembered Brynn’s last comment about her. She was quiet and serious, but certainly not a brat. In fact, other than her zealous heart for the Prince, Dalton could think of nothing else about her that would cause the other trainees to ostracize her so.

It was a revelation that both disturbed him and encouraged him, and he wasn’t sure why. He just knew that he liked being around this family.?

THE CAPTURE

Dalton stayed with Koen’s family for three days, until he was well enough to travel home to Salisburg. Koen rode with him to the haven but left within a week to rejoin his unit. Dalton stayed six weeks at the haven to allow his arm to fully heal. He enjoyed the reprieve from his travels, for it allowed him to spend time with Brynn. Her father was warming to him with each visit, and this pleased both Dalton and Brynn. She was commissioned during that time but had chosen to stay in Salisburg, so they were able to labor together when the subcouncil of knights at the haven needed them.

After his respite in Salisburg, Dalton was dispatched to Brimwick Downs on the edge of Altica Valley, where he was to enter an advanced training program. He was excited about this after having experienced his near-fatal defeat at the hands of a vicious warlord. That incident had etched the reality of the battle for the kingdom in his mind and fueled his resolve to become a true expert with the sword.

He said his farewells to Lady Brynn and her family and traveled northeast for two days, arriving in Brimwick Downs on a brisk fall morning. Much to his surprise, Koen was enrolled in the same advanced training class.

“Koen!” Dalton shouted as they arrived at their first session. “It’s good to see you!”

Koen smiled broadly. “And you!” he replied.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been well. How’s that shoulder?” Koen nodded toward it.

Dalton grabbed the shoulder with his left hand and massaged it a bit. “Good as new, thanks to your mother and Carliss. Say, how is Carliss? I was at the haven three weeks ago when she was commissioned, but I haven’t heard from her since.”

“Carliss is well. She’s now training under Sir Orland.”

“Really?” Dalton asked. “Why Sir Orland? I didn’t know the haven—”

“The haven doesn’t,” Koen interrupted. “My father arranged it just as he did for me.” Koen hesitated. “He doesn’t feel that the training at the haven is up to par, and Sir Orland is an incredible instructor. He’s seen a lot of action.”

Dalton thought about their training at Salisburg and agreed that he hadn’t felt adequately prepared to face the warrior who had wounded him—at least not as prepared as Koen was.

“I’m looking forward to this,” Dalton said as the trainer came to greet them.

“As am I,” Koen replied.

Dalton thoroughly enjoyed his time in Brimwick Downs. The training was difficult compared to the training at Salisburg, and he came to enjoy the challenge of it. In the corner of his mind, however, something disquieted him. He marveled at Koen’s commitment to the Prince, and the more he immersed himself in the training, the more elusive his own commitment became.

Somehow he felt there was a connection between his feelings and the incident with the warrior that nearly cost him his life. The next time
he faced such a warrior, he would be ready…he told himself. And yet, as the weeks passed by, Dalton’s concern about the incident with the warrior nearly disappeared from his mind.

His friendship with Koen strengthened, however. Their months together afforded time to forge a powerful bond of brotherhood between them. Dalton found strength in Koen’s truly noble character and his steadfast commitment to the Prince. When the training at Brimwick Downs was complete, Dalton and Koen traveled back toward Salisburg together.

They arrived at Koen’s farm east of Salisburg just before dusk, and Dalton took a few moments to greet Koen’s family. He was pleased to see Carliss there and delighted to renew his acquaintance with little Lacy and the rest of Koen’s siblings. But he lingered a bit too long. By the time he resumed his journey home, the receding daylight was obscured by dark, ominous thunderclouds. The wind howled through the trees, and Dalton quickened his pace to make it home before the rain came.

He took the shorter route through the woods south of Kaar Lake. Chaser, normally a steady animal, seemed unusually skittish. He spooked and turned about at the roar of thunder not far away.

“Easy, boy.” Dalton patted the steed’s neck. “Let’s just get home before the real storm hits.”

Dalton turned Chaser south again on the path through the woods but found it difficult to get the animal to move.

“Come on, Chaser. Let’s go,” he said firmly.

Caw!
A black mass swooped down at Chaser’s head, and the horse reared up in fear, throwing Dalton from the saddle. He hit the ground with a
thud
that seemed to jar his spine up into his skull. Chaser bolted back up the trail from which they had come, away from the approaching storm.

Dalton would have been angry, but something deep in his soul evoked a different emotion. He stood and looked down the road at the fleeing animal.

“Chaser!” he yelled, but the howling wind stifled his voice, and the horse disappeared into the blackness of the forest trees. Thunder cracked through the sky, and intense lightning illuminated the forest walls in brilliant, brief flashes.

Dalton’s anxiety intensified as he remembered the black raven that had spooked his horse. Chills crawled up and down his spine as he sensed an ominous presence behind him. Was it just his imagination? He slowly turned about, half expecting to see some nightmarish figure, then breathed a sigh of relief when the road before him was empty.

Crack!
Thunder exploded simultaneously with a lightning strike just a short distance to his left, and the forest flashed with a burst of bright white light. Dalton froze in fear, for in that instant his eyes beheld the image of his nightmares. Though the appearance was brief, it was engraved in his mind forever. A towering, dark armored warrior stood just two paces away with a wicked sword drawn, ready to cut Dalton in two.

Dalton drew his sword in an instant and executed a powerful slice toward the position where he had seen the warrior. His sword flew through the air in a full circle, severing only the wind that howled there. Dalton’s fear gripped him and swallowed him whole, for this beastly warrior was someone from his past, he instinctively knew. He moved from his position and tried to listen for his enemy, but it was useless.

Another bolt of lightning flashed, and this time Dalton’s eyes widened in horror as he caught a glimpse of the massive warrior finishing a two-handed slice aimed for his left shoulder. The impact was unavoidable, and there was nothing he could do but gasp.

The blade slammed into his upper arm with the force of a battle-ax. Though his chain mail buffered his skin from the sharp edge of the blade, he felt his bone crack beneath the impact. The force of the blow carried onward and slammed Dalton into a tree, his head careening into the trunk with a thud.

Dalton collapsed to the forest floor like a rag doll, nauseated from the pain in his arm and head. He curled up and tried to cradle his left
arm, but a massive hand encircled his throat and dragged him a few feet farther into the trees. When he attempted to roll away and make a run for it, a massive boot crushed him to the ground.

Deep, guttural laughter overpowered the sound of the wind, and the lightning flashed once again. Dalton caught another glimpse of his beastly adversary, his boot pressing against Dalton’s chest like a massive boulder and his dark sword pointing at Dalton’s throat. Black stringy hair swished about the warrior’s shoulders in the wind. Dalton gaped, for this warrior looked much like the one who had nearly killed him months earlier, only much larger now. The scar on his neck was too much to be coincidence, and Dalton trembled in fear. Surely he was facing none other than one of Lucius’s powerful Shadow Warriors.

How is this possible?

“I told you I would come back for you, knave.” The warrior sheathed his sword, drew his knife, and knelt down close to Dalton. “I always come back!”

Dalton cowered in the face of the warrior’s overpowering strength and knew his death was imminent. Lightning now illuminated the forest in bright flashes every few seconds, giving Dalton frequent images of his impending demise. The first drops of rain hit his face and mixed with the blood that oozed from his forehead. His arm lay limply at his side.

“Who are you?” Dalton said weakly.

Lightning flashed, and the warrior was now only inches from Dalton’s face. His knife momentarily gleamed near Dalton’s right eye. The warrior’s eyes were deep and black. He was so massive that Dalton felt like a child in his hands.

“I am Skia Ek Distazo, but you will call me Lord Drox. I have been with you from the very beginning, my ignorant young fool.”

“Dalton!” a faint voice called through the wind, rain, and trees.

“Koe—” Dalton tried to call back, but Drox’s massive hand pressed hard against his mouth and cut his plea short.

The warrior dragged Dalton farther into the woods and behind a
large tree, where they could just see the road a few paces away. He tightened his suffocating grip on Dalton’s face and pressed the knife against his throat.

“Cry out, and it will be your last!” the evil voice whispered in his ear.

“Dalton!”
Koen’s voice was unmistakable now. He passed by them on the road, leading Chaser behind him.

Dalton dared not move, but he was amazed that this warrior was hiding from Koen at all. Drox was so huge and so powerful that surely he could kill Koen with as much ease as he had defeated Dalton. And yet Dalton sensed apprehension in Drox’s grip.

“Dalton!” Koen’s voice was nearly imperceptible now.

The rain became heavy sheets of water that drenched Dalton and added to his misery, for only a miniscule amount of air was passing between Drox’s fingers and into Dalton’s nostrils. He struggled for each breath, and the water nearly closed off his precious air.

Just when he thought he would pass out, Drox dropped his hand from Dalton’s mouth and lifted him to his feet. Still a prisoner of the powerful grip, Dalton was dragged to Drox’s horse. His hands and feet were bound, his broken arm screaming in protest. A dirty rag served as a gag, and a hood was placed over his head. Then he was thrown facedown behind the horse’s saddle.

Drox mounted and steered his horse deeper into the forest, away from the road. With every strike of the horse’s hooves, pain exploded through Dalton’s body, and he screamed into his gag. Finally he could take it no more. Dalton sagged into unconsciousness on his journey of woe.