Free Sir Quinlan and the Swords of Valor by Chuck Black

are you doing?” Purcell screamed at Quinlan in between blows. “Baylor ordered you to stay at your post!”
    Quinlan spun on his heels and raced back to where he had been. The sound of a desperate fight filled the air, and Quinlan hoped against hope that he was not too late to help. He climbed a small rise and looked down the other side to see Sir Baylor engaged with two warriors. One more was just joining the fray.
    Quinlan froze as he realized the hopelessness of the situation. Baylor was seriously outnumbered, and Quinlan could not possibly cover the ground between them in time to help. Quinlan screamed and began to run as a Shadow Warrior plunged his sword deep into Sir Baylor’s side and the other two added their swords to the dreadful act.
    Baylor’s sword fell to the ground. The Shadow Warriors withdrew their swords. Baylor collapsed to his knees, then fell face forward.
    Rage boiled up in Quinlan’s heart as he closed in with sword raised, not caring for his own life. One of the Shadow Warriors bent over Sir Baylor while the other two turned toward Quinlan. It was then that he noted their bizarre black and green painted faces and the thin bands of black cloth across their eyes. They raised their swords toward Quinlan, but before he could engage them he heard the pounding of horses’ hoofs behind him.
    Kessler, Drake, and Purcell thundered past Quinlan. The Shadow Warriors retreated, and the knights pursued them. Quinlan fell to his knees beside Sir Baylor and turned him onto his back.
    Baylor winced and gasped, blood trickling down from his mouth to his chin.
    “I’m sorry, Commander, I didn’t—”
    “Quinlan,” Baylor rasped urgently, “Take this …” He reached for the disk that hung about his neck, snapped the silver chain, and pressed the coin-shaped object into Quinlan’s hand.
    Quinlan shook his head, fighting back tears.
    “Take it … I didn’t”—Baylor coughed, and his eyes grew wide in pain—“choose you … you were …”
    It was too much. The evil of Lucius had done its work, and Baylor closed his eyes in death.
    “No … no … no!” Quinlan buried his head in his hands and leaned forward against Baylor’s chest. He screamed against the reality of his error and would have died to change it. Time refused to go on as Quinlan wallowed in the agony of the moment. But gradually, between his own moans he became aware of cries and screams in the distance.
    Quinlan lifted his head and listened. The haven of Garriston and the people there were under attack, while Kessler, Drake, and Purcell were pursuing Baylor’s killers in the opposite direction.
    Quinlan jumped to his feet and ran to Kobalt. Not waiting for his fellow knights, he galloped toward Garriston. He arrived to find the chaos of a full assault on the knights, men, women, and children of thehaven. The camp buildings and barns were ablaze, and more than twenty dark warriors on horseback were raining death upon anyone who was accessible. The few haven knights who remained on their feet were engaged in the fight of their lives.
    Quinlan galloped to join the fight, aching for vengeance against those who had been responsible for his commander’s death. He engaged the first warrior he met and noticed immediately that something was different about him and his comrades. They wore the same ghostly black and green face paint Quinlan had seen on two of the warriors who killed Baylor. They were smaller than the Shadow Warriors the valor knights had fought at Arimil and wore more tightly fitting armor. Quinlan wondered if these were the Vincero Knights he had heard about—Arrethtraens who fought for Lucius—but their markings clearly identified them as Shadow Warriors.
    Quinlan crosscut and thrust, then parried and countered. The warrior fought without expression, neither cursing nor shouting.
    Quinlan caught a vertical cut, countered and thrust. This time his sword found its mark, and it penetrated deep into his enemy’s