Table of Contents
Back cover
Title Page
Dedication
Author’s Note
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
About the Author
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The Shadow
Knight
A Twiin Entertainment Book
Books by Jason L. McWhirter
Cavalier Trilogy
The Cavalier
The Rise of Malbeck
Glimmer in the Shadow
The Steel Lord Series
BannerFall
Banner Lord
Non-Fantasy
The Life of Ely
Published by Twiin Entertainment
www.twiinentertainment.com
Copyright © Jason L. McWhirter
Library of Congress
All rights reserved
Cover Art by Mario Teodosio
Inside cover art by Kathryn Bronstad
Map by Jason L. McWhirter
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored electronically, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
I would like to dedicate this book to my little furry boy, Macalan, who passed away this year from an enlarged heart. He was only three years old and he meant the world to my wife and me. We will miss his daily greetings at the door with his toy, his evening sprint to our backyard tree, and nightly cuddling as he wiggles his little body under the sheets. He was a great dog, and my constant friend and companion. He will be missed. RIP little buddy!
Author’s Note
My plan for the Shadow Knight novels is for them all to be stand-alone stories about Jonas as Shyann’s Shadow Knight, and potentially including in those stories some of the old characters from the Cavalier Trilogy. With that in mind, I think it still makes sense to read them in order, as they are written. I hope you enjoy them.
Prologue
The odor of damp leaves and dirt occupied Jonas’s senses as he watched the group of men below. He loved the smell. It reminded him of the earth and its beauty, corroborating why he did what he did, protecting the lands from anything that threatened to destroy such magnificence. He laid on his stomach in the bushes, nestled amongst the leaves and branches looking through a small hole, probably an animal trail. He had a direct line of sight to the men’s camp. Tulari was crouched next to him, her thick fur now a blend of browns, oranges, and greens. She was presently at her diminutive size, which meant she looked like a big wolf rather than a night wolf the size of a bull cow in its prime. She was virtually invisible.
The clearing was expansive and open, surrounded by sparse tall trees, bare of branches except for the upper third that now swayed gently in the cool morning breeze. Several big rocks were scattered across the leaf strewn glade. It was early in the morning and the band of men was preparing their breakfast over a small fire. There were four men, and what looked like two younger boys, perhaps sixteen and fourteen.
Jonas had been tracking them for four days. Well, technically Tulari had, leading him further and further west of the Tundrens. They had moved through the city of Onett, and on the road west Tulari had received a calling, leading Jonas south. He spent a day in a small roadside village and learned that several farms had been raided, the brigands killing the occupants and taking anything of value. Word had been sent to Onett requesting the king’s men, but that was a day ago, and the villagers did not expect help for at least three to four days. Tulari had found their scent, moving southwest. That day they had found a burnt out wagon, two men dead, and Jonas knew he was on the right track. And now, watching the thieves, he was sure they were the brigands responsible for the recent criminal acts. The men wore mismatched pieces of armor and carried swords, crossbows lying close by as they drank from a wineskin. It was early, and to be drinking wine at such an hour told Jonas much. Two mules were tied off to a tree and Jonas could easily see the tack and harness, likely the animals taken from the destroyed wagon. There were five other horses nearby as well, along with a cart, the bed filled high and covered with a canvas cloth. It was likely filled with stolen merchandise.
Jonas watched them for nearly an hour, trying to discern who their leader was and to determine their level of discipline. Were they ex-soldiers or just farmers or traders fallen on hard times? As they ate and drank, Jonas noticed that the two young boys were quiet and not participating, simply sitting beside a bigger man, who routinely took his share of the wine. At one point, the smaller boy ladled some soup from the pot into his bowl, spilling some. The big bearded man got angry and slapped him, knocking the boy into the dirt and upturning the contents of the bowl. The older boy stood to defend him and he too was hit, but he remained standing. Jonas could see the rage in boy’s eyes, but he held it in check and went to help the other boy rise from the leafy ground.
Interesting, Jonas thought. But he had seen enough. They had no discipline. They were likely thieves and murderers by trade. Silently rising, he moved away from the brush. It was time.
Jonas drifted from tree to tree, his magical cloak, given to him by Shyann, turning to colors of brown and orange to match the fall leaves. The area was open and exposed, with little to no cover to hide an approaching person. But Jonas had just spent four years traveling and training with Allindrian, the half-elf Bladesinger, and in that time he had learned to track, hide, and move silently in the forest. He had been more than proficient before in the use of bow, but now his skill was unmatched by any human that he knew of. His skill, combined with the magical properties of his garments, made him a tracker and hunter who was only seen when he allowed it. Crouching low, he drifted across the leaf strewn ground, dropping and hiding behind the boulders scattered around the clearing. The big granite rocks were the only cover he had, and he planned to use them to get as close as possible. Tulari was on the far side of the clearing, mirroring his movements, inching ever closer to the unsuspecting drunk and boisterous men.
Finally he had made his way to the closest boulder, which was less than twenty paces away from the fire. He calmly reached up and nocked an arrow to his bow. Then he narrowed his eyes and focused, dropping into the state of Ty’erm, taught to him by Kiln the swordsman. It was a mental exercise Kiln had learned from a tribal shaman over twenty years ago, taught to Jonas when he had lived with him in the mountains. In Ty’erm, Jonas’s mind slowed, and he saw things more clearly, allowing him to react with speed and precision and not allowing emotion to dictate his actions. It was an invaluable skill. His mind focused, Jonas leapt gracefully atop the boulder, his bow held before him but not drawn.
“Gentlemen!” he called out, startling the thieves, “I am Jonas Kanrene and I am here to arrest you!”
Their laughter stopped suddenly as the men spun around, startled by his sudden appearance. The four men stood from their log seats at the fire, setting t
heir bowls of food on the ground. Their startled expressions turned to smiles as they saw Jonas was alone.
The bearded man that had hit the two boys stepped away from the fire. “I’d be putting that bow down, boy,” he said threateningly.
Jonas cracked a subtle smile. He knew he didn’t look like much to them. He wore dark clothes and armor, his cloak now a dark gray. But everything looked nondescript and simple, certainly not warlike or threatening. The man seemed to think that he was no threat. Jonas smiled wider. I guess from his point of view he was a boy. He was twenty six years old, but he did look older, the trials of his youth aging him beyond his years. His dark brown hair was long and wavy, the top pulled back and tied behind his head. He hadn’t shaved for a week and fresh stubble covered his face.
“Actually,” Jonas said, “I will not. I will say it one more time. You are under arrest for murder and theft. Will you submit?”
The four men slowly spread out, leaving the two boys sitting by the fire. The younger boy’s eyes looked scared, the red mark on his cheek clearly visible. The other boy’s eyes were alert and tense, perhaps still filled with anger at being hit, or perhaps he was concerned with Jonas’s sudden appearance. The other three brigands were your typical lot. They all looked to be about the same age, maybe ten or fifteen years older than Jonas. One looked similar to the bearded man, burly in the shoulders but smaller in height, with dirty unkempt hair and a bushy beard. Another was small in stature and thin, with a narrow face, long pointy nose, and a swarthy complexion. The last man had long straight greasy hair and his face was unremarkable as you were immediately drawn to his missing two front teeth.
“You have no authority to arrest us,” the thin man said, his nasally voice irritating.
Just then the man with the missing teeth reached for a crossbow that was leaning against a log. Jonas knew it was there and had been expecting the move. In a flash, his bow was up and a blue fletched arrow slammed into the man’s forehead, snapping his head back like a whip. He fell backwards to the ground. It happened so fast that the others froze, their wide eyes still trying to register the movement. “You may submit, and live, or you may not, and die. The choice is yours,” he said calmly, lowering his bow once again.
Jonas was looking at the big man, figuring he was the leader. He noticed his eyes shift to something behind him. It was a subtle but noticeable glance. And two heartbeats later he heard the soft rustle of leaves. He spun quickly, dropping to his knee and nocking another arrow in the same movement. Behind him, over forty paces away near the tree line, was a fifth man, already releasing a shaft from his bow. It was a long shot, and his aim was slightly off. Seeing that the shaft was going to hit the base of the rock he was standing on, Jonas didn’t flinch and his own bow twanged in response. Jonas would not miss at that distance, and as his arrow slammed into the man’s chest, he leapt from the boulder, dropping his bow as he rolled gracefully across the ground, a bolt from a crossbow ricocheting off the stone he had just departed, sending sparks into the air.
Quickly assessing the attack, both of Jonas’s hands reached to the knives sheathed in the bandolier at his chest, drawing and throwing them in a blink. Prior to working with Allindrian, he had not been proficient with throwing knives. But now, after years of practice with the Bladesinger, he could hit an attacker’s eye at ten paces with either hand. One knife hit the shorter bearded man holding the crossbow, the magical blade burying deep in his throat. The other slammed into the small brigand’s chest as he ran at Jonas with a raised sword.
The leader, seeing Jonas’s skill, had decided upon a different tactic. He had run to the boys and yanked the smaller one up, holding the boy in front of him with a knife at his throat. “You move another muscle and I’ll kill him.”
Jonas remained still, his hands at his sides. “If you kill him then you have no leverage.”
“Paaa,” the boy cried, but the sound was cut short as the man squeezed his grip tighter on the kid’s throat.
Jonas was disgusted as realization sank in. They were his sons. Perhaps this was why Shyann had led me here, he thought, to save these two boys from a life of crime and murder. Maybe it wasn’t too late for them, as it clearly was for the men lying in death around him. After all, that was his new role as Shyann’s Shadow Knight, to blend in, to fight evil, and to save others on the path to becoming the very thing he was sworn to destroy. If he could intercept men and woman that were walking down a road lined with shadows, then perhaps he could lead them into the light, where they could become positive members of the world, not servants of the evil constantly vying for power.
Over the man’s shoulder, just up the low grade hill, Tulari sat still, crouching like a hunting cat. She had turned into her real form but even so, her massive size blended easily into the leaf strewn ground around her. The attack on Jonas had happened so fast, that by the time she was in position the men were already dead. Opting to stay back, she was now ready to intervene if need be.
Jonas said nothing, simply shaking his head from side to side but Tulari understood and hung back, her massive muscled body ready to spring forward at any moment. “You have no choice but to drop that knife, and you know it,” Jonas said, staying completely still. He knew that a man, who could hit his sons and then use them as a shield, was fully capable of sliding that blade across the boy’s throat if it meant he could get away. But he will also not leave this clearing alive should such a thing happen, Jonas grimly thought.
Jonas was just preparing to use his telekinetic cognivant powers, wrapping the particles around the man’s hand, to freeze it in place before knocking him away from his son. But suddenly the man’s eyes snapped wide and he arched his back, his hands dropping away as his son jumped to the side out of harm’s way. The older son stepped around from behind the man, his eyes hard with killing rage. Stumbling, the man turned towards the older boy, a hunting knife jutting from his back. Then he fell to his knees and, with a final groan, dropped face first onto the ground.
Immediately the younger boy got up from the ground and raced to his older brother who put his arm in front of him protectively. “Who are you?” the older brother asked, warily.
“I’m Jonas. I’m here to help you. You have nothing to fear from me.”
“Are you with the King’s men?” he asked. He seemed very nervous. Jonas figured that he thought they were in trouble, that they would be arrested and hanged for murder and theft.
“I am not. I am a knight to Shyann. Do you know of her?”
The younger kid nodded his head. “My Ma liked her…left her bushels of corn every solstice.”
“Good,” Jonas said. “Let us finish eating and sit by the fire and talk. I’m not going to hurt you,” he finished, reassuringly.
The older boy had seen all that Jonas had done and was still trying to process the speed and efficiency with which he had dispatched the four men. “How did you do that?” he asked, his eyes shifting to the dead bodies.
“I told you. I am a knight, trained to fight and sworn to uphold Shyann’s will. Now, before we sit why don’t you tell me your names?”
“I’m Bran,” the younger kid said.
“Stegan,” the older one added.
“Well met. Now, let’s not let that soup go to waste.”
Jonas had finally got the boys to calm down and trust him, or at least not view him as a threat. They ate their soup while Jonas dragged the bodies further away from the fire so they didn’t have to look at them. Tulari had joined them shortly, returning to her normal size and color knowing that anything else would frighten them. The boy’s attitudes changed quickly as she let them pet her, even going so far as to allow them to scratch her belly and play with her like she was a normal dog. Jonas had never seen her act so meek, and he chuckled to himself watching her prance around the boys as Bran held a stick for her.
They talked and ate for nearly an hour and Jonas learned that their father was an abusive man. And when their mother died of a fever, things just
got worse. He started drinking heavily and the abuse escalated. He was a mason by trade and as the drinking increased, his contracts diminished. Soon, they lost their home and were forced onto the street. It wasn’t long before their father was stealing, and within half a year he had a formed a partnership with the other thieves. They traveled constantly, doing whatever they wanted with no regard for the law, property, or others’ lives. They said that their father, when they arrived at any city, would make them steal, and if they didn’t bring back anything of value then they would be badly beaten.
“How long has this been going on?” Jonas asked. Stegan shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not good with time, but I’d reckon over a year.”
“What are we going to do now?” Bran asked, looking at his brother.
“I can help you if you’d like,” Jonas said. “I think Shyann led me here to help you.”
“How do we know you serve Shyann? I have never heard of such a thing,” Stegan said skeptically.
“I’m going to show you something,” Jonas said. “Don’t be afraid. Ready?”
They were both looking at Jonas with wary expressions, but Stegan nodded his head. Jonas willed the symbol on his black nondescript cuirass to glow, and instantly Shyann’s oak tree appeared, blue light flaring brightly and reflecting off their astonished faces. Bran nearly fell off his log and Stegan jumped, startled by the sudden display of magic.
“What is that!?” Stegan said.
“Do you recognize the symbol?” Jonas asked.
Bran was nodding his head vigorously. “It’s her symbol. I saw it once on a temple door.”
“Our mother had a different symbol carved from wood,” Stegan said, his eyes narrowing.
“Was it antlers?”
Stegan’s eyes flickered with recognition. But still he seemed guarded. “It was.”
“That is one of her symbols as well. But the oak tree is more common,” he added, willing the light to disappear.
The Shadow Knight (A Shadow Knight Novel Book 1) Page 1
