Knight of Valor Read online

  Knight of Valor

  Elizabeth Drake

  Black Steel Publishing

  Contents

  1. Knight Of Valor

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Epilogue

  FROM THE AUTHOR

  Seducing the Ice Queen

  Also by Elizabeth Drake

  About the Author

  Knight Of Valor

  Sir Marcus unsheathed his sword and scrutinized the blade as the first of the new Knights of Valor entered the sleeping quarters. They stumbled when they saw him.

  The second group nearly crashed into the first, then they too stopped and stared.

  Sir Marcus ignored the growing murmurs as he finished examining his blade then sheathed it.

  “Congratulations on being chosen by Dracor. May you all uphold the justice and righteousness He represents.” His words were quiet and sincere, but they still carried easily across the room.

  The whispers grew louder, but Sir Marcus didn’t raise his voice. He never raised his voice unless it was necessary. It assured people listened when he did.

  “I will walk you through the standard nightly protocol on how to inspect and care for your armor and sword.”

  “But we have squires,” one of the Knights in the lead group said.

  “Sir Darius, isn’t it?”

  The young man’s eyes widened, but he nodded.

  “You do now, Sir Darius,” Sir Marcus said. “But you might not always. And if Dracor needs you to spread His light in the eastern provinces, you won’t want to face a pack of ghouls after trusting your gear to a squire who has slept six hours in the last three days. He’s not the one that will be eaten alive.”

  “Ghouls?” Sir Darius asked skeptically.

  “You’ll face them almost daily, and after a time, they’ll be more of a nuisance than anything. Vampires are much tougher, though less frequent, opponents. If you are forced to face a necromancer, your armor and shield will be of little use. Speed and agility will serve you better.”

  “You’ve been out east,” another young Knight said. “Are the stories true?”

  “Sir Gabriel?” Sir Marcus asked.

  The young man nodded.

  Sir Marcus lifted his broad shoulders, and the sound of his plate armor shifting filled the room. “It’s true that if your armor or sword fail you, not only will you die a horrific death, but so will a town full of people depending on you. That’s the first thing I will teach you to prevent.”

  There were more murmurs as he inspected the fastenings on his shield.

  Several of the new Knights of Valor sat beside him, watching his efficient movements and attempting to mimic them.

  Sir Gabriel couldn’t have been more than eighteen summers, and he leaned closer to Sir Marcus, his youthful eyes wide. “Are you Sir Marcus Valerian, the Great Lich Slayer?”

  “I am Sir Marcus Valerian, and I slew a lich, but there was nothing great about it.”

  Sir Marcus Valerian.

  His name flew around the room in the matter of moments, and he ignored the stares and awkward silence as he explained again the steps they should follow each night when overseeing their equipment.

  They had to learn this. To practice it. For it to become so routine they could do it while they were half asleep.

  While he’d destroyed the lich, the thousand-year-old undead abomination had used its unparalleled magic to control an army of horrors. An army that now roamed without a master. These young Knights of Valor could rely on nothing other than themselves once they reached the eastern provinces. The darkness and shadows lurking beyond Tamryn’s boarders too easily corrupted those not blessed to spread Dracor’s justice, Serena’s wisdom, or Thalia’s compassion.

  Sir Marcus had enough of those stories to share, but he would wait for that. Wait and terrify the Knights another evening.

  Tonight, the freshly anointed Knights of Valor needed to learn to care for their armor.

  Sir Marcus explained the process again and again, slowly, methodically, making sure each one of them understood it and could repeat it.

  Practice would ingrain it into them, but they needed to know what to practice.

  Once he was certain they had all mastered his refresher lesson, he stood and hefted his own shield. Even now, he never went anywhere without it. “Tamryn is truly blessed to have so many worthy of Dracor’s blessing. I look forward to serving with each of you.”

  Sir Gabriel fidgeted. “You survived the eastern provinces, killed the lich, and made it home. We’ve all heard the stories about the horrors out there. How did you do it?”

  “Faith in Dracor, learning from my teachers, and lots and lots of practice.” Sir Marcus offered the young Knight his hand.

  Sir Gabriel stared a moment, then he took it.

  “Dracor chose you for a reason, Sir Gabriel. You can do this. I know you can, and so does He.”

  Sir Gabriel said nothing, though he lowered his gaze as he considered.

  Marcus clapped the young man on the shoulder. “My duties permitting, I will come spar with you tomorrow and help prove it to you.”

  Sir Marcus paused as he heard the distinct footsteps of Sir Matthias echoing through the barracks. The High-Knight could be checking on the new recruits, or he could have learned that Marcus was down here and had come looking for him.

  While Sir Matthias was a brother-in-arms and a good friend, he was also a very public member of the Dragon Church. Sir Marcus wasn’t certain what all of High-Knight Matthias’s duties were, but since Marcus had arrived home from the eastern provinces, Sir Matthias had wanted Marcus to do far too many parades, speeches, and other public appearances.

  And Marcus would rather face a ghoul than plaster on a smile and try to pretend he was the hero the bards had turned him into as the Great Lich Slayer.

  A tactical retreat was in order.

  After shaking hands with the rest of the new recruits, Sir Marcus left the barracks and walked as quietly as his plate armor permitted in the opposite direction of Sir Matthias’s
footsteps.

  As he rounded the corner toward the main sanctuary of the temple, Marcus discovered his uncle waiting for him.

  Sir Leopold nodded at Marcus and fell into step beside him. “You’ve gotten better at not being found. Figured if I sent Sir Matthias through the barracks, I’d flush you out.”

  Sir Marcus didn’t bother to argue. Knights didn’t lie.

  “Not that I blame you. Nothing Sir Matthias wants you to do is fun, but it’s still Dracor’s work.”

  Sir Marcus frowned. “Helping widows and orphans is Dracor’s work, and I enjoy doing it. What I don’t like is people coming to watch me help widows and orphans.”

  Sir Leopold shook his head. “I’ll talk to Sir Matthias. Maybe he can think of a way to put all that gawking to good use. Still, if you didn’t like what Sir Matthias has for you to do, you’re really not going to like what I’ve got for you.”

  “You have an assignment for me?” Marcus couldn’t keep the surprise from his words. His uncle had been one of the staunchest and most vocal believers that he should retire from active duty after killing the lich.

  “Not me, not exactly. But King Eli needs help, and you’re the only one that can do it.”

  “Is it that important?”

  “Important enough I’m asking.”

  So really, really important.

  Chapter 2

  Marcus’s boots echoed off the walls of the empty chamber as he followed Sir Leopold through the vaulted throne room. The stained-glass windows, marble dragon statues, and gold chandelier appeared larger and more imposing without the usual throng of courtiers.

  Whatever the king wanted must be as secret as it was important.

  While the eastern provinces had tested his faith, Sir Marcus still trusted in Dracor absolutely. The Dragon God’s light burned brightly in his uncle, and while Marcus didn’t understand King Eli, Dracor’s brilliance still burned within him. Different, but still there.

  Perhaps whatever mission the king had for him was also something Dracor needed done.

  As Sir Marcus and Sir Leopold walked the length of the throne room, thick rugs quieted their footsteps, and the smell of fresh beeswax mingled with the faint whisper of exotic perfumes from the missing courtiers. Heat lingered in the air as if people had recently filled the room.

  King Eli waited on a massive golden throne that dominated the chamber, reminding all that entered of both his earthly power and that Dracor Himself had blessed him.

  Both Sir Marcus and Sir Leopold dropped to one knee before the king and bowed their heads.

  King Eli motioned for them to stand.

  The king paused a moment before speaking, and Sir Marcus met King Eli’s stare. After all he’d faced, it took more than a king to intimidate him.

  “Has Arch-Mage Ndrek reported anything?” Sir Leopold asked.

  King Eli’s face remained impassive. “Nothing more than you already know.”

  “Arch-Mage Ndrek?” Sir Marcus asked. “What business does he have with the Crown?”

  “You can deal with wizards and their magics.” King Eli steepled his fingers.

  “Has Arch-Mage Ndrek done something? If so, I will do what I can. He can be reckless from time to time, but he’s not malicious.” Something Sir Marcus knew well. Too well.

  “This has nothing to do with Arch-Mage Ndrek.”

  “Then what does it have to do with, Your Highness?” Sir Marcus asked.

  The king drew a slow breath. “I need you to travel to the outskirts of Oskelez and bring back the sorceress Brelynn.”

  Marcus balled his fists but remained silent as he stared past King Eli to the massive gold dragon crest that overlooked the throne. A sorceress. Like Gmina and the countless other sorceresses he’d destroyed on his way to the lich. Puppets to the dark goddess Rashalee and easier than even a wizard to corrupt.

  A sorceress had no place in Tamryn.

  “She’s not what you think.” Sir Leopold laid a gauntleted hand on Sir Marcus’s shoulder. “Ndrek spent a long time looking for this one.”

  “Looking for one?” Marcus fought to keep his voice neutral and failed. “Why would you search for such a creature, much less send for her?”

  King Eli glanced at the empty throne beside him. “I’ve run out of other options.”

  “What do you need from this sorceress?”

  “To help Prince Dylon,” King Eli said

  Marcus’s eyes narrowed. He’d heard the rumors, but he’d never given them much thought. Such things were best dismissed as gossip.

  “Boy’s a sorcerer, and a powerful one,” Sir Leopold said. “Can’t control his magic, and the harder he tries, the worse it gets.”

  “We thought practice and age would teach him control, but it’s only gotten wilder. And stronger.” King Eli’s face remained neutral. “The prince set his room on fire twice last week. I’ve stationed guards to watch him around the clock, but they can’t stop him when he truly loses control.”

  Marcus shook his head. “An Oskelesian could make things worse.”

  “Which is why Ndrek’s been looking for the right one,” Sir Leopold said. “Took him a while, but he thinks he found one that can help.”

  “Arch-Mage Ndrek himself is of dubious morals,” Sir Marcus said.

  “I’m aware, but he gets the important stuff right.” Sir Leopold raised his brows, and Marcus was certain something was communicated between his uncle and the king.

  King Eli pressed his hands together. “While I’m reluctant to bring any Oskelesian, much less a sorceress, into Tamryn, I’ve expended my other options.”

  “Have you spoken to the elves?” Sir Marcus asked

  “They tell me it’s his human heritage. An elven mage tried to help him, but it seems controlling a geyser of magic differs from summoning it.”

  “Perhaps he will learn with time.”

  “There is no more time.” King Eli clenched his jaw. “Queen Auburn loves Dylon as only a mother can love a child. She does not wish for me to send him away even though he burned her seriously in his last outburst.”

  “You love the boy, too. And he loves both of you. He-”

  “A Priestess of Thalia still tends Auburn day and night,” King Eli snapped. “If you had seen…” King Eli sucked in a breath, but his impassive expression had cracked.

  Marcus closed his eyes and whispered a prayer as he realized why the throne beside Eli was empty. “Is Queen Auburn all right?”

  Pain pinched the king’s normally expressionless face. “The priestesses tell me she will heal in time, but I won’t tolerate another accident. I can’t.”

  Marcus understood. King Eli loved his wife even more than the Tamarian people did, and that was saying something. He may be a cold and practical king, but the Tamarian people still told stories of how he’d fallen in love with Queen Auburn during his trip to Qumaref. Of how he’d battled Rashalee, the dark goddess of greed and envy, to protect Queen Auburn.

  And of how he’d won.

  Many whispered that his love for her had paved his path away from vengeance and back to the light.

  If she died because of their son…

  It may not be slaying a lich, but it gave him a reason, a purpose, at least for now.

  Sir Marcus bowed his head. “I will find this sorceress and bring her back.”

  Chapter 3

  The smell of sour ale, sweat, and smoke filled the tavern. It could’ve been any seedy bar from Oskelez to Qumaref with its sticky floors and torn seats, but the unrelenting heat, humidity, and tang of rot promised it was near the swamps of Oskelez.

  Brelynn sipped her tepid ale as she considered her options.

  None were good.

  A man pushed open the tavern doors and had to duck to enter. His shoulders matched his height, and his pristine armor gleamed in the tavern haze. Half-rotten floorboards sagged under him, but the newcomer kept his expression neutral as he sat at a table in the rear of the establishment.

  Choking back her
mouthful of ale, Brelynn guessed this was the Knight of Valor sent to fetch her. He looked like what she’d expected. Tall, broad, and wearing impossibly shiny armor. The kind that looked like it was for show rather than battle. Light hair and eyes completed the poster boy look for his order.

  But there was something more to him. Despite his pristine image, an unearthly power emanated from him.

  Holy magic.

  His armor and sword were imbued with powerful magic, more powerful than most wizards could hope to cast. It might even be elven, and that was better than what top-notch mercenaries had.

  Imbuing armor or weapons with any amount of magic was extremely expensive and time consuming. Even in a city with as many mages as Oskelez had, only a handful of Champions possessed anything close to what he wore.

  But then she’d heard Knights of Valor didn’t use anything enchanted by mages, choosing only magical armor and weapons blessed by their god.

  The way he held himself, the way he walked with purpose rather than swagger, and the ease with which he moved in the armor belied the shining image and made her think he’d earned the armor and the sword.

  Doubt clawed at her stomach. It made Brelynn wonder all the more if this was a trap.