Knight of Valor: Knights of Valor

by Elizabeth Drake

  A man appeared at the rear of the building and eyed Sir Marcus.

  Brelynn handed him a few coins, and he wandered away as she saddled her mount.

  “The stable hand won’t stay quiet about you long. Is your horse close? Should we ride together to get him?”

  Sir Marcus stared at her horse a moment. “Can he carry you, me, and fifty pounds of armor?”

  Brelynn snapped her mouth closed on her retort. “Fifty pounds? I couldn’t stand in fifty pounds of armor.”

  “Been wearing it a long time. Now let’s get my horse and get moving before another welcoming party finds us.”

  She nodded, and as they headed out of the makeshift stable, a bedraggled dog trotted up to her, tail wagging.

  Brelynn reached into her backpack and took out some trail rations. She knelt down, broke it into pieces, and fed it to the dog. “Sorry, Lucky, it’s not very good.”

  The dog gobbled up the rations as several people ran toward the alley she and Sir Marcus had left.

  “We need to go,” Sir Marcus said.

  She scratched the dog’s ears and ground her teeth to keep her tears at bay. “Take care, boy. You have to stay here.”

  “Friend of yours?” Sir Marcus asked as he nudged Brelynn forward.

  “Only one I’ve got now.” She gave the scruffy dog one last pet as his tail thumped against the ground.

  Sir Marcus prodded her to walk. “We’ll have more company if we don’t move.”

  Brelynn tore her gaze away from the dog and cursed the tears stinging her eyes. She’d miss him. A lot. He always found her, no matter where she’d holed up in Eskara, and the nights had been a lot less scary with him curled up at her feet.

  He was the only friend she had now. She couldn’t leave him.

  “He’s coming with us.” Brelynn swiped away the unshed tears. “Lucky’ll starve if we don’t take him.”

  “He looks half-starved already.” Sir Marcus stared at the beast then lifted his shoulders. “King Eli never said I couldn’t bring your dog. Let’s get my horse and get out of Eskara.”

  Brelynn pulled her cloak back over her face, and Sir Marcus donned the one they’d taken from the man in the alley. The cloak had been cut for someone smaller. Much smaller.

  She grimaced. “Helps a little.”

  “It’ll have to do. Bastion is on the edge of town.”

  As more people took an interest in the alley, Sir Marcus hurried her towards the outskirts of Eskara.

  Brelynn touched his arm, and he jolted under her fingers. “Walk slower. Like you have nowhere to be and don’t much care if you get there.”

  Sir Marcus frowned but did as she asked, and few noticed their passing as they walked into the wetlands.

  Chapter 6

  When they had walked half the length of Eskara into the swamp, Sir Marcus whistled, once, twice, a third time, modulating his pitch on each. As the last whistle faded into the thick foliage, a brilliant white charger at least seventeen hands high answered his call. The horse didn’t even flinch as Sir Marcus, still in his armor, mounted him.

  Brelynn sucked in a breath. “Is there anything about you that doesn’t stick out like a dove in a flock of ravens?”

  “You’ll find things very different in Tamryn. Particularly in the capital city of Aerius.”

  “You fit in there?”

  “More or less.”

  That’s what worried her, but it wasn’t like she had a lot of other options. Maybe she’d get used to it, and maybe she wouldn’t, but she was betting on her master not daring to cross into the city of Aerius to reclaim her. Especially since Tamryn and its capital city were home to the Knights of Valor.

  Lucky trotted after her as she followed Marcus west out of Eskara and toward Tamryn.

  Sir Marcus stared down at the scruffy canine. “Your dog is faster than your horse.”

  “Probably, but no one ever tried to steal Rocky.”

  “I can see why.”

  “Us misfits have to stick together.” Brelynn patted her horse’s flank.

  Sir Marcus only shook his head, and he matched Rocky’s pace as they rode west.

  The stink of human habitation faded behind them, and while the wetlands didn’t smell pleasant, there was a whiff of fresh green growth under the scent of stagnant water. The muddy road faded into little more than a cow path, forcing them to ride single file.

  Brelynn sucked in a deep breath. This was what freedom smelled like. Not good, but better than Oskelez. After swatting her neck and arm twice, she cast a little spell to keep the bugs away. They either didn’t bother tall and shiny, or they knew better than to bite him.

  Probably the latter.

  Tall grasses swayed around them as the sun dipped lower, painting the sky pink and reflecting in the stagnant water. A pair of birds with legs as long as hers broke through the grasses as their large wings lifted them into the sky.

  Brelynn startled in her saddle and called her magic to protect her.

  “Just cranes,” Sir Marcus said.

  She stared at them as they soared overhead and flew away.

  “You’ve never seen cranes before?”

  “There weren’t any in Oskelez, and I traveled under the tarp of a trader’s wagon most of the way to Eskara.”

  “I’m sorry.” He sounded like he meant it.

  “You weren’t the one planning to sacrifice my soul.” She glanced at the setting sun and urged Rocky faster.

  Chapter 7

  Daylight was fading when Sir Marcus veered off the path and onto a trail hidden by overgrown vegetation.

  Brelynn frowned and stopped her horse, her heart pounding as thoughts of a trap spun through her head. “Where are you going?”

  “We need to keep moving if we want to make it by sunset.”

  “Make it where? That’s not the way to Tamryn. Even I know that.”

  “I promised to get you there safely, and I will.”

  Her eyes narrowed and her hands trembled. “I’m not going that way, Knight.” The way she said Knight made it sound like something she’d scraped off the bottom of her boot.

  “How many enemies do you have?” he asked.

  “Too many.”

  “How well informed are they?”

  Her frown deepened. Her master had an extensive information network within Oskelez, but she had no idea how far it extended beyond the city’s borders. He had other ways to track her, and she resisted touching a hand to her neck. “Well enough.”

  “Think they know a Knight of Valor was in Eskara? Think they know I arrived alone but left with someone?”

  “Only the village idiot doesn’t know that.” She rolled her eyes. “It won’t take long before they figure out I’m with you. Mokkar Calmont is smart, and I hope he thinks you’ve already killed me.”

  “Mokkar? Similar title to an earl in Tamryn?”

  Brelynn nodded.

  “Why would he think I killed you?”

  “Why wouldn’t he? A Knight of Valor looking for anyone in Eskara?”

  Sir Marcus stared off across the wetlands. “Like the tavern woman.”

  “No one has a reason to believe you’d help me or that Tamryn would give me asylum. Burning me at the stake? That they’d believe. When people think of Tamryn and the Knights of Valor, their first thought isn’t kindness.”

  “Perhaps not in Oskelez.”

  “Or Eskara,” she said.

  “Let’s say they think you’re being taken to Aerius for trial before being burned at the stake. They know the most direct route to the capital city, and they’d expect us to take it. No point in giving them the advantage of an ambush. I promised to get you to King Eli, and I will.”

  Sir Marcus pulled his cloak around his shoulders and lifted the hood. The dust from the road had dulled the shine of his armor and darkened his white charger. He wouldn’t be mistaken him for a farmer, but he no longer screamed Knight of Valor, either.

  Her gut told her she could trust him even if he wa
s a sanctimonious jerk. She didn’t trust her gut, but she’d seen him fight. If he wanted to take her back to her master, he wouldn’t need a trap to do it.

  She squeezed her horse’s flank and followed him. “Where are we going?”

  “Someplace safe where we can rest for the night.”

  She glanced at the sun, already lower in the sky. “It better be close.”

  “Close enough.” Sir Marcus set his horse off at a canter.

  Brelynn followed him.

  Even though Bastion carried a Knight in full armor, her horse had trouble keeping up with them. Brelynn’s legs and bottom ached, but the sun’s steady dance toward the horizon kept her quiet and in the saddle.

  As they rode down the twisting trail, large dragon oaks emerged, their branches scraping the sky as their massive trunks funneled water to the crown of the tree and helped dry out the marsh. Brelynn listened to their branches sway in the light breeze and their leaves rustle. They cast long shadows as the sun set, but unlike the shadows in Eskara, these didn’t evoke fear.

  The farther they rode, the more dragon oaks there were. Soon the marshlands gave way to small patches of crops, and the rich scent of wheat mingled with the musky smell of the wetlands.

  The sun had set by the time they arrived at a limestone building nestled at the center of a copse of dragon oaks. The building gleamed in the dim light, its walls scrubbed free of moss and lichen. A hint of incense drifted through the air, and a thick carpet of grass softened her horse’s steps.

  Sir Marcus dismounted and approached.

  A middle-aged man wearing plain, wheat-colored robes opened the door, bowed, and exchanged words with Sir Marcus before the Knight glanced back at her. They said a few more words before both men nodded, and Sir Marcus beckoned to Brelynn.

  “This is holy ground,” Sir Marcus said.

  Brelynn said nothing as she dismounted. Her legs wobbled, but they carried her, and Lucky trotted along beside her.

  “Should be an effective deterrent against undead and their minions.”

  “Hoping I’ll go up in flames for walking on it?” Brelynn hid her concern beneath a mask of bravado as she kept walking. When she didn’t ignite, she let out her breath and motioned back to the horses. “Is there room for them on the holy ground?”

  “There’s a stall around back,” Sir Marcus said as he studied her.

  Brelynn nodded, exhaustion and her aching backside making it difficult to argue. “Are these fighting monks or praying monks?”

  Marcus raised a brow.

  “Probably both this close to Oskelez.” She glanced at the man in the wheat-colored robes. “I’m sure they have their reasons for being out here, and I don’t want to cause them trouble.”

  “No need to worry too much about causing them trouble. However, we have to make sure you aren’t tainted.”

  “Tainted?” Brelynn swallowed hard as she considered all the things her master had forced her to do in Oskelez before she’d escaped. Eskara hadn’t been great, but she’d been free. “Just because I’m not all shiny doesn’t mean I’m tainted.”

  Marcus paused at her hesitation. “Are you willing to drink holy water to prove it?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  His hand hovered over his sword. “I can take you back to Eskara.”

  Where her master would be waiting. “I’ll drink fire not to go back.”

  “Just holy water is fine.”

  Brelynn’s legs wobbled, and she sucked in a breath to steady herself. “Holy water isn’t code for venomous snakes or something? Just water your gods have blessed?”

  “That blessing imparts a touch of the gods’ power. Drinking it causes great pain to those who follow a dark path and will kill even a powerful vampire, burning it from the inside out.”

  Of course. Tamryn wouldn’t let her in without some sort of test. She wondered how many other asylum seekers died from whatever trial Tamryn had devised. Explained why so few tried to escape there. You didn’t make it to adulthood in Oskelez and stay pure.

  “If I die, at least it’ll be glorious.” She handed Sir Marcus her horse’s reigns. “Add grape juice to it so it doesn’t taste like fire and brimstone.”

  The monk at the door blanched, but Brelynn ignored him as she followed a female monk into the monastery.

  The scent of lye soap mixed with incense and drifted on the cool air. Monks had scrubbed the walls and floors clean, and not a single cobweb or speck of dust survived.

  Doors lined the long hall, and Brelynn suppressed rolling her eyes as several people peeked out at her trying to glimpse the Oskelesian mage before she erupted into flames from the holy water.

  Did they think every Oskelesian was a vampire or another form of powerful undead?

  Of course they did.

  She rolled her eyes. No Tamarian must have been to Oskelez. Ever.

  Oskelez served a handful of very powerful beings and their retainers. Everyone else was expendable. If Tamryn spread the light of the gods as they said they did, then they would understand why a sorceress would want to escape Oskelez.

  But then Tamryn wasn’t known for its compassion or understanding despite its allegiance to the Holy Trinity. Dracor, god of justice and righteousness. Serena, goddesses of wisdom. Thalia, goddess of compassion.

  Tamryn focused so much on justice and righteousness they forgot to temper it with Thalia’s kindness.

  The female monk stopped and opened a door to an empty communal bathing chamber. She handed Brelynn a chunk of soap and a fresh towel.

  Brelynn frowned as she glanced at the stone benches and bucket of cold water. “I thought I was drinking holy water.”

  “You will, but it’s a sacred ceremony. You must be clean for it.”

  Brelynn sniffed herself and shrugged. The dirt and grime were as good or better concealment than her cloak, and she wasn’t ready to give them up.

  “I understand your reluctance, but if you are seeking what you say you are, then you’ll be safe with Sir Marcus.”

  “What I say I am seeking?”

  “A path in the light.”

  “Doesn’t matter what path I seek. He’d still rather smite me than help me.”

  “You haven’t passed the test yet. He’s worried that you’re a vampire or demon in disguise.”

  “I don’t care what he thinks. I’m just glad he’s decent at fighting. With luck, he’ll get me all the way to Aerius.”

  “You don’t believe in Sir Marcus’s abilities?” Disbelief pinched the monk’s brows.

  “I’ve never heard of him, and you can pick your jaw up off the floor. I bet you can’t name the mages on the Council of Seven.”

  “He’s a legend,” the monk said.

  “People in Oskelez ignore Tamryn legends. What’s so special about him?”

  “He is one of the finest paladins and greatest Knights of Valor that Tamryn has ever seen. He’s done much good and spread the light of the gods, but he’s most famous for destroying a lich.”

  “A lich?” Brelynn moistened her lips.

  If Sir Marcus could stand up to a lich’s magic, she was powerless against him. That explained why Tamryn’s king had sent him to bring her back, and why he hadn’t flinched when she’d tried to zap his hand.

  It was possible the higher-ups in Oskelez knew about him and kept it quiet. Only someone on the Council of Seven had the power a lich did.

  Brelynn regarded the soap. “Even if he is a great and holy paladin, I’m still not interested in taking a bath.”

  “I’m not allowed to take you to the prayer chamber until you’ve bathed.” The monk took a fresh robe from a rough wooden cabinet. “You can wear this while we clean your clothes.”

  “I like my clothes just the way they are.”

  “You’ll be deep in Tamryn lands soon, and dressing like you’re from Oskelez, or even Eskara, will draw attention. Deflecting notice is your aim, is it not?”

  “Let me guess, the water is ice cold.”


  “It cleanses the body and soul.”

  “Uh huh.” Brelynn glanced at the bucket of water and steam rose from it. There were a few benefits to being a sorceress, and hot baths were one.

  She washed, taking her time in the warm water and enjoying the fresh soap. It had been a long time since she’d had a real bath, and while this didn’t count as one, it still felt good. If they wanted her clean, so be it. She might as well enjoy the process.

  When she’d finished, Brelynn donned the wheat-colored robe the monk had given her. She touched her bare throat. “I want my scarf.”

  “It’s being washed.”

  “Then I’ll wait.”

  The monk argued but stopped when she saw the scars. “Let me see what I can find.”

  Brelynn fidgeted while she waited. She hated having her neck exposed, especially after she’d been able to cover it for a few weeks.

  The monk returned after a few minutes with a long strip of linen. Brelynn said nothing as she tied the linen to resemble a scarf then followed the monk to the chapel.

  The chapel itself was small with only enough room to seat half-a-dozen people. A single stone altar inscribed with a gold dragon dominated the middle of the sanctuary, and a pair of dragons had been carved in relief on the wall.

  Sir Marcus stood beside the altar, still in his armor and still carrying his sword and shield. Prepared to slay her, she was sure, if the gods showed any sign she was impure. On either side of him were two monks, each dressed in the plain wheat-colored robes.

  Arch-Mage Ndrek, the man she’d met about getting asylum in Tamryn, was seated on a pew. He’d tied back his jet-black hair in a neat tail, and his ruddy skin made his eyes seem all the brighter. He smiled, showing his perfect white teeth.

  Sir Marcus stared at her, and a frission slid along Brelynn’s spine. She hoped it was fear and not attraction, though she was too tired to care what it was. Still, she kept her face impassive and ignored him as she turned to the monks.

  The younger monk poured a glass of water from a plain wooden pitcher and handed it to her. “Sir Marcus has told you about the ritual?”

  “He told me I had to drink holy water to prove to you I’m not evil.”