The Quest (The Sons of Camelot Book 2) Read Online Free

dueled with wooden swords on a regular basis from the first time that they had met; following in the footsteps of their fathers and acting out some glorious, future feat against the realm’s most hated foes. They had raced their horses nearly every time they got together and even performed new tricks upon the backs of their mounts for one another. What new tricks they hadn’t yet learned, they invented. With such constant practice, the two did not only grow into decent swordsmen, but were considered expert horsemen by almost everyone in the counties.
    Fond memories of time spent with Thomas during their youth clouded John’s mind and kept it occupied as the second day of his journey passed. After a midday meal and rest at Clapham, the second half of his day was spent in eager anticipation of his arrival at the Crossroads Inn. It brought back so many memories of Kendal. The pride at their victory over Mordred’s forces swelled in his chest, though his heart still became heavy whenever he thought of the loss of Henry.
    John and Henry had never enjoyed the same camaraderie that John had shared with Thomas, but he had been a son of the round table as well and one with a good heart. Erandur, the drow king, had swept through their ranks with a vengeance that still sent a shiver down John’s spine. Had he not been slain by Richard, the Dragon Knight, John had no doubt that he and Thomas, perhaps Gawain as well would have also fallen.
    In place of the cheerful memories of earlier in the day, the thoughts of those lost upon the battlefields outside the walls of Kendal sat upon John’s shoulders and darkened his mood like dark ravens awaiting a feast of flesh as he rode into the Crossroads Inn at Crooklands.
    The night passed and half the morning and still there was no sign of Thomas. As he saddled the horses, Chatburn turned to a still irritable John and said softly, “Thomas will be late.” The four simple words lightened John’s mood considerably and he stepped forward from the stable wall to help his squire ready the animals for travel.
    “Indeed, Chatburn. You are quite correct. Thomas is a regular at being tardy as church bells are at being on time. Let us press onwards to Kendal without him.”
    “Yes, sir.”
     
    ***
     
    By an hour before teatime, they were riding through the newly rebuilt walls of Kendal City. They were higher and thicker than before. John would easily have used the word ‘impenetrable’ but he remembered what they’d looked like under siege from the Vikings and the dark elves, so he dared not say such a thing. And the thought of it only served to sour his mood again.
    “I’ll expect my things to be in order and stowed neatly in my quarters,” he’d snapped at Chatburn as they approached the castle where the late Henry had made his home. “No doubt we’ll spend several nights here, given the tendencies of Sir Thomas of Manchester.”
    Chatburn neither responded nor sulked under the sharp tone of his master. He would do as he was told, neither cheerfully nor with a darkened heart. The man was as stoic as a stone, but also quite meticulous in everything that he did. In truth, he was irreplaceable, though he was easily forgotten because of his silence.
    “John.” Lady Kendal greeted him as he was being led into the parlor. “We’d had news that you were on the road north coming in our direction with Thomas.” She looked past him in search of the latter and wrinkled her brow in confusion.
    “Thomas will be late,” John responded with a soft chuckle.
    “I had assumed that the two of you would be traveling together. I take it that someone is attending to your things?” she asked, leading him into the parlor where they were seated comfortably.
    “Yes, my squire and I were well met by your stableman as we entered the ward,” John replied.
    “It will do us all some good to have a couple of young men about to brighten the place up.” Lady Kendal forced a smile. No doubt, she was still