by Chuck Black
“Sir Kendrick, I’ve just learned of a tournament that is to be held soon in Attenbury.” Duncan looked hopefully at his mentor as the two rode away from the training camp. After two weeks of sparring together, they had been ordered to report to the Council of Knights in Chessington.
Kendrick merely grunted in reply, so Duncan tried a more direct approach. “I think we should give the tournament a try.”
“Why should we do such a thing?”
“Why, to sharpen our skills and improve ourselves as knights. Isn’t that the purpose of a tournament?”
“For other knights, yes—and to make a name for themselves. But our sole purpose is to advance the kingdom of the Prince and to make a name for Him. I find it difficult to believe our participation in such a tournament could accomplish that, and I am quite certain that is not the council’s intention for us.”
Duncan looked both chided and disappointed, and Kendrick regretted his harsh tone.
“Duncan, I know your heart belongs to the King and the Prince. You are also a young knight who yearns for adventure. But you’ll soon learn there is no need. Adventure will surely find you as you follow the course set for you by the Prince.” He turned in the saddle to search Duncan’s face. “Don’t be tempted to ride for glory as other knights do. Such a quest is an empty one.”
Duncan nodded glumly as he pondered Kendrick’s words. He then turned his head and muttered words that Kendrick could not hear.
Amusement tugged at the corners of Kendrick’s mouth. After weeks of training with Duncan, he had grown fonder of the young knight than he ever intended. He admired Duncan’s irrepressible enthusiasm and even enjoyed his cheeky charm, though he found it a challenge to redirect the young man’s zeal without discouraging him.
Duncan did have potential, though. Augustus was right about that. He was a sturdy, broad-shouldered fellow, and he would grow stronger and mightier in the years ahead if he kept his focus on the Prince and not upon himself. And if he could learn to control himself better—for Duncan’s chief weakness was his lack of discipline.
Kendrick assumed this was why the Council of Knights at Chessington had paired the two of them, for Kendrick was a very disciplined knight. Slender yet strong for his build, his demeanor was quite unassuming … until he drew his sword in battle, when all manner of meekness departed and he revealed himself as a warrior of great power. Trying to impart his control and focus to his understudy, however, had so far proved extremely frustrating.
“Let us see what awaits us in Chessington,” he said. “Perhaps it will be an adventure more grand than a tournament.”
Duncan smiled briefly at Kendrick and raked back his unruly mass of curly black hair. Kendrick smiled back. A full eight years older than Duncan, he had always sought out steadier, quieter companions. Yet he had to admit that being with the lively young man energized him. Perhaps that too was part of the council’s plan.
They arrived in Chessington two days later and reported to the council chamber. There was no grand hall or elaborate chamber to host the meetings of the council, only a drafty back room in a boardinghouse.
Duncan looked curiously around him as they walked through the shabby hallway. “I expected something a little more … grand. Do they meet back here to avoid detection by the Noble Knights?”
“The threat of the Noble Knights is diminishing,” Kendrick said. “But even still our council has never felt the need to prove themselves with elaborate trappings. The prestige of the Knights of the Prince resides in our cause and not in our dwellings.”
The Council of Knights was composed of seven Knights of the Prince. The first knight of the council, who presided over the meetings, was chosen by the other six. He lived in Chessington and served for one year. The other six knights traveled from various cities and regions in the kingdom. Because service on the council usually took them from their homes and families, they served only one year each.
“Greetings, gentlemen,” Sir William called out as Kendrick and Duncan entered the council chambers. The two men saluted the first knight and the six other members of the council.
“We are pleased you have made it here in such a timely fashion.” A tall, dark-haired knight stepped forward to offer his hand. “I am Sir Jonathan.”
Kendrick bowed. “I am honored to meet you.”
“Are you acquainted with the rest of the council?” Jonathan motioned to the other six men.
“Some, but not all.” Kendrick smiled at two knights he had met on a previous trip.
The nine men exchanged introductions, then took their seats at the large wooden table in the center of the room. After a simple meal of bread and cheese, they turned their attention to the business of the kingdom.
“We have called you here to discuss a matter of great concern,” William began. “As you know, for many months after the Prince left us, the Noble Knights brought great persecution to us and were our greatest threat, at least here in Chessington. But as the Knights of the Prince expand throughout the kingdom and the order of the Noble Knights diminishes, a new and more dangerous threat is beginning to be revealed.”
Kendrick brought his hand to his chin to stroke his short beard, something he did while focusing intently on a matter. Duncan placed his arms on his knees and leaned forward.
“It is important to remember, gentlemen, that our battle is always with the Dark Knight. Lucius will utilize every opportunity to undo the work of the Prince. Though the power of the Noble Knights appears to be waning, be sure that some other order or guild will rise up to unwittingly do the bidding of this evil warrior.” William paused as Kendrick and Duncan pondered his words.
“You say there’s a new threat,” Duncan said. “What is its nature?”
“We don’t know—not exactly,” Jonathan replied. “There is always a purpose and an order to the Dark Knight’s actions, but such is not always clear in the kingdom as we know it.”
Duncan scratched his head. “I don’t understand.”
Kendrick fixed Duncan with a look that said, Be patient, lad. Duncan sighed and nodded as one of the council knights, a stocky man named Channing, reached into his leather belt pouch and removed a silver medallion. He slid it across the table to Kendrick. “Have you ever seen this mark before?”
Kendrick lifted the medallion and studied the engraved image as Duncan leaned near to look upon the piece. It was superbly crafted and would certainly not be found in the possession of a commoner. Kendrick ran his finger across the engraved image, and chills ran up and down his spine. He tried to ignore this unusual response, but the feeling of darkness would not leave him.
The image featured a sinister sword held by a gauntleted hand. Beside the sword was a dragon that seemed suspended above the raised outline of the kingdom of Arrethtrae. Three words were imprinted below: Ego Mos Vincero.
“I will conquer,” Kendrick whispered.
“What’s that you say?” the nearest council knight asked.
“Ego mos vincero.” Kendrick spoke more loudly. “It means ‘I will conquer.’ ”
The council knights glanced from one to another with a look of dread.
“I’ve never seen such a mark before,” Kendrick remarked as he handed the medallion to Duncan. “How did you come by it?”
No one on the council seemed eager to answer the question, but Channing finally broke the silence.
“Two of our knights were lodging with a family in a nearby city. After spending the day recruiting and training, they returned to the home.” Channing swallowed hard and struggled to continue. “They discovered the parents had been brutally killed and the four children were missing.”
Kendrick closed his eyes and felt his heart sink to his stomach. The reality of the fierce battle between good and evil hit him hard. He fought to keep memories of his own past from surfacing
“The medallion was found beneath one of the bodies,” Jonathan said. “We don’t believe it was left intentionally.”
William looke
d soberly at Kendrick. “I have seen the mark of Lucius on one of his Shadow Warriors; it matches the image of the dragon you see there. We are convinced the medallion is our best clue to the future schemes of Lucius.”
Duncan handed the medallion back to Kendrick. Kendrick studied the iconic piece once more and then placed it back on the table, wishing he’d never seen it but knowing he would never forget the image. It felt like pure evil transmuted into a tangible form.
William took a deep breath. “We don’t like to dwell on the plots of Lucius, for our mission is simply to take the good news of the Prince to the entire kingdom and recruit as many as are willing. However, we can’t ignore or retreat from the attacks of the Dark Knight. That is why we have called you here.”
“How can we serve the Prince?” Kendrick asked.
William nodded. “From the reports of fellow knights, we believe Lucius is establishing strongholds throughout the kingdom to train an elite order of knights. We can only guess that his purpose is to bring chaos and discord to the kingdom in an attempt to quell the advance of the Knights of the Prince. We don’t know where or who these knights are or even what their methods are, but we are just now beginning to see the results of their efforts.”
William picked up the medallion from the table and held it before him. “If this is indeed evidence of things to come, then we must prepare for battle against the fiercest of dragons!”
Kendrick, Duncan, and the council knights all considered William’s grave words.
“We need to discover where these strongholds are,” said one of the other council members. “And to do that, we must first find the knights they produce.”
“The kingdom is vast, gentlemen,” Kendrick said. “Can you give us a place to start?”
“There is a tournament in Attenbury not many days from now,” William told him. “We want you to travel there and participate.”
“A tournament?” Duncan couldn’t contain a triumphant grin. Kendrick’s brow furrowed.
“My heart is to serve the Prince in any capacity He calls me to,” Kendrick said, his voice tight. “But is participation in this tournament truly necessary?”
“There is a suspicion that one of the … ah, shall we say, one of the Vincero Knights will also be a participant. To discover his identity and possibly his origin would be extremely beneficial.”
Kendrick wasn’t convinced, but he understood he must not let his own reticence hinder his mission. He glanced at Duncan and had the odd compulsion to smack the young man on the head, mostly to wipe the stupid grin from his face.
“I myself would be pleased to participate in the tournament,” Duncan offered with a gleam in his eyes. The council knights ignored him.
“Kendrick, we understand your hesitation to return to your former life, but this is not a time to let humility or pain interfere with duty.” William glanced uneasily at his fellow council members. “This Vincero Knight will no doubt be very skilled and quite successful in the competition. Your past experience and tournament victories afford us a perfect opportunity to get close to him.”
Duncan gawked at Kendrick, his grin transformed into stunned disbelief. Kendrick took a deep breath, hesitated, then let the air quickly escape as he submitted to the council’s request. “Do I fight under the banner of the Prince?”
“Not at first,” William replied. “Not until you’ve gained enough information about the mystery knight’s identity and possibly his origin. If he’s there, of course.”
Kendrick pursed his lips together and nodded. “So be it.” He stood. “It’s off to Attenbury, then.”
The other knights also rose.
“The King reigns!” William declared.
“And His Son!” the rest of the knights replied.
The assembly of knights dispersed, and Kendrick and Duncan made their way toward their quarters.
“But when did you—?” Duncan began.
Kendrick held up his hand and shook his head. His mind was already immersed in the mission to come … a mission that left him feeling very unsettled.
ATTENBURY
The following morning, Kendrick and Duncan rose early and departed for Attenbury. Kendrick noticed Duncan was unusually quiet and caught him glancing toward him from time to time as they rode.
Attenbury was more than a two days’ ride from Chessington, but even at a moderate pace, there would be plenty of time before the tournament began to find lodging and stables. That suited Kendrick well. He liked to become familiar with his surroundings and carefully plan his course in all situations.
Kendrick glanced at Duncan and caught his stare once again. “Something troubling you, lad?”
“You … fought in tournaments?”
“Find that difficult to believe, do you?”
“Actually, yes I do,” Duncan teased. “Does the Council of Knights have the right Sir Kendrick?”
Kendrick responded with a hard glare and a grunt of annoyance.
“I’m sorry, Kendrick. I mean no disrespect,” Duncan hurried to add. “You just don’t seem like the tournament type. And what about that speech you gave me about not seeking glory and adventure?”
Kendrick didn’t reply, but focused on letting his anger abate. He reminded himself that the lad was ignorant of his past and the pain that lingered there.
“So …” Duncan probed, “were you any good?”
Now Kendrick wished for the silence that had existed before this conversation began. He glanced again at Duncan. “Some may have thought so.”
Duncan produced a wide grin and eyes full of impish intent. “I can’t wait to see this!”
Kendrick shook his head and turned his attention back to the roadway, wondering if Duncan was more excited about seeing the tournament or witnessing his humiliation.
“Dear Prince,” he muttered to himself, “give me the patience.”
They camped for the night in a clearing by the roadside. The following morning, Kendrick handed Duncan an unfamiliar-looking tunic.
“Whose mark is this?” Duncan examined the bright red design. “It’s not the Prince’s.”
Kendrick hesitated, lost in thought. “It was my mark before I became a Knight of the Prince.” He slipped a similar tunic over his head.
By late afternoon, Kendrick and Duncan arrived in Attenbury. The city already bustled with much tournament activity, and many of the participating knights were arriving. Kendrick and Duncan had no small challenge in finding an inn for themselves and stables for their horses.
The next morning, they walked to the tournament arena, where banners from all across the region fluttered in the breeze. The wealth and prestige of the participating knights was evident by the quantity and quality of their supporting entourages. Kendrick and Duncan found the registry quarters and entered to find two tables set to receive participants.
“Which events will you participate in?” Duncan asked.
“Only the Skill at Arms.”
“What?” Duncan looked disappointed. “What’s the point in even registering if all you plan to do is the Skill at Arms?”
Kendrick ignored him and stepped forward behind two other knights. Duncan followed him. Just a couple of paces to the right trailed a line of knights waiting to register at the other table. A registrar sat at each table, and a white-haired gentleman, obviously a tournament official, supervised the proceedings.
“I thought you were supposed to be some great tournament knight,” Duncan said.
Kendrick slowly turned to face him. He narrowed his eyes and spoke in low tones. “I’ve never claimed such foolishness. And do not forget that our purpose here is not the tournament!”
Duncan shook his head and looked to the other registry table. He quickly turned back and elbowed Kendrick, nodding toward the knight currently registering at the other table.
“What?” Kendrick asked impatiently. He followed Duncan’s gaze and set his eyes upon an imposing knight who wore a tunic of striking azure and gold. Though most knight
s presented themselves with an air of regal authority, only a few truly possessed the impression without extended effort. Here beside them was one of such caliber.
“Sir Casimir!” The tournament official stepped forward to greet the man. “What an honor to have you participating in our events.”
“In which events will you compete, sir?” the seated registrar asked Sir Casimir. “Skill at Arms, Swords, Joust, or all three?”
“All,” the knight said tersely.
“Very well, sir. You will obviously be granted exclusion from the qualification runs. The fee is thirty florins, and the Skill at Arms begins in two days. Are there any arrangements that—?”
“Name and origin?” a loud voice asked.
Kendrick broke his focus from the knight at the other table and stepped forward to register. “I’m Kendrick of Penwell.”
“In which events do you wish to participate? Skill at Arms, Swords, or Joust?”
Kendrick hesitated just as Duncan stepped forward beside him. He looked toward the knight called Casimir as he turned to leave, and their eyes met. Kendrick felt the man’s cold gaze as he peered into the soul of something dark.
He had always been a man of keen discernment, even from his youth. But since he had joined the Prince, his discerning skill had heightened in a way he never expected, especially when he came near to the heart of darkness. He relied upon and trusted this ability, for it had not yet failed him.
The encounter was brief, but it left Kendrick with a feeling of apprehension … and serious resolve.
He turned back to the registrar, who seemed impatient until Kendrick glared at him.
“Ah … your events, sir?” the man prompted.
“All,” Kendrick said firmly.
“Very well, sir. Do you have proof of prior participation?” the registrar asked.
“No.”
“According to the tournament rules, you must either have proof of prior participation or fulfill the qualification runs before—”
“Sir Kendrick is excluded from the qualification runs.” The tournament official stepped up behind their table.
