Free Sir Quinlan and the Swords of Valor by Chuck Black Page A

side.
    He hesitated just a moment for the invasion of his blade to take its effect, but that was a mistake. The warrior’s face did not change, and his blade returned toward Quinlan with the speed and force of a whole man.
    Quinlan could not recover in time. He withdrew his sword and raised his left arm, catching the edge of the warrior’s sword with the vambrace on his forearm. The force of the blow carried on through to his shoulder and knocked him off Kobalt.
    He hit the ground with a thud. By the time he regained his feet, his opponent had launched his steed toward an unsuspecting woman. The evil warrior struck her down, then turned and looked at Quinlan once more. There was no smile, no sneer, no curse—just the face of undeterred evil that could never be satisfied.
    The Shadow Warrior turned and attacked him once more. Quinlan was now at an extreme disadvantage, for his enemy was mounted and he was not. He prepared himself to take the blow from above, then realizedthe warrior’s intention was simply to trample him under the massive steed he rode.
    Quinlan dove to his left, narrowly missing the animal’s deadly hoofs. The warrior wheeled and charged again, this time swinging his sword for a final deathblow. Quinlan feigned another dive, but instead thrust his sword up through the belly of the warrior’s horse. He lost his grip on his sword as the animal reared, screamed, and collapsed to the ground, sending its rider tumbling.
    Quinlan drew his long knife and dove on top of the rattled warrior before he could regain his feet. Leather and steel entangled as the two combatants fought for an advantage. The warrior slammed an elbow into Quinlan’s jaw, and the young knight nearly lost his senses. He countered with a gauntleted fist that tore off the thin band of black cloth that hid the warrior’s eyes.
    Chills ran up Quinlan’s spine as he stared into his enemy’s eyes. He felt as though he had just peered into the empty cavern of an ocean abyss. There was nothing there … no life, no soul.
    The warrior squinted in the light, and this gave Quinlan the opportunity he needed. His long knife pierced through a chink in the warrior’s armor, and the warrior went still. This time Quinlan did not hesitate. He withdrew the knife and lunged for his sword, which lay near the body of the fallen steed. He scrambled to get a solid grip on the handle, for other warriors were coming his way.
    Quinlan sprinted a few paces away to avoid the leading warriors and their horses, but to his surprise, they raced past him and beyond into the surrounding woods. The remaining warriors gave up their grim work and followed. There was no battle cry of victory or taunting of future evil deeds, just the silent exodus of a merciless enemy.
    He glanced toward the warrior he had defeated and was shocked to see him rising to his feet. The warrior stumbled, then gathered himself and ran toward one of the last retreating warriors. The mounted warrior reached down, locked hands, and swung Quinlan’s foe onto the back of his horse, and they disappeared into the dust stirred up by their retreating comrades.
    Breathing hard, Quinlan stood and surveyed the destruction around him. A few Silent Warriors had been killed, but many more men, women, and children lay motionless. Moments later, Kessler, Drake, and Purcell rushed into the aftermath and dismounted near him, swords drawn and ready.
    Kessler and Drake looked all around them, trying to make sense of what had happened, but Purcell came straight for Quinlan.
    “He signaled you to stay!” Purcell rushed at Quinlan and shoved him backward. “They had split their forces and were coming in your direction. You left the commander open to an ambush!”
    Tears filled Quinlan’s eyes. All he could do was slowly shake his head. He had no words to defend, deny, or excuse himself.
    “That’s enough, Purcell.” Kessler stepped between them. Purcell glared at Kessler, then spun about and walked a few paces